Bedknobs and Beanstalks, page 6
Bleddyn frowned and took a step closer to him. Wil was surprised and touched by her words. He shooed the sheep away and reached out to give Emma a hug. Maybe seeing two men together was more than she could put aside after all. “Of course I—"
Emma darted past him, grabbing Bleddyn's hand. She slipped something around his wrist and ducked away, out of reach. The pookha's breath hissed between his teeth as he fumbled uselessly at the knotted string.
"Where did you get this?” Bleddyn growled.
The air next to Emma swirled. A woman appeared, dark like Bleddyn but as voluptuous as he was spare, a wild, glittering beauty with a sickly-sweet smile.
"From me, of course."
Wil could hardly believe what he was seeing. Emma didn't go to tell my family what she'd seen. She went to tell his. "You found a pookha hole?"
"Took me most of the morning, too.” She crossed her arms, sounding disturbingly satisfied.
The strange woman ignored both humans and focused on Bleddyn. “My dear, don't you think you've had enough fun? It's time to come home."
Bleddyn backed up a step. “I'm not going anywhere with you, Maelona. Tell my bedamned father that he can marry you himself if he's so set on a wedding.” He glanced from her to Emma. “Bloody women don't know how to take no for an answer."
Maelona's face darkened visibly. “You'd rather waste yourself on a human herd boy, just because he has a little extra equipment?” She waved a hand in Wil's direction, her gesture encompassing and dismissing his manhood all at once.
Bleddyn spat at her, still struggling with the binding Emma had put on him. “Gladly, although not just because—Maelona, no!"
The woman's face was truly dark now, disappearing into a growing shadowy mist. “Well, if that's all it will take,” Wil heard her hiss before the mist swooped down on him.
Wil couldn't see, couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He clawed uselessly at the air, unable to tell which way was up or down, no ground beneath his feet, and all the while Maelona burrowed into him, squeezing him, shoving at him, trying to tear him loose from his own flesh and steal his semblance for herself.
Wil dug in his heels. Even if it kills me, I will not let her have my face to torment him with. He clung to the memory of how his body felt, of Bleddyn's hands stroking his skin, the heat of the pookha's mouth around his cock. I'm not giving that up! Out, out, OUT!
Something inside him tore with a terrible wrenching feeling and a shriek that pierced his brain like a lance. Wil screamed, half from pain but more from the fear that she had won. But then he thudded against the dirt, and even disoriented and exhausted as he was, he recognized that having a body to go thud with was a good thing.
Even before Wil had figured out how to open his eyes, he felt Bleddyn pull him into his lap. “Thank the sun and moon and stars,” the pookha whispered, his whole body trembling. “I thought she would consume you for certain."
Eyes. Open. There we go. Wil blinked up into his lover's tear-streaked face. “How do you know she didn't?"
Bleddyn kissed him lightly. “If she'd succeeded in sundering your soul from your body, there'd only be one of you left. And no matter what face she wore, yours or hers, you'd be dead.” The pookha's embrace tightened. “But here you are in my arms, and there she lies."
The trouble Wil was having with even the most basic movements told him it had been a very near thing. He turned his head with some effort. Next to him, Maelona lay unconscious, a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth. And beyond her, Emma huddled close to the ground, face white as a sheet, her stricken eyes locked on Wil's face.
"She said she wouldn't hurt you,” Emma moaned, holding her stomach as if she were about to be sick. “I didn't know, I swear I didn't!"
"Sometimes people lie,” Bleddyn snapped at her.
Wil clutched at Bleddyn's arm. “Swear to me you won't hurt Emma.” Bleddyn scowled, so Wil shook him as much as he was able. “Swear it!"
"I swear it,” came the grudging reply.
"Good.” Clumsily Wil plucked at the binding on Bleddyn's wrist, and the knot that had given the pookha so much grief practically fell off in Wil's hand. “What is this, anyway?"
"It's a charm to keep us in one form,” Bleddyn replied, his voice dripping with loathing. “So I couldn't try to stop her."
"Oh. Good.” Wil reached over and wrapped it around Maelona's arm. It snugged itself tight to her skin, and Wil shuddered. “Ugh. Help me sit up."
