Jane S. Fancher - Moonlover and the Fountain of Blood

VIP免费

2024-11-19 1 0 40.14KB 14 页 5.9玖币

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...0Fancher%20-%20Moonlover%20and%20the%20Fountain%20of%20Blood.txt

MOONLOVER AND THE FOUNTAIN OF BLOOD

Jane S. Fancher

I DON'T remember the day I was born, but the moment of my death is seared into memory.

I'd been riding with my lovers-too many lovers, Mother would say, and not enough friends, but that's

another story. . . .

Or, perhaps not. As to that, only time will tell.

But I get ahead of myself.

As I say, I was riding. Upon returning, I'd sent my lovers on to the house ahead of me, wanting time in

my garden, and my garden being that one, hidden part of my Self that I shared with no one: lover,

friend ... or enemy.

I recall the scent of the roses. Even then, with senses no better than any other human's, I could close my

eyes as I walked and know where I was in the maze by the scent of the nearest rose. As the essence of

sun-warmed raspberries filled my nostrils, I paused, opening my eyes upon my current favorite, a rose

that radiated the color of the glowing sun at its center, shading to the deepest of mountain berries along

the edges of the petals. I remember noting that it thrived while its neighbors wasted- perhaps because it

was my favorite. I felt guilty that in loving one more than the others I'd caused suffering.

I knelt beside the nearest of those distressed plants and thrust my fingers deep into the soil, seeking the

flow of lifeblood from the Fountain. As I'd suspected, the sunberry was getting more than its share, the

patterns flowing deep beneath the neighboring plants, rising again to touch the roots of the sunberry.

I sternly redirected the flow, then stood watch as the wilted leaves plumped, and the heads of the valiant

buds lifted.

Tomorrow there would be blooms.

Assured the flow had stabilized in the new pattern, I sent a silent apology to those I'd neglected and

moved on, working my way inward toward the Fountain that glittered with rainbow colors in the

sunlight. Weaker colors than was my preference, as the lifeblood's scent had been weak, hence my

determined march on the center of the maze.

In the pool at its base, those colors swirled, eddied as I passed my hand through them. I thought of my

lovers, and the liquid calmed, turned mirrorlike, reflecting those thoughts, not my own face.

As I knew they would, they'd retired to the rejuvenating pools deep in the mountain beneath the tower,

basking in the soothing liquid, doing what lovers did.

I blew their reflections a kiss and silently wished them joy. Perhaps I'd join them later.

And perhaps not. It depended on how hungry the Fountain was today.

I drew my knife, set the point to my wrist and jabbed quickly, cleanly, severing only skin and the artery

that was my target.

Blood streamed across the pool, dissipating quickly. Too quickly: the Fountain was starving. I held my

hand steady, resisting the instinctive urge to thrust it into the pool, feeding the Fountain until at last the

mirror on my lovers turned deep, rich red.

Finally, weak with blood loss, I lowered my hand into the mirror, scattering my lovers into the

Fountain's red spray. I closed my eyes, sent my inner awareness to the wound, waiting only long enough

for the Fountain to heal the artery before pulling free.

My knees gave way, and I sank to the ground beside the pool. Leaning my back to the stone edge, I drew

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruisw...%20Moonlover%20and%20the%20Fountain%20of%20Blood.txt (1 of 14)23-2-2006 22:33:07

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...0Fancher%20-%20Moonlover%20and%20the%20Fountain%20of%20Blood.txt

my legs up, rested my arm in my lap, and waited for the skin to heal. The Fountain's blood-touched

water evaporated quickly in the dry summer air, leaving the job undone. I dipped a single fingertip into

the pool and dabbed the red spot, keeping it moist, using only enough or the lifeblood to heal the wound.

For the rest, dinner, a good night's sleep-alone, I remember thinking, though reluctantly-and breakfast

and I'd be ready to feed the Fountain again. In the meantime, I drifted in the sunlight, gathering its

warmth.

"Well, that was rather foolish, now, wasn't it?"

