An original story from Liquid Silver Books author, Darragha Foster

Please read Chapters One, Two, and Three if you haven’t already.

Prince Hlini, or Lin, for short, is a man’s man. He enjoys riding, archery and killing animals in days-long hunts with his courtiers. He is also royal pain in the ass—literally. His voyeuristic and sodomite penchants have kept him much too busy to find a suitable wife in which to sprout his noble seed—because it’s safer to make love to page boys and stable-hands than it is to possibly produce a child who will someday poison you to usurp your throne. Prince Lin also suffers from a tad bit of paranoia. There is one woman whose tremendous beauty (and delicious potatoes) has caught his eye…Sigyn of the garden corner. But greeting her from horseback is about as close as he’s ever been.

Sigyn is the daughter of the village witch and the village undertaker. She is of the lowest caste in the kingdom, for she works on her knees in the dirt, mixing in compost created by her father from the burning of the kingdom’s dead. Still…she has the most successful vegetable stall in the realm. People come from far and wide to buy her fruit and veg. With strength, beauty and a height most women will never see, Sigyn could have many suitors—all lower class, uneducated dirt-farmers. She wants more from life. She wants to be king.

Eventide… a gratis lectori salutem (free to the readers) e-tale by Darragha Foster about that magic time between the end of day and the beginning of night. Beware the mist, the call of the geese and horny wood-wives.

Warning: If you’re familiar with Darragha’s work, you know this story will contain sex, violence, and all-around… quirkiness. If you’re not familiar with Darragha’s work…

And now the fourth chapter of Eventide…

Chapter Four

Sigyn walked for two days before picking up the prince’s trail. His horse wore unique shoes and being a heavy horse, it had left deep imprints. Why the hunting party had failed to notice and follow the trail was beyond her. Unless they had deliberately tried to lose the prince, which would certainly be an act agreeable to many. The prince was boorish and spoiled. And wasteful. Good Lord, the man was wasteful. Sigyn had seen him toss unfinished fruit aside and leave purchased meals at the pub uneaten whilst he played dice with his captains.

She hated arrogant, wasteful men.

Unfortunately, her only suitors had been dirt-poor or covetous braggarts. This trek was to ensure she would never need a man’s strength, wealth or prowess. Rather to live alone than be subjugated by a man.

The trail led deep into the forest. She knew what waited for her, hiding behind tree trunks and blending in with leaves and twigs. Disagreeable, treacherous fairy folk loved to torment the lost or those using the forest to hide their sins.

Sigyn scanned the edge of the forest for an oak tree. There was one, though it was not the greatest or tallest of the sentinels at the forest edge. She dropped to her knees and using a stick and her hands, dug into the rich brown soil. A few inches down the soil grew damp and she took the mud and slathered it on her face and arms. She removed her shoes and covered her legs and feet with the mud, as well. With nimble fingers she crafted a wreath of oak leaves and wove it into her hair.

Looking very much like a wild child and not the apple of the prince’s eye, she entered the forest, carrying her shoes over her shoulder with her rucksack. She was stronger barefoot than shod. A daughter of the earth, she drew her strength from the blanket of soil upon which all life sprang forth. That, and the spells taught her by her mother.

Stepping lightly in a bizarre dance to make her invisible to spying eyes, hands forming intricate mudras with her hands and lips softly intoning powerful old charms, Sigyn followed the trail in the forest.

A thousand glimmers of light swooped over her head. High in the trees the squirrels chattered and laughed at her attempts to hide in plain site. They could see her—but the spirits of the forest could not. To them, she was as ordinary as the dirt under their ethereal feet.

Sigyn cast an aura of invincibility before her, shielding her from predators of less than mundane characteristics. Still, she could fall pray to bears…big cats…or woodsmen who hadn’t touched a human woman in years—having found little lasting satisfaction with forest nymphs.

