Earthly Desires Read online

  But the birth did not go well.

  The child was too well rooted in the mother, and when his head finally came forth, he could only be persuaded from her body with a giant tug from the woodcutter. The wife screamed, and the babe came free of her like a plant ripped from the earth. But then the blood began, and the fever, and the woodcutter despaired.

  To his great astonishment, five fairies, all grown as tall as men, with skin the color of sun-baked mud and eyes dark as dirt, filed into the cabin to tend to his wife. The woodcutter was not sure if they were male or female, or perhaps a bit of both. He watched the fairies argue amongst themselves in a language he didn’t know, fear keeping his tongue silent. No magic, nor medicine, nor herb given seemed to help his wife.

  Then, in words he could understand, the fairies told the woodcutter what he must do next. Reluctant, but desperate to save his wife, he saddled his old horse and left her and the infant in the care of the fae, going, as the fairies had insisted, in search of a very old midwife.

  “She lives on the boundary between the known world and the mountains,” one fairy had said. “Tell her we send for her. Bound as we are to our land, we cannot leave. Call her Mother. Be polite and plead with her. Do whatever you must. Ignore her cruelty. If you love your wife, do as we say.”

  Not even half a day into his journey, the woodcutter rounded a bend and found an old, bent woman waiting in the middle of the road. She leaned on a staff and a blackbird perched on her shoulder. The woodcutter eagerly approached. “Perhaps you can help me, good lady. I desperately seek a woman who lives at the end of the world. Might you know of her?”

  The old woman’s eyes glinted, and the bird on her shoulder let out a loud caw. “A midwife, perhaps? For a wife sick with childbed fever?”

  The woodcutter couldn’t believe his ears. “Yes. The fae of the earth have sent me to find one called Mother.”

  The woman licked her dirty lips. “I am the Mother you seek. But this child should not live.”

  ”He is but a babe, my only son. Please, you must help my Dmitri and my wife.”

  The old woman smiled, revealing teeth as black as coal. “Dmitri, you say? Lover of the earth. ’Tis a lucky name, and I’m feeling merciful. I will only punish those at fault on this day. Lead the way, fool.”

  Upon returning to the cabin, the midwife took in the squalling child held against his mother’s fevered tit. The five fae fell to their knees before her, beseeching. She tsked sharply, and they cowered. Then the old woman uttered something that made the fae blanch in terror, crying out as one before bursting into flame.

  The woodcutter ran for a bucket of water, but the fire burned itself out with a whoosh, leaving only traces of fine ash where the fairies had been. He stood before his wife and child, arms outstretched to shield them from the woman. “I beg you, do not harm them.”

  The crone cackled. “Do not fret. I will cure her. But first give me the child. No harm will come to him,” the witch said. For yes, she was a witch, of course she was.

  Terrified, the woodcutter passed his small son into the witch’s dirty hands. She whispered in his ear and cackled to herself before turning to the man. “This one will be bound to the land. Never will he leave until death claims him.”

  The woodcutter wordlessly accepted the price, clutching his wife’s hot fingers. They had all that they wanted, and so long as his wife and the babe lived, they had no need for more.

  The witch kissed the boy’s head before putting him back to his mother’s breast. She touched the woodcutter’s wife upon each eyelid and spoke in unintelligible words. Then she turned her back and walked from the house, never to be seen or heard from again.

  From that time forward, the woodcutter’s child was bound by his father’s bargain. The father and mother saw it as a price well worth paying, but the son saw it as a curse, and resented it every day of his life.

  * * * * *

  Efrosin’s eyes shone and he clapped at the telling. Despite that it was his own tale of woe, Dmitri wondered at the sense of accomplishment it gave him to receive an ovation from a prince. Surely Efrosin had heard better stories than his during the parties hosted by the king at the castle, and yet Efrosin’s enthusiasm was undampened by any snobbery.

  Efrosin said breathlessly, “What a wonderful story. Where are your parents now?” He snuggled into Dmitri’s arms, Dmitri’s weight keeping him safe from floating.

  “They died five years ago. A traveling salesman brought the pox.” It was strange to speak of it, being so alone as he was through the years. The grief flared hollowly in his chest.