"Hello, Mother," I said, without opening my eyes. She was the only one I allowed here. Of course, since

it was her garden before it was mine, I couldn't very well keep her out.

"Child, you must stop this. You spread yourself too thin, the garden is too greedy."

"My garden isn't greedy. It takes only what it needs."

"And the blooms grow fat as you grow thin. Greedy, I say, as these leeches you bring into my house are

greedy."

Mother never thought much of my choice of lovers. "They aren't leeches."

"They want only the things you give them, the beautiful home, the good food and fine clothes-"

"The hot baths." I laughed aloud. "But, Mother, I don't care. In return, they give me what I want."

"Cheap, uncomplicated sex?"

I lifted my head defiantly.

"Child, you grow tiresome-and old. You must give me an heir, before the garden and the leeches eat you

alive."

"I'll have no woman beneath my roof."

"Your problem isn't with women, it's with yourself."

I said nothing.

"There are other ways," she persisted.

"Not for me. Go find yourself an heir the way you found me."

"I didn't find you, I simply lost you for a time. You were conceived in this house, in love, but her parents

came and took you away before you were born. When the women of the village expelled you, the earth

led me to you, and I brought you home."

That was news. I remembered my mother and the village, but nothing of my father. "Was my father

owner of this house?"

She shrugged. As usual, Mother's moments of enlightenment were as short-lived as her arguments were

persistent.

"The point is, my lazy darling, the heir to this house and this Fountain must be born of love, and love is

receiving as well as giving. You give too much ... to the Fountain, to your leeches. You must learn to

accept in return."

"I'm doing fine, thank you."

"Rabbit piss. You're killing yourself, inside and out. Your body rejuvenates your blood, but what

rejuvenates your spirit?"

"Love."

"You don't know the meaning of the word. Won't so long as you surround yourself with these

sycophants."

"Speak from experience, do you, Mother?"

"Yes."

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruisw...%20Moonlover%20and%20the%20Fountain%20of%20Blood.txt (2 of 14)23-2-2006 22:33:07

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...0Fancher%20-%20Moonlover%20and%20the%20Fountain%20of%20Blood.txt

I hadn't been expecting so plain an answer, wasn't accustomed to the cold, determined expression on her

face.

"Were they to see you as you truly are-" she began, but I interrupted:

"They won't."

"If they loved you, it wouldn't matter to them."

"No one can love that-creature."

"Nonsense. / do."

A ludicrous comment which deserved no answer.

"You get in there now and tell those leeches to leave, or-"

"Or?"

"Or I will."

I laughed, knowing it for an empty threat. My lovers never saw my blessed Mother. I pulled and pushed

myself to my feet, then leaned over to kiss her cheek-carefully, I was still dizzy.

She hissed annoyance, but cupped my face between her clawed hands, matching us lips to lips, and

exhaled into my mouth. I didn't resist, felt, as I knew I would, the weakness evaporate from my knees,

and the vitality elsewhere returning.

Mother didn't need the Fountain. She drew her strength front deep within the earth itself. Hers was a

magic well beyond my understanding, let alone my ability, and I was sincerely grateful for the gift.

I wrapped my arms around her scaled shoulders and held her close, whispered, "Thank you," and

bounded for the house.

The last call I recall clearly from that day was her voice in my head as I left the garden: Don't thank me

too soon.

The rest of that day is awash-murky-with sensations. Sight, sound, smell . . . my very sense of the

lifeblood soared beyond human ken.

I remember running all the way to the baths beneath the ancient tower, rushing to my lovers, so full of

energy, I wanted to have them all at once. I recall my poor servants jumping out of my way, clearing the

halls before me.

I remember flashes of glowing stalactities, the small streams that crisscrossed the path, the exhilarating

rush as I dived, headfirst, into the glowing pool among the smooth, beautiful bodies.

I recall coming up for air.

I recall the horror on their faces.

The fear.

The disgust.

