Part Eight - The Well-Worn Path
"Walk on, go through."
The young woman spurred her horse into the water, fording the river where a well defined track ran along both banks in opposite directions, clearly marking a safe place to cross. The water came up to the horse's chest and the surge of it splashed up and over the woman's clothes; a light shift clinging to her belly and to her breasts, lush and full.
The horse held its head high; the woman held hers higher, tall and proud, commanding the horse with her own strength and grace; a proud woman on a high horse.
Her father had given her the stallion five years before, on her fifteenth birthday.
"Ride like the wind, Lilith, never fall."
"I'll never fall, Father. You'll ride beside me, always beside me."
Lilith rode as fast as the wind, her blonde hair flying, her cheeks red flushed, the daughter of the king. Breathless and excited, she would jump down from the horse and throw herself into her father's arms, reaching up to kiss him on the lips.
"Artur, don't indulge her. Let her fall. She'll learn faster that way."
Morgayne watched her daughter, knowing the girl was just like she was, could never be taught; but would learn far too much all by herself, and with her father's natural born skill.
Lilith learned to control the steed, eighteen hands high, effortlessly, and never fell.
Standing close to his mother, Lilith's brother Mordant glowered. He could manage horses too, but it was always his will against theirs, and they fought him. He favoured his mother, was dark like her darkness, and stood watching. Lilith moved always in light; Mordant was always in shadow, hiding the blaze on his face.
"Walk on, go through."
She bent to the horse's neck, whispering in its ear. They reached the far bank, and she urged her mount fast up the incline, away from the river. At the top of the slope she wheeled around, looking back towards Tyntangel, far to the south by the sea. She looked on her distant home for a long while, before turning to the north. <i>I'm coming,</i> she thought, <i>are you ready?</i>
The horse and its rider were the only moving things to be seen on the high bank of the river, the grassland smooth to the next ridge. Paths where the small creatures ran criss-crossed the valley, losing themselves amongst rivulets and curling around clustered trees. The air was still, late summer warm. High above, a goshawk circled.
Lilith pulled up the horse, and took off the light cloth of her shift, tugging it up over her head, baring her full breasts, golden brown. She rode uncovered whenever she could, loving the fresh wind on her skin, the rising heat in her breasts. Her skin was tanned, with a faint fine hair on her arms like gold shimmered dust. She twisted the long mane of her hair like a skein of wool her grandmother taught her, tying it with two cords to prevent it tangling in the galloping wind.
She spurred the horse on, and stood glorious tall on the stirrups with her arms outstretched, opening her body to the sky. She rode like this for twenty breaths, her lungs aching as she sucked in air to cool her throbbing heart. She screamed, ripping up sound from her gut, a primal shriek of a woman so alive, a raw thrill from deep in her throat. <i>I'm coming, are you ready for me!</i>
The horse slowed, whinnied, and shook its big head, settling to a high trot. Lilith lowered herself to the saddle, her cunt awake and wet, soul fucked arousal heavy in her breasts, her hard brown nipples so tight. She was all rhythmic motion with lust in her gut and a hungry clamour in her head. The king's daughter, coming to claim her crown.
Lilith cooled, reigning in her passion but knowing the strength of it and what she wanted. She was her mother's daughter, too, and Morgayne had taught her cauldron and hex, stone and tree. The Goddess ran in her blood, and Lilith knew it.
Lilith and her horse walked on the well-worn path, heading north to the heart of Artur's country. She followed the map her father had given her, drawn from his memory and marked out in days; the distance each day a good rider could travel.
"You might need a day or two longer, Lilith. The map marks my days."
"I might need a day or two shorter, Father. The map doesn't show all the ways, not the ones my mother taught me."
Morgayne looked on, amused, seeing their daughter challenge her father with her different paths, her secret ways.
Artur glanced across at his sister, a steady gaze in his eyes and a wry smile, as if to say, <i>Look at this creature we have made, she's taken the best of us and makes us both better.</i>
Mordant looked on, then turned away.
Lilith rode north at a steady pace. Seven days on she came to the southern edge of a wide low water, a maze of marshes and the high encroaching sea. The place was crossed by a number of ancient paths, stretching out across the bog and the hundred waters, made of timber plank, cut rushes and cord, packed tight enough to bear her horse's weight. She dismounted and wrapped a cloak around herself, for a slow drizzling rain crept in and the horizon came down around her, holding the land close and the sky closer.
"Well, my friend," Lilith said to the horse, "this will be a dull, wet day for a walk. Let's on."
At first she led the stallion by its halter. Their passage across the marsh was slow, dictated by the animal's ability to make its way over the uneven surface of the track. He grew uneasy, surrounded by so much water, his eyes wide and ears laid back. She walked beside him now, calming the beast with a low sing-song croon, her hand on its neck.
The main path was clear to see, the grass underfoot pressed low with many travellers' feet, and they made slow, steady progress. After a time, they rested on a small raised island, covered with short grass for the horse and small standing stones for Lilith's back. She pondered how many times her father might have rested in this place, making his way south to his sister and his children; making his way north to his kingdom and the demands of men.
As she rested, a strange hush came over the place. The croak and cry of marsh birds fell silent. Her horse whinnied and stamped a hoof twice.
"Hush now, be still." Lilith's voice was a low command, and her senses heightened in the preternatural silence. She stood as still as the stone she had leaned against, straining her eyes and ears in the mist. Alerted by a soft splash, as if someone had kicked a small pebble into the water, not far off, Lilith opened wide her senses and heard the beating of her horse's heart, deep inside its chest. She calmed her own heart and slowed her breath, whispering, "Walk by, don't see."
