Disclaimer: I own nothing... but I wish the Goblin King would come and take me away...right now! *looks around* Damn...didn't work :(
The Thirteenth Rider
Ch. 4 – What Oscar Saw
The quiet whispering of pages being turned was the only noise in the silent stacks of the Gifford library, as Sarah spent yet another afternoon surrounded by ancient books filled with yellowing pages of local lore. For weeks now she had been researching the Wild Hunt and the Goblin King, reading every bit of information she could find from child-friendly fairy tales to archaic volumes of lore written in middle English. Although the Wild Hunt was mentioned fairly often, very little was actually known about it – other than the fact that a human who crossed the path of the hunt was in grave danger of never being seen again.
And she found even less information about the Goblin King. The Goblin King as a being was mentioned exactly once in the many books she found - as the Lord of the Labyrinth.
"Yeah…tell me something I didn't already know," muttered Sarah to herself.
Flipping through the rest of the pages, Sarah stopped, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the heading 'Lord of the Chase and the Rules of the Hunt'. "Finally!" she sighed, nibbling her lip she skimmed the page, finding written confirmation of what Mr. Kerr had told them at the dig site. Reading to herself, she murmured, "Knowing the paths the hunt runs and the times in which the hunt will race, is imperative if one wishes to remain safe from Fae clutches. The hunt is called with each…."
Turning eagerly to the next page, Sarah groaned. The next seven pages had been roughly torn from the book. Growling to herself, she dropped her forehead against her notebook and thumped it gently.
"How can there be so much local lore, but it isn't written down anywhere?" she grumbled, before sneezing violently from the dust she had inhaled.
With a heavy sigh, Sarah realized that if she wanted to know more about the hunt, she would have to talk to Mr. Kerr – preferably without Luc's presence. She had asked him about his problem with Mr. Kerr at lunch, being rewarded with a brusque reply for her effort: "He speaks of myths and legends, Sarah. I am a man of science, legend is just that. Nothing more and nothing that you should be worried about." Then he deftly changed the topic and refused to entertain her concerns any further. No matter how attracted she was to Luc and the way her feelings were growing toward him, she couldn't understand how Luc could be so charming to everyone he met, but was so rude to Mr. Kerr.
Absently flipping through yet another dusty tome of yellowed pages, Sarah thought over Luc's response to Mr. Kerr and Mr. Kerr's warning about the Wild Hunt. It was clear by his reaction that the Hunt was indeed a local phenomenon, so why then did Nana Miller refuse to discuss it or even admit that it was real? Sighing, Sarah glanced down at the page she had stopped upon and gasped.
"That is it," she whispered in awe, her fingers tracing the figure on the page.
When not looking for information on the Wild Hunt or Goblin King, Sarah had been trying to find out about the iron symbol hanging above her window. The day after she arrived, her grandmother had gone out to the shops for some groceries. While Nana Miller was gone, Sarah had taken the opportunity to search the house from top to bottom looking for more of the iron disks, assuming that there would be one over every window of the cottage. But there was only one - the one that hung in her bedroom.
Sarah flipped the book over, careful not to lose her place, frowning as she read the title Symboles and Charmes for Heaylth aynd Protection, by Lysandra Reynan. Turning to the front of the book, Sarah looked for the copyright date or any identifying information, finding nothing, not even a publisher. As she righted the book once more, her fingers still tracing the design on the page, she began to read.
The triskelle is an ancient symbole with many meanings and uses in the protection of hearth and home. Bearing three spyraled leyges, thys symbole draws forth images of revolution and competition – as though one is either competitor or a pryze. The 'three' is a power aspect. Oyften, the three spyrals are ascribed by priests as symboles for the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Let not these tales turn your head, the hearth mother tells in truth. In areas where the Wyld Hunt runs, the three spyrals symbolize the mortal realm, the OtherWyrld or Wyrld Below of Fayre Folk and others, and the Wyrld Above – the plane of celestial power – the spiryt wyrld.
Reading this, Sarah found her pulse racing in her ears. The OtherWyrld. The Wyrld Below. The Underground. It couldn't be a mere coincidence. Nibbling her lip nervously, she continued reading, her fingers never stopping their restless tracing of the symbol on the facing page of the book.
