Deeds of the Iridescent

I

There weren't always dragons in the Valley.

When Pyta, grand master of the Iridescent Order, ruled, the few beasts who dared venture so far south were met by his merciless wrath; and for many years, no others followed. Yet when Pyta fell ill, the inhabitants of the Valley were convinced the dragons would return.

Pyta was confined to his sickbed, as if those beasts in the north had conjured the specter of death to haunt his waning hours and days. And so his most faithful disciple Rojin the Tenth, known also as Jinx, traveled a great distance to visit him and pay his respects.

Pyta, the old man, was pleased. He sent all of his attendants, nurses, handmaidens, and even his heartsick concubines, out of his bedchamber and had the door secured before he sat down to speak with Jinx, because they had matters of the utmost importance to discuss beyond simple tributes or reminiscences of better days gone by.

“You honor me with your presence,” the old man said to his disciple.

Jinx bowed his head. “Pateras, I pledge myself to you as always, my wealth, world, and loyalty are yours for the asking. I bring wishes for your recovery and whatever comfort and support I might provide.” And he kissed the old man’s hand.

“Your words are appreciated,” Pyta said. “And your demonstrations of devotion make my heart glad. Too long have you been absent from my side, but know you are ever present in my thoughts. This ordeal may be my last, in truth, and even if I survive it I will be weakened for a time. So, there are items we must discuss and matters we must decide.”

Jinx seemed wounded by those earnest words, but did not protest. “My attention is yours also.”

“You have grown powerful in our ways since your youth,” the old man continued. “Even moreso than I. I confess that years ago I wondered if you might use your powers to replace me as grand master, as potent as you had become. I am certain you would have done well in such a position, with as many faithful disciples as I have enjoyed. But you never wavered, and your loyalty has always been steadfast. If I have not expressed my heartfelt gratitude for such devotion properly in the past, allow me to do so now in this trying hour, and know your affection for me is returned in kind, tenfold.”

Jinx was moved. “What power I possess has come from you, Pateras. Your wisdom has always been sound, your judgment righteous, and your courage undoubted. So no such betrayal ever even rose in my mind, and my devotion to you remains well-earned. Remember I was not born into this order and vocation, but entered it only by chance. No rank above disciple at your knee would thus be proper for me.”

“Not so,” Pyta said. “We may pass down our esoteric lore to our progeny, but many of them fail to perform their destined roles. Whereas you have surpassed them all, uncertain though your bloodlines might be. So you could become a grand master one day, after I have departed. A great council will be called at that time and a ballot taken, and you shall doubtless have the support of the ones over whom I wield influence. In that same spirit, I wish to offer you a most precious gift, as a token of my confidence. Assuming your household is not yet complete, I want you to take my youngest daughter Lesse to be your own.”

Jinx was quite surprised. “She is but a child.”

“When you saw her last perhaps,” Pyta said. “But she has matured into a fine young woman, as tall as I, with her mother’s fair face and sharp mind. She has been instructed in our ways, and my most trusted handmaidens have tutored her in the sacred arts of the order. Suitors from the various clans have inquired about her often for the past year, and a few brave souls have even traveled here to visit and catch a glimpse of her beauty, but I have allowed no promises to be spoken or claims made. Too many of these boys are mere idlers awaiting an inheritance, who know little of the order’s true purpose and prefer to avoid its demands, for whom she would be but a trophy or means for advancement. Few would pass any test of integrity, and I will not allow her to belong to any man who is not trustworthy and proper.”

Jinx felt reluctant, though. The old man spoke not as a grand master but a father, proud and protective. The image he himself had of the girl Lesse from his own memory was that of a shy and awkward child, pink-cheeked and bright-eyed, always listening and ever silent. He found it difficult to envision her as the coveted blossom Pyta described, though he knew from experience the great sculptor time had the power to transform weaklings into warriors and mountains into mounds, so no such extreme alteration was beyond it.

“She remembers you and asks about you often,” the old man continued. “She has reached the age where she must navigate her way in the world and face the challenges and initiations of our order, perhaps without my guiding hand should death decide to take me, so it is my heartfelt desire that you honor this request. You may reunite with her and speak and form the necessary bond before you make your claim, if you wish. Escort her to my garden enclave, where she has never been permitted to set foot, and she will be enthralled as she is with all such things forbidden and mysterious. The handmaidens have taught her well, so the requirements of a visit to such a place should be no great ordeal for her. I wish naught but gladness, prosperity, and dreams fulfilled for the two of you for many years, my faithful disciple.”