Bleddyn propped him up, and when his head had stopped spinning Wil looked over to Emma. “So. He swears not to hurt you, and in return, you will tell your father that you've decided not to marry me. Fair?"
Emma bowed her head. “I promise. I'm so sorry, Wil."
"Don't be sorry, Em, just help me get home."
Bleddyn supported him as far as the gate, where Wil paused to catch his breath. Turning, the pookha glared doubtfully at Emma. “Think you can get Wil to the village on your own?"
Emma nodded wordlessly.
"Good. I'd like to get back to the Underground with Maelona before she wakes up.” He smiled, a wolfish baring of teeth. “We have laws against killing humans, whatever your stories may say."
"But you'll be here tomorrow?” Wil reached out to touch Bleddyn's cheek.
The cruel smile softened. “Count on it.” He turned and headed back up the slope.
Emma prodded the sheep into the run and Wil followed her, one hand on the fence rail to keep his balance. He was tired all the way to his bones.
Night had fallen by the time they made it to the sheepfold. Wil's father was waiting, casting worried looks up the hill.
Emma gave one last look over her shoulder, but Wil couldn't read her expression. Chin held high, she walked up to his father. “I wouldn't marry your son even if every other boy in the county dropped dead,” she snapped, and stalked away.
Wil hid a smile as his father stared at Emma's retreating back, and concentrated instead on getting the sheep settled. The older man turned to him with a perplexed frown.
"What on Earth was that about?"
Latching the gate with a contented sigh, Wil glanced up toward the pasture briefly before turning for home and his bed. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
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Kintaro: The Golden Boy
by S.J. Frost
The young mother's breath came in short, ragged gasps as she stumbled over a tree root, desperately trying to catch her balance and managing to only fall to one knee. She clutched her infant son to her chest and the jolt jarred the boy awake. She pulled him away from her body enough to look at him and make certain he hadn't been hurt. To her surprise, he smiled at her despite the unpleasant awakening he'd received.
The young mother nuzzled into the boy's fuzzy black hair. “Kintaro, even with all we've faced you still smile. You're so small, but so brave. If your father could see you, the great pride he had in you would double."
Her voice shook and tears came unbidden to her eyes. Her husband had been betrayed and slain by those he called friends for his favored position with their liege lord, and now would never see his son grow. The thought of her husband's murder made the darkness of the forest grow thicker and she held Kintaro more tightly. To protect him, she willingly left the comfortable life she'd known and fled into the wilds of Mount Ashigara. Though only an infant, Kintaro's unusual physical strength had been obvious since the moment of his birth and his father's enemies already feared him. They wouldn't hesitate to slay her son before he could grow into a powerful man and seek revenge for his father.
She swallowed her tears. She didn't have time to weep. She had to find shelter for her son before the threatening storm broke. She rose to her feet as the first drops pattered down on the leaves above. Her eyes scanned the forest for shelter. She headed for a spot where the darkness gave way to light. She emerged from the forest's hold to a small clearing and discovered a hut on the opposite side. She ran, rain striking her in the face, and pounded on the flimsy door. It opened on its own.
She cautiously peered around the, single dark room. The hut contained no furniture. It looked like an animal had turned the cooking pit into a bed by lining it with leaves and twigs. Cobwebs and dust covered a stack of wood in a corner. She took a tentative step inside and secured the door behind her.
She sat down on the dirt floor with Kintaro on her knees and smiled. “My beautiful son, welcome to our new home."
* * * *
Kintaro picked up his hatchet from its resting place near the door of the hut and pushed it through the obi around his waist. He stepped outside and tipped his face toward the sun. It was a perfect day for his favorite activities: wrestling with the bears, romping with the deer, climbing with the monkey, and racing with the hare. All of his eighteen years had been spent on the mountain. He'd grown up with the animals as his only companions, their unique language as easy for him to understand as any spoken word.
He watched his mother hang clothes beside the hut and waved.
She returned his wave. “Have fun today, my son, but remember to be on your guard against strangers."
"I will, mother."
