Well, you know you’re obsessed with a computer game when…

Hehe, ok, ok. So I *have* been playing too much Blade Mistress. And this story is pretty much set in that world. But it’s still a cool story idea, if I don’t say so myself. I haven’t written anything in sooooo long and when this came to me I just had to write it down. So here it is, in all its unedited glory…

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Syl’s Story

Copyright © 2004

Syl felt the sunbeams play across her face, warming her cheeks, teasing at the edges of her closed lids in their rolling descent along her supine frame. They landed brightly among the hungry blades of grass, waving slowly in the spring breeze to embrace the life-giving light. Early flowers were in full bloom, putting their bright colours on parade for the admiring insects buzzing excitedly among them. The air was full their heady scent, sweet and fresh and clean! In the trees, birds danced and circled around each other playfully. One would occasionally tire for a brief moment, settling on a branch for just enough time to warble a snippet of song before taking off again.A half-smile on her lips, Syl did nothing but enjoy the scents and sounds around her, delicate fingers making circles in the grass at her sides. The ground in the glade was soft and springy against her back; had she not been this excited, she could easily have fallen into a peaceful, dreamy slumber, and let the afternoon pass by.Her smile broadened, and she barely suppressed a giggle. She could tell Tomten was trying to be quiet as he approached from the direction of town. In truth, had she not been so attuned to the glade, Syl wouldn’t have known he was coming. She felt him more by the bending of the grass under his feet, or the subtle shift of the birdsong — that was a gift of hers. Her mother told her the Great Spirits had touched her, but everyone in Gentanos knew the Spirits were just tales. After all, if they were real, they would have protected Sparky from the stray wolf that had wandered onto the farm last month. Poor puppy…A twig cracked under Tomten’s foot, and he froze. Syl managed to hold her composure for half a moment before the bubbly giggles tore their way past her squirming lips. A loud curse assaulted her ears in response.

“Oh, come out you big oaf,” she said playfully, sitting up and opening her eyes for the first time in what seemed like hours. She squinted against the brightness, searching for Tomten among the trees.

A lanky blond youth stepped out from behind the nearest oak. He was dressed in simple brown woollens, a shade darker than his eyes. A smudge of dirt streaked across his forehead, proclaiming his recent chores in the fields.

Tomten waved feebly with his right hand. His left was hidden behind his back. “That twig moved while I was stepping! It was possessed, I swear!”

Syl cocked her head to one side, raising her eyebrow. The wind picked up her long violet hair, blowing a few strands across her face. Absently she brushed them behind her ear. “The only thing possessed about that twig was its bad luck to end up under your clumsy foot,” she teased with a sly grin, and then noticed his left arm.

Syl’s eyes grew wide with excitement, and she jumped to her feet. “What’s that there? A present? Let me see! Let me see!” She closed the short distance between them and tried to grab his arm.

“Spirits Above!” Tomten exclaimed, acting surprised by her charge, but in reality having predicted it as surely as if the Turtle had told him its tale in full detail. He deftly dodged her attacks, slipped his right arm around her waist, and put an end to her excited squeals with a kiss.

In a moment of respite he mumbled “It’s a surprise. Close your eyes, my fairy princess,” and spun her around so he was clasping her from behind.

“No peeking until I say!” he admonished. Syl kept her eyes firmly shut, enjoying his warmth against her back, the memory of the firmness of his hand, no longer around her waist. She leaned back a little harder, playfully, but Tomten kept his balance, chortling. Something ruffled in the wind, and then Syl felt a smooth softness against her neck and over her hair. She brought her hands up to feel it; whatever it was slid through her fingers as if it were made of liquid; it felt so fine.

“What is it, Tom?” she murmured, pleased.

“Well, take a look,” Tomten whispered back.

Syl opened her eyes and saw herself reflected in the small mirror Tomten had brought for the purpose. Her reflection was wearing the most magnificent midnight black shawl she had ever seen; her violet hair highlighted against it in a brilliant contrast. The shawl itself, aside from being incredibly silky, softly glimmered in the light. Tomten’s boyish face was grinning right beside hers.

“It’s nightcloth. From Vargras. The merchant told me it’s been blessed by the Moon and Eagle spirits! Both! By moonlight, they tell me it’s even more breathtaking, Syl,” Tomten said, awed. He extended his right hand, splayed, past her as if reaching for something. “It looks like the night sky, dotted with the tears of heaven, had come to rest on your shoulders to give you a blessing!”

“It’s so wonderful, I almost believe the bit about the Spirits,” Syl said softly. She could feel a tear come to her eye at the beauty of it. She quickly blinked it away.

“What’s a farm girl like me doing with something like this? Why, even a Mistress wouldn’t have such a beautiful thing!”

Tomten smiled. “You’re not a farm girl to me, Syl… you are the strength of my heart, the… the… oh heck, I’m crazy about you and you need something to wear at our wedding! Your ragged old scarf just wouldn’t have been proper!”

Syl smiled at his words, tears welling in her eyes despite her efforts. “Thank you,” she finally managed. “It’s gorgeous!”

Then her expression hardened as a thought occurred to her. “You didn’t sell our firstborn for this did you?” she said sternly, turning to face him.

Tomten feigned puzzlement. “What do you mean? The way you go on about wanting eight children, I thought you couldn’t possibly miss one or two!”

She jabbed him in the side with her finger, laughing, and let her concern melt away. Tomten hid his relief – he really had traded everything away for it. Including the two shards of ruby he’d smuggled out of the mines with Matt last year. He caught her hands and kissed her again.

After an all too brief time, she pushed him away lightly, evil smile on her lips. “Just for that little joke we’ll have ten,” she cooed.