One other meaning of the three draws forth from legynds of the Wyld Hunt and is the reason thys symbole is so powerful in protecting hearth and home from the perils of the Hunters – Seelie, Unseelie and the 13th Ryder, who balances the light and dark. The last Wyld Hunt meaning relating to the triskelle refers to the three kings – King of Light, King of Dark and the Goblyn King.
Reading the last words again, Sarah felt as if her heart would cease beating entirely. For weeks she had been looking for information and here it was. Confirmation of the Goblin King's role in the Wild Hunt. Confirmation that they symbol hanging above her window was not only associated with the Hunt, but 'Him' – the King of all her nightmares. Feeling the blood drain from her face, Sarah shivered, forcing herself to continue reading.
In dwellings built along the path of the Hunt, the triskelle should be forged of iron and hung over all wyndows and doors, unless they are iron sealed. In families that have suffered a loss from the Hunt or Unseelie, a forged iron triskelle should be hung in the room from which the beloved was stolen. In this way preventing the Unseelie from entering the dwelling, as once a dwelling has been breeched by Unseelie ryders, the Unseelie will be drawn to the family hereafter.
With her head on her hand, Sarah continued tracing the design in the book, her mind in turmoil as she tried desperately to reconcile what she had found out, with the disk in her room, her grandmother's reticence to discuss the Hunt and Mr. Kerr's cryptic warning. She was so engrossed in her thoughts, that she never heard the soft footsteps creeping up on her, until a hand encircled her neck.
Shrieking as if all of the banshees from Above and Below were attacking her, Sarah squirmed away from the gloved hand that grasped her neck, falling to the floor in a heap as she slid off her chair.
"Bloody hell, Sarah!" came the crisply accented reply. "Calm down, it is just me."
Looking up from where she was cowering on the floor, Sarah saw Luc towering over her, his eyebrows narrowed as he looked at her with concern. No longer at the dig site, Luc was free of the navy coverall he usually wore, revealing the black jeans that clung tightly to his muscular legs and a tight, plain black t-shirt, which gave her a tantalizing glimpse of his muscles as it shifted over his chest with each breath he took. Over the shirt he wore a black, leather jacket that was so well-worn that it didn't make a sound as he moved. Tugging his leather gloves off and tucking them in his pocket, he bent down, taking her hand gently and hauling her to her feet before enfolding her into his embrace.
"You are shaking like a leaf, Love," he murmured, his lips pressing against the top of her head as he held her tightly. "What have you been up to?"
Unable to help herself, Sarah let herself relax in his arms, breathing deep the tantalizing scent of him – cinnamon, woodsmoke and something dark and exotic that she had smelled before, but couldn't name.
"I'm okay, Luc," she managed to whisper, her head pillowed against the firmness of his chest. "You just startled me, is all."
Shaking his head, Luc tipped her chin up as his eyes searched her face, "That was not the reaction of a woman who was merely startled, love. That was the reaction of one who was scared for her life. What were you reading that has you so worked up?"
Sarah felt herself blush as she thought of the stack of books scattered across her table, knowing the way Luc felt about myths and legends. "Oh you know… reading up on obscure legends so I can prepare my lectures for next week," she said, forcing a slight chuckle and hoping he wouldn't press her further.
With a smile, Luc lightly brushed his lips across Sarah's forehead, making her tremble in his arms. "Well, if that is all, would you like me to walk you home?"
Nodding, Sarah turned and neatly stacks her books back into her study carrel, knowing that Mrs. McCloy, the librarian wouldn't re-shelve them until Sarah took them to the front desk. Thrusting the Goblin King from her mind, Sarah slid her arms into her jacket as Luc held it for her, before winding his arm around her waist and walking her out of the library.
They laughed and talked about students, the dig, their colleagues and the more 'unique' town citizens as they walked toward the little white cottage on the edge of town. As customary in this part of the world, the town was quiet in the late afternoon, with the clock approaching 4:00 PM, most people were settling down for the evening or beginning to prepare evening tea. The quaint quirks of the town appealed to Sarah, as did the company she was keeping as she walked down the tidy path toward home.
