His heart melted as it always did. Well, yes, he could see she was exceptional! He gave her a gentle hug.
“I vow Lilac and I shall wait a long while before we have a babe.” His brother Rejar had sauntered over.
Most likely to cause trouble.
Rejar confirmed Lorgin’s opinion when he gave his brother an evil grin. “After all, I would not want to do anything to interfere with this fine rapport you are building with Father.”
Lorgin’s nostrils flared. It was unusual for Rejar not to be under the watchful eye of Krue. Somehow, since Rejar had returned with a wife from Ree Gen Cee Ing Land everything had turned upside down! Including the fact that his brother was entering the Charl—a thing he had sworn he would never do.
Rejar casually tickled Melody under her chin. The babe reacted as most females did around the half-Familiar; she gave him a dreamy look of complete adoration.
Lorgin’s amethyst eyes narrowed.
He lightly smoothed over his daughter’s fuzzy red hair. “I am not too concerned, brother…knowing you, it should not be too long before you garner Father’s undivided attention once again.”
Rejar gave his brother his famous gamin grin. The smile that said, we shall see. Lorgin snorted.
The family had gathered on this hillside for Rejar’s initiation ceremony. It was a secluded glade near the Towering Forest where most of the Lodarres line had been initiated. Lorgin, himself, was initiated in this very spot when he was but a young man. He noted that Traed and Gian and Jenise were making their way up the knoll to them.
“How many Charl does it take to don a cloak?” Adeeann, Lorgin’s wife, cheerfully asked him.
Lorgin rolled his eyes. His wife had started these “how many Charl” jokes and they had taken Aviara by storm. “Will you cease these Charl jests!”
Adeeann gave him a smug look and waited.
Lorgin sighed. “How many?” he asked, resigned.
“Five.”
“Five?” Rejar raised a black brow.
“One to don the cloak and four others to nod approvingly!” Adeeann grinned.
Rejar roared with laughter.
Lorgin gave her a reproving glance out of the corner of his eye, although his lips lifted at the corners.
Gian went over to greet Rejar. Jenise found herself alone with Yaniff. The old wizard congratulated her, his dark eyes twinkling.
“How do you know?” Jenise smiled at him, surprised.
“I am a mystic,” he replied with a gleam. “I know many things.”
Jenise shook her finger at him. “And what do you see of our child?” Her hand covered her abdomen protectively. “Only good things, I hope.”
Yaniff grinned at her. “Could Guardian of the Mist sire anything less?”
Jenise laughed. “You do know him well!”
Yaniff chuckled. “I cannot tell you much, but the babe will be of golden hair—lighter than Gian’s, darker than yours. His eyes will be aqua and gold and like his father’s.”
“Like his father’s?” Jenise questioned, for Gian’s eyes were green and gold.
“Yes…like his father’s.”
His meaning sank in. “The aqua eye…?”
“Will have three tiny flecks of gold.”
Jenise inhaled a deep breath. “He will rule M’yan then.”
Yaniff stared at her silently.
“What else, Yaniff?”
The ancient mystic rubbed his chin. “He will inherit your Frensi gift.”
She blinked at this. “The gift of the Dance?”
“Yes.”
“But…that is impossible! It is only passed on to the females of my race.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it has always been so!”
“Ah. Mayhap that it is because it has always been believed so.”
She bit her lip as she pondered his words. “Perhaps…Then he will be able to—”
“Express his love through the Frensi Dance but only once in his life. To his perfect love, yes.”
Jenise thanked Yaniff as she patted her stomach, praying that her son would not only recognize his perfect love, but also experience it throughout his lifetime. Her gaze went to her husband. Something Rejar had said had amused Gian, for he threw back his head in laughter, his perfect white teeth flashing. He is so handsome…
So incredibly strong.
Her heart thudded in her chest. Gian was like a tidal wave. He rose up from nowhere, gathered strength and surged over her. And like the tidal wave, one could not assess what had occurred until after the wave had broken.
