Copyright © 2007, Bianca D'Arc, Barri Bryan
Published by Whiskey Creek Press LLC

Reviews For CELTIC LOVE KNOTS Volume 7 by Bianca D'Arc & Barri Bryan

No reviews posted yet.

SOLSTICE DREAMS
Sir Eustace was an elven knight with a bit of an identity crisis. Since his first days in the earthly realm he’d done all the things elven knights were expected to do—dallied with dam-sels, aided with the switching of a few changeling children, even tempted a few foolish mortals into a faerie ring and trapped them there while he toyed with them. But he always let them go. His heart just wasn’t in it.

No, Sir Eustace had become a rather reclusive knight, traveling farther and farther north in his quest for new ground and new experiences. He had heard tales of a jolly old elf who lived way up north and he thought it a good quest to go see if this ancient sage of his kind could give him a few pointers.

Eustace really had it all, but he appreciated none of it. He was tall, lithe of body, leanly muscled and as fair as all the fair folk from the high court of the sidhe. He’d been born to a good family and found favor with more than his share of both fey and mortal maids who nearly swooned at his feet whenever he chose to appear to them.

But secretly his heart lusted for darker pleasures. He would spy on the lower court elves, the Dark Ones, with something like envy whenever he chanced upon a group of them cavorting in a glade. Once he had even been caught spy-ing on a dark elven princess and her consort, but the dark elf in question said not a word, just let him watch as another of her kind took her from behind. She held Eustace’s gaze throughout and he could tell she drew pleasure from knowing he watched. It was rumored the Dark Ones enjoyed much earthier pleasures than his high court brethren and after that experience, Eustace knew it to be true.

It was his most secret memory. Also the most tempting.

Since that night, a dark lover had invaded his dreams. Though Eustace had never been with one of the forbidden lower court sidhe, now, on a nightly basis, a dark elven lover came to him in dreams. Her beautiful face was somewhat vague and not quite that of the dark elven princess he had spied on, but similar. Her body was softly feminine, magnifi-cent and lush, her hair black as a raven’s wing and twice as silky as it spilled over her shoulders and brushed Eustace’s chest while he pounded into her tight body. It was only a dream, but it felt more real than anything he had ever experi-enced, and Eustace found himself waiting for each evening when he could slip away into sleep and the arms of his dream lover.

The Dark Ones lived where they would, spread out over the lands and inhabiting the most unlikely places. Wherever Eustace went, he found himself drawn to their forbidden power. For the magic of the dark elves was forbidden to those of the high court. No, his kind looked down upon their baser brothers with their black hair and rumored perversions. They were considered not only of a lower class, but of inferior magic and lesser intelligence.

Because their power was of the earth and the dark places, it was mysterious and tantalizing to Eustace. His own magic was of the light and the sun, but it was the moon the Dark Ones worshiped and the Dark Queen they served.

Eustace wasn’t quite convinced they were inferior either. On the contrary, they seemed a whole lot less stuck up and morose than his own people—than he himself, for that mat-ter. Still, the illicit pleasures he had glimpsed in the princess’ eyes tempted him like nothing else.

* * * *

Melea was a powerful elven mage, born in the lower court of the sidhe, and dissatisfied with the frivolity of her kin. Like many of her kind, she took off on her own for centuries on end, returning to the company of her people only rarely. She simply did not get along with most of her kin. They thought her too serious and too intense, but they let her do as she pleased since her magical power was so immense. She was, in fact, one of the most gifted of the dark elven mages, able to perform feats of magic not seen in generations.

But she was unhappy. So unlike a dark elf should be. There was practically no mischief in her soul and the little she had was rarely let out to play. And so she found herself living in the far reaches of the north, near where the jolly, old elf was reputed to live as well. Melea had heard of him, of course, but had never been able to find the entrance to his magical realm though she had tried many, many times. She had sought for decades, in vain, to find the old elf, but refused to give up.
She wanted to compare notes with the ancient one, for the sage who inhabited the North Pole was thought to be the only elf alive with a magic greater than her own. She wanted to learn from him, but first she had to find him.

Still, she enjoyed her time in the far north, away from most other beings, with only a few sturdy gnomes for com-pany. They liked taking care of her animal friends in the stable she kept for their shelter. The animals were free to come and go as they pleased, and it comforted her that they enjoyed staying under her magical roof more often than not. The gnomes enjoyed having the animals to care for as well, and a thriving community of the sturdy little people was flourishing even in this cold, cold place.

