WandWpart11

The darkness was coming in faster now, and as I walked toward Smitty, a swift-footed tribal underling lit the ground torch on Carson's side of the Stones. I caught a quick, psychedelic glimpse of him outlined by fire before the torch steadied and became a light you could see by. The underling was heading to our side of the grove and I waved him off negligently.

Like an ass, he chose to ignore me. I raised one hand and lit the torch on our side without effort, but the flames were green and the crowd fucking roared with delight. The underling nearly fell over in surprise, a foot away from having his hair barbequed.

Then she was talking for the tribe, talking about accepting me as a member, and I risked a glance at Carson. Because really that flashy effect was because I wanted him to look at me.

I'd been focused on the ceremony even as I'd been concentrated on his every reaction like a human drill. And I'd noticed the "embrace". Yes, beautiful. It was the "manly hug" thing, yet apparently to fulfill custom it needed to be pretty solid. Case in point: Carse had embraced old Severn fairly strongly; distant, yet with a soft, obviously kind comment that made me fall in love with him all over again.

He'd given Irenea a full body hug, too. Yet before that had happened, they'd both studied each other like opponents in a gunfight, he had said what was necessary and when they pulled away from each other quickly, anyone would've thought they'd been sucking on the same lemon.

The crowd - what? Oh, was chanting my name. Smitty had explained how I'd risked death to save their Warchief. How I wasn't really Southern, and how eager I was to use my wizard magic for the benefit of the Tribe. She was good at her job, she had them worked up. It sounded like a WCW title fight and I was the good guy, or at least the favorite.

Her timing was great. The crowd was stoked on me as a Tribal boy now, and to think a problem could arise only pissed them off. Boos and hisses. Somebody yelled "To the abyss with that!" and I honestly couldn't tell if it was Do'nar or my battle-babe fan. I dipped my head, prepared myself. Oh, God. Please let this work.

"No, the problem is real, hear you. The Warchief has chosen this one for his beloved, and Betrothal is begun. Many have witnessed this." Howls, hoots, wolf-whistles and loud agreements, apparently from the two-fifths of the tribe who had actually witnessed the event. "The two cannot touch."

"But to make the welcome to the Tribe valid, the Warchief must embrace the new Rider. And so I have consulted the runes, and the gods have spoken." Smitty pinned her gaze on me, and by gawd it should have stripped the skin off me if I had any kind of fear of her. "Firehawk. For this time and this moment, you will only be judged as coming to the Tribe. The Betrothal will come after. And then by God," she whispered sotto voice, "if you don't follow the usual procedure I will bury you!"

And then I turned to him and oh, yes. Standing frozen there, eyes wild and disbelieving and finally with something in them other than emptiness. I wasn't sure what. But anything beyond emptiness was good.

I was near him in two heartbeats. "Warchief," I told him quietly, by rote, yet with a whole new fund of feeling that told him these weren't just words. That I meant it; oh, how I meant it. "I am yours to command."

He opened his arms reluctantly, and I knew what he would do. The quickest embrace he could manage, and even that would nearly destroy him. I might have felt bad for him, if I hadn't been so desperate myself.

There are things you learn when you have a lover much bigger, stronger, and meaner than you are. You learn to be agile, and quick. You learn how to jump right up into the boy if he's trying to avoid you. And you become an expert at imitating Velcro.

I knew all these things. And I used every one of them, from the moment I leaped straight up into his arms from that chaste embrace and found his mouth and locked in. Of course he was wearing the woven ceremonial leathers, and of course that just made it so much easier to crawl right the hell up into his face.

The gasp of surprise I'd been expecting, hoping for. It let me slide in my tongue, take his mouth and oh, wow. I almost forgot about the spell in the sheer bliss of it. Even though he wasn't kissing back. Even though I was just crawling up his body with no help at all, clinging like a leech, might as well have been raping him.

Spell. Drive it in. Shield spell, wouldn't totally protect him. Would repel any arrow shot or knife thrust, any poison dart or behind the back attack. At least the first few, at least until he could counter and fight back.

He was stiffening as I began to lose my grip, slide down. Could feel the magic. Thought the spell was the only reason I did this? Oh, Carse. Roaring in my ears? Ah, that would be the tribe. Shouting with delight at the show I was providing. Maybe too long now? I could hear Smitty cursing. And Carson was letting me fall, didn't believe, couldn't believe.

