The Waterfall by R. R. Mallory

Giles jerked awake, shocked by the sight of his arm that lay like a dead snake beside him. Then he remembered, and collapsed back onto the bed, frustration and fear welling up in him like tears.

He looked around. He lay in a small, clean room, with a tiny window that allowed a smell of fresh washed linen to drift past his nostrils as he caught the faint wisp of a contented thought.

"So you're up, finally?" The words wafted in the window with the breeze. He swung his useless leg to the floor and limped outside, leaning heavily on his makeshift crutch. "You -- Bette? Healer?"

"Aye. How are you feeling?" The woman was politely avoiding his thoughts, so he touched her mind with a tentative greeting and watched her black eyes sparkle.

"You're right chipper compared to earlier, son. A regular grouch, you were."

He turned away, grasping at a vague memory of soothing thoughts, a comforting touch.   *Forgive me, I speak better inside my mind than aloud just now. What happened?*

*A tick was sucking your brain fluids out. Here at the base of your neck.*

Giles stared at the old woman, wondering if she was fooling with him. *A tick?*

*Aye! Big one it was! Leah found the pain, then we burned him off. You'll be better now.* Bette shook out a wet towel and draped it over the line.

*You mean I'll be able to walk -- to use my arm?* Lost hope exploded in his heart like a starburst.

*Now son, that I got no way of knowing. But there's hot springs here that might help, and you're welcome to stay.*

"Thank -- you." He shaped the words with lips that already seemed to be working better. *I'd heard you were the best healer around.*

*I know a bit. But I'm the best because of my daughter, Leah.*

A flicker of pain twisted the woman's round face and she glanced toward the forest.

Giles picked up sadness and fear from Bette's mind. *Is something wrong?*

She shook her head and bent to retrieve another towel from her basket.

*Leah. Was she the girl that... * Giles paused, trying to remember the waif who had greeted him when he'd stumbled out of the woods.

*Aye, she touched you and found your pain. She's my poor child.*

Giles felt the woman guard her thoughts from him, so he turned his mind away. He rubbed the back of his neck and opened his mouth to ask about the springs, but a slight figure emerging from the woods stopped him with his mouth open.

"Oh, hello." She was small, with tiny buds of breasts outlined under the sleeveless tunic she wore. Her hair was as dark as wet bark and her eyes as green as the forest. "You are better!"

*Much! Thank you for helping.*

*She can't hear you, son. She's mind blind.*

He shot a sharp glance at Bette which the girl must have seen.

She shrugged and smiled wryly. "I'm sorry," she said. "You'll have to talk out loud."

"I could . . . use . . . the practice."

"Leah, where have you been?" Giles searched for the cause of the sharp edge in Bette's voice, but all he found was a terrible fear.

"Nowhere, Mum."

"Show Giles the way to the spring, child. Just stay a few minutes today, son. Any more and you'll be too weak to walk back."

The girl walked in front of him, aimlessly catching at leaves or butterflies. As he made his halting way behind her, Giles studied her. He had been too frightened and too tired to pay much attention to anyone when he had first staggered up to the healer's cottage. When she had reached out to help him he'd glared at her, feeling a bitter satisfaction as she recoiled from his grimace like he knew she would. He knew exactly what she had seen.

Every time he looked in a glass or knelt to drink at a stream, sunken eyes stared back at him out of a face scored by deep lines. Lines that should be kept for the second half of life, etched by age and experience, not pain and desolation. The left side of his mouth sagged and his eyelid drooped.  Distracted by his thoughts, he almost bumped into her when she stopped.

"The spring is through there. I'll wait here."

As he lowered his naked body into the hot water, he could hear the girl's vague humming. She intrigued him. She was young, around seventeen years, and yet there was something about her -- a sensuality, a _knowing_, beyond her years. He closed his eyes, remembering the touch of her hand. It was as if she had drawn the pain right out of him.

The creeping paralysis which had crawled from the tips of his fingers and toes to encase his left side in a shroud of numbness already seemed to be receding, and the hot water was almost as comforting as Leah's hands. Now if the old woman was right ...

"Hey, sleepyhead! Time to get out!"

