12 Nights Of Christmas: Solstice Magic Willa Okati All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2005 Willa Okati
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Chapter One “Ho-la! Ho-la! Solstice time is here again! Come all ye, and dance about! Drink your fill, take your favorite pleasures as you choose, and make merry as you can! Come, come! Sing with me now!” Sprightly, infectious music sprang up from the fiddler, spoon-player, and drummer in the corner of the village tavern, where all in the village of Nayanka had gathered to celebrate their greatest holiday. The landlord, a burly man with a beard thick as a pelt and a belly that spoke of a fondness for his wares raised his voice in a deep, hearty laugh, and lifted his tankard to the skies. “Drink!” he roared again, his pleasure deeply real. “Drink, and dance! Solstice celebration!” “Solstice celebration!” the crowd of villagers shouted back, already pairing off to dance the reels. Eager hands reached for eager hands. Songs and laughter filled the air to bursting, as did the sounds of soft leather boots treading out happy patterns on the stone floor. Every man and woman bore a brilliant smile as they seized one another to celebrate. And why not? What did they have to worry about? Their world might be one of snow and ice, but their own fires burned hot. The gods were pleased with the village of Nayanka, and thus it flourished. They’d dance and drink, and then slip off in pairs, either discreetly or with laughter and teasing, to fuck the night away. In spreading their seed, they honored the gods and hoped to light a spark of life that would blossom into spring. Spring, and a bumper crop of babies along with the next harvest. Well-pleased, the landlord bellowed his mighty laugh. He wiped his hands on his apron and vaulted over the bar to catch a serving maid by the wrists and whirl her about. Her giggles of mock-scandal rang out in a silvery tinkle.
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As they spun, they bumped up against a figure sitting in the darkest, most shadowy corner, all by himself. He held a mug, but no instrument, and not even his toes tapped to the music. As the dancers righted themselves, they recognized him -- and not with pleasure. “Aleksi,” the landlord grunted. “Aye, well.” And he was off, without a second thought -- at least not one he spoke aloud. Aleksi knew damned well what he’d be thinking, though. Aleksi the Useless, taking up space and souring our luck. May the gods overlook him one more time, and honor our celebration of the Solstice. May spring come again despite this idiot’s wintry gloom. Aleksi huddled down on his low wooden bench, head ducked. He didn’t want to look at the revelers any more, to see them so happy when he lived sunk so deep in gloom. He’d never have come to this idiot celebration, except that village law required all who could walk put in an appearance, and those who couldn’t walk be carried. Even fools and failures such as himself. Aleksi took a careful sip from the mug of Solstice ale he’d purchased with one of his carefully hoarded coins. Sharp, sour, and sweet, it tasted of cinnamon and cloves. Rare, expensive spices purchased from traveling tinkers, hoarded thriftily, and used only once a year. Men, women, and children paused briefly in their wild dancing to raise mugs and cups to their lips. From the burliest to the youngest, they took only tiny swallows, the better to savor the rare spices. Aleksi drank, and tasted only bitterness. He made a face. “Don’t you like it?” The voice startled him into looking up. A young girl, no older than seven winters, stood before him dressed in finery of sunny yellow and leaf green. Two glossy dark braids tied with gilt ribbons draped over her shoulders. She looked at him without fear, too young to hide her curiosity. “It’s good,” she said with a frown. Then, changing her tack with the swiftness of a youthful mind: “Why aren’t you dancing?”
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Aleksi shook his head and looked down. “I don’t dance. Go on, child. Back to your mother.” “Why? Everyone else is stepping light. Why aren’t you?” “Go back, I said!” Aleksi’s voice came out sharp enough to cut. He clutched his fingers tight around his mug. “All I want is to be left alone.” “Why?” Aleksi raised a thin hand to rub the bridge of his nose. “Go,” he said, voice low and angry. “Honor the gods, and leave me be.” She wrinkled her nose. “You don’t make any sense.” “No. I don’t.” Pause. “Are you really a holy man? My babushka said she could tell from your tattoos. But you don’t make medicine, or hold services, or anything at all. Why?” Aleksi shook his head. “Da says the gods don’t like you.” Aleksi sat, silent as the grave. The girl lifted the end of one braid and twirled it, eyeing him in deep thought. “Is it true you like men better than ladies?” “Where did you --” “Silly. Everyone knows.” She grinned at Aleksi as if they were conspirators. “My cousin Berin’s tilted the same way. He likes you.” Aleksi winced. “Go,” he said. “Leave me in peace.” “Berin wants to ask you to dance but he thinks you’ll say no. You never dance, or laugh, or smile. Why?” Aleksi made no answer save to shake his head once. The girl rolled her eyes. “Da was right,” she muttered. “You are useless.” Tossing her braids, she sailed back off into the whirling dancers. A boy near to her own age caught her by the waist and twirled her about. Her laugh, innocent and young, rang out bright with merriment. Aleksi was forgotten, just like that. Good.
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Aleksi knew that there were no secrets in a village so small as Nayanka, but leave it to a child to dredge up all that most folk were too close-mouthed to speak of to his face. He knew they chattered about him and spun all sorts of fancy stories to while away dull nights huddled by their hearths. Everyone wondered why he’d come to live among them on the snowy steppes. Him, a holy man with the mark of big city breeding. A priest, he supposed they thought. Well, they were wrong. Damned wrong. He wore the intricate inkings he’d earned during his years in the temple, true enough. Loops and whorls from eyebrow to chin on the left side of his face, the designs spreading down the whole of his body to his fingertips and toes. Runes and sigils sacred to the gods. Aleksi couldn’t hide those. But he could show, in other ways, that he was no longer a man of the gods. He had let his shaven hair grow, untamed and uncut, until it touched the center of his back in a tousled mane of black. He’d removed the golden rings and bells from his ears. Still, ink told one tale, and folk made up plenty more to fill in the gaps. Behind his back, they called him what he was no longer and would never be again: holy man. Magician, priest, speaker-to-the-gods. Able to call them down in song, to ply their favor with sweet notes plucked from a harp, and raise his voice in prayer. More, he had the knowledge of all herbs that grew in the midst of their snow-covered world. Where to look, how to harvest them, and what needed doing to extract good medicines. His were meant to be hands that guided infants into the world and saw that mothers and children both lived; his, the hands meant to prepare bodies for burial in the ice. But those hands lay idle, cupped around his mug of ale, as they had been at rest since his arrival in Nayanka. No one pressed him, but he knew they whispered behind his back. Curiosity, scorn, frustration -- no one able to understand why he would not help.
