Laloc pulled on the ropes, and the fishing nets spilled over the boat like fish guts. They smelled like it too. He dragged them across the sand and into the water, where he cleaned them thoroughly. Then he hung them from a low branch to let them drip.
In the meantime, he fished out his pipe from his satchel and filled up its bowl. He leaned against a palm tree that grew low at an angle, then he puffed on his pipe. This was one of those rare moments that made it almost bearable to be an indentured slave.
It was a moonlit night, so he could clearly see in the dark, but he had also brought a couple of torches just in case. They looked nice flickering on the beach. Their flames steady. It wasn’t too windy, and the sea was calm.
For a moment he lost himself in the sound of the waves lapping on the shore. Coming and going in a gentle rush.
“What are you smoking?” the voice whispered near his ear.
He nearly swallowed his pipe and took such a fright that he spilled its contents, scattering glowing embers across the sand.
Panting, he turned to look at the speaker, and as soon as his eyes fell upon the dryad priestess, he averted his eyes.
“I was-“ he coughed, “I was just smoking some dreamseed herb, your benevolence.”
He heard her sniffing the air.
“Curious,” she said. “It doesn’t smell like any dreamseed herb I know. Is it native to your wild woods, elf?”
He nodded, his eyes cast down to the shadows on the ground.
“You may look at me when I speak to you,” she said.
He did not do so.
“Are you afraid to look at me because they will punish you, or is there another reason?”
Laloc weighed his words carefully.
“You’re a holy maiden, your benevolence.”
“I’m an apprentice," she told him. "You may look upon me, and do not call me your benevolence, my name is Chalize.”
She stood close to him, enveloping him in her exotic aroma.
Tentatively, his lashes moved, then his gaze fell upon her body. He took a deep breath upon seeing her sinuous form, adorned with the regalia of a temple priestess.
Her face was of such beauty that he felt spellbound to its otherworldly symmetry.
Her freckled skin was painted with intricate tattoos. Thin golden chains dangled across her cheeks. Most surprisingly of all, her eyes were large and almond shaped like his. On their surface, the torch flames danced beneath a full moon.
She smiled.
“Yes, I have elven lineage mixed in my dryad heritage.”
Not knowing what else to say, he lowered his eyes.
She stepped closer.
“Do you like my body?” she asked him. “Do you desire it?”
“Your benev- I mean, your ladyship, I’m but a humble servant.”
"Is that so?" she challenged him. "You are a wild elf, are you not?”
He turned away from her and walked towards the tree where he had spread out the nets. There, he completed his chores in silence.
After awhile, he looked back.
Chalize, the half-elf apprentice, was climbing up the steps back to the temple, holding one of his torches in her hand.
The following evening, as he returned to complete his allotted tasks, he saw that Chalize was already there, sitting on the curve of his palm tree.
He ignored her and kept walking across the beach, to another spot, where he set down his satchel beneath the shadows of a pear tree.
Jumping on the fishing boat, he untied the nets and threw them over the side.
From a distance, the apprentice regarded him with curiosity.
“You know,” he suddenly heard her say though she had not seen her sneak up on him, “I have something that could help mask that smell.”
They may call themselves priestesses, but as far as Laloc was concerned, they were all witches.
“Why are you here?” he said, throwing the nets in the water.
“I think the most interesting question is, why are you here?”
He didn’t answer, instead, he said, “if they see me with you, I will be in big trouble. So, please leave me to my work.”
She smiled coquettishly.
“You see, elf, around here, that’s not how things work.”
She walked back to the palm tree and sat under its shade.
Laloc shrugged, hung up the nets, and then walked towards the spot where he had placed his belongings near the pear tree. He rummaged through his satchel, but try as he might, he couldn’t find the case where he kept his pipe gear.
He looked across the beach and saw the apprentice blowing bellowing clouds of smoke.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he said rushing towards her.
He tried to snatch the pipe from her hands.
“Tell me why you’re here, and I’ll give it back” she said putting it behind her back while thrusting her face towards him. Her long ears poked through her disheveled hair.
He sighed.
“I took something I shouldn’t have,” he said finally. “An expensive jewel. I was sentenced to five years. So, I would like to finish them without any trouble. Now can I have my pipe back?”
“I think you’re lying, but I wouldn’t expect any different from a wild elf.”