She’d seen a wood-wife once while collecting roots and herbs with her mother. She appeared before a tree as lovely and lush as a bride. From the front. At her reverse, she was hollow and without form. It was only the love and attention of a woodsman ensnared in her sexual charms that kept her, and her tree, from being hacked to bits and run through a carpenter’s lathe.

It was as she mulled over the thoughts of the lovely wood-wife, that she spied the very tree that grew the succulent, magical roots her mother had taught her how to harvest. Such roots were potent, valuable and worth stopping for. These roots lasted for years and could be cooked and eaten, used as medicine or bartered for goods in the marketplace.

Sigyn felt unwary of going off-task and off the beaten pathway to dig a few tuberous roots from the soil. Even with her shield of invisibility, if she took her mind away from her mission for too long, she might slip up and be recognized as something foreign to the forest.

Keeping the proverbial eyes-on-the-back-of-her-head wide open, Sigyn dashed to the great tree whose bare roots attracted her so dearly and began to scrape away the dirt and debris to expose and cut them. She stuck the tree trunk with her small lady-knife so that it would be ready for her to trim off a root.

She then realized she was not alone. Far from alone. She had not yet been perceived, but she was now interloping at the base of a sacred tree of a wood-wife.

It must have been my memories of her forest sister that triggered her appearance, for the gathering of exposed roots is not enough to warrant…oh…perhaps it was the assault on the tree trunk. Sigyn said a silent prayer. Mea culpa, mea culpa. My bad!

Remaining motionless she glanced up at the wood-wife who stood comfortably against her tree, scanning the area. The tree nymph removed the knife from the trunk and dropped it to the ground. She knelt and kissed the very slight cut in the bark. “Heal,” she whispered.

Her hair was black as coal and her skin the color of autumn leaves. Her eyes burned with an emerald green fire and she was clothed in a dress of moss and twigs.

Sigyn held her breath as a Daddy Long Legs spider crept in ticklish motions up her arm. It reached her shoulder, then her throat. When at last it crawled over her chin and to her lips, she let lose with an outward breath that blew the poor creature back onto the forest floor.

The wood-wife glanced down. “I hear you, human. I cannot see you, for your disguise is clever, but I smell you, and I hear you. Show yourself.”

Sigyn rose to her feet and brushed the dried mud from her face and arms. “I am here, lady.”

The wood-wife smiled sweetly—as was the nature of such fairies. “Your disguise is intelligent. Using the rich earth from under an old oak. Clever girl. Now, tell me, why are you alone in the forest?”

“I’m on a quest,” Sigyn replied.

“Ah! A quest! Help you I can. What is it you seek?” the wood-wife asked.

“What service must I perform to have a truthful answer from you?” Sigyn said.

“I am a lover, not a creature of evil. It has been a very long time since my special talents were well-used. You make love to me—and allow me to make love to you in return—and I shall tell you were you shall find your treasure,” the wood-wife replied.

Sigyn wiped her hands on her skirt. “I said nothing of treasure.”

“For a young woman to trek this forest alone it must be for love or treasure. Since you do not have the addled look of a girl in love about you, I can only assume it is treasure you seek,” the wood-wife replied.

“Do I have your word that you will be truthful to me in reply to my question and that I shall not be harmed or bewitched in any way? My mother is a skilled white witch and it would not bode well for you or your tree if I return to my home in a less than pristine state.”

“You may feel confident that I wish only to share myself with a forest traveler and wish you no ill.”

Sigyn leaned forward to look around the wood-wife. As suspected, she was an empty shell. A hollow woman. Beautiful to behold, but without true substance. “I seek Prince Hlini, lost in these woods a week ago.”

“Is he your lover?” the wood-wife asked.

Sigyn shook her head. “I want nothing from him save the reward his father offers for his safe return.”

“Then kiss me, girl. Kiss me and let me love you and I shall tell you where your prince is, for I do know of his whereabouts, and I know well his captors,” the wood-wife stated.

“What is your name?” Sigyn asked.

“Asparas Cedarwitch. Yours?”

“I am Sigyn of the garden corner,” Sigyn replied.

“Would you like to step into my home that we can make love in comfort?” Asparas asked.

“Inside the cedar?” Sigyn asked.

Asparas took Sigyn’s hand. “Deeper than that. My cedar is but the doorway to my world.”

What lay beyond was more magical a place than in any fairy story ever told her by her mother. A realm of light and music lay beyond the bark of the tree and there it was that Asparas made her home.

Something wonderful bubbled away on her hearth and fresh-baked nut breads sat cooling on the table. In the corner a squirrel and rabbit lay together, entwined in a little nest of cloth.

“What a brilliant home you have,” Sigyn remarked. “I have met wood-wives before, but never have I entered the fairy realm. This is a rare treat.”

“Will you have a cup of my cider or a biscuit?” Asparas asked.

She was hungry and thirsty and a bit of fermentation would no doubt calm her nerves—but she knew better. Never eat or drink in the fairy realm, or you will become a part of it for all time. “Thank you, no. I think we should seal our bargain so that I can resume my quest post-haste.”

Asparas turned and poured herself a cup of cider. She had a very shapely backside in her realm. All womanly features accounted for. “Let me wash the road from you, Sigyn, of the garden corner. Your disguise will soil my bed linens.”

Sigyn took a deep breath of resolve and stripped from her clothing to reveal her mud-caked body. “Where is your bath?”

“Through that door. It is unique as its water trickles forth from the deepest well in the forest,” Asparas said before draining the contents of her cup.

Sigyn strolled, nude and feeling rather vulnerable through the portal and into the bathroom—a crystal clear pool with a slow-trickling waterfall keeping it continually full. “This is fantastic!”

Asparas stepped up behind Sigyn, pressing her warm, soft nude body against Sigyn’s backside. “It is purifying and warm. Step in. Do step in. I’ll wash away that which you hide behind and reveal the true Sigyn.”

Sigyn stepped into the pool, immediately sensing thousands of effervescent bubbles surrounding her, caressing her. “Is the water alive? I feel as though little hands are massaging my legs.”

“All water is alive in some manner. In this case, however, the water is just water, though it is very soothing,” Asparas replied.

“I’ve never made love before, you know. With a man or a woman. I’ve worked all my life. There was little time for romance.”

“I am a good teacher,” Asparas said, pulling aside Sigyn’s hair to kiss the nape of her neck. “You do me a great honor and service by sharing my bed this night, Sigyn.”

“And your information in return shall make me ruler of my own kingdom. It is a fair trade.” Sigyn turned and slid her arms around Asparas’ waist.

Sigyn had been kissed before. It had been a hurried embrace as a youth with a lad now long married to a happy fat wife who had already birthed him five sons. Had she not panicked at the sense that her life would be at an end in his arms, she could have been that happy fat wife instead of being on the brink of tremendous fortune and wealth. She was often much too tired at the end of the day to worry about love and romance. When her head hit the pillow, she drifted off to sleep and dared not dream. On the odd occasion she did not fall asleep quickly, she had learned how to self-comfort herself physically using that brief, exciting, nearly life-changing kiss as a catalyst for more pungent and detailed thoughts.

As Asparas and she embraced, Sigyn clearly knew that any thoughts of the kiss with Johnny the tailor’s son paled in comparison to the kiss she was now experiencing. Asparas’ lips were as soft as down pillows and as sweet as blueberry mead. The warmth of the water and warmth of the woman and the anticipation of pleasures to come made Sigyn even more eager to return the embrace.

Asparas parted Sigyn’s lips with her clever tongue and lulled Sigyn into a hot, pulsating deep kiss. Sigyn tasted the essence of the cider on Asparas’ tongue. She was sure it wasn’t enough to lock her into the fairy realm. She hoped it wasn’t enough to lock her in the fairy realm.

