Realms of Magic - Brian Thomsen King [34]
"This," and she spread her arms, "is an oak grove sacred to Silvanus. The spring is sacred to me. The trees listen well and remember what they have heard. All across the Dalelands, they speak well of you, of he who fights his curse, who helps the hurt, who will not kill. The forest itself has guided you here."
Her large, soft eyes grew sorrowful as she continued. "I cannot take away your curse. I cannot bring you the sun again, for that is not within my domain. Yet within the confines of this grove, I can temper your grief and sorrow-quiet the call that haunts you. Will you accept my gift?"
Jander felt tears trickling down his cheek. He made no move to wipe away the telltale streaks of red; she knew who-what-he was. Knew, and forgave.
"Aye, Lady, with deep gratitude."
"Kneel first, and lave your face," she said. He obeyed. The water was cool and refreshing. He splashed some on his eyes and cheeks, washing the blood away but unable to stop the tears. Jander wiped at his face-and stared, stunned, at his gold palm that glistened with only water.
"They are salty still, but no longer of blood," Eldath murmured, suddenly sitting beside him. "Will you enter the spring?"
Not daring to believe, he did so, careless of what the water did to his boots and clothes and tools. Jander waited for the pain of death as the running water enveloped him. None came. What did come, softly and sweetly like a gentle dream, was a sense of deep peace. With soft fingers, Eldath, luminous in the moonlight, reached and touched his ears, nose, mouth, and shoulders.
"These ears are sharp, but they shall no longer hear with the ears of the bat. This nose is keen, but it shall no longer scent with the nose of the wolf. This mouth is hungry, but it shall no longer crave the taste of life. These shoulders are broad, but they shall no longer move with the strength of the nosferatu."
Suddenly, unexpectedly, she reached out both hands and pushed him under. Fear replaced joy as the waters closed over his wheat-gold head, and Jander struggled. If he had doubted her divinity before, he did so no longer, for her strength and her will were far beyond his power to resist.
With equal unexpectedness, the pressure keeping him under was gone. Jander shot to the surface. Eldath had vanished, leaving Jander desperately gasping for air. It took a few seconds before he realized the import of that simple fact.
He needed air. Dear gods, for the first time in nearly a hundred years, he needed air!
He laughed as he gasped, and struggled to the bank. He clambered out, wet and cold-cold!-and shivering. Jan-der continued to laugh between coughs, remembering the goddess's words. When he had caught his breath, he inhaled deeply through his nose. The fresh scent of a forest at night came to his ears; that was all. No scent of deer or squirrel; no smell or sound of living blood pumping through veins and arteries.
On an impulse, he reentered the spring, splashed his way to the boulder upon which the goddess had sat, and put his arms around it. Grunting, he tried to pick it up. He had lifted heavier things in days past, but now, his uncanny vampiric strength had gone. Shaking, he sank down into the water, making a slow way toward the bank.
She had done it. The blessed Eldath the Quiet, with the approval of Silvanus, the Lord of the Oaks, had taken away most of what it meant to be a vampire. Jander understood that he would never be able to leave the relatively small circle of protection provided by the grove. That was no hardship, not in exchange for what they had given him.
But the night was fading fast, and Eldath had warned him that she could not protect him from the ravaging rays of the sun. Dripping and shivering,