2 comments/ 4507 views/ 7 favorites The Shieldmaiden and Swordbearer By: Tara_Neale Tara looked nervously around the arrivals gate. Whatever was she thinking? This was crazy. She should know better at her age. That was just it...at her age. When half your life was over. Without finding the one thing you wanted most. When all else had failed it seemed. Sometimes you took chances. Did foolish things. Thins maybe you should not do. She looked around the terminal at Heathrow. It was Christmas Eve and the place was surprisingly empty. She supposed most people did not put these things off to the last minute. And that was how she felt...like she had put love and happiness off until the last minute of her life. Like maybe it was too late already. Was it, she wondered as she looked around. She noticed the much younger woman on the other side of the barrier. She was fidgeting nervously, bouncing from foot to foot. When was the last time that she had bounced? She chuckled thinking about body bits that would keep bouncing long after she stopped. Some things were for the young. Maybe love was one of them. The young girl, was she college age perhaps? She was bouncing faster and faster now, jumping up and down really. Tara's eyes were drawn to the bay of double doors that separated the arriving passengers from those waiting for them. A young man in uniform came through it at that moment. He dropped his bag and actually ran to the girl. He picked her up and twirled her around as he kissed her. Tara looked away...the moment was just too intimate for an audience. "Goddess bless," she whispered as she turned back to the e-reader that she held in her hand. She stared at the screen without recognizing a single word there. She started back at the top of the page, trying for the umpteenth time to read the book that just yesterday had held her rapt attention. Now it was as dry as frozen cardboard pizza. "Who are you waiting for, dear?" said the older woman next to her. She had been sitting there for the past hour at least but this was the first time that Tara had looked at her, really looked at her. She was obviously upper middle class, one of the very traditional British matrons, who always looked as if they smelled something. Tara could picture the bowing as she served tea to the Queen. But being polite was one British mannerism that she had adopted over her time here...even if it was all a polite show. "A friend," she replied casually. The woman nodded, "My son. He is flying back from Thailand for the holidays." Tara was surprised to notice the woman dab lightly at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief...a real one with tiny flowers embroidered on the corner. Something about the action spoke to her heart. She had learned to follow it long ago...well, in most things. "I am sure you are very excited," she replied, giving the woman the opportunity to tell her more or to do as so many others did in this modern world...bury themselves. "Yes, well, Charles has not been home in five years you know. After the divorce, he and his father fought horribly. His choices..." the woman looked down at the dark grey stone flooring before dabbing her eyes again. "He's gay, you know. And well, my William just could not understand. I mean how is it that you are married to a woman for twenty years, have two children and then wake up one morning and decide you are homosexual?" The way that she said the word was drawn out, obviously her husband was not the only one with issues with the man's sexuality. Tara tried to think of something politely British to say but for a hot blooded or was that hot headed American that was not always easy. But she need not have worried. Now that the flood gates were open the woman seemed to rush forward, revealing family secrets that she probably would not to her closest friends. That was one thing about talking to strangers...sometimes it was easier. That was how all this had started...a stranger thousands of miles away. Someone that Tara could share her frustrations, worries and concerns with. Another American even...a common cultural bond. That was all it had been. So when had that changed? She did not have the chance to consider that monumental question further though as the flood waters burst from the woman's very red lips. "But with William dying now. Well, it is time. Time to put these things aside." Tara very much doubted that it was as simple as all that. A lifetime of pain and hurts were hidden behind the woman's words. It was the mysterious son, Charles, for whom Tara felt the greatest sympathy. Hiding who he was for so long, always trying to live up to these people's impossibly high expectations. Oh why could we not just allow our children to be who they were? To be happy and free? Why could we not allow ourselves to be? She was not sure how much of the woman's story she had missed while caught up in her own musings. It seemed the woman had gone on from this son to her husband. "You know that is the hardest part of this whole muddle...the cancer you know. Losing William. I know that fifty years may seem a lifetime with the same man. But really it has not been that long. I remember the first time I met him in university. He was so handsome..." The