4. Mates

SITARA

“There is a difference?”  

“Yes…. I agreed to marry you because…”   I paused briefly.  “War is coming and only by uniting our tribes will our people survive the coming darkness.  If our people do not stand together, we will be wiped out of existence.  Besides…  I've been dreaming  about you since I was a little girl.  You and I are meant to be.”  

He walked towards me.  Standing in front of me, he touched my cheek gently.  “Your eyes… Your eyes are like a shimmering silver color.  Why am I not frightened by this?  And why do I feel like I already know you when we’ve never met.  Have we known each other before?”  He asked, cocking his head to the side.  

“Yes, many times.”  

“But we've never met?”  

I leaned my face into his hand as I answered, “A spirit lives in many disguises.  Our souls recognize each other.  We will meet in every lifetime.  You are the yang to my yin.  We balance each other.”  

“You've seen this?  Us…?”  

“Yes.”  He pulled me into his arms and kissed me gently.  I got a vision of Johan and I, different faces, different ages, across many lifetimes, yet always us, embracing, laughing, loving.  Our children… Our grandchildren….  Generation after generation, we are reborn to find each other.  To love each other.  He turned my body so that my back was now facing him and started undoing the laces and tiny buttons.  Some of the ladies in the tribe had helped me with the dress.  I never would’ve been able to wear it otherwise, unless I didn’t mind walking around with the back gaping open. When we stood naked before each other, there was no shyness, no embarrassment.  We’ve been here before, we've danced this dance countless times… we know each other, always have and always will.  Johan led me to the bed and climbed in.  He reached a hand out to me, which I took as I joined him on the makeshift bed.  He kissed me gently, sweetly, running his hands all over my body.  My body warmed all over.  As is customary in my tribe, I took him in my hand and guided him into my body.  Though we are married, we are not yet bonded.  The woman chooses whether or not to accept or reject the man as her mate.  Even at this stage, I can refuse by not consummating the marriage.  

“I accept you as my mate and my love.”  I said, gasping as I lowered myself onto his body.  There was a sharp pain and it stole my breath for a minute, then Johan put his hands on my hips. 

“My mate, my love, my life.”  He said and pushed in deeper.  I squirmed and shuddered at the foreign sensation of being filled.  It felt a bit like being ripped apart.  But all thoughts flew out of my head as he sat up and pulled me against his chest for a scorching kiss.  His caresses ignited my passion.  His hands touched every part of my body.  He cupped my breast, taking it into his mouth, his tongue curled around the nipple and my back bowed of its own accord.  He held me in place, guiding our pace and our bodies moved in perfect harmony.  The feeling was exquisite.  Every muscle in my body drew taut, as he took his time and gently made love to me.  My body unraveled and spasmed around him.  A few more thrusts later, he groaned in my ear as he found his own release. 

I've heard some of the village women talk of the marriage bed, but none said it was anything like this.  How do married people get anything done when they could just stay in bed all day doing this.  Now I understood why some of the newly married couples would sometimes hold up in their huts for days after their joining.  Why they were always looking for a reason to touch, and why many of the women blushed whenever their mates looked at them a certain way.  

As we lay, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking, Johan reached towards the floor.  His hand reappeared with a dagger in it which he handed to me, hilt first.  

“I got this from a soothsayer from one of my many travels.  I was walking around a market-place in some faraway desert. I don't remember exactly where, an old woman came up to me, a gift for your new bride, she said, handing me this knife.  I told her I was not betrothed, she smiled and said you will be, give it to your bride on your wedding night, she'll know what to do with it.  I took the knife.   

The sheath looked old, I mean really old, like centuries old.  It was covered in what looked like runes.  I didn’t recognize any of them, the sheath and knife were beautifully crafted.  The blade was about thirteen inches long and the hilt was shaped like a fox wound around a triquetra.  I balanced the blade on one finger, watching as it swayed a little then stayed put.  There was an inscription on the blade.  I ran my finger over the inscription.  It was beautiful, a cursive and slanting type of written words. 

“I don't know what it says.  I can't read it.  The language is not familiar.”  Johan said. 

Though I am unable to read the ancient language, I could feel the words resonating in my soul.   

“It says Eternally yours!”  I replied.  

Johan and I lay under the furs, cuddling and talking about our childhood.  He has been taught the politics of being a laird and how to fight since he was six.   

“My visions started when I was five.  While all the other kids my age played and chased each other around, I would sit and have conversations with people no one else could see.  My grandfather noticed and took me into an elders’ meeting and announced that I would be our tribe’s next shamaness.”  I stopped speaking as I remembered that fateful day.  

“What happened?”  He prodded gently.  

“The elders were about to reject the idea when I started speaking to someone standing behind one of them.  Some looked at me in fear but most were intrigued.”  

“Has no one done that before?”  He asked, making small lazy circles on my arm, giving me goosebumps. 

“Not as far as I knew, and definitely not in another language.”  

“Ahh”  

“After my private conversation, I turned to one of the elders and said, she wants me to repeat word for word.”  One of the elders started speaking.   

“Who wants you to…..”  He started.. 

“But I didn't let him finish, you were always a stubborn old fool Andreas.”  He watched me with a stunned look on his face as I continued, "this child is already a shamaness whether you like it or not, albeit she needs some training.  She possesses untapped powers, powers that will need channeling.  I had hoped you would be a shaman, but I've been shouting in your ear for years and you've never heard me.  She is our people’s only hope."  

I turned to the old woman and asked, What’s a shamaness? 

 “What did Andreas say?”  

“He was stupefied like every other person in attendance.  Without thinking about it, I reached out and took the old woman’s hand.  Then suddenly, everyone could see her as she became solid.  After that day, everyone in the village treated me differently.  It was also the first time I realized that I have an affinity with the dead.”  

“How so?”  

“As it turned out, the old lady was Andreas’ great-grandmother, Brana and she was our tribe’s previous shamaness, our tribe’s only shamaness.  And she's been dead for more than half a century.”  

“Uhh..”  

Johan turned and kissed my forehead gently.  

“Sitara is a beautiful name.”  He said out of nowhere.  

“It means Starlight.  According to my father, on the morning I was born, there was a shooting star across the horizon.”   

“It suits you.  A beautiful name for an aife.”  

“Aife?”  

“It means beauty, a great warrior, a woman of myth.”  I kissed him and we made love again, unhurriedly learning each other’s bodies.  Laying in each other’s arms, Johan was lovingly stroking my hair when we gasped at the same time.  He sat up and waved his left hand in the air.  He stopped shaking his hand and looked down at it.  There was a faint outline of scroll work wrapped around his ring finger.  I reached over to take his hand and realized I had the same design on my hand.  We looked into each other’s eyes.