When they reached the garden gate, Luc pulled her once more into his arms and Sarah found herself going willingly – more than willingly if she was honest with herself, as for the first time, his lips sought hers. Although the kiss was soft, almost tender, there was nothing hesitant about it. His lips commanded hers with a power she could not deny, as the scent of him swirled around her. Releasing her lips only when she was dizzy from the intensity of the kiss and the roiling flood of emotions that burst to life within her at the first feel of his lips on hers, Luc smiled at her, his mismatched eyes seeming to flash brightly for a moment, before darkening. Sarah blushed as her mind conjured images for her, images drawn forth from desires too long denied. Desires notyet experienced fully. Her cheeks burned hotly as she realized that she would give this man, this ethereally handsome man with a charm that would tease the very Goddesses themselves… everything she had, everything she was, and more.
The flush of new love and lust that coursed through her, making her knees weak, forced Sarah to cling to Luc, only to blush further at the velvet chuckle that rumbled from his chest.
"You act as if you've never been kissed before, Sarah love," he said, giving her a sly smile that hinted at future, knee-trembling kisses.
"Hmm….I've been kissed," she murmured, feeling her cheeks heat further at the admission, "Just never quite like that."
Winking at her, Luc loosened his hold on her, "Well then, consider that the first of many. You, my love, are a woman who should be kissed as if she were a delectable feast, savoured, and then devoured."
Sarah felt her stomach quiver at his words, the sudden burst of desire within her transforming quickly into a raging lust like she had never known. His words were enthralling, almost hypnotic, and she wanted nothing more than to drag him to the nearest soft surface and ravage him. Shaking her head to dislodge the wild images her mind was parading before her, Sarah tried desperately to get a grip upon her herself. …What the hell is wrong with me? I never feel this way….
Prying herself from his arms was like trying to pull herself out of a warm vat of treacle, when all she wanted to do was throw herself back into the warmth and security of his embrace. With an audible sigh, Sarah finally pulled herself away, hanging onto the white-painted wood of the arbor gate as if it were the only thing holding her away from the black-hole that was Luc's arms.
"So…um… would you like to come in and have dinner with me tonight? My grandmother went on the senior's excursion bus over to Farris, so it is just me and Oscar," she asked, vaguely embarrassed by the breathy quality of her voice.
Leaning close to the gate, Luc's eyes seemed to darken further, now nearly black as he looked at her. He took a step toward her and Sarah felt her body long to respond by leaning toward him, yet for some inexplicable reason she found herself coquettishly slipping through the gate, holding it open for him. Reaching the arbor arch, Luc stopped, his bewitching eyes darting from hers, to glance at the base of the gateway, the sultry smile dying on his lips as he paused.
"Regretfully, Sarah love, I am unable to join you for dinner, as much as I would dearly love to," he replied, his voice low and rough, in a way that sent a pang of want through her once more, the sound like the pied-piper's flute, almost demanding that she rush back out of the garden gate and straight into his arms once more. "I have another engagement that I must attend. However, I will do all in my power to swing by here later this evening, if that would please you."
Fighting the urge to press herself against him, Sarah gripped the sturdy wood of the garden gate fiercely, her knuckles white with the force.
"Are you sure?" she managed to ask, unable to believe the forward words that were slipping unbidden from her own lips.
Luc's eyes caught hers once more, before shifting toward the house, washing over the window to her room, "Quite sure, love. However, I would very much like to see the protective charm from your room. Would you bring it out for me to look at?"
Puzzled, Sarah looked at him, her mind feeling pleasantly fuzzy as she smiled, "The charm? Did I tell you about that?"
Laughing, Luc nodded, his hand lightly caressing hers as it rested upon the arbor, the feel of his fine leather gloves against her skin sending electric tingles up her arms. "Don't you remember? You told me about it as we were walking home."
Sarah shrugged and nodded, drinking in the gentle caress of his hand upon hers. She didn't remember telling him about the iron charm or what the book said about it, but she often found that she spoke far more freely around Luc than she remembered.
"You could always come in and see for yourself," she replied, opening the gate wider once more, a seductive smile teasing her lips as she grinned at him.
"You are nothing if not persistent, Sarah," Luc chuckled shaking his head as he looked at her, his mismatched eyes seeming to sparkle in the late afternoon sunlight. "However, I must be off in a moment or I shall be late for my meeting. Why don't you run up and fetch the charm for me and I will take it with me. I have a friend who…specializes in such things… and I would be happy have them evaluate it."
