Shadows of Aggar by Chris Anne Wolfe

Author:Chris Anne Wolfe [Chris Anne Wolfe]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Lesbian, Lesbians, Fantasy Fiction
ISBN: 9781886383302
Google: tM9NPgAACAAJ
Amazon: 1886383308
Publisher: Pride Publications
Published: 1991-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

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The night breeze blew softly through the canyon. Elana breathed the rich scent of green and good earth that drifted with the folding air currents. It came from downstream somewhere.

By her side the water splashed and tumbled over itself in a pleasant monotony. It was strange to think that it would take them two days to reach the banks of the Ma’naur — two days of steady marching before they glimpsed the thick pine forests of Maltar’s lands. Yet these jostling waters passing her now would find those vast rumbling depths before the sun had even risen.

And the green scents? She could not begin to guess what their journey had been like. But the tantalizing wisps of air were still vibrant and alive, so they could not have taken long in their travels.

A pair of wings rustled far overhead, and Elana scanned the bright stars, wondering if it was the eitteh. But the wind had tossed the sound into their canyon, leaving the creature beyond her Sight.

She poked the dying embers with a stick. There was little chance of seeing her furry friend before sunrise. The eitteh was a nocturnal creature and doubtless had far to go to hunt; if she was bothering to hunt at all. After so many days spent underground with the healer, the eitteh was as delighted to be out as Elana, and both were reveling in their freedom tonight.

Melysa’s had not been so awful, Elana admitted. There had been timber, dry food stocks, and an abundance of medicinal herbs and roots, all reassuring in their amarin. Di’nay, too, had been there. Still….

Again Elana inhaled the wind’s sweet scents; she had missed the unencumbered richness of the living things. She gazed downstream, her blue eyes drawn to the faint outlines of the thorny trees. Their dull brown twigs shone with a pale gray of life in the darkness. A glimpse of silver flashed under the water — a fish that vanished even as it came. The faintest of speckles dotted the streamside rocks — algae, and a misty outline of late autumn waterflys danced between the rocks and thorn trees.

So much in such a small world that even she took for granted. But how strange it would be, she thought, to be so isolated from those flowing cycles that you could blithely choose to live underground in stone.

The time spent at the healer’s had helped. She was stronger for the rest and good diet — stronger in her love for Di’nay too. The time they had spent talking had been different from the snatches of conversation they had managed earlier — less plagued by the demands of their journey — less frequently interrupted by the desires of their bodies. Her story, Di’nay’s Sisters called it, an accounting of past deeds, almost forgotten memories — of families and homes. They had shared much that neither would report to Council nor Sisterhood, but was part of their bond — a bond that went beyond the intimacy of a lifestone.

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