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If I only could, Aleksi thought. But it’s gone from me now. I’ve fallen from grace, dropped hard and fast to earth, and there’s no power in the heavens above to raise me up again. No one in Nayanka knew the truth. Given to the priests as an infant, Aleksi had shown talent beyond his years. A shining star, he’d raced from apprentice to journeyman, from journeyman to master-in-training, but when it had come time to take his final trials, he had… He had failed. The gods did not answer his prayers; the goddesses stoppered up his magics. Sacrificial fires remained cold and unlit. The temple virgin provided for consummating his rise to power, male as per his preference, grew bored, then could barely hide his amusement as Aleksi’s efforts grew frantic. In the end, the Master-Father priest of his Order had put an end to the trials. Taken Aleksi aside, shaken his head in sorrow, and pressed a silver coin into his palm. Aleksi’s fist had closed around it, the rough edges cutting into his flesh. He didn’t need to ask what it was. He knew. It was symbolic of the wealth he’d need to make his way in the world, away from the sheltering Brotherhood he had grown up among. The high temple had no room and no place for one whom the gods disdained. Bad luck, and worse yet, both knew Aleksi would soon be laughed to shame. He had raised dark eyes to the Master-Father and stared, helpless. Where do I go now? What do I do? The Master-Father had sighed without a word or a fare-thee-well. Aleksi was no longer his charge. Without regrets, he had turned and walked away. And so, too, did Aleksi. He left the temple that night, when all else were sound asleep and would not see him go in shame. He took nothing with him but the clothes on his back, the fur-lined boots on his feet, and enough food to last him for a few days’ journey. Theft? Perhaps. He hadn’t been able to care. Somewhere deep inside he had gone numb and cold as the snow that fell, fell, fell forevermore in the outside world, never
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ceasing. Their land was a cold place, and the gods’ fires the only thing that warmed the folk’s hearths and homes and hearts. Not Aleksi. Not anymore. He glanced out the window at the rising moon and calculated the time out of long habit. The villagers would expect him to stay until the midnight hour and Solstice, but there were hours yet to go. The music and laughter made his head ache. Perhaps, if he stepped quietly enough, he could slip out and go back to his cave. Bar the door, curl up on his lonely cot, and sleep away the hour of the year’s rebirth… “Ho, there! Aleksi, it’s good to see you. Happy Solstice!” A man, warm as coal from dancing with all his might, plunked down on the bench beside him. His hair, a mess of ebony curls, had been tied haphazardly away from his face with a length of twine. Escaped ringlets clung to his cheeks, the fair skin flushed red from dancing and ale. His smile, white as the snow, shone at Aleksi. “Hail, brother, well-met.” Aleksi felt his own face heating to a dusky rose at Berin’s notice. His throat grew clogged. “Berin,” he said. Berin. Beautiful Berin. Laughing, loving, alive. A wood-crafter blessed with the gods’ own skill. Clever hands, nimble fingers… square, hardily-formed body yet quick and light as a floating feather… lips, so full, so perfectly sculpted that they begged to be kissed… Aleksi had spent many a shameful night in his cave, never able to sleep well, and spun himself fantasies about their meeting just like this. Berin approaching him with warmth and a smile. Berin, taking Aleksi’s hand in his own. Berin, leaning in to kiss Aleksi, impulsive and brave. Not to mock him, but because the flames of desire burned in his own belly. In his dreams, Aleksi was brave. He would take Berin’s hand and lead him back to the caves, or to a pine grove, and lay him down. Lavish his body with kisses as he unwrapped his leathers and furs. He would have magic again, to protect them against the cold.
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Berin would writhe beneath him, laughing and gasping with pleasure as Aleksi’s lips captured him in a spell of lust. He would reach for Aleksi’s clothes in turn, stripping them off while he smiled that so-bright smile. When he had finished, and both lay naked in the snow, unafraid and warm, Aleksi dreamed of many things. Sometimes he slid down the length of Berin’s body and took the man’s swollen cock into his mouth, tasting the salt of his skin and the tang of his seed. Satin over steel. Berin would moan, his back arching up, fingers curling into the snow. Urge Aleksi on, wanting more and yet more. Sometimes, they would lie together and kiss, exploring each other’s mouths with lips and tongues, rocking soft and gentle together, cocks slick against their bare bellies. Their breath would grow fast, fast, faster, and then… Or perhaps, when Aleksi was desperately lonely, he would imagine Berin stretched out on his belly or back. Legs raised to slide over Aleksi’s bare shoulders. He would smile, wide and warm, as he reached out for Aleksi and drew him close. Opened for his cock to slide past the tight muscles and into slick heat fit to make him forget all his failures. By then, Aleksi could usually bear no more. Whispering a prayer to deaf ears that Berin would forgive him, he’d reach for his own cock beneath his worn trousers and thin bed-furs. Take the pulsing length of it in hand and begin to pump up and down. Dry, so that the pain punished him -- but for all that, the thought of sinking into Berin’s depths, of hearing him wail his pleasure, of feeling him toss and grip and clutch and kiss… ah! “… Aleksi! Here, where’ve you drifted off to?” Aleksi blinked, startled out of his daydream. Berin sat beside him in the flesh, not in his dreams, grinning broadly. “Wool-gatherer,” he said with a friendly nudge. “Here, has your drink gone cold? Want me to pour this back in the pot and get you a fresh mug? It’d be a pleasure. Great brew this year -- best I’ve had yet!” Aleksi blinked. “Why is that?” he asked, without thinking.
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Berin’s eyes flickered, almost shy. “Good company makes good drink,” he said, reaching to take the mug from Aleksi’s suddenly nerveless fingers as Aleksi stared. “Or so I’ve always found.” Berin placed the mug at their feet. As he bent, his eyes came level with Aleksi’s groin. Aleksi realized too late, with a heart-thumping jolt of embarrassment, that his fantasies had caused his cock to swell. There could be no mistaking his hardness, nor would any fool not know why he’d gone erect. Berin glanced up through his eyelashes, then, with a small smile, slipped down to the floor on his knees. His hands, gentle if callused from hard work, moved to caress the bulge of Aleksi’s cock. Despite himself, Aleksi sucked in a ragged breath. “Don’t.” Berin’s grin turned sly. He rubbed harder, his thumbs working a clever dance. Aleksi could feel the pounding of his heart. He couldn’t help it -- his hips moved of their own accord, thrusting into Berin’s touch. “You are a pretty thing,” Berin breathed. “I’ve wanted you for many a month now, Aleksi. Be damned to who you were, or what folk say. I know what I crave.” He rubbed harder, chuckling as Aleksi moaned. “I think you do, too, eh? Here. How do you like this?” Without shame, Berin nuzzled his way between Aleksi’s thighs, which parted for him like water. He laid his lips atop the bulge of Aleksi’s erection, first in a gentle kiss, then, suddenly, suckling strong and hard. “Ahh!” Aleksi could not hold back the cry. He could not stop his hands from grasping at Berin’s thick curls. Could not calm his breath, coming in sharp, quick bursts. The heat of Berin’s mouth through the thin fabric of his trousers, only a few threads away from his cock, inflamed him with a fire that terrified his very soul. “Ssh,” Berin murmured. “Come. Celebrate Solstice with me. I want you. Want you so very, very much.” Aleksi shuddered hard. “No,” he said. He closed his eyes tight and held his breath. The orgasm threatening to break over him teetered -- held -- retreated.
