Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [10]
“That is an unusual name. Do you come from Calidyrr, or farther places?” he asked.
She seemed amused, for a moment, as she replied, “I come from, yes, farther places.”
“How do you like our festival?” Erian asked, thinking with pleasure of spending a day escorting Meridith about the festival. And of the night that would, perhaps, follow.
“It is quite interesting,” responded the woman, as if reading his mind. “But I should like to see more of it.”
Erian beamed. “Allow me to be your escort!”
Standing, he offered his arm, playing the part of the gallant. She laughed, and rose also. For just a moment, he saw that flash of fire in her eyes, and his blood raced.
The day passed quickly. Ale and wine stalls were numerous, and Erian found a reason to visit each one and quench his thirst. Meridith drank an occasional glass of wine, but professed a distaste for malt beverage. Nonetheless, she encouraged him not to allow her abstinence to interfere with his thirst.
Later, the coolness of the spring night drove them close together. Meridith’s body seemed to harbor a deep chill, and Erian enjoyed the opportunity to wrap her against him in his cloak. She fit nicely at his side, snuggling closer with an eagerness that delighted and excited him.
Once, during the day, they had passed the prince, touring the festival with the king’s ward and, to Erian’s surprise, the Calishite thief who had robbed him that very day. The guard turned to remark about the fact, and Erian saw Meredith watching the prince’s party with a look of frightening intensity. Immediately, the guard felt a surge of raw jealousy.
“Who is that?” she asked in a low voice.
“He’s the young poppinjay of a prince – carries himself like he owns the whole town,” grumbled the guard, in a not altogether accurate description. “He’s a disgrace to the Kendrick name! Cares not a whit for the responsibilities of his position – all he’s interested in are his blasted hounds and having a good time!”
Erian turned and scowled at Meridith. “What are you looking at him for, anyway? Come on!” He reached for her arm to pull her away, but her voice, strangely urgent, cut him off.
“And the girl? Who is she?”
Now Erian looked back, for Robyn was a sight his eyes had rested upon more than once. Although her shape was hidden beneath her long cape, there were, the guard remembered, gentle curves and soft swells that had turned the lass into a woman over the last two years. The memories inflamed his ardor, and again he reached for Meridith. This time, his arms slipped about her, and she allowed his hand to drop boldly along her back.
“She’s the king’s ward – an orphan, they say. She’s lived in the castle since she was a baby.”
“Interesting,” mused Meredith, as the guard led her away. Her voice, soft and husky, nearly brought Erian’s blood to a boil. As he found another ale tent, the woman’s unblinking eyes turned back to Tristan and Robyn, curious, and a little menacing. But when Erian returned with a full mug, Meredith laughed gaily and allowed the big man to take her arm and lead her through the fair.
Eventually they returned to the ale tent where they met, and sat again on the corner bench. Erian felt he must have said something terribly witty, for Meridith was laughing delightedly. And then she paused, regarding him. Again that spark in her eyes, this time a gleaming as of hot coals on a dark night.
She leaned forward and kissed him, and her mouth was hot. The coolness seemed to have left her body, as she leaned against him. She was heat everywhere, and perspiration flowed from his pores.
Erian met her kiss with crushing force, driving his mouth against hers and reaching for her body. She melted backward and he leaned over her. She clasped him, nibbling at his ear and neck. He looked down as she moved again to kiss him, and saw again those fiery eyes. This time, it was as if the door to a furnace had been cast open, and he saw great depths of fire, and heat…
And death. She sucked the air and the spirit from his body, replacing it with something foul and perverted. The spirit