And then I was sliding down his body, ah shit, I'd lost, can only be Velcro so long, damn fool, bet everything and lost him, and my life here, and everything that matters. Everything.

And - everything - stalled. Because he caught me. Oh, and the way he caught me. Hands suddenly cupping my ass. Dragging me up, hard against him, into the throbbing hot center of him, and now it was my shocked gasp that got caught by his mouth. The world spun and I felt my back slam into one of the standing stones, magic fire tingling all through my body from the contact. Or was that from the way he seemed suddenly like he was just going to fuck me here and now in this sacred circle? The people were howling like wild beasts, enjoying this, encouraging us on. I could hear Smitty cursing, feel her hands on me trying to peel me loose. "Goddamn you guys, you can't do this here, this is holy ground! McIntyre, you bastard! Christ, Carson!"

Knowing Smitty, I expected her to roar back, and maybe smack him one for good measure. But instead, she fell to her knees, face gone pasty white and eyes so huge they should be springing out of their sockets. And I, I looked back into Carson's face and met the crazed yellow-eyed stare of a god.

At first, I couldn't focus. Couldn't believe. He'd all but fucked me with his mouth, driven me against a sacred pillar and thrust against me, grunting like a rutting beast. My mind had nearly gone from that hot madness, melting out my ears. I had been this close to coming just from feeling him pounding against me, knowing we were finally back together and nothing else mattered. That he wanted me enough to do me in front of everyone was the opposite of a problem; oh god, how could I ever escape the shame of that ravenous satisfaction? For a crazy few minutes I'd *wanted* them all to watch, gape-jawed fools, to give them primal and utter proof that I belonged to him.

The heat. The wanting. If he'd raped me then and ripped me apart in doing so it would've been beyond my wildest dreams, my best wishes. Better - it would've been part of the ceremony, a part these wimps had never dreamed of.

And he still had me pinned against the stone. Moving his hips in a sensual dance against me, yellowed out eyes blazing with bestial desire. I wanted to not respond and it was impossible, that hot hard thickness pressed against my own want still yelled "Carson!" to my mind and body even though something else was controlling it.

He barely whispered it. One word. I could tell the difference. Even beyond the fact that Carson would've called me "Keith" especially in the madness of desire we shared. But His voice was not Carson's. His voice had no music to it.

I shouldn't have mentioned Berkeley, because that's where I'd first met this body-stealing bastard. Tyr. Once the noblest of the Aesir, the war gods. Still the bravest, I imagine; my internet studies had mentioned that he was the one who always did the dirty work the other gods were too scared to tackle. But now half-mad from the biggest and dirtiest task he'd taken on, chaining the Fenris wolf. The Wolf had not only taken his hand when it bit. The venom from that monster's teeth had invaded his blood. Of course being ancient Norse and a god to boot, no basic sanitary techniques were used in binding the wound. Hell, he'd probably just let it squirt for a while to show how manly he was, maybe did a handstand on the stump just to show off. In any case, the wound had changed him. Into part animal, or part demon, I wasn't sure; had the feeling the Wolf was both.

I didn't get all that from the internet, of course. Carson was avatar to this being, and in Berkeley we'd had mind-meld between us. So when the Wolf/Tyr took Carson, lucky me got to share the crazed skirl of his fevered thoughts and half-demented memories. A bloodied kaleidoscope of rage and pain and hate, shockingly broken with crystal-clear moments of sanity, of a warrior-poet's mind that in its somber beauty only emphasized the hell of its wreckage.

It was like being on the worst, most frightening and mind-shattering acid trip ever. With no idea if it would ever end. The few moments of sheer glory and power not balancing the nightmare that seemed to last for eons.

I can only imagine what it was like for Carson, being possessed by such a thing. I knew he'd collapsed afterwards, but on awakening he seemed to take it all in stride. I think he'd been more concerned for my reaction to sharing the experience, and my reaction had frankly worried me too. I'd been a jittering wreck, jumping at shadows for days after, afraid to sleep, afraid to fucking go to the bathroom by myself.

I'd always come neatly out of drug trips and too much partying, giggling at the tap-dancing Smurfs in my brain and wondering why everyone else was moaning and groaning and wishing they were dead.