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With one rough shove, he pushed Berin away. “No, I said, and no, I meant!” Aleksi stood, knocking Berin down. He could feel curious eyes resting on them, but didn’t give a damn. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he grated. “I’m not fit for you. Not for any man.” “Aleksi --” “No!” He no longer cared if anyone marked his leaving. Aleksi ran -- no, fled -out into the snowy dark of night, away from the light and noise and laughter. Away from Berin’s eyes and lips and hands. He shook hard as a leaf in the wind all the way back to his cave. “Solstice,” he said, as if it were an oath. “Solstice be damned!” Love, be damned. As hope should be damned. As he knew himself to be.
Chapter Two If the Solstice is not celebrated, the gods will be angry indeed. Mighty is their wrath unless we take care to keep them happy. The oldest writings tell us that is why our world is forever cursed with its never-ceasing snows: we failed to recognize their bounty in giving us seasons of warmth and light, and so they took away all but the winter. However, all was not lost. Some gods’ wrath passes quickly, and some have kinder hearts. They are not as powerful as others, but when moved to pity, they do what they can. These are the deities who lightened the blow to our people. They bargained things no man can contemplate to purchase us our brief growing season, a time of harvest, game that thrives despite the blizzards, and plants for food and healing that survive even beneath snowdrifts. Yes, there are kindly gods. To thank them, we celebrate Solstice in honor of their mercy. It is so very important that we remember and keep to these old ways. For if we anger the gentle ones, who knows what end is to befall us? Rolling over on his hard bed, a badly woven contraption of rope and skins suspended from the ceiling of the cave he called home, Aleksi remembered his old priest-teacher’s words about the Solstice. He’d gone on and on beyond that, of course, explaining the whys and whenceforths of the food, spiced ale, dancing, gathering together, and making love until even Aleksi grew bored. He’d ended up doodling the picture of a fine, strapping young temple servant who winked and smiled at him every so often, in the margin of his scroll. It had been a good drawing. He’d had the knack of bringing a picture to life with a few strokes of his quill. The best script, too. Aleksi had always been the best at everything.
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“A game,” he startled himself by saying out loud as he turned over, seeking a comfortable place to lie amid the lumps and bumps. Once started, the words poured out of his cold-numbed lips, his anger heating. “A plaything of the gods. They gave me the world, all the better to laugh when they took it away. Celebrate Solstice? Kindly ones? Pfah! To Chaos with the kindly ones, if they exist. What have they done for me?” Aleksi spat on the floor. “I had it all,” he said softly. “Now I have nothing.” He tossed a bit more. The scent of cinnamon and cloves clung to his hair, hanging loose around his face; the smell reminded him of shame and unhappiness and pushed sleep yet further away. Brushing his locks back with a hand only released more of the spicy smell. Made him think more and more of what he had lost, what he could no longer have, of Berin… Sometimes he wanted to rage against the skies. Shake his fist at the heavens. He’d started, a time or two, but in the end he hadn’t the heart. They’d taken that too. Aleksi felt his gaze harden as he stared at the cold stone of his home cave walls. Hard as his heart, cold as his soul, barren as his magic. “If you do exist,” he muttered, “prove it. However you choose. Until then, I’ll worship you no more. Solstice be damned.” Cold, Aleksi pulled a ragged fur up over his head. “Fuck you all,” he said, his words bitter as ashes on the tongue. He drifted off to sleep, shaking with the chill of his home, his heart, and his hearth.
*** A drop of water bounced off Aleksi’s nose. Blinking, he sat upright. Water? Was there melting ice in his cave? How? A fissure in the roof? He stared above his bed, but saw nothing. The ceiling was dry and dead as ever, the stone long past its time of dripping water and new formations.
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The cold of the cave pressed in, more oppressive than usual. Aleksi shivered, drawing his furs closer to himself. No use; they no more kept out the chill than a net full of holes. Poor things, but they were all he could afford. No -- all he’d had the heart to buy. What use were rich, soft furs when you lay on them alone? Aleksi ran his hand down one rough pelt, feeling the badly cured underside catch on his fingertips, and gave a snort of distaste. The skin wasn’t fit to wrap a criminal’s corpse! He remembered when he’d gone into the local furrier’s workshop to choose his blankets, he’d deliberately picked out only bad cast-offs made by the burly man’s young apprentice. That had earned him an odd look, to be sure… but no questions. “Holy men” often sanctified the flesh through punishment. Later on, he supposed they figured him to be stingy, or daft. Either one. It didn’t matter. Wistful, he stroked the coarse skins again. If only… if only… if only they were better. Bear-skins, his favorite, lush with thick, pure white fur. Their insides would be cured softer than velvet, caressing his skin. His skin, and the man who he suddenly dreamed was lying beside him. Berin. With Aleksi’s eyes half-closed, he could not stop the dreams from flooding in. He all but saw Berin, stretched out on one side, smiling at Aleksi and reaching out to trail a finger down his chest. Nude, yes, both were gloriously bare, and unashamed. They were lovers, after all. True lovers, bound heart and soul and mind. “Time was, I thought I’d never get you here,” dream-Berin whispered. He toyed with dream-Aleksi’s nipple, thumbing it into a hardened nub. Real-Aleksi gasped and shivered with a thrill of pleasure. “Again,” he rasped, imagining dream-Berin’s fingers stroking, pinching, soothing, teasing, tickling. The sweetest torture, and dream-Berin had only gone so far as his chest. “Kiss me?”