  “Oh how exciting! And what did you do with their bodies?”

  Dmitri frowned. “I buried them.”

  Efrosin’s lips twitched. “Grave digging. That sounds quite—oh wait a moment. I am sure Geoffry covered this in his teachings. Laughing about death offends people, you see…so, let me think. Oh yes, I am to look sad—” Here Efrosin’s face contorted in a terrible attempt at misery. “And I am to say, ‘My greatest sympathy for your loss, dear citizen’.” Efrosin grinned. “There. Do you feel much better now?”

  Dmitri narrowed his eyes and said, “No. I shall never feel ‘much better’ about digging a grave for my parents’ bodies.”

  Efrosin seemed to ponder this. “I suppose not. Tell me, have you ever tried to leave your land?”

  “Not until my parents died. While they were alive, they needed me here. But once they were naught but a memory, I resolved to leave this place and journey to the worlds I’ve only read about in my books. Yet I could not due to my father’s promise. I am bound to this land.” The heaviness in his chest made it difficult to draw breath.

  For a moment, Efrosin appeared genuinely troubled, but the graveness of his expression soon flickered into a smile. “Then let’s talk about something else. What of the lake near your cabin, and the river that feeds it? Does it flow from the castle? If so, should no one come for me, when I wish to take my leave I could happily swim home. I quite like to swim. In fact, it is fair to say that I love swimming more than life.”

  “Of course you’ll want to be going.” Dmitri sighed. He touched Efrosin’s neck, feeling Efrosin’s pulse against his fingertips. He hated that this would be the end of it, though of course it must be.

  Efrosin peered at him curiously and asked with a tone of pure wonder, as though the idea of what he was asking was somehow thrilling, “Do you get awfully lonely then?”

  “Lonely? When I’m alone, confined here to this parcel of land, for all of my days? Whyever would I be lonely?” Dmitri could not keep the bitterness from his tongue. He was tempted to bend down and kiss Efrosin’s mouth to replace it with the taste of clouds again.

  “And no servants at all? However do you eat?”

  “I hunt and fish, and grow a bit of food. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, someone will happen by and trade for some seeds or fresh fruit.”

  “Ah, I see. Well,” Efrosin, said airily, and looking as though it was a contest and he intended to win. “I grow lonely too.”

  “You? A prince at a castle bustling with servants, knights and diplomats? You’ve already said that you are always surrounded by people.”

  “True. I am. But none of them like me. I don’t have any friends,” he said gaily. “Who wants to play with a child who floats away? The boys could not play ball with me, or go riding or hunting. They tried to strap me to a horse once, but it was for naught. He couldn’t feel my weight on his back and ran wild. Oh what a terrifying thrill that was. I laughed so hard I threw up.”

  Dmitri had to stifle a chortle at the picture that brought to mind even as he felt an answering pang at Efrosin’s lack of friendship. He would be the finest friend Efrosin ever had if only given the chance.

  “Do you ride?” Efrosin asked.

  “I had a horse…but she died a few years before my father passed away. We never had need of another.” Before Efrosin could ask what had come of the old horse’s body, Dmitri continued on, “But we we
re speaking of you, not me. Surely there were girls at least?”

  “Girls? Oh certainly, but who wants to braid my hair and put in ribbons when I float to the ceiling half the time? And they hated that I was prettier than they.”

  Given that Dmitri had at first believed Efrosin to be an entangled angel, there was no room for bringing Efrosin’s ego down a peg. He truly did possess an otherworldly beauty. “Well, you certainly don’t seem sad about it.”

  “That’s the curse, you see. I couldn’t feel sad if I tried. It’s quite…well, sad really.”

  “I actually meant maidens and courtesans to please you.”

  “Oh, pleasing me. I’ve told you, until you kissed me, I could not be pleased. And even if they tried, they weigh so little it would require that they tie me down, and it grows so tiresome being tied down. Unable to move or go wherever you wish. The constant rope burn. Can you even imagine?”

  “Yes, my prince. I understand not being able to go wherever you wish,” Dmitri said, smiling at the bright outrage that glowed alongside an odd glee in Efrosin’s expression. “Though, I admit, you have me beaten with the rope burn. I do not have that particular trouble. I suppose I should be grateful for small mercies.”