And I could only be thankful as hell I didn't share Carson's thoughts anymore. Oh, yeah, I was a big bad wizard these days, not a confused Earther pothead just beginning to know the magic inside him. My mind so much stronger I might as well have been a different person. So maybe I could shut the Wolf out of my head now. But I wouldn't be betting my last dime on it.

"Foolish wizard. Insolent and brave as ever." He cocked his head in a grotesque parody of Carson's questioning look. "A warrior's spirit inside a milksop wizard? A mystery, it is still - but a tasty one." And the bastard leaned forward teasingly and licked my face like a cat - or a wolf.

My face stung as if the wetness from chin to cheek was electrified, and from humiliation I kited into rage. Because it didn't feel all thatunpleasant. He still had me pinned, and despite my disgust and fear of him I was more aroused than ever.

I forgot magic, forgot everything but the need to hurt him, kill him, get away from him. My fists flailed wildly and I think maybe my sudden fury took him by surprise because I actually managed to clip him upside the head before he caught my wrists and pinned them against the stone. At least he had to release his hold on my butt to do it; I winced as my partly bare back slid down the rough, magic-pulsing rock. He was holding me now by the wrists and with the press of that steel-hard warrior's body, and I was as far away from escaping him as ever.

Looking down at me from that staggering height, eyes yellow lasers. "I like you," he observed, in as near to soft as a voice that harsh and powerful could get. "I will have you now, I think. And worry not - you will love it, proud, pretty toy. If you please me enough, power I will give you beyond your reckoning, defiant one." His demented face was coming down to mine, whether to kiss or bite I couldn't tell from his expression. My muscles had chosen this moment to lock up completely, my brain numb - this couldn't be happening, could it? I couldn't be letting it happen - could I?

The crowd had grown silent; I assumed by now everyone knew who and what had their Warchief in its grip and were all flat on their faces in worship or terror. So it was doubly surprising in the charged silence to hear a scared but determined voice, light and breathy, shaking but defiant.

I turned my head and groaned with the irony of it. A fucking tribe full of warriors down on their knees and shaking like Jell-O, the big bad New York broad not even daring to look up, arms wrapped around her head as if to shut out too bright a light, and who comes to my rescue? I could almost hear his soft voice again, confessing in shame that he was not a great warrior.

Despite the "please", despite his waxwork pallor and the visible trembling of the knife he gripped in a white-knuckled fist, Jalin's eyes were hard and determined as frozen metal. And I knew if Tyr didn't listen to him the kid would go for it and probably be squashed like a bug before that blade even came close to the crazy bastard.

Carson Tyr - didn't even glance sideways at him. Like this stupidly brave and beautiful kid *was* some kind of bug, beneath his notice. Wait till he stabs you in the ass, I thought crazily. And then I thought of Carson. If this creature in his body hurt either of us, he'd never forgive himself.

A drunken cursing voice suddenly rose from the crowd, "Dammit, Jalin, let the wizard handle it - shit! God or no god, this isn't going to happen!" And I heard the definite sound of Do'nar blundering from his kneeling position, probably grabbing his axe and stumbling up to help. Not that he could do a bean's worth of good, but at least he made an effort at last.

Let the wizard handle it. He was right, I needed to do something - but what? If the bastard hadn't been in Carson's body, I could strike back with magic, but I would rather be hurt myself than risk killing him. And a killing blow would be needed against this guy, if it would work at all. If Jalin wasn't there determined to rescue me, I could just let myself be raped, but I had a strong feeling that if Tyr stripped me of as much as a sock that the silly kid would be all over him. Options were not looking good here. I was beginning to panic, rage and terror and desire all mixing and freezing me where I stood.

And like a wash of ocean, drowning me more thoroughly than it ever had, pulling me under, down, through - the cool wash of what I thought of as my magic, that which was not-Keith, flowed through and claimed me.

"Brother," I heard myself say; think I heard myself say, because the voice was no more mine than Tyr's was Carson's. Also an inhuman voice, but not animal. Keenly beautiful as starlight, cool and dry as a blade of silver. "Release him. We are not here for this, not yet."