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Berin’s eyes sparkled with wicked humor. “Oh, I’ll kiss you all right.” He bent and drew the nipple into his mouth. Hot and wet, he nipped with his sharp teeth and laved away the sting with his clever tongue. He laughed softly as Aleksi moaned and arched up. “You’re sensitive as a woman. Better, in my opinion,” he said against Aleksi’s chest. Aleksi felt dizzy with delight. “And why is that?” he asked, able to tease in his dream. Dream-Berin chuckled. “Many good reasons, more than I have patience to name. But most of all, you’ve got this to your credit.” His hand slid down and circled Aleksi’s cock with a hard squeeze. “Ah! Ah, Berin!” “Hush, now. I know what you like.” Berin’s hand began to move up and down the length of Alexi’s cock. Languorous, as if he had all night to enjoy his task. “Relax, and let me feel you. I’ve got it in mind to remember this tumble.” Lost in his fantasy, Aleksi reached for his cock with his own hand. Touching one’s self was never as good as the feel of another’s caress, but ah! He ached for it. Burned with the need for touch and hope of release. He pumped fast and hard, working the movements into his fantasy. Dream-Berin laughed as dream-Aleksi writhed, his hands clutching at Berin’s bare shoulders, arms tangling around the man’s back. “More,” he gasped. “Harder. Faster. Please, Berin. I have waited long and long. Too long.” “Lucky you, then.” Berin brushed his lips across Aleksi’s. “You’re close,” he said on a soft breath. “I can feel it. You’re shaking as if you’d been caught out naked in the snow. Breathing as if you’ve run through a storm.” Aleksi caught hold of Berin at last, a good solid grip, and dragged him down for a better kiss. Their mouths warred, lips moving hungrily against lips, the passion between them a brightly-burning flame that would never die. It didn’t matter to Berin that Aleksi was a failure. He loved Aleksi all the same. Had, did, and forever after
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would. Aleksi poured his gratitude and lust into the kiss, and Berin returned it in spades. Both men were breathing hard as their mouths parted. Berin’s hand had shuddered to a halt on Aleksi’s cock. His dancing eyes stared into Aleksi’s. He nuzzled the tips of their noses together. “I love you,” he whispered. With a grin, he began once more to move his hand. In his bed, alone, the real Aleksi tossed and groaned. His cock pulsed in his hand, thrumming and jerking in time to his racing heart. “Berin,” he cried, soft and low. “I need you so. But I can’t -- I’m not good enough -- I --” He froze, his back arching up. The orgasm he so desperately wanted, that he’d needed ever since the real Berin’s lips had touched his cock before, rushed upon him with a mighty roar. The pleasure became pain, reaching to the highest pinnacle. Aleksi opened his mouth to scream -And… Nothing. His body jerked in a massive cramp, pain shooting through all his limbs, twisting his balls into a knot. He did scream, but in agony, as the release backed up as floodwater behind a dam. No orgasm, no seed, nothing but the pain that drew cries of agony, not pleasure, from deep within his chest. His cock went soft in his hand, a useless lump of flesh. His testicles throbbed angrily, hard as walnuts, sore as if they’d been slashed. Aleksi raised his voice to the heavens and howled. No. No! Why? Why take this from me, too? You’ve taken everything else -- and now I am denied even the basest pleasure of the flesh? Damn you! No, it was too much. More than any man should be asked to bear. Heedless of the pain, Aleksi swung his legs out of his hammock and hit the cave’s stone floor running. The cold burned his bare soles, but he paid it no mind. His groin ached with a fierce, fiery pain. Tears ran unheeded down his cheeks.
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Naked, he stumbled out into the snowy clearing before his cave. He fell, then, down on his knees in mounds of ice. Not thinking if anyone might hear, not that he would have cared, Aleksi raised his face to the cloudy, darkened heavens that hid the moon and bayed with the rage-filled pain of a lonely wolf. “Why?” he roared. He beat at the icy crust on the snow with both his fists. “What did I do to make you this angry? Why do you play your games with me? Leave me alone! All of you, leave me alone! Turn your backs on me forever, or give me back my life!” Silence. A moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, broken only by the ragged sound of Aleksi’s hitching breaths. Then, from the east and north, there came a mighty wind. Aleksi saw it bending the evergreens near in half a split-second before it hit him with the power of an openhanded slap. He heard himself cry out as he was knocked onto his back, pounded into the snow, and laid out flat as a dead man. The wind roared and screamed, all but stealing his breath away. He struggled for air, the pain in his lungs and throbbing groin joining to turn his body into the essence of agony. “Why?” a voice demanded, somehow louder than the wind. It echoed through Aleksi’s ears and drilled deep into his skull. If he could have, he would have shuddered away from the sound. Rolled into a ball and stuffed his fingers in his ears. The wind held him captive, and prevented it. “Why?” the voice bellowed. “There are none so blind as those who will not see, Aleksi, son of Rus! You have shuttered your eyes to us for far too long. No more. You asked us a question, and by our divinity, we will answer it. Open your eyes, stupid boy! Open them wide, and watch! See, see for yourself the truth you have refused to embrace!” The wind caught up handfuls of snow and tossed them about in a wild kaleidoscope of starburst patterns. Aleksi could not close his eyes; he could not look
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away. Dazzled, he felt himself being sucked into the sight of the whirling crystals, and there, he saw -Himself. Himself, as once he had been. Younger, healthier, cleaner. Standing tall and proud, dressed in the elegantly embroidered robes of a master in training. His shoes, of softest leather, laced with silk, made no sound as he walked carelessly over masterworks of cobblestone art that filled the Temple Great, never once stopping to look down and see how beautiful they were. His head gleamed, shaved bare and massaged with fragrant oils. Hoops and bells hung from his earlobes, their soft tinkling sending a message to any who passed of his importance and his power. From the corners of his eyes, Aleksi saw temple servants scuttle, frightened, out of his path, while journeymen lurked in corners and scowled. From his teachers and the high priests, there were nothing but indulgent smiles. Aleksi returned their genial approval with the smugness of a sleek cat in a rare beam of sunlight, well-fed on praise and the fat of the land. He laughed to himself at their foolishness, all those old men. He would supplant them all, someday soon. Then, things would change. He had his plans. Dreams of magics greater than even the stories of gods’ accomplishments. He would drive away the snows. Bring back the seasons of green and gold, growth and life. Create an elixir to keep men healthy and longer-lived than anyone had dared to dream. He would make for himself an arbor finer than a king’s. An eyrie filled with silk and brocade, velvet and fur and tapestries that depicted all his glorious works. A bed filled with pure white feathers. In that bed, the man he would choose as his whim directed. No one said him nay, for they loved him one and all. They fell to their knees and worshiped his cock; they spread themselves wanton and wide to receive his thrusts, and they always, always went mad with passion. They couldn’t help themselves. He had power over these beautiful lads, and used it for both their pleasure. Thinking those things, Aleksi went to a window and gazed out at the drifting snow. He shook his head to hear the silver jingling, and laughed. Tomorrow, he would take his final tests and win the title of Great Master.
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Tomorrow, he would be king of the holy hill.
The next day, he would set about conquering the world…
With a gasp, Aleksi spun back into his own skin, nigh frozen to the ice he lay
buried in. “You forgot us,” the voice thundered. “Proud Aleksi, so proud! So sure you could do it all yourself that you no longer thought to ask our help, or thank us for the gifts we lavished so freely. You spurned us as if we were no more than dead leaves underfoot.” “I -- I did not --”
“You did! Will you lie, now? Even after you have seen?”
“But I did not mean -- I did not think --”
“No. You did not. And thus, we punished you. A man so proud must be broken
to remember his place in our world. Stripped of all that he has lavished on himself. Reduced to nothing, to burn away his pride.” The voice fell silent. The wind roared on. Aleksi forced his lips to move despite the rime of ice forming on his mouth. “Please… please…” “Please?” the voice mocked. “What is it you would ask for? A return to your former glory? The powers you took for granted? The riches you let yourself drown in?” It dropped low, cunning and devious. “Or do you plead for death? Perhaps you think it would be merciful. Drifting off to sleep in a grave of ice, your body not found until spring, or perhaps for years to come. Mayhap not ever again. You’d be alone, as you seem to want so very much.” “Brother!” A new voice, softer, a tenor undistinguishable as male or female, interrupted the harsh flow of words. “Peace, enough!” “You would interfere?” “I would remind you that we are the kindly ones. Your own rage blinds you, as Aleksi’s pride shuttered his own eyes. I think…” A gentler breeze, oddly warm, swept over his forehead. “I think he has learned his lesson. Hard times have shown him how to survive, but not how to be happy.” The first voice harrumphed. “So? What do you suggest?”