He started, disturbing the embarrassingly clear water. "Uh, right away. Could you . . . "

"Oh, sure. Excuse me!" She turned her back.

He pulled himself out of the pool using his good arm to swing his leg up onto the bank, where he struggled into his breeches. "My shirt?" He looked at Leah, who seemed to be listening to something he hadn't heard. "Leah?"

"What? Oh, here." She retrieved his shirt and started back to the cottage. Giles followed as quickly as he could, his limbs quivering with weakness.

He went to the springs every day, rejoicing as the feeling began to return to his weakened limbs. Late one afternoon, he was stopped short outside the cottage door by the sounds of angry voices.

"I told you don't go there!"

"Ah, Mum, your stories are silly! Anyway, I don't!"

"Don't lie to me child. I know! Oh, I begged the good god Lor you wouldn't be affected."

"Mum. . .!" The girl's voice was remote.

"Don't you ever let that water touch you. The bones of maidens litter the bottom of the pool. I was almost a pile of bones there myself."

"You?" Leah laughed. "I can't imagine you . . . ."

"Leah, just promise me."

Leah shrugged and turned away.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

"I'll be back for supper."

Giles stood in the shadow of the cottage as Leah skipped away.  She paused at the edge of the woods, her head raised like a deer sniffing at the breeze, then with a brief frown she disappeared into the foliage.

##

"Where is Leah?" Giles was restless. He was talking better, his leg could take some weight now, and his hand could curve around an apple like it used to curve around his bow. Soon he would be able to leave. He would be able to hunt again, and earn the money to pay Bette for his cure.

"I don't know," the old woman said in a voice tinged with panic.

*Bette?*

*Sometimes I worry about her.*

*Because of the waterfall?*

"What!" A half-scrubbed plate clattered into the dish pan as Bette whirled to stare at him. "What do you know about the falls?"

*Nothing. I just heard you talking. Is she in danger?*

Bette's florid face paled and she glanced out the window.

"Is she?" Giles demanded.

A knock at the door startled them both, and as Bette let in a woman who was complaining of stomach cramps Giles excused himself, murmuring about walking to the springs. Outside the cottage he wandered into the woods, following the path Leah had taken. The undergrowth was almost impassable to his still weak leg, but he doggedly continued.

He too was worried about the girl. As he gained strength, she seemed to be losing substance, becoming more ethereal somehow.

She would drift in and out of the cottage like a will-o'-the-wisp -- distracted, as if she followed a siren's call.

As he struggled along the overgrown path, a faraway roar reached his ears. He followed the sound to a tiny clearing. It was a waterfall about ten feet high, which dropped into a pool of bottomless blue surrounded by ferns and thickly tangled vines.  He started to step into the clearing when something caught his eye. Leah! Naked as a nymph and playing in the water.

No . . . he shook his head slowly, a queer terror tickling deep inside him.  She wasn't playing.

He watched enthralled as she swam and dove, her body torpid and graceful. She lay back, fanning her hair out behind her and running her hands down her body before letting her arms drift through the water. Then she turned and swam to the silvery cascade of the falls.

When she stood in the rush of water he almost gasped aloud. Her hair sheathed her back like a cloak, her eyes were water-starred emeralds, her skin creamy and supple as a child's as she gave herself to the waterfall. She lifted her breasts to the water as rivulets swirled about her thighs like a lover's caress. Her face turned up as if for a kiss.

Giles stood frozen with fear and desire, unable to tear his eyes  away while she swayed in a dance as old as time. No matter that her lover was no human, she was still possessed.

Suddenly she stiffened, then scratched desperately for a handhold on the rocky wall. She clutched at her throat, fighting for breath, sagging to the stone shelf. Her skin was tinged a faint, bruised blue.

Gripping his crutch like a scythe, he swung it at the underbrush, stumbling and cursing his weakness. He hauled her from the water to the fern covered bank, ignoring the searing pain on his hand as he touched the water, frantically brushing hair and scalding drops of water from her face before he bent to give her breath.

She'd acted as if the water were her lover's hands, his mouth, she'd arched her back in yielding passion to the touch of the liquid that seared his skin like hot oil wherever it touched.