  Despite it all, Efrosin’s eyes sparkled with joy, and he wriggled beneath Dmitri. “Oh I won! I truly won. I am sadder than you!”

  Dmitri didn’t have the heart to tell him that he hadn’t actually won, and that Dmitri was quite sure burying his parents in a plot by the house—digging the graves with his own two hands before returning his parents to their beloved land—surely trumped some rope burn, and not having friends to play with, or girls to braid his hair. Yet he found himself absently rubbing Efrosin’s wrist where the rope had chafed the soft skin.

  “Dmitri,” Efrosin said, and then sucked in a breath as his floating hands dropped down to the mattress. “That is so odd,” he exclaimed, but then he blinked and went on. “About your story, I think I missed a part, for I truly don’t understand one thing. Why did the witch curse you?”

  “Don’t witches just like to do that kind of thing?” Dmitri asked, elbows framing Efrosin’s face, and his hands buried in Efrosin’s fine hair. He twisted a longer piece of it around his finger. “If she had a reason, it is lost to me.”

  “It is rather amusing, I’m sure,” Efrosin agreed. “Why, if I could curse people, I’d have so much fun. It’s probably a very good thing that I cannot, though I do derive a great deal of mirth from merely imagining it.”

  “I can see,” Dmitri said drily, though Efrosin had such a beautiful smile that it gave Dmitri a thrill to see it so artlessly there upon his face. “And your own affliction?”

  “Oh yes, I am roundly cursed,” Efrosin said. “As you yourself saw. I cannot walk, or crawl, or set my foot alight upon the ground without the effort of others.”

  “Have you tried pockets full of stones?”

  “Of course. What do you take me for? A fool? Even if I am, my father is the king of this land, and he has physicians of the highest intellect at his command.”

  “The stones didn’t work?”

  “For a few moments, yes, long enough to walk perhaps ten steps, but then they become as part of me, and no longer hold me fast. They tried everything—diamonds in the soles of my shoes, gold in the hems of my clothing. All the heaviest gems were tried—zircon, sapphire, garnet, topaz, peridot—and not a one would weigh me down. Tying me often does the trick, but I must be fastened to something quite big. Bigger than me, and too heavy for me to carry.”

  “Hmm. You are surprisingly strong. I can attest to that.” Dmitri caressed Efrosin’s firm chest.

  Efrosin grinned. “Yes. I prefer to be tied to someone, or many someones, because then they can ferry me about, which is a great deal more entertaining than being tied to a tree or a stone or a bed.” His eyes lit up. “Though being tied here to your bed would be very fun indeed.”

  Dmitri couldn’t disagree, and he felt his prick react to the hint. He kissed the side of Efrosin’s face, right where his lower lip met his cheek, and sighed. “Do you believe the rescue party will be here soon?”

  “I hope not.” Efrosin laughed. “I hope they do not find me for days and days.”

  Dmitri couldn’t help feeling much the same. There were many things his body craved to do with Efrosin, many needs he was driven to meet. Efrosin was by far the most interesting person Dmitri had met in all his years, though granted, Dmitri had met only the odd trader or traveler. Even if Efrosin was strange, lighthearted and altogether too airy for his own good, he was a revelation.

  “The physicians your father employed— what did they deduce your ailment to be?”

  Efrosin laughed. “A curse, silly. My friend, perhaps you are the fool and not me.” Joy flickered across his face. “Oh! Are you indeed my friend? Perhaps we have found our first true friend in each other.”

  Dmitri found himself smiling broadly, his chest suffused with warmth. “Yes. I should like to call you my friend.”

  “Then I decree it so. How wonderful!” His forehead creased momentarily. “What were we talking about? Oh yes, I’m cursed, you ninny.”

  “Yes, but a curse is merely physics, is it not? For every curse, there must be an equal and opposite cure. Have you tried eating dirt? Perhaps a bit of good earth in your diet —”

  “Enough,” Efrosin said, putting up his hand. “Discussion of my predicament is so tiring. Have you tried a cure? What, pray tell, is the equal and opposite cure of your curse? Flight? Height?”