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“Mercy. Pity. A second chance. Lifting the veils of sorrow and anger as we might shrouds from the dead. It will cause him much pain, but such is fleeting, and once he is truly free, he will see the truth. I believe this with all my heart. He will see why we led him here, and where he belongs. Give him the chance to win back his powers.” “You jest!” the first voice exclaimed in outrage. “I do not. Please, brother. Grant me my request. I will take him as my own, and guide him whithersoever he steps. If he chooses wrong, I will let him go, and never speak of this again. Only, let me try. Once. Just once.” Silence. Aleksi stared into the whirlwind, heart slowing from the cold even as it wanted to race with fear and wonder. “Very well,” the first voice said at last. “Do what you like. I wish you joy of him.” “As I wish joy to come to him, and to us all. Thank you, brother.” The warm breeze returned, soothing the harsh wind burns that reddened Aleksi’s skin. As it brushed over him with the gentleness of a lover’s caress, the angry gale slowly blew to an end, and faded into nothing. “Good lad,” the kindly voice murmured. “Do you understand any of what you’ve heard? What you were shown?” Aleksi’s eyes filled with tears. “No, no. Hush, now. I bargained for a second chance, Aleksi. I cannot guide you, but I can advise you this much: cast aside your fears. So you are not the man that once you were, a proud prince and master of magic. You are still a man, with much knowledge that can still be used. You have a heart, and there is love and faith buried deep inside the ice. Break your shell, and be reborn. Allow yourself to trust once more. Take the step you’ve feared for so long and let go of all you fear. Then, and only then, will you be whole once more.” Aleksi felt a light pressure on his forehead, almost like a kiss. “I must be silent now,” the voice said, “but fear not. I am here, and I will not leave you nor forsake you unless you choose in the wrong.” “But -- but how will I know?”
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He heard a faint chuckle. “Be who you can be, without regret for what you were. Take the lessons that matter and put them to good use,” the voice advised. “Trust your heart and not your head. Believe in love, and disdain fear.” “I don’t --” “Aleksi, look. Raise your head and look. Your second chance comes singing through the trees, laughter in his heart. Laugh with him, and win the day. Weep, and you will cry alone forever more.” It paused. “One more thing, Aleksi. I am the kindly god of love, and the ritual of bodies coming together is my particular tribute. There is no shame in cherishing the one your heart desires. For my help, and for the sake of coming back to life, do as you so long to without fear, and thus honor the Solstice. Such is the path to new, true power.” Silence fell, calm and absolute. Then he heard it. A voice raised in song, the same sprightly Solstice tune they’d played at the tavern earlier that night. Wherever the singer didn’t remember the right words, he made up his own, or hummed, or whistled. Happiness rang in his voice, warm as a crackling fire. Aleksi knew that voice. He stared at the trees, beginning to breathe quickly. With a laugh, Berin broke through the line of evergreens, dusting snow off his arms. He stopped to look about himself. A smile of wonder and amusement warmed his face. “Aleksi?” he called, adjusting a leather sack slung across his shoulder. “Aleksi, may I come in?” Aleksi, hidden by the snow, swallowed hard against a throat dry as cotton. He closed his eyes tightly. Help me now, he prayed, his first plaint made in earnest, not in anger, for many and many a year. “Berin,” he croaked, pulling his arm free of the ice and waving it in the air. “Berin, help me!” And he waited, heart in his throat, to see what would happen next.
Chapter Three “Aleksi?” Berin sounded stunned. “What the devil?” Aleksi heard the sound of soundly-shod feet crunching through the snow at a run. He let his eyes flutter briefly closed in relief. Berin had seen him. He had come. The man’s face hove into view above Aleksi’s, dismay mixed with a touch of baffled amusement. “How did you get yourself into such a pickle, man? They say I’ve got no sense. What possessed you to go outside naked as a newborn babe and lie down in the snow?” “A dream,” Aleksi croaked. Not the truth, but close enough, and all he could manage to say. His throat felt raw, blasted by the harsh winds. Berin shook his head. Sensible enough not to skin off his good, thick gloves, he set about breaking the rime of ice that held Aleksi trapped, shoveling off handfuls of snow. “A dream, eh? Must have been some ride on the night mare. Then again, I’ll wager more than a few folk will have visions after drinking the tavern Solstice grog. Whew, what a kick this batch had! I’ve told the landlord to go easier on the grape and grain, but does he listen? Bugger, no. T’isn’t Solstice for him until every last villager of age is rip-roaring drunk and the lot of them are ready to dance till they drop. More than like you’re especially not used to such a brew.” Aleksi let Berin’s genial chatter wash over him in a warming wave. He felt himself smile. How odd, but how good. For the first time in years, someone’s speaking to him was no annoyance, but a pleasure. Berin sounded genuinely friendly, no hidden agendas, but Aleksi could hear the undercurrent of worry -- worry for him -- that kept the words flowing. He was considered worth saving.
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As he marveled over the thought, Berin finished his digging. “Come on then, you.” He slid his arms under Aleksi’s limp body. “Up we go. I’ve not been to your home cave before; is it far?” Aleksi shook his head. He managed to gesture to the entrance. “Yes, I see it now. Good! You’re no sack of feathers,” Berin teased. Yet for all that, he lifted Aleksi with surprising ease. Either he had great strength in his arms, or Aleksi had grown far too thin. Perhaps, or probably, a bit of both. Aleksi let himself sag against Berin’s broad chest, soaking up the warmth that radiated through his leathers and furs. Berin laughed, the sound tinged with surprise. “You know, I’ve often imagined you in my arms. Not quite like this, though,” he joked. “By the gods, you are close to a sack of goose-down, aren’t you? Do you eat at all?” Aleksi shrugged. “Eh, I figured as much. I’ve never seen you tuck into a meal, nor yet a drink before tonight’s Solstice grog. Well, I’ve brought a few things, but time enough for those when we’ve got you warmed up.” Berin pulled Aleksi closer to his chest. “Go on,” he said gently. “Tuck yourself close. I don’t mind. Gods, do I ever not mind.” Aleksi chuckled despite himself. He reached out with one hand and curled his fingers into Berin’s vest like a child needing comfort. The leather felt good, soft and supple to the touch, and underneath it he could feel solid muscle. “Yes,” Berin said, a bit breathless. “Good man. Now, inside.” Aleksi smiled to himself. He felt himself being jostled as Berin began to plow his way through the snow, and… He blinked. Odd. Suddenly, they were inside his cave. He was no longer in Berin’s arms, but stretched out on his miserable cot. Alarmed, he shifted, making as if to sit up. “Ho, there!” Berin hove into view, grinning as he pushed Aleksi back down. “So there you are again. I thought you’d sleep the day away. Gave me a fright, you did.” “Day?” Aleksi croaked. “I fainted?”