Jinx was intrigued, and he could not refuse such a gracious offer from his bedridden mentor, to whom he had gladly surrendered his allegiance. So he knelt before the old man with his head bowed once more.

“I remain your loyal servant.”

***

In a candlelit parlor down a winding staircase, Lesse waited with a handmaiden for her intended.

Following his visit with Pyta, Jinx appeared there for that arranged reunion, directed to that place by the old man. He gazed upon the girl, whose face he had not seen for a half-dozen years, and he was pleased. Her father’s description of her beauty had been no grand exaggeration. Her flesh was pale as cream, her large eyes blue as a summer sky, her lips full and painted pink, and her face the shape of a perfect teardrop. Her hair was shorn close on the sides but thick on top with piles of loose curls. He imagined she could indeed inspire longing and dreamy desire amongst the boys of her age in the order.

She stared back at him as if transfixed and started to rise the moment he entered the room, before her handmaiden gave her a subtle sign to keep her seat. When he approached, the opposite indication was relayed by a silent nod of her head, so Lesse stood and extended her hand for a proper greeting. He grasped it tenderly and kissed it briefly, with a bow of the head.

“I am far beyond pleased to be in your presence again.”

She blushed a bit. “For me the same, only moreso,” she replied, in a voice high-pitched but no less appealing to the ear. It was a phrase he appreciated, of which her handmaiden did not appear to approve.

So he turned to the older woman and offered his hand. “Greetings, dear lady, and my gratitude. The grand master informs me you have served as young Lesse’s tutor, and by his glowing words and all visible evidence your efforts have been quite successful indeed.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied in a mumbled tone, as if unaccustomed to speaking to any visitor to the household.

“Pyta requests you return upstairs to his bedchamber now to see what he requires. We have no need of your services at the moment, but we shall call if and when we do.”

The handmaiden was reluctant to abandon her prized pupil there with a man of uncertain character and unexpressed motives, but she did as instructed and exited the room. Once their chaperone had departed, Jinx took the opportunity to give lovely Lesse a more familiar embrace befitting old friends long parted. She smelled of flowers and sweet spices, which he found quite appealing.

“I would not have recognized you, save for those same bright eyes and pink cheeks. Your father said your beauty has driven young men to great lengths for but a glimpse, and I believe every word.”

She looked away, as if the shy and awkward child had suddenly returned. “You are too kind,” she whispered, made reticent by her handmaiden’s absence or such obvious flattery. A moment later, though, she seemed emboldened and spoke in a clear voice with no hint of coy pretense. “Do you intend to claim me now?”

She had no use for extended flirtations, he supposed, or her present state of unease had made her impatient, possibly. “In due time, perhaps. You and I must become reacquainted, to make up for the years since we were together last. We must visit wondrous places and share intense experiences.”

She seemed disappointed, as if what he described would take much longer than she preferred. “As you wish,” she relented.

“Shall I show you a trick taught to me by a wise elder of the order on one of my travels?”

“Please do,” she replied, with a practiced flutter of her lashes.

The two of them sat on the wooden bench, and he grasped one of her pale tender hands and turned it palm upwards. “We must locate the six centers of energy and name them.” He used his fingertips to trace lines on her soft palm as if seeking those centers, though he knew precisely where they were. “Oras, Mamdroy, Mamsin, Gynevive, Drex. And the final one, Cortrig.” With his opposite hand, he used one finger to tap the proper spot on the back of her hand, which would cause the trick to be completed in dramatic fashion.

She enjoyed the Trance of Six Heartbeats then, the signs of which he identified readily. Her eyes closed, a half-dozen brief tremors passed through her body, and her mouth emitted a guttural sighing whine against her will. When her eyes opened again, she appeared to be waking from a long deep sleep, and she smiled.

“Shall we attempt the same on your other hand?”

“Yes, please,” she quickly replied, her desire for another such trance quite apparent.

“Or shall we take a nice tour of the grounds? Your father requested the two of us inspect his garden enclave, to appreciate the beautiful blooms now in season.”

She was torn, though the choice was clear. Another brief dose of the ecstasy provided by his simple trick would have been immediate and pleasurable, but the temptation of a visit to her father’s private sanctuary was a lifelong dream previously denied her.

That sacred location was more than a mere display of lovely flowers and rare plants, after all. It was the order’s center of energy, in her mind, where its most secret arts were practiced and its followers’ true characters were revealed through specific rituals and precise requirements, which she had studied diligently as part of the course of education offered her by the grand master’s trusted handmaidens. She understood what would be expected of her should they venture into the forbidden then, and she still craved the opportunity to do so.