What the fuck? I had never considered that the magic fire that sometimes possessed me, instructed me, might have a voice outside myself. I struggled inside my own mind, pushed down deep, aware and feeling everything but not in control. A strange and absolutely scary experience, like being insane and knowing it. I got the sense of someone something - absently comforting me, much as you would pat a beloved but noisy dog to quiet his nervous barking.

Tyr wasn't thrilled either; his eyes flared almost orange, and he hissed softly. He did, however, abort his movement toward my mouth, and the pressure of his body against mine seemed to slacken. He didn't release my wrists, though. "Go away," he hissed, for all the dark distorted voice like a petulant child being sent to bed too early. "I want him." In an almost crafty voice he added, "He wants me."

A mildly exasperated sigh. "Of course he wants you," that detached silver voice stated from my mouth. "You are in his lover's body. And you are filling his senses with your own lust. Desist. You know we are here for something other. Is the Dark One so strong in you now that you cannot resist even for the time it would take to finish our business here?"

I could hear the rustle and murmur of the crowd as they started rising to their feet. Apparently one god was scary; two constituted a good show. I never have, never will understand the human mind.

And by God, the lecture of whatever it/he/her was talking through me was having its effect on Tyr as well. The inhuman eyes darkened, less yellow now, struggling toward some honey-amber color that was not unpleasant, but full of pain. He released my wrists, but did not step back from me. "Wizard," he said in a softer tone. "Heal me."

"Do it!" Carson all but growled, and drove himself against me, almost impaling himself with one stroke. But he was a little off. Just a little awkward. But the feel of that "almost" was enough to drag a moan from him. Enough to make me pity him and myself, and I grabbed my jerking cock, slapped on one last slathering of goo and then went for it. Driving into him, so brief an instant of resistance and then sinking in, into, into heat and silky tightness.

"Shit, Carse, chill, no moving - Jesus! You're gonna kill me!" It was so hard to believe he was only twenty, and only a month ago a virgin haltingly trying to seduce me. Well, whatever had been before, the bastard was a total sex fiend now. I barely had time to eat, sleep, or go to the bathroom.

"God! you do wanna kill me!" I moved back, almost in self-defense. Then thrust into him, back out, oh god, in and out and in in in oh always into him couldn't breathe couldn't think could only feel feel feel.

//Keith - yes, fuck, yes, ohgod!// His mindtouch dissolved into incoherence, a surge of primal animal lust rather than words, and at this molten brush against my brain the physical me exploded. I came into him (too soon, dammit, too soon!) so hard I saw stars, planets, and the moons that circled them.

He hadn't come yet. Or if he had, his powers of recovery were amazing. That wicked, huge cock was so hard it pressed up against his belly, the head fiercely swollen and leaking a bit.

I'd seen him this way, felt it before because of our mind-meld - yet never had he spoken to me when that being possessed him. I'd thought the Wolf, the god, his inner fire, held me in total contempt. So what the fuck was going on? Why was he even bothering to chit-chat?

"You're quoting Stephen King," I breathed softly, using the remark to lever myself up from off my back, to hopefully get some control over this situation. "Isn't that a no-no?"

I went with it, let him press me down. No way I could fight him anyway. Waves of power rolled off him. The night enfolded us, pounding out a heavy force of mindless darkness, blatantly sexual. Making me dizzy.

There was a pause. A beat, in the thick hot dark that enfolded us. "They are one and the same," the thick hot voice that matched the darkness finally breathed in my ear. And then, as I drew a breath to argue, he whispered, "How far does your fire go from you, Wizard? Can you separate yourself from your god so completely?"

With a demon's growl, he gathered me up as if I weighed nothing, stood to his full awesome height, and strode to the bed. Then threw me across it, face down. We never did it without being able to look into each other's eyes, but he was gripping my ass now, pulling me apart, forcing into, between.

To be caught and thrown again across the bed, face up this time but not because he wanted eye contact. "No fucking magic," he snarled. "Not this time. You'll take it all and you'll love it." He pushed my thighs open effortlessly.

Before he could even answer I was on him. "You want to screw me, screw me. You're in my lover's body, I can handle it. But by god if it hurts him later, if this isn't what he wants too, then I don't care what god you call yourself I will fucking do you so bad you won't even be able to pick up the pieces enough to make a shrine to your fucking self. I mean it, you fuck. I mean it!"