Gian had happened to her like this. While the track of his storm had always been clear to him, she had not realized the depth of the undertow until she had been pulled into his maelstrom.
She loved him so very much.
Loved him as Guardian of the Mist. Loved him as Gian Ren. Loved him as a Familiar. Loved him as a man.
She had found him on her way to escape; he had led her to freedom. Of body. Of spirit. Of being. Through Gian her Frensi nature had been released.
Walking over to him, she placed her hand lovingly on his lower back as he spoke to the sons of Krue.
While he spoke, he discreetly lifted into her touch, arching the curve of his back in blissful feline recognition. Jenise smiled to herself, stroking him softly.
“Are you ready to begin, Yaniff?” Krue took the old wizard aside.
“Yes, everyone is here.”
“Mmmm.” Krue’s glance fell on Traed, a slight frown marring his face. “I had hoped for a double initiation.”
“He will not come easy, Krue. There is too much within him from the past.”
“Think you I do not know that? Nonetheless, he is a Lodarres, son-of-my-line. He needs to take his rightful place among his family.”
Yaniff watched Traed speculatively. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
Krue faced Yaniff, a fierce expression on his features. “There has been enough rebellion with him! He will join the Charl.”
Yaniff appeared bemused. “Traed has inherited your stubbornness, Krue. There is much of you in him. It will be interesting to see the two of you ‘discuss’ this.”
Krue narrowed his eyes. “Who said anything about discussion? He is my son, he will do as I bid him.”
“Ho-ho!” Yaniff doubled over in laughter. “Much as your other sons have, hmmm?”
Krue hunched his shoulders. “Can I help it if I have raised independent sons who know how to think for themselves?” One amethyst eye glittered at the old wizard.
Yaniff chuckled. “Let us hope that Rejar can curb himself somewhat—at least for the duration of the ceremony.” Both men caught Krue’s youngest son in the act of running a suggestive palm over his wife’s backside. They shook their heads.
Lilac shooed Rejar’s hand away. Krue snickered.
“His frolicsome ways are a trial to me, Krue.”
Krue knew that Yaniff jested by the look of pride the wizard gave his student. Rejar had done well.
Yaniff motioned the half-Familiar to him as the family members sat on the lawn in a semicircle before them. As Rejar turned to join his Charl master he happened to glance behind them.
From every pathway, mystics were converging on the knoll! They came from all directions, endless lines from every house on Aviara. And they were led by the Sages themselves.
They filled the fields around them and still they came.
“What is this?” Rejar murmured to his brother Lorgin.
Lorgin watched the procession coming towards them. “They come for you, Rejar.”
“But why?” He was stunned.
“To witness your initiation.”
Rejar’s smooth brow furrowed. “I do not understand.”
“Come, Rejar.” Yaniff took the Familiar by the arm, instructing him to kneel before him.
In his hand, he held up a crystal point which dangled from a small gold circlet. The old wizard’s voice rang out loud and true.
/> “The crystal is clear and hides no falsehood;
It is the window of vision and the veil of reflection.
Its being is pure as its nature is faceted.”
Yaniff bent over Rejar, placing the golden circlet with the dangling point next to his ear. A glow came from his fingertips.
“This is the mark of a Charl.
Let it guide your actions in light throughout your life.
Let it always remind you that wisdom is a necessary mate to true power.
Thus the supplicant becomes the warrior…”
The earring pierced Rejar’s left ear cleanly. The crowd murmured its approval. Yaniff stood back.
“Thus the warrior becomes the mystic.
Arise Rejar ta’al Krue, knight of the Charl,
future holder of the true power!
THE TENTH POWER!”
The crowd began chanting his name. “Rejar! Rejar! Rejar!”
Rejar was staggered at Yaniff’s words. The tenth power? The difference between power levels was exponential; a fourth level was not twice as powerful as a second—it was that power raised to the fourth level. Yaniff, the greatest power in the land, was a seventh-level mystic. Wizards such as Yaniff had the ability to see potential power levels. Tenth power? Impossible!