Each night though, Melea would seek her solitary bed, visited by dreams of a hazy face and a lover who satisfied all her hidden needs. This golden lover touched her on an emo-tional level no fey or mortal ever had, and ignited a fire in her loins that would not be denied.

It felt so real! Melea looked forward to the time each night when she could douse her candles and lay her head down on the silken pillow, visited without fail by the strong, golden warrior who was her perfect match.

His father, King Conn Cetchathach, who was also called Conn-of-a-Hundred-Battles, was a man of strength and power. His one weakness, if indeed, it can be considered a weakness, was his love for his son. He took great comfort in having the young man always at his side.

One evening, as was their custom, Connla and his father walked in the cool of the evening. After traveling some dis-tance across the Plain of Arcomin, they paused to rest. The entourage of guards and tribal elders, who always accompa-nied them, stepped back and left the two men standing alone on the slope that overlooked the wide circle of round houses nestling in the green glen below. Conn looked across the ver-dant valley as he lifted his arms with his palms upward in an all-encompassing gesture. “My dear Connla, some day you shall be king and leader of the stalwart tribes who inhabit this green glen.”

Connla’s heart swelled with pride as his gaze traveled from the round houses with a fire burning in the center of the circle they created, to the sea that washed the shores of the plain. From there his eyes wandered to the far horizon and came to rest at last, on the path that led from the glen to the top of the slope. He opened his mouth to speak and could not—his every thought took flight as he saw coming toward them, a beautiful maiden dressed in a purple tunic and wearing a finely wrought necklace of silver around her neck. He pointed as he asked his father, “W-Who is this vision of loveli-ness who approaches us?”

Conn saw nothing at all, even though he strained his eyes against the gathering darkness and stared in the direction Connla pointed. “I see no one.”

But Connla could see her and he watched entranced as the maiden continued her ascent up the slope. Her fine spun gar-ment clung to her swaying breasts. A wide silver belt was fas-tened around her middle, accentuating her tiny waist and caus-ing the tunic to fall in folds around her voluptuous hips. Never before had Connla beheld a form more divine or a face more exquisite. His body stiffened with sudden and unexpected de-sire as his heart beat in rapid anticipation. “You must see her!” Once more he pointed. “For I not only see her fair figure and lovely face, I hear her footsteps as she approaches, I taste her honeyed essence, and breathe deeply of the heady female aura that surrounds her.”

“Nonsense,” Conn replied, but in his heart he was afraid. Only a witch or a fairy maiden could so completely invade his son’s senses. He spoke with a calmness that belied the fear that grabbed him. “Come, Connla. It is time to return to our home for night approaches even as we speak.” He motioned for his entourage to follow as he began his descent down the slope.
They obeyed. Only Connla remained behind, standing as still and as straight as a tall tree.

The lovely maiden approached the spot where Connla stood, and when she was very near, he spoke to her. A touch of wonder tingled through his voice. “Fair maiden, I know you are not of this world. Who are you, and from what faraway place do you come?”

“My name is Kera,” the maiden replied. “I have come from the Land of Tir Na N-og.”

Connla was intrigued. “Tell me more of this place.”

Kera replied, “It is a land of eternal spring, for neither ill-ness nor death can enter there, nor is there dissention or con-flict or pain or grief. All is peace and beauty, and tranquility.” Her voice was like the sighing wind, low and sweet and melo-dious.

Connla had heard of this magical land, but in his wildest flights of fancy, he had never imagined such a place could ex-ist. “Where is this wonderful place?” He couldn’t take his eyes from Kera’s beautiful face.

Kera smiled sweetly. “It lies across the waters of the Western Sea, where it is nestled among rolling, pleasant, green hills.”

Connla’s fascination grew with his curiosity. “What occu-pies your time and your talents in this faraway wonderful paradise?”

“We have but one talent and that is the ability to give and receive pleasure.” Kera lowered her shining head, and peered up at him from under her long, dark lashes. “We pass our time indulging in sensuous delights.”

The king and his company stopped their descent down the slope and listened, for although they could not see the maiden, they could hear each provocative word she spoke, and they were appalled by her titillating revelation. King Conn’s angry voice boomed out into the gathering darkness. “My son, what form of being is this creature thou art speaking with?”

Connla stood, transfixed, with his gaze riveted on Kera. “Alas, Father, I do not know. All I know is that she is very young.”

Kera’s disembodied voice addressed the king and his company. “Your son is speaking with Kera, a lady of noble birth.”

Connla interrupted to say, “And she is beautiful beyond compare.”

Conn replied, “Physical attractiveness is of a short dura-tion, my son. With the passing of time we all grow old and wrinkled and our beauty fades away.”

CLOSE WINDOW