As Asparas pulled her into the water and slid her long fingers over her body, Sigyn wasn’t sure if she could ever withdraw from this place again. It was that glorious, this pressing of bodies and lips. Sapphic lovers were common in the kingdom. For birth control and when husbands were away—but now Sigyn realized the popularity of holding another woman was far, far more tantalizing than simply sex that didn’t produce children. Surely, this was the root of all female magic. Woman to woman. Embrace to caress. Exploration of kisses and abandoning all control to consume the purity of womanhood.

Asparas suckled on Sigyn’s nipples and slid her right hand between the girl’s legs. Sigyn startled as the wood-wife pushed aside the tufted outer lips to caress her in places sure to set her belly ablaze.

Tangled like the uppermost thin branches of the wood-wife’s tree, a knot of legs and arms, Sigyn made love to the dryad and took whatever the wood-spirit had to offer in return.

She achieved her first orgasm by someone else’s hand. And mouth.

She gave her first orgasm as well.

Lips locked and tongues speaking the sensual language only lovers know Sigyn could taste her own essence from Asparas’ mouth. Like a pungent stew or heady aroma, she shook with desire to taste more. Even as Asparas transmitted the whereabouts of Prince Lin to her through gentle caresses of fingertips across her skull.

To stay in the arms of this brilliant forest child became a stronger pull than even becoming landlord to half the kingdom. Sigyn buried her head between Asparas’ legs a second time. Nothing else mattered. Nothing…

The bizarre image of two ogresses, naked and drooling over a rich crimson-covered bed assaulted her as she performed cunnilingus. Distracted and more than slightly revolted, Sigyn pulled back. “The ogres have the prince,” she said softly. “And they’re using him sexually.”

Asparas sat up. “Yes.”

“Where is their lair?” Sigyn asked. She wracked her brain, trying to clear the fog caused by the droplet of fairy cider and enchanted sexual release—what did Asparas impart to me? What was it? A mirror? No…the surface of a lake? There is no lake near here. A puddle, perhaps. A pool of clear water. Yes. A pool of water. “Where is the stream that fills a basin at which the prince was captured?”

“It is due east of this place. You can reach it in one day if you travel quickly and do not wander astray,” Asparas replied. “You must forgive me for trying to persuade you to stay with me for awhile. I cannot help what I am, or what I am compelled to do.”

“I understand. It is your nature. Just as it is mine to follow this quest to its conclusion.”

“Sigyn of the garden corner, beware of the geese and the fog they summon. Should you see a strange mist or hear the trumpet of a wild goose far from a body of water, run as fast as you can in the opposite direction. I will alert all cedar nymphs to give you shelter if you must flee in such a manner,” Asparas said softly. “Now, go. Go quickly before I concoct a plan to keep you from.” She paused. “I enjoyed our time together.”

Sigyn kissed Asparas. “I shall be king someday and I shall make a proclation that all cedar trees are sacred and should be preserved for the good of my kingdom. I shall build my bed with sacred cedars still rooted in the ground as bedposts so that you can join me in my bed-chamber whenever you like. I could so easily love you, Asparas. And it is not the cider speaking. It is my heart.”

Asparas bowed. “You are most wise, my king.”

Sigyn touched Asparas’ chin lightly. “How do I leave this realm?”

“The way is open, just beyond that curtain. Go with kind spirits and bright nights, Sigyn.”

Sigyn recognized the blessing. She replied accordingly, “May the rain be gentle on your path.”

Stay tuned next week for Chapter Five…

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Ripped from her LSB bio:

Darragha lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and daughter in a one-hundred-sixteen year old house continually under renovation. The house is haunted by the spirit of a Union Civil War-era soldier who seems to enjoy watching the construction every now and then. Someday, he may turn up as a character in one of Darragha’s stories.

This an original story given generously to us by Darragha Foster. DO NOT post any part of this story on your site without attribution to Darragha or a holla-back at her site. That’s not cool. Always give credit where credit is due, yo.

Note: Hey, other writer-types, do you want to contribute to The Serial? If so, email me and I’ll hook you up, yo. Peace!

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