“What mean you, Yaniff?” he whispered hoarsely. “I have not such abilities—”
“Yes, Rejar, you do.”
“But I…I do not…”
Yaniff placed a fatherly arm around his broad shoulders. “Think you I would cast you off without guidance? You have much to learn, Rejar. I will teach you all that I know; the rest you will teach yourself.”
The second son of Krue was slightly pale around the mouth.
In truth he did not seem happy with what Yaniff had revealed that day. Rejar had never wanted such a destiny. But then destinies were not of one’s choosing.
He cast a wary glance at his wife, Lilac. As he suspected, she was not overjoyed either. She took in the crowds with a wary eye, her concerned focus shifting back to her husband. They were both wondering what this new revelation would mean to them. To their lives.
Krue looked at his younger son, his speculative gaze shifting back to Yaniff. There were many questions in that warrior’s eyes. Questions from his past. He looked then at his Familiar wife, Suleila, who was staring at her son in shock.
Krue’s penetrating eyes returned to Yaniff. It was the glance of a seasoned warrior who had seen much in his life, a seasoned Charl who sensed there was more to this then met the eye.
Suddenly the crowd parted and the Tan-Shi Mother stepped through, followed by a hooded contingent of her personal disciples. The rumblings of the crowd grew as they passed by; it was so unheard of for the Tan-Shi to come to a Charl initiation.
This was a momentous day on Aviara, this day of initiating Rejar ta’al Krue.
The Tan-Shi Mother approached Rejar, standing before him. She threw the hood of her cloak back. Long silvery hair blew in the light wind. “The Tan-Shi recognizes Rejar ta’al Krue!” She cupped the half-Familiar’s hands in hers. Her entourage threw back their hoods, a sacred symbol of recognition and acceptance. A first in Aviaran history.
The Aviarans shouted the name of Rejar into the sky.
Rejar knew not how to deal with this. What did they expect from him? He was as he had always been; he did not feel any different whatsoever.
“Of course not,” Yaniff murmured next to him. “For you have always been as you are. It is not in the being but in the recognizing.”
Rejar viewed him cautiously. He shielded his thoughts from all Charl.
“Good.” Yaniff nodded approvingly. “Begin to be very cautious, Rejar. It will serve you well.”
The men of the houses lowered themselves on one knee before him. Each held out a Cearix to him as they bowed their heads in homage.
“What are they doing?” Rejar did not like this at all.
“They offer you their heritage.” Yaniff motioned to Traed, who knelt, offering up Yaniff’s Cearix as well. Even his own brother, Lorgin, had knelt before him, his hand outstretched with his father’s Cearix.
“Why do they offer this to me?”
“Because you can see the ‘truths’ of their ancestors. You are the one, Rejar.”
“No!” he hissed in an unsteady voice.
“It is so. You must choose one Cearix to be your first. Choose wisely.” With that Yaniff went down on one knee before him, holding out a Cearix.
{You offer me Theardar’s blade?} Rejar did not know whether to be insulted or not.
“It contains many truths, my student. The most painful lessons sometimes reveal the deepest knowledge.”
Rejar stood on the hillside and let his blue/gold gaze scan the crowd kneeling before him. What should he do? Clearly, he would have to make a choice. He noticed that the elder wizard Gelfan had been very slow to bend a knee and offer his blade. He raised his black eyebrow.
Yaniff watched him closely.
Rejar reached out and took Gelfan’s Cearix.
Sharp, he is…Yaniff smiled to himself. With Rejar’s acceptance of Gelfan’s Cearix, he had formed a powerful bond with Gelfan’s house. Rejar had just made it much more difficult for Gelfan to undermine him in the future.
In the days to come Yaniff would advise him on which houses to align himself with and in what order. Such strategy was crucial, but Rejar had always excelled at games of strategy. Soon he would put his real skills to the actual test.