With one last glance over her shoulder at the leisurely way Luc seemed to be lounging outside the gate, Sarah unlocked the house and went inside. Once inside, she frowned, as the warmth of desire seemed to melt from her like butter melting in a hot pan. Shaking off the odd feeling that was niggling at the back of her mind, she tried to remember why she had come inside alone, while Luc remained outside the garden gate.
…Oh….the charm by my window….
Trotting up the stairs, Sarah quickly pulled the charm from the nail upon which it hung and retreated back to the door. As she flung the door open, it hit Oscar who yowled angrily and darted through the door and straight for the garden gate.
"Oscar!" shouted Sarah, dashing out the door in pursuit of her grandmother's cat. "Luc! Grab him! He is sick and shouldn't be outside."
Sarah watched in dismay as the aging orange tabby bolted for the gate, wondering how she was going to tell Nana Miller that she had let Oscar get loose in his condition. Stunned, she realized she needn't have worried, as Luc deftly caught the angry cat as he raced over the threshold of the arbor gate. The moment Luc's hands touched the elderly feline, Oscar gave a growl of outrage, followed by a hissing shriek, as he lashed out at Luc, a blur of claws and teeth digging fiercely into Luc's gloves and slashing fine tears in both his gloves and leather jacket.
"Oh my," gasped Sarah, reaching in and grabbing the old cat by the scruff of his neck, marveling at the way he hung in her grasp, still spitting and hissing at Luc. "I'm so sorry, Luc! Oscar is usually such a sweet old thing. He rarely even moves from his cushion on the couch. I don't know what has gotten into him tonight."
Luc's expression turned stormy, a flash of something unreadable shimmering in his eyes before he smiled once more, gingerly running his fingers over the minute scratches in his jacket.
"No real harm done, love," he said, holding his hand out to her. "Now then, the charm, and then I am afraid I must be off. As it is I will be late for my meeting, and while things can't get stared without me, being late is ill-advised."
Laying the iron triskelle in the palm of Luc's hand, Sarah felt an odd zinging sensation that bordered on pain, leap from the metal to her fingertips as she released it. Lightly shaking her hand to rid herself of the feeling, Sarah smiled at Luc. "Let me buy you dinner tomorrow night, to make up for the way Oscar has behaved," Sarah offered, giving the aging cat a gentle shake as he continued to yowl and slash his claws in Luc's general direction.
Giving her a cheeky wink, Luc nodded, "Now that is an offer no sane man would dare refuse. Until tomorrow evening then."
Watching Luc stride off down the dirt road, back toward town, Sarah noticed the feeling of desire and want that had leapt to life when she had gotten back outside, once more seemed fade from her. With the niggling feeling that something was not quite right, she tucked the now calmly purring Oscar into her arms and firmly shut the garden gate, pausing only to admire the bright white heather blossoms that covered the arbor. As she stood there looking at the tender belled buds, Sarah realized that she didn't remember seeing the flowers when she left that morning, or even when she and Luc had arrived home – And they only seemed to be blooming on the arbor gate.
"How odd," she mused as she shut the garden gate and headed inside for tea.
As Sarah carried Oscar toward the cottage, holding him against her shoulder like a baby, the elderly feline watched as a burst of purple monkshood blossomed where Luc had been leaning against the gate. Growling low in his throat, Oscar glared at the purple flowers. He didn't know much about flowers, but he knew that he didn't like those purple flowers. Just like he didn't like that dark man, who had scented Sarah, as if marking his territory. And if there was one thing he knew instinctively, if Sarah saw what he saw, she wouldn't want to belong to him either.
But, he was just a cat and human mating rituals were strange to him. If Sarah wanted to be claimed by some sharp toothed, feral looking, pointy-eared, man who smelled of rich earth and glowed with a blue sheen when the light hit him just right, who was Oscar to argue. Just a lowly house cat. That's who.
And with that, Oscar put the purple flowers and the funny looking man out of his mind and settled down to a nice supper of tinned liver pate` with tuna bits – his favourite.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: As always, thanks for the reviews. I love seeing what people think is going on, who you'all think the characters are, etc... And I promise, Jareth (well, the version we all know and love at least) will make an appearance soon. This chapter would have been out earlier, but I had a bit of a file corruption problem. Another chapter should be out before the weekend. Please leave reviews...they help me find motivation to write. :)