woman stared off for a long moment in silence. Tara read things into that silence...a lifetime. "Not that it has been all roses, you know. Men will be men, of course. And my William had his dalliances like them all. But he was always such a gentleman about such things." Tara chalked it up to another of the cultural differences that no matter how long she lived in this foreign land she would ever understand...the casual way they dealt with infidelity. In the end, it had been the death knell of her marriage. She simply could not be as forgiving as this woman. "I will miss him terribly you know. Even his infernal tinkering in my garden." The woman dabbed her eyes again. "I simply don't know how I shall manage," she whispered. Tara was uncertain what solace to offer...and that was unusual for her. But she saw clearly for the first time...past the woman's cold words, past her controlled mannerisms, past the cultural divide that Tara had never been able to overcome. And what she saw was shocking...a woman in love after fifty years of marriage. It was her eyes that filled with tears then. Not for this woman. Because despite it all...she had known a joy that was so much more than Tara ever had. Maybe ever would. Once more she was humbled by the goddess, that quiet inner voice that had been her guide these past couple of years. Perhaps her whole life. Until him the only true friend she had made in this place in a decade. Who was she to judge this woman? Yes, she might not be able to understand how someone would allow their child's sexual orientation to come between them. Yes, she would most definitely never, ever understand any woman who could tolerate her husband cheating. She could not even understand how keeping up appearances could be more important than friendships. But this was a woman. A wife. A mother. Just like her. And she was in pain. Tara reached out and placed her hand on the other woman's. Just felt the warmth of the goddess move through her into the other woman. And as always, she felt the overwhelming pain of this woman bore course through her. Her head started to pound. The pain was almost unbearable. She wanted to scream. She felt the bile rising in her throat. But still she did not break the contact. She gave of herself, of her gift, of the goddess...without thought of herself. It was what she had chosen to do...it was her life, all she knew. It was the path of an empath. A high priestess of the goddess. She felt it: the moment that this woman released it all. Accepted the healing. And Tara drew away...as confused and drained as she always was after such a thing. But the genuine smile that shown past the deep red lipstick painted upon the woman's tight, too thin lips was all she needed. She had done it again. Offered what she could to another soul. She sighed and smiled too. The room was spinning now. The lights that was always too bright, suddenly seemed to burn her eyeballs until tears gathered at the corners. Each footstep upon the cold, hard stone seemed to echo like pounding war drums, making the headache worse and worse with each passing moment. Her skin itched and burned where she had touched this woman. Her perfume overpowered Tara's nose, making her stomach roll and pitch once more. It all combined to leave a dry, foul taste in her mouth. One that she feared she would never get out. The woman stood up, for a moment she seemed to be bouncing up and down every bit as much as that young student had been. And in that moment, Tara knew that she saw with the goddess's eyes this woman...the hopes and dreams of a lifetime. The might have beens that a lifetime of responsibility and cares had stolen from that young girl that once had been. Tara clutched her stomach as she fought to hold back the bile. Bu through it all she smiled. For this moment, the woman knew that joy again. It was all she could want...wasn't it? So why was she jealous? Why did she hurt so badly? Why couldn't for just once this gift not cost her more than it gave to others? It was killing her. She knew that. As surely as the cancer was eating away at this woman's husband, this gift was sapping her life force, draining her of energy and even the will to live. Her gift that helped others had become her curse...or maybe it always had been. A man about her own age walked towards the woman. His shoulders were squared and his face tight as he approached. "Hello, Mother," his very British words were in distinct conflict with his appearance. His worn jeans and holey t-shirt was read, 'Relax, Be Happy.' Another wave of pain hit Tara...she knew it belonged to his man. She felt it boiling and churning as surely as the acids in her stomach. But the woman, refreshed in the first blush of the goddess's love, was blissfully unaware. Tara's envy deepened. "Charles, oh Charles," the woman laughed as she broke out into tears. "Whatever are we going to do without him? How will I survive without that infernal man?" Tara wanted to laugh that even in her renewed vigor that kernel of uptight stiff upper lip remained. She was relieved to see the man's shoulders relax just a bit as he opened his arms and drew the suddenly frail old woman against him. He shook his head and Tara saw the vision of the little