I recall the way they pulled away, pressing themselves to the edges of the pool, and how the cousins,

Jhemin and Jharl, leaped out and disappeared up the pathway, screaming for help.

"Cal?" I asked the nearest, oldest and best of my current lovers, and I reached to catch his arm as he, too,

pulled away. But my voice was not my own, and my hand, my fingers, my . . . claws ... bit into his arm,

scoring deeply before I realized those claws belonged to me and let him go. "Cal, it's me, Tammerlindh."

I struggled, forcing the words past a throat that seemed too stiff to make the sounds, but Cal heard, or

saw, something that made him pause, at least long enough to look more deeply, past the scales, the

claws . . . the fangs I felt pressing my lower lip.

By now, the pool was empty, leaving only Cal, and . . . whatever I had become.

"God of lightning, is it you, Tarn?"

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruisw...%20Moonlover%20and%20the%20Fountain%20of%20Blood.txt (3 of 14)23-2-2006 22:33:07

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...0Fancher%20-%20Moonlover%20and%20the%20Fountain%20of%20Blood.txt

I nodded, afraid to open my mouth lest he flee as well.

"Wha-what happened to . . ." Cal was shaking. I remember how he sank into the pool, seeking its

warmth. I remember sensing the flow of the lifeblood to the wounds on his arms and how my own

soaring energy drained as the pool sought to heal the deep gouges.

Gouges I had made. "I don't know-"

Cal winced, and I closed my mouth on the unnatural sounds. "What happened?" Mother's voice, a voice

very like mine had become, finished for me. The words echoed in the cavern. "Nothing happened,

Calwern of Tandoshin, worshiper of ... lightning." And Mother herself appeared-for the first time to one

of my lovers-standing on the edge of the pool, her tail whipping from side to side, her scales glimmering

in the light from the pool. "This is my child, Tammerlindh."

"Mother, no!" I cried in protest, but it was too late, and I was condemned by my own words. Cal stared

at me in horror. "Cal, this isn't . . . I'm human, Cal, as human as you. I was born in Kheroshin. Bastard,

yes, but human. My mother hid me for years, but the village women discovered me, stole me from her

hut, and left me, naked and bound in the woods. Mother found me, yes. Raised me, yes. But this-" I

raised my hands between us. "This is not me! She's done this-" And turning to Mother, I begged an

answer. "Why?"

"For truth, child. For love. True love will break the spell."

"Cal loves me. -Don't you, Cal?"

But the horror remained on Cal's handsome face, and the distance between us grew steadily.

"Cal?" I held out my hands, pleading, and something in my eyes must have reached Cal at last, because

almost, I swear, he lifted his hand to meet mine.

But at his movement, the pool rippled, sending out waves of light.

The scales on my fingers glittered.

Cal jerked back, shook his head as I reached desperately for him, shook his head again as he stumbled

out of the pool and up through the tunnel.

"The garden is dying."

Mother's words: the first sounds I recall from the days following my death.

"So am I."

But in truth, I was already dead, my sleek, scaled form nothing but a mobile tomb.

"Rabbit piss. Get back up there and tend your roses."

My answer was to slither farther into the utter darkness of the cavern depths. Somewhere in that time

following my death, I'd left behind the rejuvenating pools. Lack of food and water made my reptilian

shell ever smaller, allowing for deeper and deeper penetration into oblivion.

But one day I made one crawl too many. Before me, then around me, the glow returned.

"Too easy, child." Mother's voice in my head, and in the next moment, sunlight blinded me.

Well, not permanently: Mother wasn't a total fool. She transported me into the shadows beneath an

arbor, but it took many long minutes for my long-unused vision to return. When it did, I wished for the

darkness back.

The garden was, indeed, dying.

I tried to stand, but my body had forgotten how to walk. I crawled slowly to the heart of the garden,

where the Fountain ran clear and cold as mountain ice-melt, its lifeblood totally consumed.

I had no knife, my clothing was gone with my skin, but I had the weapons of my new form. I aimed a

sharp claw above my wrist, plunged it deep . . .