“The garden sounds like a delightful idea,” she said, attempting to disguise her obvious glee.

***

At the gate to the garden, never locked but rarely opened, Lesse paused and considered what lay beyond.

She was apprehensive and uncertain, after so many years of imagining that scene, as well as exactly how she would perform her part, down to the very gesture and word. She had not pictured her escort, though, and his presence caused her sense of anticipation to become a case of paralyzing nervousness. She still wished to enter that sacred place, but she needed to be prepared before she passed through the gate.

Jinx stood near her. “Do you know the requirements of the garden?”

“I have read them many times,” she replied, reminded of the endless hours of study under the handmaidens’ tutelage. “‘The fair shall acquire a state of nativity, in mind and body Edenic, lest their passage be denied’.”

She knew it by heart. “Do you require assistance, or shall we venture elsewhere?”

In her mind, she was the intrepid and energetic girl of her youthful imaginings, but the present circumstance had frozen her with doubt. She was familiar with the rest of the vast property, which could not compare to the mysterious garden enclave she longed to visit. She could not continue under her own power, though, so she turned her back to him and held her arms out, as a tacit plea for his aid in transforming her.

He did not pause to demonstrate any reluctance or lack of will, but with confidence and care he undressed her. In a manner unlike the clumsy and lust-filled boys she knew, nor with the deliberate reverence of her handmaidens, he removed her outer garments while she remained nearly motionless. He even knelt to take off her hard-soled shoes in turn, and then ably freed her of her underclothes, both loose-fitting and tight. She was then inspired to remove the few pieces of jewelry she wore herself, undoing simple clasps or plucking off rings, since the Edenic ideal she had cited required those worldly items to be abandoned before trespassing in paradise, as well.

Rendered bare as the day of her birth, she felt suddenly brave and gamely entered the garden ahead of her escort, desperate to see that sacred place she had dreamt of for so many years. Beyond the gate was a lush green wonderland nearly as beautiful as she imagined it. Arranged in intricate patterns were more beds of flowers than she could identify, creating a rainbow of colors that dazzled the eye. Hedges had been expertly pruned to make a topiary of animal shapes from the world of myths and distant lands.

A golden throne, for the grand master himself, sat at the far end. Along a narrow path that wound amongst the splendor stood grand statues, which were the most magnificent to her eye. Large pieces of marble and stone seemed to spring from the beds of bright blossoms like living beings. Each one depicted a similar scene from the lore of the order: her father, Pyta the Powerful, battling a dragon in single combat. Various artists must have created those artworks, in a variety of styles. Some were graceful in form and line, with her heroic father rendered as young and muscular; others were terrifying, with the dragon’s teeth and talons carved in great detail. All of them were inspiring; yet none represented the genuine event, which had passed into legend many years before her own birth.

Jinx followed her inside, also admiring the view, though his eyes never left her exposed form. Her nude body was another masterpiece, tall and lean, with flesh as pale and unblemished as the finest handwoven silk fabric. Her hind end was a paragon of symmetry, which looked sculpted of alabaster. Her legs were slender and quite firm. As she stood and stared in awe at the glorious garden, he gladly gazed upon her with the same appreciation.

Lesse, entranced by the beauty of those surroundings, at last turned to look back at her escort. He had not undressed himself before passing through the gate, though. He had violated the requirements of that sacred place, she believed. As she correctly quoted, those rules from an ancient text applied only to the “fair”, which must not have meant the “just” but merely the “female”, as the fairer of the genders. So he was exempt from that particular test of will, it seemed.

She faced him, suppressing the urge to cover her nakedness, allowing his eyes to feast upon her true native self. She was a work of art come to life, more appealing than any stone carving of Venus or an invading dragon. Her bosom was bountiful, with breasts like ripened fruit as pink as any blossom. Her body was shapely, ideal in its dimension, and her fair skin glowed as if a passionate fire burned within.

She wished to be touched, and he wished to touch her. So he crossed to her and embraced her again, in a manner more intimate than their polite exchange in the parlor. The texture of her tender flesh was as warm and pleasant as it appeared. He held her and moved his mouth to her ear.

“What is your desire?”

She made the same low whine as she had during the Trance of Six Heartbeats. “Shall we couple now?” she said.

“In due time, perhaps. Shall we first assess our compatibility by means of a sense bond?”

“Yes, please,” she whispered.

He pressed his mouth to hers then, so each of them could become familiar with the taste of the other. She had been kissed before, by kinsmen both distant and near, but never in that manner. Their lips parted and blended, and she felt his tongue probing and touching hers, which was a sensation she found very pleasing.

“Do you desire another trance?”