boy playing alone in the corner of the garden as his parents laughed and talked and loved. No wonder, he always was drawn to flowers...that was why he had chosen Thailand as his safety zone...the flowers almost year round reminded him of the sweetness of life. She trembled as she watched the interchange between mother and son. As it had earlier with the young lovers, the intimacy of a love that was beyond her reach caused her to look away. That was when she noticed the tall man standing just behind Charles. She drew her hands up to cover her heart as she sent a silent prayer to the goddess for patience and understanding to grow in the woman's heart. She would need an extra measure since her son brought his lover with him. But then she was being drawn forward, the woman's hands were icy cold, clammy and held the feel of death. She knew then that it was not just her husband that would soon make that final journey. This woman might very well precede the man. She wondered if it was hers to share this message. "Charles, I would like you to meet..." the woman's eyes went wide with shock as she realized that she did not even know her name. "Tara," she filled in the blank as she reluctantly held out her hand. She was shocked not to be overwhelmed when the large man took it in his own. "Charles Wentworth. It is a pleasure to meet you." "The young woman was so kind to listen to the ramblings of an old fool," the woman smiled. Tara returned it, wondering when the last time she had been called a 'young woman' was. The lie felt nice. "It was my pleasure," and she meant that. Despite the pain that using her gifts always brought, the satisfaction of seeing the benefits made it worth it...almost. "You look vaguely familiar," the man noted but Tara did not want to take the time or momentum away from this family reunion to explain. "One of those faces, I guess," she brushed his comment aside as the woman's grip upon her fingers tightened. It was almost the same way that this woman was holding onto those final moments of this life...of love. "You enjoy your holidays with your son and husband. Make every moment count," she pronounced the benediction that she knew the goddess gave her to seal this woman's fate. The woman smiled...that miraculous, genuine one once more. "I will, my dear. And thank you again for taking the time to listen to an old woman's confession. I hope you have a wonderful time with your friend too." Tara wanted to laugh and cry at the same time at the odd mixture of polite British reserve and genuine gratitude she felt in the woman's words. "Thank you. I hope so too," without the intense interplay of emotions that always marked one of these interchanges, Tara was left once more to face the mess that was her own life as she watched the woman and man walk away. She collapsed then back into the cold, hard seat. Her own mind once more turning the questions over and over in her head...what am I doing here? This is ridiculous. Spending Christmas with a man you barely know. A man you have not even met. What if he is some kind of psycho? A serial killer or something. You heard the stories...killers and con artists preying upon victims online. Her daughter had certainly brought up the subject when they talked about holiday plans last week. But this year the young woman was meeting her boyfriend's family in Wales. It was a big thing. It meant that things were getting serious. And Tara could not be happier for her only child. But it left her at loose ends. Nothing to do and nowhere to go. Maybe she should have taken her daughter's suggestion and booked a holiday somewhere warm. But she just did not have the energy. Plus there was the deadline looming for the new book. Her agent and editor would have her head if she went on holiday right now. So when her online friend had mentioned that he had no plans this Christmas either...well, she still was not sure exactly how it had happened. It had seemed almost magical...the words just appeared out of nowhere on the screen of her phone. 'Want to join me then?' She was even more shocked when the instant reply was...Yes. She could not make herself back down then. But still it made no sense. Then again nothing about any of this made sense. Oh she got fan emails all the time. And she still took the time to answer all of them, the polite ones anyway. The anonymous nasty ones were another matter. But that was where it ended...a polite almost painfully British one in fact...thank you for taking the time to write me, I appreciate your readership, ya-da-ya-da-ya-da. There it ended. But not this time. Emails bounced back and forth daily...exploring life, dreams, and eventually fantasies. For a woman that made her living sharing naughty ones with the world it was shockingly difficult to do so one-on-one. But something about him just clicked. Emails turned to texts. Even a couple of awkwardly comfortable phone calls over the past couple of weeks as they planned this unusual tryst. Was it a tryst? That seemed so naughty, so wild and carefree. So unlike her. This was crazy! What was she thinking? She had not even seen a photograph of this man. Of course, her face was all over the Internet, television and goddess only knew where else these past