Kintaro disappeared into the forest, his heavy thoughts making his shoulders sag. His mother sought only to protect him as she always had, but he wouldn't mind running into a few strangers. He'd been considered an adult for two years now, yet he'd never experienced any of the things a man should.
He had an understanding of what men and women did together, though he had another problem; a woman's body wasn't what he craved. It was the men he saw, their bodies firm with muscle, who sparked a primal need in him. But the village men, with their bawdy jokes and stories, spoke only of relations between a man and a woman, and left him feeling ashamed of his desires. None ever mentioned if feeling lust toward one's own gender was appropriate.
A heavy mass landed on Kintaro's back from above, startling him from his thoughts. He snapped his head around. His eyes met the toothy grin of Red Back, his monkey friend. A stag stepped toward him and a hare hopped out from under a bush. He turned at the sound of leaves crunching as a mother bear ambled with two cubs in his direction. His mood lifted, and surrounded by his animal companions, he led the way through the forest toward a stream.
* * * *
On a rise hidden behind two large pine trees, Sadamitsu stared in wonder at the beautiful young man wrestling a bear cub near a stream. The youth pinned it to the ground with ease despite the fact the cub's strength should be so much greater.
He had doubted his eyes when he first saw the lovely young man emerge from the forest surrounded by beasts. It seemed a vision too unbelievable to be real, though now he questioned his sanity as he witnessed him interact with the animals and they responded as if they understood. It amazed him as equally as the young man's breathtaking appearance.
The young man wore his black hair bound in a long tail down his back. He stood tall, his build powerful, yet he moved with grace. Sadamitsu gazed at his face, an image of masculine beauty, his finely shaped black eyes shone with intelligence. He wore an un-dyed, short cotton kimono, his leggings fell just below the knees, and his feet were bare—peasant's clothing. He looked as wild as the beasts he had befriended, which only added to his allure.
It all made Sadamitsu wonder, was he really awake or having a very strange dream?
* * * *
The animals stomped and chattered in celebration of Kintaro's victory over the bear cub, then fell silent. The deer sprang for the forest, and the mother bear and cubs galloped after it. The hare darted under the closest bush, the monkey shot up the nearest tree. Kintaro turned to see what had frightened his friends and tensed at the sight of a strange man coming toward him, leading a chestnut horse by the reins.
Kintaro's eyes moved over the other's sun-darkened skin, and though the man looked more than twenty years his senior, his confident stride, upright posture, and solid body harkened to the youthfulness still within him. His gaze rested on the two swords on the man's left hip, the silent markers of a samurai.
"You needn't fear my swords,” the man called. “They'll stay at rest unless you awaken them. Now, can you speak, boy? I'd have your name, if you can."
"I can speak, master, and I have no fear of your swords. My name is Kintaro. I'm no boy, and I'll have your name in return."
"Usui Sadamitsu, general to Minamoto no Raiko.” Sadamitsu's eyebrows rose. “Perhaps you're not a boy by age, but it takes more than age to make a man. I saw you wrestling with the cub. The strength you displayed greatly impressed me. I'd like to experience it for myself. Would you test it with me in the same way you did the cub?"
"I'm always ready for a new opponent."
"Good. Take hold of my arms and we'll begin."
Kintaro grabbed Sadamitsu's forearms below his elbows and looked at Sadamitsu, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “I'll try to be careful with you, grandfather."
"Impudent boy!” Sadamitsu bellowed, though a smile rose to his lips. “I can see you're long overdue to learn respect, so I'll educate you on the count of three. You can count that high at least, can't you?"
Kintaro snickered. “I'll do my best."
"Then one...two...three!"
Sadamitsu pushed against him, trying to rock him, bend his arms, anything to get Kintaro off balance. Kintaro held his ground with little effort and noticed Sadamitsu's right arm, his sword arm, was stronger than his left. Deciding to flaunt his strength with the stranger, Kintaro tightened his hold on Sadamitsu's arms and pressed down on the right one. As Sadamitsu's right arm buckled under his power, Kintaro lifted him by the left arm and tossed him to the ground. Sadamitsu landed hard on his back, his breath blasted out of his lungs, and he stared up at the sky in a daze.
