Skipping Star

The Felinari'i paced, delineating the circular perimeter of his room, and the stone walls that formed his prison. He burned with fever, but his ample body was cool. The warmth existed only in his mind, an unsettling condition he could not explain. Ba'sir halted. His internal rhythms told him it was night, although he knew that outside the walls of the temple, the sky was blue and the sun bright. The panther rubbed his thick black chin, contemplating the oddness that arose from living on a world that possessed a day twice as long as his biology preferred. It kept his mind diverted from the tenseness that had robbed him of sleep and rest. "I wish Tir'shan were here," he complained, his reverie fading. "I wonder how he fares on Third Earth. He has not been gone long, yet each moment I anticipate his return. When will I be free of this world, and my obligations to the people?"

Go into the town, a voice deep with his soul suggested. You need diversion. A fine meal, and a soft body. Leave the mystics to their healing and their Goddess.

"No."

You're afraid, the inner one scolded.

"Never," he growled.

Of Ryndi.

"I don't know why," he admitted, dropping onto his bed, listening to wood groan in protest. The furniture had not been designed for one of his girth. "One day, I'll find myself on the floor," he grumbled.

The hem of his green caftan brushed the stones. His eyes drifted to the chest near the glowing hearth. Zak'shan, the young atdira'savi who had befriended him, had brought the container. With the arrival of the chest, he had gained the privilege and comfort of wearing his own clothing without having to resort to magic. "I just wish that the serpents would tell Zak where they have hidden my spacecraft. Damn the asira'savi to the seven hells," he sniped, annoyed at the power the creatures exercised over him and his people. "We will all be happier on Third Earth than here, for only then will we be free of their machinations."

Ba'sir reached for a stick from the pile near his bed. He considered throwing it onto the dwindling fire, but changed his mind. A soothing bath in a hot spring would suit me, he suddenly decided. Heat to draw away the heat. He slapped his right thigh. "I will find that retreat near the mountains that the snarf showed to me on the map," he said forcibly as he rose.

His stomach rumbled, for many hours had passed since his last meal. I need to relax more than I need food or sex, he thought. He searched the top drawer in the nightstand by the bed. "Ah!" he exclaimed, bringing the map to light. "The poison will soon leave my body," he added with a hearty laugh of triumph.

*****

The wind had risen, and billowed Ba'sir's black cloak, making the panther appear larger than he was. He glanced at his roughly sketched map. He had not found the path through the forest that lead to the mountains and the inviting spring. The way he currently followed was his own, but the narrow trail had stopped abruptly. I need to rest, and find a spot to do some thinking, he decided, only peripherally admitting his failure. The sunlight filled a clearing ahead. Moving forward with determination, he pushed through the brush and the colorful leaves that had fallen.

He discovered a lake. "At least I can have a swim." He checked the position of the sun. "Day when it is night! As with other worlds I have visited, I will never get used to that. It's best to return after my little bath. No telling where that spring is hidden. Next time I will take a guide," he promised himself. He sat on a flat stone, and began to undress. "Hope the water is not too cool," he hissed to himself.

After making a neat pile of his clothing, he walked to the edge of the lake. Gingerly he put one foot into the water. He tapped the two vertical lines of white fur that patterned his black torso. "Tepid is fine," he said before ambling forward. When the level had deepened sufficiently, he began to swim. Long, even strokes drove the pressures of the day from his body. Ba'sir reached the center of the lake and floated serenely, a great black mound adrift in a comforting mix of light and warmth.

"Seems pleasant enough," a melodic voice purred from above.

The mage splashed, and quickly righted himself, annoyed at his lapse of watchfulness. Ba'sir looked to the rock barrier that framed one end of the lake. Atop the stones stood a tall figure. The slight curves of hips and breasts marked his slender, naked visitor as female. He swiftly noted the night blackness of her fur, and the angular, short mane favored by panther females.

She turned slightly sideways, and displayed her most unique feature. Her tail moved in a slow, serpentine manner that matched the rhythm of her hand as she absently stroked her flat abdomen. "Mind if I 'join' you," she said, deliberately delighting in the suggestive wordplay with a smile. She didn't wait for the reply locked in his throat, and dove into the water.

Run, Ba'sir! his inner voice commanded. There is danger in this one. The mage paid his guardian no heed. His attention had locked onto each graceful stroke that the pantheress made as she approached. His body, although mostly hidden by water, had already revealed the effect she had upon him.

The pantherine vision slowed, and floated before him. "Myr'an'dra", she said softly, giving him the gift of her name.

"'Skipping Star'", he said softly, deepening his voice as he recited the meaning of her ancient name. His eyes carefully traced the pattern of her face. High cheekbones complimented her straight nose and delicate chin. Her eyes were almond-shaped and exotic, their greenness shifting because of the play of light and shadow. "Fine stones," he finally heard himself sigh like a young love-stricken male.

His conscience growled, You don't care for thin females anyway. Get a nice meaty one whose bones won't stab you when you love her. For all the gods, flee!

"No," Ba'sir answered calmly, "you leave."

"If you insist," the female replied with a pout.

"No! Not you," the panther exclaimed suddenly, the thought of her departure slaying the maddening internal dialogue that had plagued him. "I meant to say...."

"What?" Myr'an'dra asked lazily, swimming in a circle around him.

"I've forgotten," Ba'sir said, the unanticipated desire that had come upon him, both wanted and unwanted, causing him to throb with uneasiness.

"You're a fat one," Myr'an'dra remarked, her dark eyes flickering with interest and appraisal. "A nice big cushion. Is the rest of you...so thickly blessed?"

He couldn't help but smile. "You could find out, if that is your wish."

Her circles around him became smaller, bringing her closer. "Your name. You still haven't given it to me."

"Ba'sir," he said without thought, casting away the first law of magic and reason that he had learned.

Myr'an'dra swam up to him, and put her hands against his broad chest. She squeezed his fleshy breasts hard.

"Easy," he gasped, surprised by the sharp pain and her boldness.

She quickly wrapped her legs around his wide waist as she held onto his shoulders. "Will you let me feed your fire?" she asked innocently.

"As much as you wish," Ba'sir panted, amazed at the augmentation of his desire and the fading of his will.

"Good," she murmured, finding his thick lips, and surveying his tongue with her own. She explored his mouth until he began to gulp for lack of air.

"Enough," he choked, embarrassed that he had surrendered the contest first, and chiding himself for a lack of conditioning he had not expected of himself.

She leaned forward on his chest, and as a result, pushed him further into the water. "Take a deeper breath. You'll need it." The pantheress moved swiftly, expertly upsetting his balance and submerging him. With a strength her slender form belied, she dragged him to the bottom of the clear lake. Freeing him, she held onto a rock, then presented herself. She appreciated not only the uniqueness of the circumstance, but the geometry of his size. The merchant gazed past her firm buttocks and between her legs, her black petals calling to him.

Ba'sir anchored his feet on some smaller stones. He grabbed the female's hips. For an instant he worried about the thickness of his form, but her deep chamber, ready and inviting, accommodated him easily as he entered her from behind.

The deprivation of oxygen served to heighten his pleasure. The line of his vision began to blur as the reserves in his lungs faded. He increased the speed of his strokes until he thought that he would faint. With his remaining strength, Ba'sir pushed against the rocks, and sent himself and his alluring companion upward. Water sped past them both, a dizzying blur of whirling fluid. They broke the surface and roared in climax together.

Myr'an'dra's heart beat steadily beneath his hands, which supported her lightly at waist and breasts. Ba'sir buried his face in her short, thick mane. "Wonderful," he said between breaths, his chest heaving from his exertions.

The female freed herself from his embrace, swam in a tight circle, then faced him.

"Want more?" she asked without effort, her breathing neither labored or rapid, much to the merchant's jealousy.

"I am very greedy," he replied, aiming for smoothness, but hearing the false notes in his breathy delivery.

She edged closer, and whispered, "Your size tells me that."

The sunlight on the water sparkled strangely; the air had thickened with heat and a spicy fragrance that made him ravenous. The pantheress swam away from him. Ba'sir reached for the retreating figure. "More," he demanded in a drained voice that sounded so unlike his own in its weakness and its want.

"Come to me," she teased, "and you will be fed."

He knew that he would obey her without question, and began to swim in her direction, his rational mind screaming for him to do otherwise, but his emotions binding him to his desire.

A rock flew across the water with a piercing whistle. The projectile grazed the panther's shoulder, and drew blood. Ba'sir howled, "What in the seven hells!", and pawed at his wounded flesh.

A short figure standing on the shore shouted at him in anger. The noise pained his ears for something within himself did not wish to hear the words. "In the name of V'sri'sar release him!"

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The air cooled. Ba'sir put his hands to his brow in confusion, for it seemed that a gauzy veil had lifted from his eyes. He turned about quickly, and searched for Myr'an'dra, but discovered that she had vanished. He had no time to contemplate the mystery for he recognized the newcomer. "Ryndi!" he snarled. "That interfering priest!" Discomposure blossomed into rage. The merchant swam to the shore. He emerged from the lake, a leviathan of destruction, his uncertain feelings about the hermaphrodite muted by the intensity of his emotions. He towered over the Li'am'ra, his hands bunched into destructive fists.

"She is one who draws the magic, like you. It is her place to learn your weaknesses and your strengths," the snow leopard said with surprising calm. "There are many intrigues within the court. Watch yourself, Ba'sir."

The priest's cloak of serenity spread its protection to himself, and smothered the flames of his outrage. The merchant became acutely aware of his nakedness before someone who had reached through the walls that he kept around himself by merely being herself.

The snow leopard knew his heart, and from the slight tilt of her head, he knew that she had registered the change in his feelings. She suddenly reached forward and traced one of the white stripes on his torso, and the merchant shuddered as if an electrical current had coursed through his body. "One day you must tell me about these marks," she remarked.

The merchant closed his eyes, for the scrutiny of the priest had stripped him of his confidence. Only in his blindness could he find his voice and reply. "Tell me all you can about Myr'an'dra."

The answer drifted to him across a distance. "When you come to dinner," the Li'am'ra answered sweetly.

Ba'sir opened his eyes, and saw the hem of her yellow robe disappear behind the trees. The merchant sighed. All I wished for was a pleasant bath in a warm spring, he thought wearily. In my stupidity, all I gained was a new enemy, new worries, and new obligations.

"Gods damn my ignorance!" he shouted. Ba'sir quickly bent over, fetched a rock, the hurled it into the lake. The stone skipped the waters for some time before sinking. "Don't think you have won Myr'an'dra. My secrets are not that easily discerned. Next time, it will be you who will succumb."

For an instant he thought he heard a ripple of laughter. "No mercy, Myr'an'dra," the merchant whispered.