Legend's Lost

Aete leaned back against the fenced enclosure, watching her exuberant young stud strut back and forth along the broodmare paddock. He had covered the mares that season and was rather proud of himself; keeping his head about himself when working rather than larking off when he scented a mare on the wind, a trick the Woads commonly used to unseat the skilled riders from their horses.
She started to chuckle as he shied and snorted when a fuzzy grey squirrel shot out from the tree 10 yards away and darted for the woods. Feeling eyes upon her back, Aete looked skyward a moment then back down to the meadow before her.
“You always were quiet for a man as large as yourself.” She turned to face Dagonet with a smile, “Why so quiet, Big Man?”
Dagonet’s blue eyes connected with Aete’s amber, his heart skipped its usual beat when they were alone together then mellowed as he gave her a nod.
“Because you – the one person who should be celebrating the day not seven days away from now – appear more anxious than I’ve seen you in years.” At 6’4”, Dagonet looked imposing if not down right angry when he was concerned and the way he looked at Aete would have horrified a stranger.
Instead, the woman merely smiled as she reached up and caressed his face affectionately.
“I have seen things my friend,” Aete dropped her hand as she turned back to her stallion, a giant of a beast blackened grey as the storm raged skies in winter with a mane and tail of liquid ebony, “My journey ends here… on this island.”
Aete had possessed the gift of sight from an early age, sharpening her senses as she got older thus making her most invaluable as a scout much less her keen battle skills that meant death for all who ran up against her. When she sensed or saw something that caused her to retain the memory out of dream state, Aete was firm, direct and unyielding in her plans. When things played out as if she hadn’t tried to change the fates at all, she knew it meant that once again, the Goddess had deemed her capable of possessing the knowledge of ones end.
Dagonet cleared his throat, fighting against the tightening threatening to stop his words much less his breath. He struggled a moment or two then sighed, “How long?”
Shrugging off the solemnity of the conversation, Aete moved from the fence toward her now sedately grazing stallion, her pace slow and deliberate.
“Who knows the answer to that, Dagonet?” She gave him a small smile, “The Goddess only curses me with half the story – the other half we’re forced to wait and see how they play out.”
His head came up as he pondered her words. Dagonet had not only served along side but tended to Aete for the 15 years since they came together as friend and comrades in arms. There wasn’t much about the woman he didn’t know, intimately or otherwise.
“You do know,” he said softly as they reached the grazing stallion, “You always know more than you share with us.”
Aete gave a tight smile then nodded toward Dagonet, “Leg up?”
Smiling back, Dag stepped up to the horse and bent one knee for her to use. He patted the tight muscle mass in his thigh, “Come on then.”
The caress along her hip to her buttocks was not missed as she settled onto Illyash’s back, making her smile a heavy lidded smile.
“Ride with me Dagonet,” she held her hand out to him, her eyes gleaming with lustful intent.

As a healer, it was his duty to soothe the body and soul of the wounded. So often Dagonet gave of his warmth, his blood or his tears in order to save the life of a fellow knight; but Aete refused it every time. She would come in to have her wounds tended then stagger out, alone and unaided while Dag was occupied with another bleeding wound. While she was grateful for his skill and knowledge, his desire to over tend to her drove her mad.
But when he was not playing the role of healer or fighter and allowed him self to be no more than a man, Aete gravitated to his quiet calm. They had come together on many occasions, each time for solace they could not find anywhere else; something that was known among them all but not discussed openly.

Dagonet pulled himself onto Illyash’s back, behind Aete as she took a handful of mane into her fist. Leaning back and turning her head just enough to look at him, Aete stroked Dagonet’s cheek, “I’ve never known you to deny me Big Man.”
Sliding his arm around her waist, Dagonet pressed his lips to her ear, “Not while I breathe.”
“Hang on.” Aete nudged her stallion toward the fence, pleased when he cleared it with only the slightest of grunts. She started to laugh when Dagonet tightened his grip just enough to keep from falling off as the large horse landed and pounded toward the tree line; toward their sacred spot to recharge and renew one another in spite of a truth waiting to unfold.