A Glimmering Girl by L. K. Rigel

Author:L. K. Rigel [Rigel, L. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Mythology & Folk Tales, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy, Paranormal & Urban, Sword & Sorcery, Fairy Tales, Mythology, Arthurian
ISBN: 1502849275
Amazon: B00NFWR3PK
Publisher: Beastie Press
Published: 2014-10-25T16:00:00+00:00

« Chapter 14 »

Coffee and a Secret

12th century. The island of Avalos

Igraine awoke to sunlight, open windows, and birdsong. A light breeze stirred the curtains in the bedroom of her little cottage on Avalos. She stretched, feeling rested and restored—as if she’d slept for days.

What a wild dream… finding Glimmer Cottage as a falcon. If only it could happen in waking life! Igraine chuckled, remembering how she’d annoyed the obnoxious priest. And then she’d become a fish, caught in a net by… that man. She sat up and caught her breath.

The man at Nine Hazel Lake. A small dart of disappointment stung her heart. His image filled her mind—her fisher king. It had been so real! She could recall it in detail, even now.

Inside the hunter’s cottage, she stood by a fire, confused. Naked. Heat from the flames warmed her skin, but her bones shook with cold. The man stared at her bare feet, and his gaze traveled upwards. She felt it, as if it conveyed warmth, moving over her knees and thighs. She felt no shame, no fear. He found her sex, her hips, her belly, lingered on her breasts, drank in her arms, her hair. No lust in his expression, but hunger—and wonder.

Igraine felt the hunger too.

Their eyes met. It felt like falling and falling—and at the same time being caught up, lifted to heaven. Had she transmogrified? Was she him? Were they two instances of the same soul, living different lives here on earth?

Brother Sun, Sister Moon—what’s happening to me?

O, cruel dream! Why had she run?

“What was his name, Igraine?” she asked herself. “You said it in the dream.”

Unlike with most dreams, he didn't fade now. Oddly, she perceived him more clearly, with the utter certainty that he was real.

She got up and threw on a silk tunic. The apple blossom jewels lay on her dressing table, and she sprinkled them randomly through her hair. Their tiny wyrded tendrils grabbed on, winding themselves in place as sweet peas affix to a beanpole.

On the way outside, she took a pear from the bowl of ripe fruit by the front door and finished it before she reached the path to the main abbey. When had she last eaten, and what? It must have been Kaelyn’s stew at the cave.

“Sun and moon. Kaelyn.” It all came back in a rush. Kaelyn. The goblin.

Igraine ran to the main abbey. She had to see Zoelyn, had to find out what had happened. Kaelyn had to be all right.

The entry hall was empty, but voices sounded from the corridor to the acolytes’ wing. Igraine followed the muffled conversation to a door that had been left ajar and let out a sigh of relief. One of the voices belonged to Kaelyn. Igraine stopped when she heard her own name spoken.

“Don’t dismiss Igraine so lightly.” The old woman sounded much stronger.

“If you say so.” The goblin, Maxim.

Igraine remembered the tunnel and the twisting nausea. He’d brought them to the island after all. But how? And how long did I sleep?

The creature grunted.

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