Lords of the Wyld: Celestine Bound

"You were told this by a Celestine, were you not?"

"No. He told me."

She was following him out a door, exiting to the rear of the abbey, wondered passingly when she had made that trip, and then forgot her forgetting. Lucian glanced back at her.

"Who told you if not the Celestine?"

"The Wylder. It's why I need to tell him I need the Celestine until summer solstice. I need the ashes."

They passed through a cleared stretch, short cut grasses and shrubs between the orchard and the forest, and she dropped her attention to the ground, kept herself from stumbling with the uneven footing and protruding roots of torn out bushes. The Abbot's words passed over her unheard, and she stopped in surprise as she came to the forest's edge. Her feet and the base of her skirt were filthy, and she looked back toward the orchard. She'd already come all that way? She shook herself and took a deep breath, trying to regain her focus and fight against the intoxication.

"The medallion belongs to the abbey," the Abbot said again, and she shook her head, a warm tingling spreading over her body. "We will attempt the cleansing, and we will bring the medallion to you again on the summer solstice, but it is to remain here."

"No, it won't," she said, feeling her head clearing as the warmth enveloped her. She took the cover from the ashes and dropped it at her feet, held the burner out in front of her, facing the woods. "The medallion isn't yours."

She drew in a deep breath and blew it out, scattering the ashes before her, and then othertime descended on her and the Abbot, light and sound smothered to a dull background wash. A flaring glow enveloped her and then pulled away, coalescing into a vaguely humanoid form, an ever shifting, featureless persona that sparked and crackled. Out of the forest came a shadow, dark, rich blue like an ocean's depths, pointed ears and teeth and tufts of hair like manes. The Abbot's mouth dropped open and he fell to his knees, praying.

"Does it satisfy your disdain to leave them believing that their gods are real?" the Wylder asked, kneeling before Lucian and taking hold of his face. The Abbot turned his shock to the Wylder. "You must now listen well and forget the traps you've been taught to close your mind to learning."

"I'm going to unbind the Celestine," Elysande said, drawing the attention of the Wylder. "Will you help?"

"Such has been the goals of my teachings. I will help, and will prepare the unbinding circle. The altar stone is waiting already." The Wylder stood and turned his attention to the Celestine. "Her lessons proved their worth, you must admit. She would not have made it through, otherwise."

"You can not do this," Lucian blurted, getting to his feet. "This... this... consorting goes against the teachings of Tammuz! I can not let it continue!"

"Tammuz was a heretic and is long dead," the Celestine denounced, scorn given force, and the Abbot blanched. "He claimed himself a god, binding to his will we of the Wyld. He was willful and lacked all wisdom and love for the world. His actions destroyed all places he resided, the bringer of drought and plague and discord until he was killed by torture, his body torn apart, and then scattered and burned, and his artifacts scattered if they could not be destroyed."

"He bound you to the stone, didn't he?" Elysande asked, holding up the medallion.

"Yes."

"That is impossible!" Lucian jabbed a finger at the medallion and then at the Celestine. "I saw that medallion forged! It could not be that old."

He cried out and hissed, clutching at his hand as his finger burned, and the Celestine pointed his own.

"Lying was the favored method of Tammuz to attain his power, and his followers took it on themselves. They spin truth and turn it backward, as you do. You have seen their lies and been taught their denials. You have rejected some, but have not turned your back on them all. You cling still to the prospect that you may one day claim to have the power of the heretic you worship, but blind your sight to the truth that such power is built on the subversion of balance. It reaps destruction behind it, and will yield to you only sorrow."

"No force or will can master the Wyld to make it what it is not," the Wylder said, turning the Abbot's face with one thick nail. "Only in balance can it work for you, or it will turn back on you and destroy all you care about. Perhaps not while you live, and perhaps not while your children live, but it will undo all your work in the end if ever you think yourself above it.

"The stone must be broken and the Celestine freed. Such binding knots the balance and prevents it from flowing, like a dam in a river. It must be undone. Your choice in this is not yours. It must be let go."

"You are using us as tools," Lucian scowled, "picking us up and then discarding us when you are done."

"We are restoring the balance Tammuz disrupted. It will be done with your help or not."

"I will teach her what you have not," the Celestine said, moving toward Elysande and enveloping her once more. "The solstice comes quickly. Be ready."

#

Winter swept in like a dragon, howling through the skies and scorching the earth in ice and snow, tumbling trees in wailing blasts of wind and ice and burying everything in a blinding cloak of snow. The solstice was a darkened sky of heavy cloud, another impending onslaught of biting cold and north-driven fury that dimmed the meager day to twilight.

"This, too, shall pass," the Celestine repeated often during their nightly lessons, as if to make the frenzy of the winter storms less immediately threatening.

He was much harsher than the Wylder, strict in demanding discipline where the Wylder would simply stop or slow as she reached the brink of orgasm. Her failures to control her climax were met with scorching heat, as if a fire brand had been driven into her sex and melted there, flowing through her insides and driving out all pleasure from the culmination of her desire.

Such lessons were quick to teach, though, and stripped away her complacence that others might carry some of the burden of this task she had taken. Her desire she turned to fire, learned to draw it out and cradle it in her hands, a visible, shimmering energy that burned like the Celestine. Did this mean the Celestines were the passions of those like her, who had learned to channel their desires and give them form, released and given freedom from the ephemeral vagaries of flesh? There were no answers for that, both the Celestine and the Wylder being unaware of their own origins.

Winter broke at last, the swell song of spring overriding the crystal passion of the north wind, and the melting snow slurried through the streets and fattened the streams and rivers, ripping gullets in hills and fields as it raced to the sea. Planting came late, rain drenching the lands and making them impossible to trudge through for seeding, making even the traveling birds weary of the downpour.

On the equinox her lessons became those of endurance, denials of her climax for ever longer periods with ever more intense stimulation, building her passion to vivid concentrations of intricate flame and light, gyrating pools and tendrils that grew ever more complex as her desire built. But always they would culminate, screaming back into her and exploding in violent, thrashing orgasms that consumed her senses and left her insensible. Even the Celestine was unable to dim these, and the solstice was coming fast.

"You must hold for longer if you are to break the bind," he told her, holding her hands behind her knees as he moved in her. "Your energy must be stronger than what you have held so far."

"I can endure only so long," she panted, shaking her head furiously side to side at the painful, desirous ache in her sex that demanded release, clamoring ever louder with each stroke into her and engulfing her ever more in writhing flame and light. "You must stop. I can't hold much longer."

"You must be able to hold for a month before the unbinding."

"Stop! Please!"

She strained against his hold, her fingers clutching aimlessly at the air, and she gasped and moaned as he did, pressed deep into her. The tension in her sex made her shake, whimpering at the sudden cessation of stimulation, and the passion engulfing her dimmed slowly.

"I can not hold a month," she panted when she could speak. "Not like that. I need breaks so I can breathe and recover. Why a month?"

"Your energy must be at its peak if you are to break the bind. Such undertakings require extended preparation and considerable energy concentrations, and there is little time for either."

"There is time if done correctly." She tightened her sex on his cock, trying to pull it deeper into her or coax him to climax, but all she managed was to reignite her passion. She began rocking her hips as much as she could in her constrained position, riding the shaft buried in her. "If the stone must be destroyed to break the bind, we can start already. I have an ingot of iron which may be used as a bludgeon. We can make that a focus to store energy."

"You are unprepared for the creation of artifacts."

"Then teach me or help me, if we have so little time."

"You must hold, and when you can hold no more, place the energy into the ingot and make your desire clear as to its purpose. If you do not, it will fail."

The Celestine closed one hand as he began pumping into her again, then opened it and placed her ingot in her hands. She nodded and gasped as tingling engulfed her body, focusing especially on her most sensitive areas, driving her passion rapidly back toward the edge of climax and past, barely caught as she again began fighting her body to prevent her orgasm.

#

Elysande made frequent visits to both the Wylder and the Abbot in the month before the solstice, making excursions into the forest to put the final preparations in place. She had been assured by both the Wylder and the Celestine that Brigid's leaf was unnecessary if she were already able to contact them both, but she didn't wish to risk being unable to because of nervousness. It was an easy herb to gather, as it grew wild in many places, so it needed only to be picked and dried, which the Abbot did for her. He also prepared smelting tools, to melt the medallion and remove the stone, undoing his part in the binding of the Celestine, which was done on the solstice day.

"I do not believe the church's emissaries will take kindly to this," he said, dropping the still warm stone into her hand.

"They'll only know if you tell them," she said, rubbing the soot from the stone to return its luster. An easy task, as no stain seemed capable of holding to it. "But they have not come in years. They seem to have forgotten this abbey."

"We are not wealthy in the things they value," he defended.

"We have our own truths, Lucian. We don't need theirs. Tammuz never made it this far for a reason." She placed the stone in a pouch at her waist and checked her second for her ingot to ensure she had not forgotten it. In her carry sack was everything else she would need for the ritual and a covering for the night. "I'll return tomorrow, and will almost certainly be in need of food. Will there be a meal for me?"

"Aye, there will be a meal for you. We will prepare it when you arrive."

"Thank you."

She wrapped her arms around him for a hug, then turned and made her way to the forest, crossing the same cleared stretch she had following her first encounter with the Celestine. It was a rather more difficult trek, the grasses and brush having exploded in growth from the winter melt and the spring rains, and even having cleared a path somewhat, she still was caught by clutching branches several times on her journey.

The forest was cooler than the open fields, and she reveled in the shade as she made her way deeper into the wood. The summer thus far was as hot as the winter had been cold, a sensible time to break the binding of a Celestine. Greatest heat and longest day matched their nature, a sympathetic alchemy that should make the bind weaker, as it had been placed during the solstice of winter, when the Celestines were weakest.

As she traveled, a tingling began to roam her body, starting at her nipples and her nub before radiating outward like ripples. They weren't strong enough to bring her to orgasm, but certainly were enough to build her desire, and by the time she reached the altar stone and circle the Wylder had prepared, her thighs were slick with her juices. The Celestine coalesced beside her as she entered the circle, and the Wylder was not far behind, striding from the shadow of a great, hoary pine.

She took the stone and her ingot from their pouches, set them on the altar, and then began removing her clothes with shaking fingers, beginning with her blouse before moving on to her skirt and leggings. She was more than ready to begin the ritual, her sex, and especially her nub, throbbing in time with her heart. She paused to run her fingers along her wet slit, circling her fingers hard on her nub and bringing herself to the edge of climax before pulling away with a frustrated breath.

She squeezed her legs together as she sucked her fingers clean, riding the ebb of her need, and then gasped as she was bent over the altar, the Celestine pressing into her and beginning to fuck her. She grabbed her ingot and held to the altar, the stone smooth against her skin, as she rode her climbing desire toward orgasm. The Wylder erected the four candles around the altar, stepping toward her as they burst into flame as the Celestine erupted in her, causing her to cry out as pulsing heat pushed her to the edge, not quite close enough to grasp it and tumble into ecstasy, an agonizingly sweet tension.

She trembled as the Celestine's spasms and spurts tapped her constantly back to the edge, and then he pulled out, the Wylder sliding into her a second later, a damp earth cold in shocking contrast to the Celestine's heat. He was still for a moment, waiting until her passion had receded, and then began moving in her, a fast, deep rhythm that increased the heat in her sex despite his coldness. As she reached sight of her climax, he pulled her onto him and pressed deeper, filling her with a shivering, spring creek chill, the circle around the altar flaring into a deep, midnight blue flecked with pricks and streaks of mossy green.

She clutched harder to her ingot, the edges almost painful against her palm, her denial leaving her sex twitching and her thighs trembling. She lifted her head and glanced over her shoulder at the two, straightening her legs and raising herself off the altar so she was on her elbows. The world was still, captured in othertime, and she positioned the Celestine's stone beneath her, within easy reach.

"Take me, both of you," she commanded, and then gave a long moan as she felt first the Celestine and then the Wylder press into her, an overlapping, bewildering warmth and chill that stretched her sex 'til she felt it couldn't be filled any more. She shook as her orgasm built even before they'd started fucking her, alternate rhythms that almost overwhelmed her, a cycling hot cold penetration, and then the tinglings began, rapid circles on her nub and nipples. She cried out, digging her fingertips against the altar as she fought to quell her orgasm, to keep it contained, feeling her breasts swaying beneath her.

"Hold," she panted, tightening her sex on the cocks moving in her. "Hold. All at once. For it to work."

She dropped her head to rest against her forearm, biting at her wrist to keep her focus and muffle her cries as she denied her climax, gathering her lust, her passion, and pouring it into the ingot in her hand, already a writhing sun of a spark, the stored energy of all her past passion. She screamed against her wrist, the shaking in her thighs spreading, her stomach trembling, her calves and arms shivering, holding that ever flimsier wall against the maddening crush of her desire. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit harder, felt her skin break and blood well into her mouth, but she didn't care, barely noticed as she lifted the ingot into the air above her head.

"Now!" she cried, forcing her eyes open to see the stone before her, and let her climax claim her as she felt the Wylder and the Celestine release in her, a burning supernova of ice that flooded her body. She hammered the ingot down on the stone, channeling each pulse of orgasm into the ingot and slamming it against the stone in brilliant, blinding explosions, smashing the Wylder bind that held the Celestine and returning it to the one exploding in her. The stone screeched with each strike, splintering the air like fractured glass, and then it shattered, bursting and crumbling and sending a shockwave across the altar.

She dropped her head back to her arm and shuddered, her whole body twitching and spasming as the rest of her orgasm tore through her, and then lay still, shivers coursing through her at intervals as her sex continued to pulse in its own aftermath. She was vaguely aware of othertime shimmering in and out, a faint cycle against the backdrop of her fading climax, and it only returned fully once she had gathered herself and straightened.

It was full dark, yet the candles and ritual circle still burned, unchanged. The Celestine stood across the altar from her, still a vague body of light, but now wearing armor of gold and white, with a crown of flaming jewels and a sword at its waist that seemed forged of the sky itself, the bloody, mesmerizing wash of sunrise and the high blue of true summer. The Wylder stood to her left, gazing at the scorched altar and the remnants of the stone that had been undone. A long, hairless tail now swished the air from the base of its spine, a midnight black tuft of hair at the end, and horns as glimmering dark as the star washed sky curled up and back from his temples.

"I did not expect success in this endeavor," the Celestine said, a crackling resonance. "You have proven yourself above the ignorance and pettiness of most chyldlings, and I am in your debt for the generosity you have shown. You as well, Wylder, for your aid enabled this. My service is yours until this debt is paid."

"Are there other artifacts like the one that bound you?" Elysande asked, hissing as she scratched at her itching wrist and dug into the bite she had given herself. "You've said on many occasion that not all of Tammuz's artifacts were destroyed."

"Many others, yes," the Wyldling said. "He bound a great many of us, and the bonds are scattered widely now. It has been hundreds of generations of your kind since the fall of Tammuz." He picked up the ingot and handed it to her, studying her face. "Are you thinking to find them?"

"It would be the right thing to do, wouldn't it?" She glanced between the Wylder and the Celestine, squeezing the ingot. "And I wish to learn more of what you both have shown me. Would you both be willing to help me in the task?"

"I am willing, but can go only as far as the sea. Though I came from the lands across the channel, it is beyond your skill to grant me passage across the waters that I may return."

"Few will take kindly to a foreigner laying claim to their artifacts that she may destroy them," from the Celestine. "It is dangerous to unleash the powers of others."

She nodded and brushed the broken stone off the altar so she could sit, parting her legs and running her fingers over the lips of her sex, spreading the wetness seeping from her. The bare touches to her swollen and over-sensitive nub, brief and light, fanned the dimmed sparks of her passion with each shiver her fingers ignited. Only a dozen strokes she allowed herself, pulling away from the distraction of desire to maintain her focus.

"But it's not their power, is it? They just claim it. It's like a slave. Will you aid me?"