The Dark Side of Light-Initiation: A Time Travel Fantasy by Susan D. Kalior

Author:Susan D. Kalior [Kalior, Susan D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: medieval fantasy romance, pagan fiction, mythological fiction, viking romance, romance adventure, gods and goddesses, romance fantasy viking, time travel romance, romance mythology, mythological fiction monsters, time travel fantasy, fantasy adventure
Publisher: Susan D. Kalior
Published: 2018-05-15T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

**Shallee**

I TURN TO FACE SHOKANE. His chain-mail covered arms drop to his sides. His eyes are slanted down at me, awaiting revelation of my analysis. A strong wind blusters through the canopies blowing tendrils of his dark blond hair about his face and shoulders, as if Queen Mother were saying, ‘Look at him.’

And so I do. I gaze upon this mighty man steeped in ninth century roughness, an ancient warrior living in dark and dangerous times. He suddenly seems so sane and capable, and I the frenzied fool. Oh what would have become of me if he’d not been so persistent? Ashamed and shy, I look down at my boots.

“Well?” he says.

With head parked down, my eyes roll up. “I believe you now.”

He sighs, “At last.”

I raise my head with one eye closed, as if peeking somehow makes it easier to view him as he really is.

“Why dost thou yet have one eye closed to me?”

My chin turns bashfully to my shoulder.

“Alloria?” His fingers on my chin guide my head to face him, but his rough, wild face unnerves me. My chin shoots from his fingers bashfully to my shoulder. “I feel shy.”

“Thou hast been fighting me all day with unabashed hostility; why art thou shy now?”

With ear near my shoulder, I tilt my head up, looking at him through the messy tendrils of my hair. “Because then I thought you were a crazy man from my time. And now I view you as a ninth century warrior from your time. Now that I know you are authentic, I’m,” I sigh nervously, “completely intimidated.”

He cups my cheeks tenderly, aligning my face to his. His fingers slide back over my temples into my hair, and it makes me feel safe. He says, “I am the same man whom thou didst assault with thy feisty tongue and burning poison.”

I say, “I’m sorry I sprayed you, and that I gave you such a hard time.”

His hands slide down my neck, landing on my shoulders. “It was not without entertainment.”

I am not sure what he means, the killing, the cat and mouse chase, or what; but now that I know he is legitimate, I, as a social psychologist, must consider his perception a reflection of his time, not mine.

“I was so mean to you, and you were nothing but kind and patient—” thinking of how he hoisted me over his shoulder, I say, “well mostly.”

“Aye Alloria, but that is less hard than living with thee dead.”

“I am Shallee now.”

“Shallee. Hmm. Melikes that name. So Shallee, art thou done fleeing from me?”

“Yes, but I do have a serious concern.” I step back to free his hands from my shoulders.

“And that is?”

“I am committed to not depend on a man because I believe I must develop man’s strengths within myself.”

He cocks his head curiously. “You?”

I huff lightly, “I think I can do it. If I succeed, then men won’t hurt me anymore. In my world, I had a shot at maintaining my independence, but in your world, I am forced to depend on you, a man, instead of myself.

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