As she came to full consciousness, he recoiled, not wanting to embarrass her in her nakedness. She raised one hand to shield her breast, and a faint blush marred her features for an instant,but her head kept turning toward the falls. She licked at a droplet of water on her lip like a drunkard licks at a drop of ale.

"I'll wait by the edge of the clearing," he said tightly, examining his hand which was splotched with red and stung when he flexed it.

A faint whimper drew his attention back to her. Standing, she ran her hands up and down her body, as if to rub in the last droplets of water.

Giles looked from Leah to the falls. There was something evil here, something depraved. He almost gagged, disgust shrouding him like dirt that he longed to wipe off.

She turned her head toward the waterfall and took a tentative step.

"Leah."

She cocked her head toward his voice without taking her eyes off the fall. Her tongue sought more droplets.

"Leah! Leah, we must go."

The calling of her name seemed to bring her back to reality. She scrambled up and into her clothes, her eyes downcast, her face as flushed as his burned hand, the yearning clear in every reluctant step she took as she followed him out of the woods.

##

*All right, let's hear it.* Giles sat with his hand in a cool basin of water. He sighed in relief when Bette began to talk, not even pretending she didn't know what he meant.

*It's always been there. Some say an evil wizard was imprisoned in the falls aeons ago.*

*An evil wizard? Come on!*

*It's what they say, and you can't deny that there is something evil there!*

He shook his head, defeated. No, he couldn't deny the evil.

*It lures maidens, lures them and kills them. A man can't go near or he'll be burned just like fire. For as long as I can remember, girls have been betrothed and married as soon as their cycle starts, so they won't be lost to the falls. No one lives too close to it.*

*Then what about Leah? Why hasn't she married?*

*She's mind blind. People are afraid of her! They think she's cursed.*

*That doesn't make sense. I've known mind blind people before.  They're just different, a little slow sometimes, but not cursed! There's something else, isn't there?*

Bette stood and took the basin, to fill it with fresh water.

"Isn't there!" he shouted.

"Sh-h-h! You'll wake her! We found her near there, my husband and me. I was barren, no hope of a child, and there she was. So beautiful, with her green eyes and delicate face." *Folks think she's a spawn of the falls.*

"Why didn't you leave? As you say, no one lives close to the falls, except you. Why?"

"She's always seemed less than real, always been a daydreamer. And people hurt her so badly. She feels all their pain, you know. It's a wonder she is not mad."

"Bette! If you'd left, she wouldn't be . . . like this. She'd be safe."

"I guess I hoped she wouldn't be affected by the falls, being mind blind. And this is my home. My mother was a healer too. We've always lived near the healing springs." Bette sighed and set the basin down, twisting her plump hands in her apron.

*What will happen to her?*

The old woman collapsed into a chair, throwing her apron over her head and moaning quietly. He grabbed the material and yanked it down.

"Well?"

"You saw her. You saw the effect the falls has. She will die. No maiden has ever survived being touched by the falls. No maiden ..." Bette looked at him, a glimmer of hope lighting her eyes. "You could . . ."

"Could what?" Suddenly, he received an image from Bette's mind, an image that at once stirred and repulsed him.

"No!" He stood so abruptly he turned over the chair. "You can't ask that of me!"

"Sh-h-h!" Bette rubbed her temples wearily. *It's her only chance, and not much of one at that. But I warn you, she'll likely hate you.*

He laughed. "No doubt! If I do this deed, what then? What then, old woman, when she hates you and me both? Are you sure this is the only way?"

He returned to the table, placing his hand back in the pan of cool water. He stared at his blistered flesh. What if she was a spawn of the falls? What if the waterfall attacked him, burned him. He was almost back to full strength, but he was no match for that waterfall!

"Aye," Bette said slowly.

Giles looked up at her. "You don't even know, do you? Has anyone ever rescued a maiden from the falls?" But even as he said the words, he knew he had to try. Leah, with her ethereal smile and her healing powers.

Bette stood. "I'll fetch her. She needs to eat something." She peered through the curtain, then shrieked. "Giles! She's gone!"

He vaulted out the door, driven by the panic in the old woman's voice. Running clumsily, he cursed his still weak leg, and ignored the branches that scraped his burned hand as he thrust them aside.