I was admittedly raving. And I broke off only because Carson was laughing. Softly, not insane. Himself. "Keith," he whispered, on a rich roll of delighted laughter. And I could only catch him and hold him and thank whatever gods I believed in - not that many - that he was there.

His eyes blazed into mine. "Trust me," he breathed, and then the Other was there, the hot blue-yellow fire of his stare impaling me. "Trust me," he also growled. And I didn't, not for one half of a second I didn't.

I expected him to get on with it then, in the most basic, crude way possible. To fling me to the bed and have me, as he'd been starting to do enough times already. Instead, those long muscular fingers I knew so well slipped under my chin. Forced my gaze up, to lock with those merciless, inhuman eyes that burned from the face of my friend like something unholy.

"Although it doesn't matter in the least," the Other said, in the closest that growling, otherworldly voice could approach gentleness, "I find I do not wish you to hate me, Wizard."

"Goddammit, I don't hate you, okay?" I glared at the ruthless bastard, forgetting who he was in my exasperation. "You piss me off more than I can possibly express, but I know," I hated *myself* for floundering under that stony, wild-beast regard. "I know Carson would've gone fucking nuts if you hadn't helped him. If he hadn't thought to pray to you, if you hadn't shit - taken him. His mind wasn't supposed to deal with wizard crap. He was supposed to be the damn Warrior."

I drew a deep, shaky breath and stared him straight in the eye, unsettling as it was. "I wouldn't have him at all if it weren't for you," I said softly. "How the hell can I hate you?"

I guess my words must have convinced myself if not him. Because suddenly I reached out and stroked his cheek lightly, my fingers coming to rest curled against his jaw and freezing there.

Freezing indeed. I had expected his skin to burn and it did, but with cold not fire. Well, I thought a little crazily, he IS a Northern god. Keith, what the hell are you up to, touching him like that? Where's your mind gone anyway talking to him like that, he's dangerous as hell.

He went totally still at my touch. Soundless, motionless, I think even breathless. "So," he finally murmured, in as near to softness that deep and awesome voice could get. Those hellish eyes pinned me as the grip under my chin withdrew, but only to move to where my hand still cupped his face. To rest upon my fingers there with a touch so gentle I could almost believe it a caress.

"The meddling fools thought to destroy the line of the Eternal Ones," he almost mused, in that same nearly-soft voice. "And look what they have wrought instead. Something new and wonderful indeed - a Wizard with a Warrior's soul." Both his hands came up, then, cupping my face between them, pulling me towards a kiss. "Beauty and courage and a mind of lightning, a spirit wrought of flame itself," he breathed against my helplessly parting lips. "Never will I hurt you, beloved of my Chosen. He did not lie to me when he told me what you would become."

I probably would have died blushing if I'd been paying attention to a word he said after he gripped my face. My whole body tensed in expectation of that kiss. I didn't know if I was exultant, appalled or utterly terrified. But I knew that I wanted it, like nothing before or since. A faint breath of shame touched me, too, because although it was Carson's body, desire for the being possessing him seemed almost - unfaithful.

That breath of his flowed into my lips, down my throat. And it wasn't cold. It was like sucking down the sun. Tasting colors, all of the hottest shades. Hearing the near-touch of my lips on his, a symphony worthy of Wagner but hard rock too, Deep Purple, Rainbow, Sabbath. Yet tender, Donovan, Jim Croce. Oh gods don't wanna go there.

The flame of his taste spiraled farther down, exploding, filling me with heat and light. Blood rushing faster in my veins. Power, strength, surging in every tiniest part of me.

And he matched me. Exceeded me. He bit my bottom lip hard enough to hurt, swiped it better with his tongue, then drove what seemed like an agile serpent down my throat. And then he was pulling back, pulling away.

"Eager you are, youngling. And very badly do I want you." There was no doubt about that, anyway. His lips were so close to mine it was almost as if he were sharing his magical breath again. My body was still shivering, tingling, firing with the power he'd given me. And I could feel the screaming desire in him without that hugely engorged cock even touching me. "But not this time. The Norns decree otherwise. Only once can I take you, and it must be at the time that will change the world."

I leaned forward for another kiss, too drunk with desire to listen to his blather, and this time he pressed one hand against my chest in a definite "halt" gesture. "You bastard!" I raved. "One minute you're nearly raping me, and then you're telling me no? Fuck you, man! Fuck you!"

I'd never burned - like this before. Never felt so nearly crazy from wanting. Part of me realized that it was because he was a god and he could inflame me as he wished. The majority of me didn't care.

"Lightly should you insult one who holds your rod in his hand," he breathed in a voice of evil delight. And damned if he wasn't gripping my still-erect dick in fingers of gentle steel. After the fierce squeeze to warn me, his grip turned to a silken stroking that made me gasp.

"I know who and what I deal with now," he continued in a softened voice that fired my body as surely as his touch. "And a picture there is, I shall keep in my thoughts, until fate allows me to take you as I desire." His eyes sparkled; I knew I wouldn't like this.

"The look on your face, defiant one, as you pumped your seed into this body. As you writhed above us, calling his name. *That* was the first sight that greeted me when I took control of my Chosen." His voice dropped into a near whisper. "And such fire and beauty have I not seen since the Nine Worlds came to be."

And then he was gone and Carson slumped heavily in my arms, unconscious, remembering nothing of it when he recovered. And I'd been too damned embarrassed to tell him. It was easier to pretend that he'd come like a tornado and passed out. Better for my ego, too.

I remembered Berkeley. I remembered wondering, when Carson's god called me "Firehawk". I'd thought, like, who the hell is that? But in all the other stuff happening, the question had been forgotten.

I thought now, that perhaps my spell had misfired for a reason. That it would have done so, whether I'd mucked it up or not. It was all a way to push us both closer to being Wizard and Warrior. Me with the ears and the eyes and a surge of greater magic, Carson - Well, he had been a tad under my height, and maybe praying to Tyr had grabbed him a dick to die for but though stronger than he'd been and graceful as a dancer he still was near to scrawny.

Not after that spell. No way. Six feet and six inches of beauty, glory, lean strong muscles and ebony hair clear down to that gorgeous pale ass. Oh, and the facial tattoos. It was as if he'd been turned into an exotic jungle cat, huge and quick and fierce, heart-stoppingly sexy.

But once he did notice, I remember him being so excited, so turned on, by his newly acquired height and strength. Fetched as only someone could be who had once been the model for a stick figure, the 98-pound weakling. The geek.

He'd tackled me a few times out of the bathroom like a rollicking puppy, crazy-laughing at having the power to wrestle me into submission on the hall carpet. And then do other stuff - I let him think he was forcing me. It turned us both on.

And I'd been delighted for him too, although I'd grumbled on principle. Especially because I was the damn fool who had to cover my new ears with my new, psychedelic hair and gambol to the mall to buy clothes for the boy who was suddenly six inches taller and a bit too muscular to fit into his old threads. Oh well, it was the Bay area. In a town full of tattooed skinheads and punks with blue Mohawks and rings in their noses, I really didn't stand out that much.

But oh - the sex we'd had, with that hot new warrior's body of his. I'd winced a few times when he forgot himself, played too rough. *He'd* winced, and apologized, until I was dumb enough to confess that suddenly I didn't mind a bit of pain and bondage. It surprised me too. After that it had been even better.

"Try," he said softly. From his expression now, I honestly couldn't tell if it were Tyr or Carson that I was talking to. "'Twould not be permanent anyway, the Wolf is too strong. But it only need last for the ceremony." He drew a quick pained breath, and that I knew was Tyr, because he was losing the battle, eyes sliding to yellow, fuck it.

I turned to Jalin. Who was just silently staring at me, knife no longer at the ready, but face closed and expressionless. And I understood. He hadn't been any more pleased to hear that stranger's voice coming out of me than I had been myself.

Goddammit, I did not have time to explain! "Because, like I told you, I'm not good with the mental stuff. To help Carson, I gotta pull in blue mana, as well as the healing magic. You can do that. I can't even *see* the blue stuff." He stared at me, baffled or pretending to be, and I subdued the urge to shake him hard. "Jalin. Do you trust me?"

His face was just a study in suspicion. And then he lightly stepped up to me, staring so deeply and clinically into my eyes that I couldn't have hidden anything from him if I'd been trying to.

I took his hand, gripped it firmly. "Just pull in the blue mana, and feed it into me until I tell you to stop. Not too fast; don't want you to burn out. And relax; combining magic isn't as hard as it seems; did it with your dad all the time, he wasn't so hot with the red stuff."

I caught his quick, piercing glance and vaguely wondered what I'd said; I was really just muttering along trying to buck up my courage. I caught Carson's eye and he stepped close to me, eyes inscrutable and fairly scary, washing back and forth as they were between blues and yellows. "Bend down and open wide," I instructed him tersely. "I am not standing on tippy-toe to do this. Even if my dignity is already shot to hell."

"McIntyre." Christ, now Smitty was up and butting in too? Maybe I should be asking Tyr to roar at her again. "Do you know how damned dangerous it is, what you're planning to do!"

Carson's eyes swirled to full-on yellow, and his gaze slid past me to punch into Smitty with what sounded from her gasp and hasty backstep like a fair amount of effect. "I will have words for you later, Witchwoman," he growled. "Unless you interfere again, in which case you will be incapable of hearing me."

I heard Jalin stifle a giggle at Smitty's plight, but I was too busy building, focusing what I meant to give the Wolf, to really pay attention. "Okay, Jalin, heads up. Gimmee."

He really was, would be, quite a wizard. I could actually feel his concentration narrow and sharpen, and then he was carefully channeling something into me. I still couldn't see it, could only feel it as a breath of difference in the sparkling green mana I was holding and shaping. But I trusted him just as he trusted me; and by now, I think, with my life also. //Kid, you are amazing. So glad I found you.//

Mostly for me, I thought, as his gaze slid over my shoulder and pinned Jalin for an instant with an expression that except for the definite curiosity I really couldn't decipher. Except that it contain no dislike, and no jealousy. Maybe even a bit of - Hmmm.

I waited till his eyes yellowed out again. And then I leaned forward, almost kissing close, and breathed all that intertwined power straight down his throat. Just like he'd done to me back in Berkeley.

It was like being drained, in a way. Except your strength wasn't taken; it was more that your consciousness shimmered. Darkened. Went into another place. Like a drain of blood, except you were attached to something that kept refilling you as you were taken from. I was pouring healing into Carson and what possessed him, and healing was anathema to that poison that was the Fenris wolf.

And Jalin? It was a strange, bright feeling, being joined to him. I had meant to be sure to guard and protect him even as I used his power, the blue-white mana that would focus the healing into Carson's possessed mind. I mean, when I'd joined with his dad, Jarone had just sort of used my fire-magic as a weapon. I had sat there and fed it in. I'd kinda felt like a cannon he was hooked to, except he was also protecting me from enemy fire as he used me. Jalin was young, new to magic. I would protect him also, right?

It was unnecessary. Even laughable. I threw the healing magic. I felt Jalin at my side. No. That's stupid, that's a cliché. Our minds locked together with a click almost audible, and then we were one.

There are no words to describe it. What happened then, I can only try to explain in the most feeble way. I am not someone who can easily narrate what happens when your whole world changes.

He was all around me. He was my armor, bright and cold and impervious to any assault. We were dancers in the night, joined to each other as surely as thunder and lightning. I felt him as he felt me, curled around each other like the sun and moon. Touching, feeling, laughing at danger. No, seeking it.

It was making love, it was fighting together against the ultimate enemy. It was driving at a hundred miles an hour on an empty road and you and your car are one. And yet, better than any of this. Another few of the many things I have no words for.

At the touch of healing, The Wolf balked and snarled and leaped, faster than I would've believed. Striking back, intending to reverse my magic and enter me instead. Take me, break me, make me his. I made ready to dodge, not wanting to hurt him because really, he was not all to blame.

Faster than thought, a shimmer of cold starfire stabbed at the Wolf's essence, even as the icy armor around me strengthened its grip. His magic was emotionless, frozen needles, bright as a star exploding and totally alien as much to me as to the Wolf.

Needles. Blue-white ice freezing what a rush of emerald healing had disrupted already. And the Wolf was gone in an unbelieving howl of dark agony. I was poised in front of Carson, almost kissing close still gripping Jalin's hand hard. So hard.

Carson laughed. And his laughing breath pulsed back into me with a hundred times the power I'd given him. Carson was himself, and something else. Dark silk. Liquid lightning. Belgian chocolate. All of this and more, in that touch that healed every hurt I'd ever had in an instant of bliss. He stroked my face, then Jalin's, obviously giving less than a damn for any tribal tradition ever dreamed or set in stone.

