Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #19 October 2015 | Page 35

smooth sandy floor. It contained a small fireplace, a few carved hand tools, and a pile of skins for sleeping. The news of his arrival must have spread, because there was a pile of wood ready for the fire, a hollowed out tree stump container of fresh water, and a small bunch of wild flowers in the middle of the sandy floor. “I know it’s nothing like the comforts of Elannort, but I’m sure you can be comfortable here for a while. I’ll leave you to settle in. Ju should be along very soon. I’m sure you’ll want some privacy to get acquainted.” Mandred turned to leave. “Mandred, thank you,” Simon said. “Before you go, could you answer one question?” Mandred paused and looked back. “If I can.” “When was I, I mean he, when was he here before? How long has he been gone?” “He was only here for a week. He left about three months ago. But he gave me a message from Dammar that he would return. I will see you tomorrow, or perhaps later around the communal fire? Some interesting conversation would be most welcome. I only have grumpy Manfred to talk to and he’s no fun. Good night, Simon. I’m sorry it’s been a bit of a shock.” Mandred walked slowly away, leaving Simon alone in his new real estate. I suppose it’s only marginally worse than my Melbourne flat, with about as much food. Simon made sure that no one was watching and he withdrew Kin Slayer from its scabbard. Immediately the ruby in its hilt glowed and Simon felt the thoughts of the sword in his head. It was hungry. It was always hungry. “Not today, my friend. I have to hide you, until the time that you are needed. I hope you understand.” So be it. Simon crawled to the back of the cave and dug a hole in the sand. He replaced Kin Slayer in its scabbard. “Sleep peacefully, my friend, until you are called.” He buried the sword and replaced the sand, stamping it down so that there was little evidence. Sighing, he sat down on the sleeping skins and awaited his fate. After a while, he lay down and rested his eyes. Before long, he dozed off. In his dreams, he was back in Melbourne. He was married to Juliana and they had a house in the suburbs. He was a General Practitioner and building a successful practice. Juliana was pregnant. He was going to be a father. He was happy; everything was perfect. Then it all changed in an instant. Juliana was walking along the footpath. A vehicle came down the street at high speed. It mounted the footpath and mowed her down. He rushed to her, but she died in his arms before he could tell her how much he loved her. As he looked up, he saw the car driver grinning at him. It was Dring. Simon screamed. A small hand was insistently tugging at his arm. Simon woke up, the dream fresh in his mind. It took him several moments to remember where he really was. He thought that he was just moving from one dream to another. Ju sat next to him on the bed skins. She was looking at him intently, gazing deep into his eyes. The eyes captivated him. They were of the purest blue and contrasted with her pale skin. He had seen similar eyes before and the thought brought him only pain. Her hair was jet black, very long, and very straight. It was still damp. She had clearly been down to the icy river in his honour. Her face seemed different to the other members of the tribe. Their faces seemed round and podgy. Ju’s face was longer and thinner, almost elfin in shape. She stood up. She was not very tall, perhaps five feet. She was slender, tiny; she looked like she might be blown away in a strong wind. The spring sun was setting in a fiery display. Their cave faced west, and the red light flowed into their cave. Ju slipped off her clothes and stood before him, framed in rouge. Her breasts were small and flat, topped with tiny brown nipples. Her belly, almost certainly normally flat, bulged now with the life growing inside it. It gave her a sexy look. Her pubic hair grew from her navel and was long and jet-black. It was matched by long tufts that hung from beneath her arms. Her arms and legs also had a light covering of dark hair. Simon had been brought up in a culture where women had little or no body hair. Here was a wo