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruisw...%20Moonlover%20and%20the%20Fountain%20of%20Blood.txt (4 of 14)23-2-2006 22:33:07

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...0Fancher%20-%20Moonlover%20and%20the%20Fountain%20of%20Blood.txt

But there was no blood.

Frantically, I tried again.

"That won't work." Mother's voice, and Mother herself, perched on the side of the pool.

"What. . ." My voice was little more than a hiss. "What, then, can I do?"

"Tend them. Love them."

"The soil has no life. Without the lifeblood, the water is impotent. Your truth, Mother, not mine."

"Leave, then. Find Love. Assume your true form and return to feed the Fountain."

"And in the meantime, the garden dies."

"Perhaps."

"And perhaps I'll remain here and die with it."

"A compromise. I give you the night. You shall have your true form back, but only at night. And you

will have no more substance than the greater moon. When it is new, you will be nothing but shadow. As

the moon increases, so shall you. Only when the moon is full will you be solid flesh. Only then can you

feed the Fountain."

"The roses will die."

"Not if you control the lifeblood's flow more carefully. The roses need little merely to survive. You were

profligate with the Fountain's essence with your glamours and your parties, your gifts to your lovers.

Conserve. Wait. Find love for you, not your gifts."

"You ask the impossible. No human, man or woman, could love what I've become. What you have made

me."

"And that, child, is where you do me an injustice."

"How?"

"One day, you'll understand."

My life became a morbid dance of hope and disappointment. Travelers passed through my gates, took

advantage of my shelter and my generosity . . . then left, never to return. I tried, oh, how I tried, to be the

gracious host, but my form was frightening, even to myself. I banished all mirrors from the house, and

ultimately all objects with a polished surface. I avoided looking at myself . . . I didn't have to, I saw

Mother's truth in the eyes of the travelers.

Finally, I shut my gates. Not all Mother's insults could make me reopen them. Without my tapping the

Fountain for human comforts, the garden did well enough. I survived off the woods. I became more and

more a creature.

And thus did I exist, growing darker and more bitter with each passing breath . . . until he came into my

garden.

But again, I skip too far. It was the merchant, first. The merchant and his servant boy.

I saw them first in the woods. The merchant was in the cart, the servant at the donkey's head when the

wolves attacked. The boy tried to ward them off with his puny stick. The merchant wielded a heavy

whip that hit the boy as much as the wolves.

It was obvious who would win that fight. I turned my back, content in the knowledge that had I not been

there, they'd have died anyway.

But the boy's cry proved my undoing: I looked back. He was down, with the pack leader's teeth reaching

for his throat.

I was there, and because I was there, I couldn't pretend otherwise. Before I thought again, my claws

were digging into the pack leader's scruff. I pulled him off the boy and thrust him into the woods,

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruisw...%20Moonlover%20and%20the%20Fountain%20of%20Blood.txt (5 of 14)23-2-2006 22:33:07

文档加载中……请稍候！
如果长时间未打开，您也可以点击刷新试试。

下载文档到电脑，查找使用更方便

5.9 玖币 0人已下载

立即下载 VIP免费下载

摘要：

file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/harry%20kruiswijk/Mijn%20d...0Fancher%20-%20Moonlover%20and%2...

展开>> 收起<<

Jane S. Fancher - Moonlover and the Fountain of Blood.pdf

共14页,预览5页

还剩页未读，继续阅读

声明：本站为文档C2C交易模式，即用户上传的文档直接被用户下载，本站只是中间服务平台，本站所有文档下载所得的收益归上传人(含作者)所有。玖贝云文库仅提供信息存储空间，仅对用户上传内容的表现方式做保护处理，对上载内容本身不做任何修改或编辑。若文档所含内容侵犯了您的版权或隐私，请立即通知玖贝云文库，我们立即给予删除！

Jane S. Fancher - Moonlover and the Fountain of Blood

相关推荐

开通VIP享超值会员特权

作者详情

相关内容

热门标签

举报选择: