A King for Sarna

Outskirts of the Pierran Kingdom, 3,556th Year of Galen, Planet Adamah of the Weiran Solar System

Lovesickness! Sarna the Huntress Queen had never thought it would happen to her. But for months now, she had endured the growing restlessness in her heart and spirit, a gnawing hunger that stripped the color and texture from life.

Since her birth, Sarna had been destined to rule the band of women who inhabited the Sylvan Lands west of Pierra. Her fathers had trained her to hunt and fight, while her mothers had ensured her education in the womanly arts. Sarna had great physical beauty and prowess and acquired her skills with great ease, as if she were remembering them rather than learning them for the first time. As a result, the huntress had grown to see herself as invulnerable, a woman who commanded everything and everyone to her.

That is, until the sorceress came.

The young woman, clad in a sorceress' robe and cloak, a pouch of amulets on her belt and a young man she called cousin at her side, wandered into Sarna's village. The Council of Mages had sent her on a quest for another Being of Power, destined to help her vanquish the abusers of magery on Adamah. Sarna knew nothing of such matters, for her village lived in isolation, but she was immediately taken with the sorceress whose mane of white gold, azure eyes and golden skin had beguiled her almost immediately.

Sarna had never before experienced such a conquering of her heart and senses as this. Her surrender was so overwhelming and complete that Sarna even suspected the girl or her companion of using magery on her. But neither of them had. The sorceress, in fact, resisted Sarna at first, telling the Huntress Queen about her years of slavery in the Pierran palace and how, on the eve of her servitude as a bed-slave, one of the other haram women had tried to rape her.

The sorceress' story moved Sarna, yet her drive to conquer and possess rose to a pitch by the other woman's beauty and guileless innocence. So she had proceeded to gain the girl's trust, wooing her slowly and carefully until the sorceress had been willing to open to her, body and soul.

Making love to the girl had been glorious and sweet. The sorceress, whose figure was lithe, curved and ripe, was kittenish and pliant in her arms. Sarna delighted in the scent and taste of the girl's flesh, the fullness of her dusky, roseate nipples in her mouth, and the intoxicating musk of her sex quivering and swelling under her caressing tongue. Sarna could still hear the girl's sweet cries and moans of pleasure whenever she had gently separated the folds of silver-gold curls, revealing the wet, swollen flower within, and enclosed it in her lips, kissing it as fervently as she kissed the sorceress' mouth.

Had the sorceress been smitten with Sarna in return, Sarna would immediately have taken her for her life-mate. But the sorceress' heart was not hers for the taking. The sorceress, though appreciative of Sarna's lovemaking and kindness to her and her cousin, was obliged to continue her quest. The planet's survival depended on her and this other Being, for it was their combined powers that would vanquish those who used magery to murder and enslave innocents to achieve their own ends. She even refused Sarna's offer to accompany her, telling Sarna that the Huntress Queen had another destiny, and if she were patient and kind, she would find happiness.

At first, Sarna felt defeated. For the first time in her life, affection was not a pearl that Sarna could grasp and possess as she had done in the past. Sarna's long golden hair and eyes of melted amber, her tall, strong huntress' body had not been her passage to the sorceress' heart, and Sarna learned that there was at least one thing in her life she would have to earn.

This lesson haunted the Huntress Queen, who continued to ache for the sorceress long after the young woman had left. The pain, spawned by her desire for the enchanting girl, gathered like a storm, stealing from Sarna her former joy in all things, including the hunt. Capturing and killing beasts to feed her women became a mere task for survival, and the athletic games they played, both with each other and with neighboring peoples, became empty and trivial, movements without inherent meaning or worth.

Finally, the time came when Sarna knew she could not spend one more night in her empty bed with her memories. She had never been one to fall to hopelessness, and sensed that if she searched hard enough, she would once again find the love she had come to crave. For the first time in her thirty years of life, Sarna kneeled and prayed to Lord Galen, the Creator, for His help and guidance.

The following morning, Sarna began to pack her belongings in a rucksack of animal skins. She performed the task on her own, foregoing the help of her handmaid, Kirya, whom Sarna knew would be heartbroken when she learned of her mistress' solitary journey. Kirya, however, came on her own to Sarna's hut, concerned when her mistress had not summoned her.

Immediately, Kirya's eye fell on the rucksack and she flew to her queen's side. "What is my lady doing?" She was unable to suppress the panic in her voice.

Sarna stopped and looked at her. The young maid's pretty face was a mask of distress, and Sarna felt a pang in her chest for the maid as she explained her quest.

Kirya's hands came out in a pleading gesture. "But, mistress, you are dearly loved here! There is not one woman among us who wouldn't willingly spare her own life for you!" Sarna had always encouraged frank speech among her women regardless of rank,

Sarna nodded. She understood the magnitude of her sacrifice. "Yes, I know, Kirya. But there is a gnawing inside me that nothing else will soothe." She put a gentle hand on Kirya's shoulder. "Please, try to understand."

Kirya sniffled, yet nodded. "Yes, my lady."

Sarna turned back to her packing, and Kirya assisted her. When they had finished, Kirya sat her mistress down so she could fix her long golden mane in a plait for her journey.

"Will my lady seek out the sorceress?" she asked Sarna as she ran a hairbrush through Sarna's shimmering tresses.

"No. The sorceress' heart was elsewhere. There was aught I could do to sway her. I wish her happiness." Behind her, she heard her maid sigh. "Where will you go, mistress?"

"I don't know. I will look to my heart to guide me."

Kirya plaited Sarna's long hair with swift, practiced fingers, securing the end of the long braid with a leather tie. When she had finished, Sarna rose and turned to her.

Kirya's large hazel eyes shone with tears. "May I accompany you, mistress?" she begged. "Who will do your hair?"

Sarna smiled down at her loyal handmaid. Next to her queen, the young woman was almost a child's size. Sarna reached out to brush one of her tears away. "I'm afraid you cannot, Kirya," she said gently. "This is something I must do alone."

"When will you return?"

The sorrow in the maid's voice moved her, and she embraced her heartsick servant. "I cannot lie, Kirya," she whispered. "Maybe never." She held Kirya as long as she dared, then released her. "Go now. Assemble the women for my farewell and have Norrelle pack me some food. I will dress myself."

Kirya looked up at her queen, savoring her last moment in the magnificent woman's presence. Then she bowed to her and left.

Sarna appointed her most trusted henchwoman, Dasani as regent, then began her journey by following the Hidden River to the east, in the direction of Pierra. She didn't know why she had chosen this direction, but since she had prayed to Lord Galen to reveal her heart, she felt an inner pull to go that way, like an invisible hand on her back, guiding her.

As she made her way along the riverbank, Sarna found herself wondering if she was meant to seek out Karan, the warrior. He lived in the caves beyond the Sylvan Lands. Karan, a Veltlander by birth, had been the Pierran Queen Maya's prize general, and Sarna had fought at his side on several occasions. Karan was handsome in face and body. He bore, in fact, a strong resemblance to the sorceress, who could have passed for his daughter. Karan had suffered horribly at the hands of the Pierrans, who accused him of a crime he hadn't committed. They destroyed the warrior's life and banished him to the hills where he had stayed. Sarna felt her body tingling pleasantly at the thought of Karan as her life-mate. But then she remembered Karan had disappeared from the hills one day, never to be seen again.

Sarna felt a stab of disappointment, for she remembered Karan as a rare example of great loyalty and virtue, qualities she prized. But she had never been one to accept defeat, no matter how great or small. It just wasn't in her nature. So she continued in her chosen direction.

Each day, Sarna followed the river east, stopping only to eat, catch a bit of sleep, and take an occasion handful of water. She knew exactly where she was at all times, for Sarna had spent a lifetime hunting and fighting in these forests and in the surrounding lands, and felt as if this part of the Adaman landscape had become a part of her very soul.

After several months of travel, after searching in the many faces she met for the one whom she quested, Sarna grew a bit weary and decided she wished to have a few days' rest. As she had from the beginning of her journey, Sarna allowed herself to be guided by that invisible hand to an estuary of the Hidden river. She followed the smaller river to where it ended in a waterfall.

Down below was a small pool in the midst of the forest, an idyllic spot for a bath. Giant ferns, whose leaves were large enough to cover a grown man, grew abundantly around the pool and in the surrounding forest. The trees were thinner here, so the light of all three Weiran suns shone down into the clearing, warming the air and sparkling on the water. The waterfall tumbled and sang, churning a light spray of foam as it splashed the rocks and fed the pool.

Eager to feel the water against her skin, Sarna undressed amid the giant ferns, folding her tunic and chaya-skin trousers, leaving them in a neat pile next to her boots, rucksack and crossbow. She pulled aside the leaves and prepared to step out from her covering when, suddenly, she saw a man appear through some ferns a short distance away and come to stand at the edge of the water. Sarna caught her breath and ducked back down, maneuvering her body to where she could observe the man, unseen.

The first thing she noticed was his height. He was quite tall, taller even, than she. His hair was darker than night and long, captured at the nape of his neck in a plait. She could not see his face clearly from where she crouched, but as he undressed, pulling off boots, trousers and a leather jerkin, Sarna was given a gloriously clear view of his muscular body, somewhere between that of an athlete and a warrior's. His skin, just the palest hue of gold, indicated a mixture of Pierran and, perhaps, Veltish blood. Sarna intuited, however, that the man before her identified with neither origin nor occupation.

She watched him descend into the water and glide serenely across the pool toward the waterfall, sensing a solitary air about him, a strange mixture of loneliness and self-possession. He turned over in the water, swimming a few strokes on his back and then on his side. The air of guilelessness about him piqued Sarna's heart, as had the girl. Such a quality was exceptionally rare in human beings, especially, she thought, in a man who appeared not much older than Sarna herself.

When the man had reached the waterfall, he climbed onto a wide flat rock and stood close to the downpour, letting the edge of the descending waters pour over him. Now, she had a clear view of him from the front, which was just as pleasing. The dark hairs of the man's broad chest, flattened against his muscles by the water, trailed down in a thin line to the dark nest at the base of his cock. Sarna felt the tingle of desire through her body at the sight. Her heart pulsed more rapidly as the sensation filled her breasts and radiated through her vaginal cleft. Watching him secretly like this enhanced the eroticism of gazing on his nude, shimmering body.

Suddenly, the man ceased his leisurely shower and lifted his head, eyes wide open, body tensed. He gazed around the clearing. In one swift motion, he dove back into the pool, gliding swiftly underwater to the bank where his clothes were, not far from where Sarna crouched under the ferns. He emerged onto the bank and stood, naked and dripping in the afternoon sun, looking warily about him. It was then, when he did not reach for a weapon, that Sarna realized he was a Being of Power.

"Who's there?" he called out. "I know I'm not alone! I heard your heart beat from the other side of the pond! I hear it now!" He watched the surrounding forest, waiting.

Sarna's blood froze. In other circumstances, she might have giggled, knowing that he had heard her heart beating because she had been aroused by watching him swim. But now, her pulse raced and she bit down on her lip. Her crossbow and bodily strength were no match against a Being of Power.

"I warn you, I'm a sorcerer!" he called out. "My power is only for Galen's service, but He permits me also to defend myself! If you are wise, you'll show yourself now!"

Fear prickled through Sarna's body and she stood up obediently, emerging from the cover of the ferns. The man turned, his eyes widening at the sight of the tall, lithe huntress coming slowly toward him wearing nothing but a golden braid of hair down her back.

Sarna halted in front of him. She stood close enough to reach out and brush her fingertips across the silky dark hair that covered his hillocks of chest muscle, but didn't dare. He was staring at her, his gaze traveling from her face, down to her full breasts, and further, over her tawny pubic curls to her long, huntress' legs. His gaze was not lascivious, Sarna felt, but a mixture of shock and wonder.

His raven eyes, fringed by heavy lashes, came to rest on hers. "Galen's breath!"

Sarna bowed her head. "Forgive me, sorcerer," she said humbly. "I did not mean to give you a fright."

He didn't answer, and when Sarna raised her eyes once again to his, she found him studying her. She submitted herself to his scrutiny, knowing he was now searching her inner being. The sorceress had done the same. It was a Being of Power's way of learning another's soul as deeply as possible. Sarna shivered lightly as the sorcerer's energy passed through her. She knew her soul was now as naked to his sight as her body.

After a few moments, she felt the energy withdraw, and the sorcerer relaxed. Sarna felt a surge of hope that he'd seen, at the least, some integrity in her substance.

"What is your name, huntress?" he asked softly.

Sarna started, realizing that the sorcerer had seen much about her, including her life's occupation. "Sarna, My lord," she replied, bowing her head again. The sorcerer brought out an intuitive respect in her, something she had never felt toward any man, not even the fathers who had raised her. "Again, I'm sorry to have frightened you. I have been traveling for months now without a pause. I thought only to bathe and rest here."

When she dared to raise her eyes again to the sorcerer, she found a smile playing about his lips. Up close, Sarna found his face as comely as his body. His features were strong, showing the same mixture of cultures as did his skin, the cat-like appearance of the Pierrans with some of the chiseled quality of the northern Veltlanders.

Sarna ventured a smile in return.

To her surprise, the sorcerer held out his right hand. "I apologize likewise. I, too, caused you some fear. I'm accustomed to being in danger, and caution is a life-long habit."

Sarna accepted his offering. She didn't understand what he meant, but felt overjoyed that he seemed kind. His hand was large and strong, and for the first time since she was a babe, Sarna felt small.

"I'm Elan," he told her as he released her hand. He gestured to the pool. "The water is very refreshing. Please go in. I don't wish to deprive you."

Sarna bowed her head. "Thank you." She turned and made her way down to the bank, aware of Elan's presence close behind her. She descended into the pool, immersing her body up to her neck. The water felt absolutely delicious against her skin and Sarna immediately began to glide around, letting the water soak every inch of her body, loosening the dirt of travel from every crevice and opening.

She dove underwater, and when she came back up to the surface she saw that Elan remained on the bank, watching her. He smiled and followed her in, his body disappearing below the sparkly surface. He swam over to her, diving under the surface to wet his hair, and then emerged. They stood near each other, waist-high in the water.

Elan's gaze was now one of curiosity. "Are you from the women of the Huntress' Village west of here?" he asked.

Sarna noticed that he remained close to her. Perhaps he did so to hear her over the waterfall. But even from a bit further away, he could have heard her easily. "Aye," she answered. "In truth, I am their queen." She bowed her head as a pang of sadness shot through her like an arrow from a crossbow. "Was their queen."

Elan furrowed his brow. "Were you deposed?"

Sarna shook her head, the long tail of her braid floating on the surface of the water like a snake. "'Twas I who left willingly."

Elan studied her again, then nodded. "Aye," he said. "I see. You're on a quest of some sort."

Sarna cupped her hands and brought some water to her face, letting it sluice down her forehead and cheeks. She looked again at Elan. "Aye, lord sorcerer," she said softly. "'Tis love I seek. I...had some once and find I cannot live without it. I won't rest until I find it, even if it means never going back. My power as a queen means nothing to me now." She fell silent, watching her companion's handsome face for his response.

Briefly, her huntress' eye caught a quiver in his lip. Perhaps she had stunned him, she mused, quite a feat for anyone, knowing how nearly impossible it is to surprise a Being of Power.

She was unprepared for the sorcerer's reaction.

His large hands grasped, drawing her very close, so close, she could feel heat rising from his powerful body. The suddenness startled her and her gaze flew to his. In his dark eyes she saw his sudden desire to possess her, so strong it made them smolder. There was pain and sadness and hope swirling in them, too, and she understood the state he was in. She had felt that way about her sorceress.

"You speak truthfully, do you not, huntress?" Elan asked, his voice husky, ragged, nearly choking on the flood of desire and hope.

Sarna felt her entire body melting, becoming as fluid as the water surrounding her. His touch seared her skin, and desire gathered swiftly down below, in her moistening cleft. "Aye," she whispered. "I mean it with all my heart."

Elan held Sarna in his burning obsidian gaze for a moment longer before pulling her against him, their bare wet skin fusing. Sarna's breasts flattened to his broad chest, and she felt his cock rise and harden against her pubic bone. His hands slipped from her shoulders and splayed on her back, cradling her. In spite of their nearly matched size, Sarna felt held in Elan's strength, her body kittenish and pliant, like her sorceress had been, willing to melt open and be filled again.

Elan leaned his face in to hers, nuzzling Sarna's cheek with his lips. His breath was a warm wind on her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed with the pleasure radiating through her body.

His lips were now by her ear. "'Tis a kiss I seek, huntress," he said softly. "Do you feel forced? If so, I'll release you."