Kintaro leaned over. “I didn't hurt you, did I, grandfather?"
"I'm certain my back will answer that question by nightfall, though it's my pride which aches now.” Sadamitsu turned his eyes to Kintaro and smiled. “Tell me, Kintaro, how would you like to become a samurai?"
"A samurai?” Kintaro shook his head. “But I have no training, no education, and no lord to serve."
Sadamitsu forced himself into a sitting position. “Admittedly, you are rather old to begin training, but you can still learn if you're willing to be dedicated. Though you may be uneducated, a man never stops learning throughout his life. As for a lord, I believe my own would be very pleased to have a man of your strength enter his service. Simply by chance, or perhaps the good spirits of this mountain guided me here and I happened across you while taking a shortcut and finding myself lost. I think it's your destiny, Kintaro, to come with me to Kyoto and meet Lord Raiko."
Kintaro extended his hand down to Sadamitsu. “Then take me to meet him!"
Sadamitsu laughed and took Kintaro's hand. Kintaro tugged Sadamitsu to his feet and nearly off them again with his great strength.
"Your strength is equal to ten men!” Sadamitsu righted himself. “To have such power, you can only be blessed by the gods."
"I don't know anything about the blessings of gods. All I know is before I leave, I must speak with my mother."
Sadamitsu followed Kintaro as he moved toward the forest. Kintaro's feet carried him toward home, though he noticed none of the journey. A samurai. He could become a samurai. It seemed a concept beyond his grasp, trying to capture a dream as it fled from a roused mind. To be a samurai would mean he could provide a comfortable life for his mother. He'd meet new people, have experiences beyond what his imagination could conjure, but most importantly, he'd finally become a true man. His steps quickened as if his future pushed him forward. Nothing would stop him from becoming a samurai.
* * * *
Kintaro had never been to Kyoto and he feared if his eyes widened any further they'd fall from his head, but he couldn't stop staring at the sights around him. He walked at Sadamitsu's side as they passed shops where beautifully dyed and patterned silk kimonos hung. Stands filled the spaces in between selling trinkets said to bring luck, happiness, love, or any other heart's desire. The tantalizing aromas of fresh tea and noodles drifted into the street from teahouses. But what captured his attention most were the people. Everywhere he turned he saw people: young and old, wealthy and poor, women, children, men...so many men. He thought either his heart or his loins would burst at viewing so many attractive men.
"A bit different from your mountain home, isn't it, Kintaro?"
Kintaro smiled. “Yes, but it's so exciting."
Sadamitsu guided Kintaro through the crowded streets toward the district housing the mansions of the daimyo. Kintaro's mouth dropped open at the sight of the massive homes, each one immaculately kept behind stone walls, the gated entrances guarded by samurai. Sadamitsu aimed toward one gate, and as they approached, the two samurai standing guard bowed deeply to him.
"Welcome back, Usui-dono,” one said.
Sadamitsu nodded in acknowledgement and walked through the gate into the courtyard, Kintaro noticed both samurai gave him curious looks as he followed. A groom rushed forward to take Sadamitsu's horse. Kintaro gazed up at the tall mansion, the black tiled roof sweeping gracefully against the blue sky. The veranda wrapped around the perimeter, so highly polished the wood gleamed even from a distance, and not a tear or crinkle could be found in the rice paper windows.
"This way,” Sadamitsu said..
Kintaro hastened to catch up as Sadamitsu led him around the house and through a small gate in a bamboo fence. In the garden beyond, he saw maples groomed into rounded domes and pines manicured to sharp points. Rhododendrons bloomed lavender blossoms, and in the center of the garden, a small pond reflected the sky in its serene waters.
Kintaro saw three men sitting beneath a canopy of cherry trees in full bloom. With every breeze, blossoms floated from the branches like pink snow and settled upon the silk kimonos the men wore. Kintaro noticed first the man in the center, whose robes of lavender matched the rhododendron blooms. From the man's noble bearing Kintaro assumed this must be Sadamitsu's lord, Minamoto no Raiko. Not far into his third decade, the man wore a thin mustache and small pointed beard on his handsome face.