couple of years as her books became more popular. That was why the man had recognized her...and why she did not mention her last name...or her real name. Although these days Tara was more real than that other person she had once been anyway. She picked up her e-reader from the seat next to her where she had lain it when she started talking to the woman. She hastily stuffed it into her bag. She was out of here. The passengers had thinned to a trickle now. He probably had not even come. He had more sense than she did it seemed. She clutched her bag tightly and came to a final decision...she was going to make a run for it. Forget this whole crazy thing. It was the only thing that made sense in this situation. She would chalk the whole thing up to the goddess needing her to be in this place at this time for the woman and her son...for the healing that was still draining her, probably affecting her thinking. Even as she stood up, the room spun around her. She clutched the bag tighter and fought for control of her senses. Then strong hands grasp her arms. She looked up into the kind and concerned face of the man's lover. Then she shook her head. That made no sense. The woman and her son had been gone a good two minutes...maybe five or more given how she lost track of time with these things. Why would he still be here? It hit her then. He was not the man's lover. He had not been here to meet the older woman at all. He was here to meet her. "Mike?" she whispered as things got even foggier. The Shieldmaiden and Swordbearer Ch. 02 Tara ached all over. Her head throbbed so badly that she could not force her eyes open even though she had been awake for some time. She was cold, icy cold but she did not have the energy to pull the duvet higher. She was drained. It had been getting worse lately. The price she paid for using her gifts. For healing others. What had she been thinking yesterday? Heathrow of all places? She should have known that the emotions there would be at a fevered pitch she could no longer tolerate. And that dear old lady. She could not even remember her name. There had been so many over the past couple of years. So many whom she mended their battered hearts and healed their wounded souls, even when she was powerless to save their mortal bodies. Any more than she could her own. She moaned as a particularly sharp pain sliced through her brain. Yes, as ridiculous as it sounded, like a hot knife through cold butter. It was followed by another round of chills that left her shivering to the point that her teeth chattered. Then she was being lifted. Confusion assailed her. Had her time finally come? Were those the strong, warm arms of the angels carrying her home? Did she really care? As she nuzzled closer to the crisp, clean smell of sandalwood. She felt the clouds envelop her as she came to rest in their soft warmth. Another wrapped about her, replacing the cold with a bit of its warmth. It smelled like sunshine and she inhaled as deeply as her exhausted body would allow. But it was the touch of the angel's fingers against her cheek that seemed to bring her the most comfort. Fingers that were calloused and rough, but so gentle and warm as she felt her hair brushed back from her eyes and tucked behind her ear. "Here, drink this," said the deep, soothing voice that should have sent splinters through her dull mind, but somehow did not. She felt those strong arms wrapped about her shoulders once more as she was lifted from the clouds. She whimpered in protest. Then something was pressed to her lips, "Drink." She did not argue as the rich aroma and gentle heat assailed her nose and skin. The flavour of the coffee was more enticing than anything had been in a very long time. It burst on her tongue like a morning glory unfurling at the first rays of sunlight. She savoured it. If this was it, heaven, the afterlife, Valhalla, whatever, then it was not so bad. Why did everyone fear this place? The unknown. Of course, that was it. People always feared change. She certainly had. She had spent a lifetime fighting this very thing. Her calling. Even as a child, she had known she was different. She could remember so clearly, sitting and playing with her dolls. The sun was painfully bright as it warmed her cheeks. 'This is not real. There is so much more than you can see now.' Déjà vu. Her first out of body experience and she had been barely six. There had been so many of those moments over a lifetime. Some of them had brought peace...perfect, utter and complete soul satisfaction. Holding her daughter for the first time. Typing 'The End' on that first book. And of course, as difficult as it had been, stepping onto that stage for the first time. Surrendering to the goddess, whom she served. Of course, the pain, doubts and fears followed right afterwards...they always did. There could never be sunshine without rain. Even in the desert. The rains always came. But these last couple of years were not the desert she had spent her whole life wandering. They were the rain forest. Rich and teaming with life and beauty. Colorful. So much so that it sometimes hurt your eyes. And the smell...detritus. Sickeningly sweet but teaming with life and warmth. The sounds...too many to name or