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“Like the daintiest of ladies.” Berin winked to take away the sting of his jest. “No shame, mind. I’d have gone arse-over-teakettle myself if I’d been half-frozen. You passed out on our way in, and spent a few hours sleeping. For the best, I expect. A body needs rest to heal.” “I remember,” Aleksi murmured. “From classes in the healing arts. They taught us how to use poppy and mandragora. Other things, too, not so well known. Willow bark, ergot, and… and…” “They?” “Temple priests. My teachers, my masters.” “So you are a holy man.” Berin’s face was unreadable as he studied Aleksi. “Tattoos or no, there’s many of us wondered.” Aleksi shook his head. “Not holy. The tests for mastery. I failed. No more magics. Everything, gone.” “They cast you out, eh?” Aleksi nodded. “Tcha. Big-city fools. No sense of a man’s worth.” Berin reached down to brush Aleksi’s hair back, casually as if he didn’t realize what he was doing. “You’d years and years of learning, I’d wager, and all the knowledge stayed tucked in your brain even if you couldn’t pull off the fancy party tricks. You’d have been of good use to them.” “Not without magic. Can’t serve the gods if you can’t bend reality.” “Balls to such rubbish. We serve the gods with good, honest work.” Berin grinned. “Or so I choose to believe, and they seem to like me well enough.” Aleksi laughed, surprising himself. “Do they? Why turn your eyes in my direction, then?” Berin chuckled in return. “So you have noticed. I’d begun to think you were blind. And trust me, I did everything but dance at your feet and wag my tail. Gods, the teasing I’ve taken for being so caught in this web, but be damned if I can break loose.” “I’m no spider.”
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“Well, no. I’d not be having wicked dreams that leave the furs all sticky if you had eight legs or more.” Berin winked. Surprising himself again, despite a small blush, Aleksi smiled. Berin grinned. “There, that’s what I like to see. You’ll be yourself soon, or even better. I’ve started a fire in the hearth to warm this place up properly, and taken the liberty of setting a little breakfast to going. Do you think you could eat?” Aleksi blinked. “Food?” He sniffed the air, and realized it was filled with the scent of toasting bread and boiling chicory. His stomach gave a mighty rumble. How long had it been since he’d eaten? Days? He couldn’t remember. Struggling to sit up, he strained for a glimpse of the cooking feast. “Here.” Berin patted Aleksi’s shoulder and handed him a chunk of bread, crisped brown around the crust. “This morning’s baking. There’s a dab of butter on there as well.” Aleksi stared at the bread. It had been baked with a light sprinkling of salt. Salt and bread, gifts of the gods. As well as… “Chicory?” he asked, hopeful. “Please? A small mug’s worth?” Berin’s eyes twinkled. “Far be it from me to deny man one of the second best pleasures in life.” He poured out a half-portion. “Go slow, mind. I’ve no sugar. Don’t take it, myself, so I didn’t think to bring any.” “No matter.” Aleksi took the first sip and closed his eyes in bliss. Ah, gods! He’d not had anything so good in -- he didn’t know how long. Fresh, strong, deliciously bitter. It warmed him going down, soothing his sore throat better than any medicine. His stomach tingled with pleasure. He let out a long sigh. “Good,” he said. “So good. Thank you, Berin.” Berin waved a hand. “Bah! It’s my own pleasure to see you enjoying something. Go on. Drink, and eat your bread. There’ll be time for talking once you’ve settled your innards.” Aleksi half-smiled to himself. Well. He might ease his rumbling stomach, to be sure, but he felt his heart thudding from the nearness of Berin’s easy presence. He dared
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a glance up at the man, so handsome in his honest, friendly way, and saw Berin grinning back at him. Aleksi couldn’t hide his smile before he ducked his head and began to eat. The bread, too, was a marvel. Soft and warm, the crust chewy, the taste tangy. Sourdough, perhaps? Melted butter, a treat Aleksi hadn’t had since leaving the city, ran down his fingers. Eager not to waste a drop, he lifted his hand without thinking and applied his tongue to the sweet trails, licking them away with small moans of pleasure. A choked sound startled him into looking up. Berin stared at him, lips slightly parted, looking as if he’d been pole-axed. Aleksi realized how he must have looked, giving in to so carnal a pleasure. Before last night, he would have been deeply shamed. This morning… Well, things had changed. A memory of the kindly god’s voice chimed in Aleksi’s mind. He didn’t understand all the entity had had to say, but he knew one thing: he had a choice to make, and he’d been given a chance to make good. To make himself a life anew, instead of living in the shadows and forever mourning what had been lost. Aleksi smiled a wicked, teasing smile. It felt strange, but deliciously freeing. Keeping his eyes fixed on Berin, he slid one finger back into his mouth and suckled, lapping in delicate strokes and letting out small moans of pleasure. Berin made a ragged sound. Aleksi knew that sort of noise of old, though it had been years upon years, perhaps not since his journeyman days, that he’d heard it and known it to be genuine. Prostitutes had wanted what he could pay; temple underlings, an association with his name or a taste of power. Berin wanted Aleksi for himself. A startling notion, and yet… good. No, better than good. Wondrous. Aleksi felt a rush of power flood his veins. Not the magics he’d known of old, but something far more primal. He curved his lips in a smile, knowing and teasing. He lapped at the tip of his finger and let his eyes drop to Berin’s lap.
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Yes -- ah, yes. Even beneath Berin’s sturdy leather trousers, the swelling bulge of his cock was all too evident. Aleksi let his gaze linger, making no secret of his interest. Slowly, he lowered his hand to his own cock and stroked the growing flesh. “Mmm.” Berin’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Aleksi?” “Ssh.” No longer weak at all, Aleksi rose gracefully to his knees, spreading them wide to display his cock. He ran his hand down the length, savoring the thrill of pleasure that tingled through his bones but, even more, the way Berin’s eyes dilated. His turn to play the coquette; his turn to give chase. Giving in had never been so great a marvel, or felt so very amazing. Aleksi’s skin hummed with pleasure that he channeled into his voice, turning it low and husky. “Do you like what you see?” he asked, teasing his cock-head with the pad of his thumb. Berin licked his lips. Startled, but yes, hungry. Wanting despite his amazement at Aleksi’s behavior. “What d’you think?” he rasped. “I think it’s time I rejoined the living.” “What? Aleksi, you -- I -- ah, gods!” Berin reared back, arching his neck as Aleksi leaned forward, swift and smooth, and laid his mouth over the hard swell of Berin’s cock. Just as Berin had done before, Aleksi suckled him through his leathers, tracing a path with his tongue. He stroked Berin’s thighs, coaxing them wider apart. Nuzzled deep into Berin’s groin, savoring the feel of his pulse beating fast and ever faster, the sound of his breath turning into sharp gasps, and his stifled curses. His hands, shaking ever so slightly, came down to tangle in Aleksi’s hair. “Lie with me,” Aleksi murmured against Berin’s leg. He drew back and lay down, exposed as a common wanton. Before, even as a youth, such a pose would have shamed him. Now? It felt right, it felt free, and it felt like a gift from the kindly ones. No fear. No doubts. Just peace, and at the same time, thrill after thrill of excited anticipation. He gazed at Berin from beneath heavy lids, daring the man to come and join him.