Ultimately, Rejar’s passion would become his salvation or his trial. His kind heart would undergo the ordeal that always faced men of extreme power and conscience.
From all that was to come, the complete Rejar ta’al Krue would be forged.
Yaniff thought of the purity of the crystal he had placed in Rejar’s ear and prayed that the half-Familiar Charl would always find its clear resonance within to lead him home.
At the end of the day Yaniff took Rejar aside privately and handed him a small, crooked staff upon which was tied a leather thong. “An initiation gift for you, my boy.”
Rejar looked dubiously at the odd staff, which came only to his knee. “And what am I to do with it?”
“Why, nothing. It has already been done.” Chuckling mysteriously, Yaniff walked away.
Rejar shook his head, shrugging his shoulders. Sometimes wizards were quite odd. His heated glance honed in on his wife. It was time they made their way home.
The crystal earring swirled as it hung from his lobe.
He wondered how ticklish such an earring would be on certain parts of his wife’s anatomy. A mischievous grin spread across his sultry features as he sought her out.
Taj Gian leaned back against the fluffy green and gold cushions of his bed as he waited for his wife to come to him.
What was taking her so long? She had told him she needed a few moments alone. Being feline in temperament, he understood such a need. But that had been some time ago!
He was just about to toss aside the silken coverlet and go in search of her when the door to their chamber opened. Jenise closed the door gently behind her.
Then she faced him.
With a motion of her hand, she unclasped her gown, letting it slither to the floor. Their eyes met.
Gian rested back against the bedrest behind him, waiting for her to come to him.
She did—but not in the manner he expected.
Her body began swaying slowly to a seductive tune she hummed. A tune that at once seeped into his senses, bringing him alive, awake to the present. Her hands twined in one intricate position and yet another, moving to the seductive rhythm with a grace of movement he had never witnessed before.
The long strands of her pale hair swung free as she undulated her body in a symbolic display of utter feminine beauty. Gian watched, spellbound.
As she slowly crossed the room to him, she dipped and stretched and flowed to the erotic, mesmerizing tune. Her actions revealed her passion for him, spoke to h
im more eloquently than words ever could have done.
His firm lips parted as he realized it was the Frensi Dance of Love and that she was performing it for him.
For the first time in his life, Gian Ren let the tears flow freely down his face as he beheld her dance—a physical expression of her perfect love. He could understand why men spoke of it in hushed whispers, with longing. She became like a living work of art, her steps, her rolls, her sensual gyrations…the story she told with her body.
He would remember this for the rest of his life. In all that she was, in her dance, he saw the true power of the female. Endless. Enduring. Mutable.
Female power. Inner strength. Encompassing spirit. Its passion light released to be free when the male and female united on every level.
He opened his arms to her as her tune caressed his heart.
It came from the lips of his beauty, his creamcat…
His soul love. Whose lips he licked.
Chapter Eighteen
Yaniff slowly climbed the highest peak in the mountains of the Sky Lands of Aviara, the birthplace of Traed’s natural father.
It was said that the clearest visions visited some on these lofty peaks.
His winged companion, Bojo, dropped a uniquely designed black and silver pouch laden with clarified stones into Yaniff’s hand. The wizard opened the string and scattered them over the mountaintop. Their source, and the way they had been attained, made them a perfect mystic’s lens.
Strong gusts of wind tugged at his crimson robes as he looked across the land.
Clouds were building on the horizon, although in reality the day was clear. The roiling formations were dark, deep, and dangerous.
Yaniff watched the signs carefully.
There was a storm coming in. It rode the echoes of future history.
He listened closely—
The crest of the forewind whispered to him, “Gifted…”
Author’s Note
I hope you have enjoyed the story of taj Gian and his mate Jenise as much as I loved writing it. All of these Matrix of Destiny characters are very dear to me.
While these books are designed to be read on their own for the individual love story contained within, there are continuing underlying elements which connect all these books, forming the entire scope of the story. This epic adventure series spans many novels; so, yes, there are more to come!