“Hey! You brought it up!” Tomten said defensively. Syl was right though, she was touchy about the subject of children. Syl only had one sister, and she was barren. Her mother’s line depended on her.

Suddenly Tomten grinned, and without warning hooked his leg around Syl, gently lowering her to the grass. “If you’re so eager, we could start now…” Tomten said seductively.

Syl giggled as she pushed her would-be lover away. “Boys! The wedding is two weeks away and it’s too long to wait!” She gently removed the nightcloth from her head, shaking out the stray blades of grass before folding it and putting it down beside her.

“Besides,” she continued, you know my womb hasn’t bled its eighth cleansing yet. You don’t want to father a demon child, do you?”

Tomten smiled teasingly. “You’re the one always so… loud… about how the Spirits and Demons are just made up tales to scare children. You’re 14 years old! Are you still a child, my princess?”

“Well, I just might believe that tale. They say Lynn was conceived early, and she’s positively wicked,” Syl stated.

They looked at each other sternly for a moment before Tomten laughed, and stole another kiss… but restrained himself from anything further. They lay on the grass in each others’ arms, enjoying the afternoon, both feeling somewhat sleepy in the hot sun. Syl’s fingers wove their way between the blades of grass idly.

A particularly trilling song resounded in the trees nearby, at first far away, and then approaching slowly. When it rang out for the third time, Tomten looked up, excited, searching the trees. “I thought that was it… that’s the song of a rainbow robin! I’ve only seen one once, they almost never come this far north!”

Syl glanced up. She could feel the strange bird with her senses, in this half-dreamy state. She smiled, and said to Tomten sleepily, “Hold out your hand.”

“What?”

“Hold it out. Higher. That’s it.”

Syl began to sing softly, almost inaudibly, a gentle lulling melody. She reached out with an inner part of herself, and called to the flitting bird. The robin’s song approached even more, and soon it could be seen singing on a branch above. It truly was magnificent — a small bird yet every feather looked a different colour. Its greens and blues and reds sparkled wildly in the sun.

Syl continued to sing. The rainbow robin flicked its head between them and the tree, and back again, in that jerky way characteristic of small birds. Finally, it seemed to make up its mind. The sparkling ball of colour spread its kaleidoscopic wings, flew down, and landed on Tomten’s outstretched hand.

“Wow,” he breathed. The robin looked at him, pecked at his hand as if for food. Finding nothing there, it stared at him, looking rather hurt. Tomten was too surprised to do anything but stare back. With a final chirp of admonishment, the robin flew away.

Syl prodded him. “See, even the birds know you’re hopeless,” she teased.

“How did you do that, Syl?”

She shrugged, snuggling against him. “Dunno,” she mumbled.

“Syl…”

She looked up at him, and sat up. “Are you worried again?”

Tomten nodded. “These… things you do. They’re like what the Mistresses do. The ones linked to the Spirits. I… I keep dreaming that I wake up, and you’ve left to become one of them. And I think… that I deserve it. After all, what has a country bumpkin like me done to deserve someone as… well, Spirit-blessed as you?”

Syl blushed. “Oh, you silly boy!” she bent over and kissed him soundly. “How many times do I have to tell you? Mistresses don’t kidnap people! They won’t come and take me away! And I certainly won’t go willingly. Mistresses don’t have husbands, my love,” she said. She lowered her voice. “And they can’t have children. You know that. They are wed to the Spirits, all of them, Blades, Enchantresses, Craftswomen…”

Syl shook her head. “My mother’s family would end. Our ancestors would forever be locked in the spirit realm, never to play among the living again. How could I do that to them?”

Tomten looked deeply into her rose eyes. “Is that all I am to you? A father for your children? For your ancestors?”

Syl ground her teeth and punched him. “I should slap you upside the head,” she exclaimed. She not so gently rubbed at the dirt on his forehead. “Of course not! I love you! You love me! The Moon blessed us both… and we’re getting married! But I refuse to go through with this if you continue your petty, insecure, self-criticism!”

Syl glared at Tomten, pushing him away, fury kindling in her eyes.

Tomten stared back and grinned. “You’re so lovely when you get mad,” he started to say, but Syl was attacking him with mock fury before half his words were spoken. The rest couldn’t be formed, since his lips were besieged by those of his love.

He twisted away and nibbled on her ear. “I believe you,” he whispered into it, and playfully nibbled on it again. “Besides, when I’m done with you on the night of our wedding, the Mistresses won’t want you. They only take the innocent you know!”

Syl shook her head and laughed, pushing him away playfully. She rested her head back down on the grass.

Tomten looked at her for a minute, admiring her shapely form. He loved the way her hair flowed from her head; he loved its colour. He loved everything she was.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I must be the happiest man in the Realm!”

She smiled back. “I love you more, you oaf! My happiness is unequaled in all the Realms!” she giggled. “And I’m marrying you, and that’s that. The Mistresses can’t do anything to stop it! Not even the Demon King could stop it!” she yelled, joyfully.

Tomten grinned back.

The wind picked up for a moment. Thick clouds swept in front of the sun, sending the glade into shadow but for a single ray of light, careening among the violet strands of Syl’s hair and glimmering in her clear, joyful eyes, before rolling down her coarse shirt, to play with the nightcloth lying on the grass beside them. In a moment, that too was gone. The billowing wind threw strands of Syl’s hair in front of her eyes. She brushed at them in a vain effort to clear the filamented curtain from her vision, and glanced up at the suddenly overcast sky. Then she wrinkled her nose.

“You’ll have to promise to wash before the wedding, you ox,” she teased.

Tomten sat up in protest “Hey! You try frolicking in the woods with a lovely maiden; it’s sweaty work I tell you!”

A deep, threatening grunt from behind startled both of them. They turned in unison…

To be continued