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Berin swallowed hard a second time. He stared at Aleksi. “What happened to you last night?” he asked hoarsely. “What made you change so? You were like a snow king before. Frozen. Now, you’re a fire. You’ll burn me alive.” “Perhaps.” Aleksi trailed a finger down his own chest, teasing at the hardened knots of his nipples. “Will you dance within the flame? Or are you afraid that you’ll be burned to death?” Berin shook his head in slow wonder. “I must be dreaming, myself.” “No.” Aleksi laughed. “You’re awake, Berin, and so am I. At long last, my ride on the night mare is over. Now come and lie with me, and bring on the new day adawning.” “I’ll bring on more than that,” Berin growled. He stood. Jerky, yanking and tugging at laces and buttons, he stripped away his clothing without any finesse. Aleksi stroked himself lasciviously as he watched, savoring Berin’s eagerness. He decided he liked it far better than any practiced prostitute’s tease. When Berin kicked aside his trousers, revealing a cock of glorious girth and length, Aleksi grinned. Now he knew he liked this better. He opened his arms wide. “Come to me.” And Berin came. He fell upon Aleksi, unpracticed but more than making up for skill with enthusiasm. What he didn’t know, Aleksi taught him, how to lick and nibble at lips until they plumped from the force of their kisses, how to tease and dance with tongues inside heated mouths, where he liked to be touched and how. Berin made a wondrous student, so quick a study that ere long he knew what Aleksi wanted without being told. His hands roamed over Aleksi’s body, stroking here and pinching there, squeezing and tickling. In turn, Aleksi learned the wonders of Berin’s own sweet spots. Better than any lesson out of books, to be sure, and far more gratifying with the reward of Berin’s unashamed reactions: groans, hisses of breath, and involuntary bucking of his hips, bashing his marvelously hard cock against Aleksi’s own. Their bellies grew slick with escaping trails of eager seed as their embraces became more and more frantic.
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When Berin was kissing Aleksi as if he wanted to climb inside his skin, Aleksi knew it was time. He drew back, smiling at Berin’s moan of disappointment, and laid a finger over his lips. “Have you lain with a man before?” Berin nodded. His eyes were nearly black with lust. “Twice,” he managed. “Village boys, wanting to experiment. They married, both of them. Neither knew the things you do.” “Did you take them, or…” Berin nodded again, a rough jerk of his head. “I know a little. They’d no idea at all.” “Ah.” Aleksi stroked Berin’s mouth. “Did you pierce them? Sink deep into their arses? Feel them tight and hot, squeezing you until you burst?” Berin shook his head. “They -- they wouldn’t let me,” he managed. “We went no further than this. Rubbing till we came. No more.” “Have you dreamed of it? Ached to fill, or be filled? Feel the void inside you empty no more?” Berin shut his eyes tight and whimpered. “Yes. By the gods, yes.” “Will you let me teach you?” Somehow, Berin managed to laugh. “Oh, aye. I’d kill you if you stopped now. Only one condition will I set.” Aleksi tilted his head in curiosity. “Name it.” “Tell me, afterwards. What happened to make you change so. What’s turned you from the man I dreamed of into a lover eager in my arms.” “My word on it,” Aleksi said softly. “Now your word: will you trust me?” “What?” “Promise you’ll trust me.” Aleksi let his other hand wander down to Berin’s cock, giving it a squeeze, before traveling further, between the cleft of his arse. He searched for the tightly puckered hole and pressed against it. His own cock throbbed with glee as Berin let out a cry and arched upwards. When his finger penetrated to the first knuckle, Berin sobbed.
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“Shall I?” Berin shuddered hard. Aleksi thought he might come then and there, but Berin opened his eyes, wild and fever-bright. “More,” he whispered. “More, please, more.” “On your back, then.” Berin blinked, but obeyed. Aleksi helped maneuver him into place in the furs. He allowed himself a moment’s regret. “Would that I had a better bed for this,” he said. “You deserve a soft bed and rich furs.” “Aleksi?” “Yes?” “Shut up and fuck me.” Aleksi laughed, loud and free. He lifted Berin’s lean legs, one in each hand, and slid them over his shoulder. “Relax as much as you can,” he whispered, reaching for a pot of snow-goose grease he had kept as a shameful secret beneath his bed, now to be used for a far better purpose. “Relax, and fly with me.” Berin proved a better student yet at this part of making love. Responsive to the slightest touch, he writhed and cried out at each new sensation, from the slickness of the grease to Aleksi’s careful stretching, opening him wide enough to admit a cock. Peppering Berin’s chest with kisses in between, lapping up the dripping strands of seed that bubbled out with each pulse of excitement, Aleksi reduced the laughing, joking man to a bundle of frantic lust. His own blood sang with the power. This -- this was magic. Love-magic. The power of lust and desire. It healed, and made all things new. “Open for me,” he whispered, lining the head of his cock up to Berin’s hole. “Breathe deep, and let me feel you from the inside.” The sobbing, blissful wail Berin released as Aleksi drove deep went straight to his head. By the gods, he could not hold out long. Unable to speak, he gripped frantically at Berin’s arms, his waist, whatever he could touch, and felt Berin doing the same. He thrust once, twice, and again. On the third stroke, with their lips locked in a desperate kiss, Aleksi’s body gave a mighty shudder. He exploded, pouring out the
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years of pain along with his seed. Berin cried out against Aleksi’s mouth, arching up. Warm wetness burst from his cock, slicking their bellies pressed so tightly together. “Ah… ah… ah…” Aleksi could not tell if he or Berin managed the half-words. Did it matter? Kissing his new lover deeply one more time, he gently slid out of Berin’s hole in a wash of come and, heedless of the sticky mess, pulled and tugged him until they lay spooned tight together. Slowly, slowly, racing breaths calmed into a ragged rhythm. Aleksi stroked Berin’s stomach soothingly, tracing paths through the wetness clinging there. To amuse himself, he drew a sigil he had learned long ago: mine. Berin shivered. Then, true to his nature, he began to chuckle, then to laugh. “It goes to show you,” he said. “Life is a never-ending surprise. Eh?” “I begin to see as much, now. Again.” Aleksi kissed the sweat-dampened curls on the back of Berin’s neck. “Sleep. There’ll be time for questions, and yes, answers, when we wake.” Berin yawned. “Promise?” he asked, voice drowsy. He raised his hand and pressed it over Aleksi’s. “My word,” Aleksi swore. “Good,” Berin said. “S’good…” Aleksi closed his eyes and looked inside his heart. The swirling maelstrom of misery that he had hugged tighter than any earthly passion had gone, vanished. Melted as snow in a flame. No magics coursed through his blood-stream, but something better, he thought. He did not have a name for it yet, but he thought he might as well call it life. “My second chance,” he murmured. “My test. Have I passed?” Somehow, he felt sure that he had. A Solstice miracle had been granted to the least deserving, a gift from the kindly ones. He lived again, and he believed once more. He felt, deep in his heart, that the gods were smiling on him once again. That they had plans they would reveal in due time. A life that had been waiting to unfold for too many long and lonely years. Well. He was ready, now.