  “Death,” Dmitri said. “It is the only release from the bonds of this world.”

  Efrosin’s eyes went wide. “Oh. Well then, let’s not talk of that. I rather like you alive and touching me.”

  Dmitri ran his hands down Efrosin’s body, and then beneath him to grip his buttocks, squeezing them as he pressed down with his hips, seeking evidence of Efrosin’s renewed arousal. Efrosin’s breath caught. “Ah, yes please. Do that again.” Dmitri did as he was asked, and Efrosin crooned, his prick growing hard between them.

  “Efrosin,” Dmitri whispered. “Surely we should leave a signal, some sort of sign for the knights who are seeking you. I fear that they may ride on by.”

  “God willing,” Efrosin said, his eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks. “Please, Dmitri, if you cannot go with me, then let me stay—at least until you bore me, which will likely happen soon. I am quite easily bored.”

  Dmitri felt he should be offended, but he was not. The idea that Efrosin would not wish to leave as soon as possible invigorated him, and he was deeply grateful for this short reprieve from loneliness. The last person he’d met had been an old trader, little more than skin and bones. He’d offered Dmitri some dried fruit, desperate for any meat. Dmitri had given him far more than he should have for the paltry berries, but the man’s need had been great.

  “And what should I do if I did not want you here?” Dmitri asked. “Toss you to the winds and hope they blew you home?”

  Efrosin chuckled. “It would be much kinder of you to drop me in the river and let me swim for it. The river would never let me drown.”

  “I would never let you drown either, nor float away—”

  “Nor leave this bed?” Efrosin asked, pulling Dmitri down for a kiss.

  Dmitri had to admit that Efrosin’s suggestion was tempting, especially as Efrosin whispered in his ear about the filthy, perverted things he’d seen the knights do, and suggested Dmitri try them out on him. To properly explore each one could take days, weeks, months, years.

  Dmitri knew that he was a fool, but the seed Efrosin had planted in his heart cracked open, and the smallest of fragile shoots bloomed.

  Chapter Five

  “This ale is quite pleasing.” Efrosin licked his lips before taking another bite of rabbit stew. “I’ve never tasted anything this good in the tavern near the castle. Of course my father forbade them to serve me ale, so I suppose it stands to reason. But now I’m of age—it’s my birthday, did I ment
ion?—and shall drink ale to my heart’s content.”

  After another round of lovemaking, this time with their mouths to give Efrosin’s tender ass a rest, they sat at the rough wooden table in their trousers. Well, Dmitri sat; Efrosin was tied to the bench, and his buttocks floated several inches above it, but at least he was able to reach the stew without spilling much.

  Dmitri chuckled. “And what else does your heart desire on your special day?”

  “Only one thing. To dive into a bracing body of water. That’s what I want next, Dmitri.” He felt his rump touch the board of the bench for a moment, and then he rose up again. So very curious.

  Dmitri crunched on a biscuit—from a batch that wasn’t light and flaky at all—but Efrosin got distracted by the delicious stew and strong ale before he could complain. “If you want to clean up, the water from the bowl is good enough for me, but I shall happily get out the tub and warm the water over the fire for you.”

  “A tub? As if that could replace the marvelousness of an open lake, surrounded by earth and sky. I should think the water in a tub would not even have the weight to hold me down.”

  “Have you never bathed in a tub before?” Dmitri asked.

  In fact, Efrosin had not, at least not in his memory. For as long as he could recall, he’d spent more time in the river than out of it, and never needed to wash himself in a tub.

  Besides, Efrosin wasn’t interested in cleaning up. He wanted to swim, and he wanted to swim immediately, and he said as much.

  “It’s late in the day and far too cold to swim, Efrosin. Besides, it’s not yet summer. The blossoms haven’t even begun to fall from the branches of the Springsimmon.”

  “Oh the curse of the Springsimmon. Swim too soon and you’ll die. I swim as soon as they can break the ice on the river and have done every year since I was a child.” Dmitri looked pinched about the mouth in a way that Efrosin didn’t quite like, and so he kissed the expression away.