categorize. A symphony of life and loves. No, she did not regret her choice. She never would. She had given her all to serve. But in the serving, she had found her own soul. Even in the pain, there was joy and happiness. Purpose. And a sense of knowing that this was right. Her path. Where she belonged. That was all that mattered. Given the chance, she would do it all again. "Ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil," she sighed after swallowing the last of the magical elixir. She felt warm now. The pain was gone too. She wanted to open her eyes. To see this new plane...heaven, but that was not right. Not for her somehow. She served a goddess after all. Perhaps eternal fellowship with Vishnu in Vaikuntha or perhaps Freyja's hall Sessrúmnir in Fólkvangr. Yes, she liked to think it would be that. Though she had never been privileged to know the exact name of the goddess whom she served, merely that she was love, sex and strength in immortal form. Of course, Tara had in the beginning sought those answers, wasted precious time studying ancient religions, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together like a jigsaw puzzle. Trying to make sense of things that were not meant to be understood with her logical brain, but merely felt with her heart. That was after all what faith was. Knowing without seeing. That had taken time to grasp though. Precious time that she had so often wished she had back. How many had been lost? Unhealed while she tried to find answers that were not hers to know? She bore the weight of all that upon her shoulders. Carried the pain in her heart and soul. She had been stubborn. And it had cost others. Oh, why had she not surrendered sooner? Why had she not trusted in what she knew was REAL, even if she could not see it or touch it? You did not see air, but still you breathed. You could not touch the wind, but still you felt it blow, pushing you in the direction that it would have you go. Now? What now? She felt her throat tightened. 'Please, sweet goddess, another chance? Please, I beg you. I won't be so stubborn this time. I promise. But so many need you. Just give me another life. I won't take so long this time to find you...I won't.' She felt the heat of the tears, scalding her cheeks as she prayed. Except that she knew this one lacked the power...the energy of her life force. She simply did not have the strength to do what she knew she must though. She tried to move. Her hand felt weighted as it moved beneath the thick clouds toward that fountain of life, love and healing that was the gift of the goddess to all her chosen sisters. The force that not even eons of oppression could extinguish. The seat of her power, the core of all that was truly feminine. She must worship her now, but she could not. She had not the strength, not even her will could overcome it this time. And she whimpered in the pain and darkness of the soul this time. Its depths so much darker than the physical pains of her body ever could be. "Please, goddess," she whispered into the darkness of her soul. It burst on her like light hurtling not from the sun but towards it. She knew not the source as she felt it explode more powerfully than it ever had from deep inside of her. Her second chakra giving forth a power that she had never known or felt before. She felt the floods begin, something that only rarely happened when she prayed alone to her goddess. But this time they did not want to stop. They rolled on and on. The power was so strong that it frightened her even as she felt it renewing, reviving and healing her from within. She was not sure how long the orgasm lasted. Time lost all meaning. Whether it was seconds or minute or the eternity that it seemed did not matter truly. She worshipped in a way she had never even imagined. Even when it finally stopped, the tremors continued. Tiny spindles of her glory that continued to comfort and heal her servant. She shifted and whimpered as she felt it withdraw from her fountain. She felt so empty. Emptier than she ever had, but at the same time she felt power, peace and glory too. It was an odd sensation. So strange... She giggled as she turned on her side and burrowed deeper into the fluffy clouds...like the rest of her life these past couple of years were not strange? "Rest," that soothing voice commanded as she felt his scalding heat caress her temples. "Yes, Master," she whispered into the void though she knew not why she said it as the dark and light enveloped her and melded together in perfect harmony. And she did...perhaps for the first time...she actually rested and renewed. *** 'Holy fuck, what was that?' He paced the room. He could not leave her. Even as she slept. All he could do was pace and watch her. Of course, he had read all her crap. Her stories he loved. Her non-fiction, not so much. How could such a brilliant mind actually buy that New Age gibberish? Well-written as it was, he simply could not buy her hocus pocus about the healing power of love. About a goddess of love, sex and submission. Drivel, bull shit. Out of keeping with the intelligent mind he knew. So what the fuck had that been? The best sex of his god damned life and he had not even cum. Watching her as she came had been enough. The way she gave herself so fucking completely to him in that moment. And when he had felt her ejaculate over his hand and arm, fuck it had drenched his sleeve up to his elbow. Hell, he had come so fucking close then. The smell of her. If that was not enough, when he had finally had the sense to withdraw his fingers from between her legs, he could not resist tasting her. That had been a real mistake. How would he ever live without that taste? He ran his fingers through his hair and cursed under his breath. 'What the fuck was happening to him?' He was going mad. He had been for months. This trip was supposed to be about putting all of this craziness to rest. About breaking the spell she had woven about him. About seeing that there was nothing special about this woman. No different from any of the others. Why wasn't it working? How was he falling deeper into this bull shit? Fairy tales. Myths. Pretty lies that weak people wove to give them comfort. He had never needed any of that crap. He was strong. His mind was all he needed. So what if it sometime took him down dark roads? He always managed to find his way back, didn't he? And if before he met her, he had reached the end? Come so fucking close to that ultimate solution? To eating the bullet that would stop his pain once and for all. So what? There was nothing special about this life. No one survived it. No one came out of it alive. What did it matter? 'What did it matter?' as he watched her sleep. What did any of it fucking matter? Nothing but pain. That was all there ever was. All there ever would be. Except for that one moment. He brought his fingers to his lips once more and tasted the sweetness of promise. What the fuck was she doing to him? He wanted to run...so fucking much. To get as far from this crazy witch as he possibly could...as fast as he could. But he couldn't. He couldn't. He had tried. So fucking hard. He sighed as he shook his head and climbed into bed next to her. Pulling her back into his arms so that her soft ass cradled his still hard cock. He found peace and rest. For the first time since that first blow to the little boy. Though none of this made any fucking sense to his befuddled mind, for the first time, he rested and renewed. *** She watched the screen go blank. "So it begins again, Master." The dark figure in imposing black leather smiled at his wife. "No, my love, so it continues. This little battle of ours. Another time, another place. Will your beloved humans have the courage to make the right choice this time, Amorre?" She smiled, "And what is the wager this time, Sir?" He laughed, "Watch your sass, woman. You may be the goddess of love, fertility, sex and war, but I am Fate and you still bow to me." She dropped to her knees before him. With a single thought her diaphanous robe disappeared and her full breasts that leaked the elixir of life came into view. Her round stomach that had teamed with life and might again someday glowed in all its glory. But it was the apex of her soft thighs that caught his eye. His wife, his prize, his slave...her true gifts as they always did with her priestesses, were there...between her legs. And when he buried himself there, he felt his true power. That not even the greatest battle could come close to matching. But who cared to think of battle when you could taste love? With a thought, the flogger extended from his hand. He held nothing back as he landed a solid blow across her perfect alabaster skin. He saw the red welts rise against its white background...and he felt his power flow into her. He knew that she needed this. She needed his dark to alleviate her own pain...that she had taken from the woman. Her priestess. The next blow was more powerful still as she closed her deep purple eyes and arched her back to meet his flogger with a sigh of completion. He felt her relax and welcome his darkness as he released more upon his mate's tortured soul. This was their battle. Their war. Their dance. Their story. Pain and pleasure. Married into one. Light and dark. Fate and love locked in an eternal battle for the hearts and minds of these tiny, inconsequential beings. Who held all of the power. Free will. That was what they did not get. What they failed to grasp. It was not Jehovah. Odin. Zeus. Buddha. Vishnu. Freyja. Diana. None of them held the true power. None of them ever had. Not even he could determine their fates. Only they could. No matter how many chances he gave them. No matter how much of their pain his beloved took into her divine form. They alone...these little piss ants that sometimes got under his skin with their pettiness, greed and hubris...they alone determined the outcome. Even the great and mighty Fate must bow his knee to their weak wills. And only her love made any of it bearable. So they danced...his dark unleashed in all its glory upon her tattered and broken heart that brimmed with love, gave all life, and battled for the hearts and minds of man. She welcomed it all as he sent her pain, the pain of that frail priestess, unfurling to the black void of the stars. Then they loved and comforted one another. She opened those magical thighs and he knew peace. Then they rested and renewed for another battle in this eternal war.