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“Solstice magic,” he whispered into Berin’s hair. “Thank you, my love.” Berin murmured sleepily, a meaningless sound full of warmth and contentment that somehow managed to mean the world. Aleksi kissed him once again, and held him close, soaking up his warmth too long denied. Together, they settled down to sleep away the Solstice morn. The beginning of a grand adventure. And outside, far down in the village, revelers raised their voices in a song of praise to the gods for the start of a new year full of life.
Epilogue Much had happened since the night of the Solstice. He and Berin had fucked through three days and three nights, stopping only for food and sleep. The wounds on Aleksi’s soul had faded away during that magical span of such deep connection, leaving only thin white scars. Marks denoting lessons learned. No one came to bother them, not even Berin’s family who might have been worried. Aleksi laughed long and heartily when he made the connection as to why: he and his lover were spending the prescribed span of a honeymoon together. When Aleksi teased Berin, Berin only grinned and said, “Well, I’d hoped for the best. Told folks if I didn’t come back straightaway with my tail between my legs not to hunt me down for at least a half-week. Lucky me, eh?” “No,” Aleksi had said, drawing Berin in for a kiss. “Lucky me.” At the end of the honeymoon three-day, the two men went down into Nayanka proper, hand in hand. Without many words, they came to the agreement that Aleksi would follow Berin, as Berin had once followed him with such devotion. No one made so much as a single comment to see Aleksi moving himself into Berin’s rooms above his workshop, and he received only nods and smiles when he ventured into the village for the first time. The two were a couple, wed properly in the eyes of the gods, and that satisfied the lot. Slowly, slowly, Berin gently nudging him every step of the way, Aleksi began to involve himself in Nayanka’s doings. First by teaching Berin’s young cousin to read. Others came, adults and children alike, eager for the gift of letters and the magic of words. When Aleksi realized he had discovered a greater power than any ever promised to him in the Great Temple, he laughed and whirled Berin about in a mad dance.
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Luckily, Berin didn’t mind Aleksi’s whimsies, but gloried in them. They whirled and spun down the main street of Nayanka to the laughter and applause of the villagers, and finished with a deep, heated kiss beneath the arch of the city gates. It was then Aleksi decided he would seek out his own spells and work the magics he found himself capable of. Each day, it seemed, he discovered something new or re-learned an old trick to put to good use. He planted herbs during the growing season, dared to pray for their health, and harvested a goodly crop that would give Nayanka medicine all through the coming months of snow. He began holding small services in the inn for those who cared to hear old stories of the gods, and found there to be more power in simple fables than the most eloquent of discourses he had once been so proud of creating. More, he found himself asked to perform weddings, and once the babies began arriving for the year, ran around busy as the midwives. The gods had been rich in their blessings, indeed, and showered them down on Aleksi as well. Beneath their kindly hands, his curse lifted, his magic growing like a strong young rose from a withered husk, Aleksi flowered back into life.
“Are you happy?” Berin asked him one evening, as they sat before a blazing fire. Their hands roved lazily over each other, warming up to anticipated lovemaking, but content to pet and caress for a little while yet. He kissed Aleksi’s temple, then bit playfully at his earlobe. “Content to be a carpenter’s wife?” Aleksi laughed -- ah, how good it felt! -- and jostled Berin. “Here, now. I’m no wife. You’re the lady in this match.” “Lady, am I?” “Oh, yes. Dainty as a china doll, with your curls and eyes and --” “Dainty? Why, you -- oh, you’ll pay for that, you will --” Berin pounced Aleksi and rolled him over into the furs, where soon all talking and joking was forgotten for the sake of probing tongues, clutching hands, and eager cocks rubbing hard against muscled bellies until they came in a cloud of glory.
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When Berin fell asleep, Aleksi lay awake a bit. Thinking. So much had been given to him as reward for trusting the gods. His curse had been broken, not in the way he had yearned for, bringing him glory and honor, but better: love, acceptance, and friendship. “I thank you, kindly ones,” Aleksi whispered against the top of Berin’s head, soft, so as not to wake his drowsing mate. “You have given me so much, when I had rejected you. My life is new. I am new.” He heard a peal of laughter, echoing as if coming either from very far away, or inside his own mind. “Beloved son,” spoke the tenor voice he remembered so well. “We only opened a door. It was you who walked through it, who found love, and found life again. You honor us with the magics you invent. The time of the High Temple is drawing to a close, and it is men like you who will see us honored into the future.” Aleksi’s hair ruffled as if invisible fingers combed through it. “The curse was only ever a blessing in disguise,” the voice said. “The trials but a test. You have passed, faithful servant, and pleased us well.” A great weariness, peaceful and warm, settled over Aleksi like a cloak of finest fur. “Sleep now, in the arms of your mate,” the voice crooned. “Know I am with you always.” “Will we -- will we meet again?” Aleksi asked, struggling to keep his heavy eyelids open. “What is your name?” The voice chuckled. “My name is whatever you wish it to be, and yes, we will meet again. This Solstice, and each one ever after. For you will keep it in my honor, and so will Nayanka, and thus there will be magic from age unto age.” “I will craft a spell in your honor…” Aleksi yawned. “I need no magics but love,” the voice said. “Love, and teach others to love as well.” “Aye.” Aleksi tucked his cheek against Berin’s messy hair. “Thank you, my mother.”
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The voice, slightly feminine now, laughed. “You are welcome, my son. Now, sleep. Sleep, and wake, and live and love.” “Amen,” Aleksi said, drifting off to sleep. “Amen…”
*** And that, my children, is how the blessing of the All-Goddess, the Kindly Lady of the Solstice, came to favor our small village over the holiest of temples. That is the story of Saint Aleksi and his mate Berin, to whom we pray. Now go forth, and sup your Solstice ale in all their honors. Ho-la! Ho-la! Joyous Solstice to all forevermore!
The End
Willa Okati Willa Okati has far too many ideas for her own good, but is having the time of her life writing them all down. She has a very patient husband who puts up with seeing his wife pounding on the keyboard at 5 a.m., a hard-used coffee pot that she calls her best friend, and cats who think she’s quite insane, but as long as she feeds them, will put up with anything. She adores anything that goes bump in the night, especially if it lands in the bed. Willa loves to hear from readers. You can reach her at
[email protected] or visit her website for more information, excerpts, and links to other books at www.willsheornillshe.com.
