Once. Part 40

The lights increased, pulsating with individual power, so stunning in their brightness that he was forced to close his eyes, or shield them, with a forearm when they came too close to his face. He absorbed their potency, drew their vibrancy into his own body, and the elation was incredible.

Jennet moved against him, raising and lowering herself on him with a steadily mounting rhythm, occasionally breaking to writhe her hips, drawing from him all that she desired, for he was rigid, strong, meeting her every demand, and soon she was breathing in short, sharp gasps, her straddled legs pumping, her hands now behind her, pulling at his thighs, taking every inch of him, and never had he felt so hard and powerful, never had his juices seethed so wildly inside him, rising to cause small eruptions, before receding only to rise again, and again ...

Until both their bodies were caught in the shuddering paroxysms of ecstasy.

The noise around them - the light flutey singing, the tiny shouts of joy, the dainty clapping of hands - reached its peak also as the little people danced and copulated among themselves, some in groups of three or four, five or six, but mostly one-to-one, celebrating their own as well as Thom and Jennet's union, for there was no shame in such behaviour for them, nothing about it that should be secretive or hidden. Lovemaking was their supreme delight and they saw no reason why it should not be shared with as many as possible.

Besides, this was their way of helping Jennet work her magic, a ma.s.s consortium of energies that drew forces beyond her normal powers. Good forces. The forces of purest rapture ...

The ascendancy for Thom and Jennet was perfectly timed and both cried out as one, over and over, bodies swelling with the supreme ecstasy.

Thom opened his eyes to watch Jennet in her last blissful throes and saw that her arms were thrown upwards and spread wide as if in supplication. Lights zoomed around her dizzyingly, their splendour now so harsh that he had to squint to protect his eyes. He could just see that her eyes were shut tight and her mouth was set in a euphoric smile; her bare arms trembled as she arched her spine and neck so that she faced the skies through the overhead canopy of willow leaves. Her cries turned into a moan and he could not tell if it were one of joy or despair.

Suddenly, a blinding light radiated from her, a shining far greater than that which emanated from the flying sprites and even greater that the rays of the sun. He had to throw both hands up to shield his face and eyes. The heat burned and even from behind his own palms he could see that the light throbbed, although it never once grew less fierce.

And then it was gone, waning a little before blinking out completely. It was as if a light-switch - one thatcontrolled the most powerful light in the universe - had been flicked off. It was as amazing as it was confusing and, when he dropped his hands away, Jennet was gone.

Thom took his time walking back through the woods. Beneath the willow tree on the banks of the lake, he had silently wept, but the tears had not lasted long. There was so much to be done, so much to get ready for Jennet's return. For return she would; he had no doubts. And when she did, he would find his peace again.

As he strolled, watching the enchanting faerefolkis caper,

the animals and the birds of the forest still undaunted by his presence, he lost the numbing ache in his leg; he could even swing his debilitated arm without impediment despite his general fatigue. He wasn't entirely cured, he was aware of that, but the harm had been lessened, and with Rigwit's medicine and daily exercise, he knew he would soon be back in shape.

Both joy and a peaceful kind of sadness were his companions on his walk back to the cottage, but at least he had a purpose now as well as something to look forward to, a dream that could only come true.

For as Jennet had vanished into the blinding light, her voice - it was not a self-thought, for this voice had sound and inflection - had come into his head.

468.

She had said: 'Expect me.'

HE BIRDS gathered in the trees surrounding the hidden forest clearing. Their feathers were sleekly black, sinister in the shade afforded by the thick leaves around the edges of the glade, their bills long and pointed, these also black.

Kraaaa! they called to one another, and the sound was harsh in the quietness of the woods.

The crows - a gathering that was known as a murder of crows - watched the black-and-white bird skip haltingly through the gra.s.s below. The magpie, shabby and tattered wings flapping weakly each time it tried to lift them, seemed disorientated as it hopped from one spot to another as if searching for something (although it never ventured into the shadows of the trees). It opened its bill as if to call, but nosound came forth, and occasionally it would peck uselessly at the soft mulch between the blades of gra.s.s.

The crows in the branches began to bustle on their perches, their feathers seeming to bristle, the long and strong wings rising and lowering, a few strokes at a time. Their calls became more strident, the communication more intense.

The magpie on the ground did not seem to notice. Round in rough circles it went, each skip more feeble than the last.

The crows waited, their mood growing keener by the moment. It only took one to leave its bough, and that soon happened, for them all to swoop from their branches, their great wings spread as they plummeted.

The magpie finally found voice when the first two crows pecked out its eyes. And it managed a last shriek as others ripped out its throat.

Its agony did not last long. The crows soon tore it to pieces and the forest was peaceful once more.

CONCLUDED.