She hummed, barely able to speak. “Yes, please,” she replied.

Instead of the simple trick of his fingers locating the centers of energy on her palm, he used his hand to find them in a circular pattern on her bare back and touch each one firmly in turn. Oras, Mamdroy, Mamsin, Gynevive, Drex, she remembered. Then the last one, Cortrig, which was opposite the others and lay between her grand breasts, where he finally placed his palm flat to complete that routine and give her the promised reward. Instead of another Trance of Six Heartbeats, though, that one lasted ten times as long.

She stood mesmerized by that extended dose of incapacitating ecstasy, unsure how she was able to remain on her feet for the duration. He proceeded with the sense bond they had begun, which only intensified what she was experiencing already. Her trance waned, but he repeated the touch of her centers in their proper sequence to offer her a new one, so he could continue the bond.

As that second trance faded, she felt lightheaded and weak, as if she had slept for days. He was there, standing again, to hold her up before her legs buckled and she collapsed. Her mind was hazy and she could not speak, not even to express her gratitude for those twin trips to wonderland.

“Do you wish to be bathed now?”

She wanted to say yes, but another guttural whine was her only reply, indicating her approval. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the far wall of the garden, where there was a small fountain amongst the flower beds and marble statues. Two winged cherubs overhead poured a stream of clear water into a flat round bowl near the ground. He set her on her feet again, so she stood in the bowl up to her ankles in the water, while the stream washed down onto her nude form. It was cool but not icy, enough to bring her back to full consciousness as it struck her tender skin.

He paused only to strip off his tunic and undershirt before coming to her side. She noted his physique, which was quite ordinary compared to the paintings of musclebound heroes and carvings of mythical gods she had seen, especially for a man whose name represented great power, according to her father. Some of the younger men of the order were more fit and well-toned, by her eye, but she doubted any of them could have offered her the mind-altering pleasure of those ecstatic trances he had allowed her to experience.

He caught water in his cupped hand and brought it to her lips to drink, which she did quite gladly. Then his wet hands moved over her bare body, making her feel refreshed and clean. He helped her out of the fountain, so she could stand in the bright sunlight to dry her precious flesh, with her eyes closed and faced raised to the sky.

“Choose a pleasant place to finish the bond, if you so desire.”

She stepped towards one of the long marble seats not far away, hoping it would be comfortable enough for them to sit together. When she turned back to him, she noted that he had also removed his trousers, shoes, and underclothes, joining her in that state of nativity. She briefly gazed upon that which the handmaidens who tutored her referred to, in their peculiar way, as the “manly scepter”, presently standing proud and tall. As he and his scepter approached, her heart raced in anticipation, as she endured another bout of paralyzing apprehension.

He sat on the marble seat she had selected, and she did likewise. She wanted to touch the scepter, to feel how warm it was, but she suddenly lacked the nerve. As it had been before they entered the garden, she seemed to need assistance for the proper events to unfold as she imagined them.

“Do you wish to sample my taste?”

“I do,” she replied, yet her reticence was obvious.

Her only such previous experience was with a kind of mannequin created by her handmaidens, for her to practice those particular sacred arts of the order. He was merely a skeleton of sticks around which they had fashioned a fabric body stuffed with rags, complete with a long thick scepter of his own made from an animal bone rescued from the pantry and encased in enamel. After many hours of diligent study, she had developed a sort of perverse affection for him, but not a genuine bond. Her ragman had no voice, nor flavor, nor soul; and it was the reality of the flesh and blood that unnerved her, it seemed.

“You are fearful.”

“No,” she replied. “My only fear is in causing you disappointment, after you have offered me pleasures beyond imagining.”

He reached out to caress her pretty face, hoping to soothe her troubled spirit. “What do you require, as a token of my confidence?”

“Speak to me, please,” she replied. “Tell me of your grand adventures in service to the order during the years you have been away, and in exchange I promise to surrender to my cravings and provide what pleasure I am able.”

He grinned. “My duties to the order are great secrets, though, only for the ears of the high-ranking. But I have heard many excellent stories during my travels, both legendary myths and true tales of daring deeds, which I will pass on to you most gladly, if you wish.”

“Oh, I do, please,” she replied, with much anticipation.

“Then lie here with your head upon my lap. And I will attempt to occupy your mind and settle your misplaced doubts with whatever entertaining epics I can recall, as if coaxing a restless child to sleep.”

She did so, with much relief. She stretched her bare body out across the marble seat so that her head rested on his thigh.

As he began his first tale, she closed her eyes and witnessed pictures of vivid scenes whilst he spoke.