"Yeah, right." It seemed like he was stressing this, and I wanted to please him. It seemed like he was saying it to both of us, and that was good, too. "Well, as a saying, it's never gonna beat 'a stitch in time saves nine'. But, uh, thanks."

A roar from the crowd - from Do'nar, whom I suspect had settled back again with his brew to chortle and watch the show now it was getting good again. "Iceflame!? Oh, hell, was that the naming ceremony?! Best one I ever saw - and the shortest, too! Iceflame! Wooo-hoo! Yes, yes, YES!!"

Do'Nar smacked his knee and laughed like an idiot. A good portion of the crowd joined him. I could only wish I knew what he was so delighted about. Jalin still seemed to be in shock; I could only hold him tightly, hope he would recover. Hope he would tell me what that name meant; it didn't seem like a critter name to me, and that's what I'd thought he would be getting.

Carson turned to her, swift as death. "You dispute, Witchwoman? For truly I know you had another name chosen." His lip curled slightly, scorn personified. "A child's name to add to a child's name. But he has found his own, and your ceremony is not needed." Then, as she gasped at him, he added in that voice of dark silk, "And truly, I think the ceremony you use to 'seal the naming rite' may also be unnecessary. Or perhaps - " Oh, that smile again, slanted toward myself and Jalin. "Perhaps the wizard may seal the boy's name quite well enough."

She gaped at Carson. Turned six shades of crimson, as the implacable god in his eyes burned down on her like a foe that could not be defeated. Then she knelt, and whispered so I could barely hear, "I knew it. I'm sorry. I wanted to keep him from harm."

"And the wizard, too? Not possible." Still, he reached out and touched her head gently, forgiving. "Up, woman. There is a ceremony you need to perform." He touched the heavy soft feather of unbound hair at his temple lightly. Shot me a teasing look that - oh. Oh, wow.

"Betrothal!!" Do'nar yelled, right on top of things as always even in his drunken state. "About time! Get on with it, Witchwoman! Time to get this party on the road, gods damn me! And then on to some serious drinking!"

"Silence, Bear. You are loud." But Carson's tone made it almost a compliment, and Do'nar grinned in delight as the rest of the crowd hooted at him. And then Smitty was swaying to her feet, waxen-pale, and Carson was gesturing me closer. I pulled Jalin with me; shit, by now I needed his support as much as he needed mine. And there was no protest from anyone, so I assumed it was okay.

Smitty came to me first. Staring into my eyes, hers trying desperately to tell me something, but I just couldn't get it. Quickly, she grabbed the loose frond of hair at my temple and separated it into three parts. "We are gathered here to bond thee to another of the tribe," she said hoarsely, her voice almost frightened. "One who has chosen thee, as that one who will complete him in love, and trust, and passion." Her fingers moved faster than thought, braiding and clipping one part of my hair into a thin long rope. "For the seed of passion is desire - " Another quick braiding, clipping. "And the seed of trust is honesty. And the seed of love is courage. So mought it be, between you. For as long as the gods allow, may your love be blessed, your passion strong, your trust invincible."

Oh, good grief. Fucking romance. Well, what had I expected from a wedding ceremony? Jalin was still holding my hand, and staring at me with a look that nearly broke my heart. Lost, and lonely, proud and withdrawn all at once. Smitty paid him as little attention as if he were across the village. Maybe she was so shook, she didn't even notice.

"And after the Time of Waiting, may the seeds grow in splendor." She hesitated. "As the Gods will!" She snapped it out defiantly, staring straight at Carson, who smiled at her cryptically and bent his head so she could braid him also.

She did so, quickly and efficiently, and I got the feeling she would've loved to have yanked his hair out if she dared. And although the ceremony was simple enough to almost not be ceremonial, I felt the quick sweet rush of magic between us as she finished and knew it to be real. Silly and romantic and real.

I'd not forgotten Jalin, but I hadn't realized he'd feel the beat of power also. And now he jerked his hand free of mine with some Rider's oath that might have been vicious if his voice hadn't been half tearful.

Carson stepped from the circle of stones and had Jalin in an embrace before he could even think of running again. It seemed only natural for me to step forward and join them, hold and be held by them both.