She took a puff and gave it back. Then lying along the length of the low growing palm, she gazed at the twinkling stars.
“I wonder what it would be like to live in the woods. Wild and carefree. Not having to worry about rituals and magic.”
Laloc put his pipe to his lip. Tendrils of smoke dissipated in the crisp air.
“We have ritual and magic too,” he said, feeling a little bold. “We just don’t let it rule over our lives.”
“That explains a lot, actually,” she said, and gathering her dress, she left.
Laloc listened to the waves and looked at the moonlight shimmering on the sea.
He had been in servitude to the Temple for nearly two years, which was almost half his sentence. The last thing he needed was some misguided girl come and mess things up. The penalty for laying one’s hands on a temple dancer was severe, even deadly, but the punishment for messing around with a priestess was worse than death itself.
The mischievous apprentice was not to be deterred, however, and day after day, she waited for him on the beach.
He ignored her.
“Do you like my sandals,” she asked him one evening. She raised her dress, so he could take a good look at the intricate vines that laced up her leg. “They’re from Andaza. Is that where you’re from?”
The scarlet hues of twilight shone softly on the bands that braided around her skin.
He smoked his pipe and looked away.
“Go on, take them off,” she said. “Reach over and untie them.”
He did not move and simply watched the smoke drift in the air.
She laughed and poked him with the tip of her sandal.
“Alright, if you’re afraid to touch me, then use your magic. The power of your elven spirit.”
He looked at her in a bit of a panic.
“Go on, take a chance. Show me your magic. I know you’re not here because you’re a petty thief. You’re here because you’ve been dabbling in the arcane arts.”
He looked at her. “How do you know that?”
“I can see it in your eyes.”
He did not see her again until the moon shone bright and full once more. Then she appeared as if from a dream, lying on the sand beside the lapping waves.
“Show me your magic,” she insisted. “Open your channels for me.”
“I don’t know how,” Laloc said. “I have not been trained.”
“Look at my sandals, what do you see?”
She stretched her leg.
“I just see- I see a pair of sandals.”
“Close your eyes and start from the beginning. Imagine that you're exploring them with your hands. Now, form the words and speak.”
He closed his eyes and listened to the waves.
“I take your foot in my hand,” he said. “I feel the sand on my palm, then slowly I run my fingers along the side of your sandal and cradle it. I touch the small flowers, their soft petals, then follow the vines all the way up. Tracing the leaves with my index between the ivy and your skin, I unfasten the golden clasp, and the lace comes undone.”
When he opened his eyes, he saw the ivy bands fall apart around her naked foot.
The tattoos on her skin glowed brightly. Her eyes were wide open and fixed on the sky.
“Elven magic is wonderful,” she murmured languidly. “Look at all those stars.”
He did not see her again for a few weeks; then one evening, she came to him.
Dressed in formal robes, Chalize held out a pouch towards him.
“This should be enough for your journey back home and start a new life as a free elf.”
“Chaliz-” Laloc began to say.
“I am a priestess now," she told him, "you must address me by my rightful title. Gaze not upon me.”
His cheeks flooded red. He seemed about to protest, but instead, he cast his eyes down.
“Forgive my skepticism, your benevolence,” he said, “but I don't believe you have authority to grant those rights.”
“I don’t, but she does.”
Chalize looked up towards the temple at the top of the cliff.
Laloc followed her gaze. The Oracle stood at the top, staff in hand, her gown swaying in the breeze. The old matriarch was blind, but she could see everything.
He fell on one knee, head bowed.
“She grants you your freedom, wild elf. Do not forget her benevolence. Now pack your belongings and go. What transpired here shall forever remain unspoken.”
She turned and began to walk away.
“Will I see you again?” he called out.
“That is not our destiny, as I foresee, but not even the Oracle can guide the hands of fate.”
Laloc rode away from the Kingdom of the Dryads. Looking back at the spires through the trees made his heart ache. He could still feel her magic within him, the mix of elf and dryad essences. It had made him glimpse, ever so briefly, into a new realm of experience and being. All too soon, the gates to that temple had been shut. He was a free elf, but in his heart he knew that he would forever be a slave.
His horse trotted onward, soon rider and steed disappeared into the wilderness.
Thank you for reading my entry to the Inkwell prompt challenge #162: You only live once.
Images generated by @litguru using Stable Diffusion software