Then he saw her. She was moving languidly, and as he spotted her she was just about to step into the clearing. He crashed through the brush and dove, knocking her to the ground and rolling to keep from landing on top of her.

The water roared like a great beast and rained droplets over them, setting fire where they touched his body. He jerked Leah back toward the brush and away from the water. She pushed at him, whimpering.

A part of his mind marveled that his skin could be on fire while hers, wet with the same water, was cool as a rose petal at dawn.

"Leah. Leah!" He grabbed her chin and turned her head to stare into her eyes. If only he could penetrate that closed mind.  "Leah?"

For a split second her eyes focused. "Giles," she murmured, and her voice was different, seductive, as she licked drops of water off her lips. Her hands began to caress him, running her fingers down his chest and over his waist. Her body arched against his, stirring him. "Giles, do it. Now. Let's go into the water."

Her voice was breathless as she slid her tongue over his lips.

"No," he said, pulling away. "Listen to me. I'm trying to save you."

She smiled seductively, her fingers as hot as the waterfall's spray on his skin, but her head turned back toward the falls.

Her face went blank and she belonged again to the falls. Giles barely felt the searing spray as he closed his eyes for an instant.

By the God of the Hunter I swear I do not wish this! Then grimly he loosed his breeches. Shamefully, he had only to remember her standing with the water swirling around her, or lying on the grass, her breasts heaving, to easily manage what was required.

The waterfall's roar grew deafening, and searing waves from the pool rose to lap at their feet. Its touch scalded him and nourished her, giving her a strength that he wasn't sure he could match, but her desperate struggles fed his purpose too, and the rain of fiery water faded to insignificance as he finished.

Her body lay slack under his like a dying moth, tiny flutters rippling her breast. He pressed his seared cheek against her cold one for a moment, silently begging her forgiveness for the atrocity he'd committed, then rolled away.

The burning shower had stopped, the pool had calmed, and the roar of the falls had faded.

He had won. Bette was right.

Back at the cottage the old woman gathered the girl to her bosom  and put her to bed, murmuring and whispering to her as if she were a tiny baby.

Giles sat staring at the fire until the old woman returned. "It was a loathsome thing I did."

"You did what had to be done. You saved her."

"Aye. I am a hero," he said bitterly. "And now I must leave."

He stood, then swayed, dropping back into the chair and grasping his head in trembling hands.

" What you must do is let me treat those burns. Here." Bette handed him a gourd of water. "You will need lots of water until you heal."

He scowled at the gourd. "I think I will never like water again!"

##

Leah sat in a chair under the oak tree. The leaves were turning red and the sun made dappled shadows on her skin. She sat and watched the changing patterns for hours. Somehow they soothed her. Occasionally she roused herself to slap at hands that thrust food and water at her, but mostly she watched the shadows and mourned.

They had forced her to go to the springs earlier. She hadn't wanted to go, but going was easier than resisting, so she allowed them to immerse her limbs in the soothing water. She had caught a glimpse of a young sad face reflected back at her, but when she looked around the girl wasn't there. The face looked familiar, it could have been hers if it hadn't been so young. . . much too young. She was aeons older than that.

She tried to concentrate on the pattern of sunlight on her hand, tried to recapture the soothing nothingness where her mind could go and not hurt, but something kept interfering.

Then, sharp as a grass cut, pain ripped across her heart. She jerked her head up and stared into anguished grey eyes. As she stared into those clear mirrors of pain, she remembered fragments.

-- The ecstasy of the waterfall --

-- the choking and suffocating -- his breath in her mouth --

-- the sweet seductive droplets on her lips and cheeks --

-- his hard body ripping away the waterfall's spell.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and suddenly she was flooded with memories, as she had been flooded with the enchanted water. But this new flood sluiced away the sadness, rinsed the haze from her eyes, washed the languor from her limbs. She stretched, her joints sore from inactivity.

Giles watched her soberly.

"Giles! It was you."

She saw him react to what he saw in her face. He flushed and set his mouth.

"Giles," she whispered. "I understand."

His jaw dropped open, reminding her of the slack mouthed, droopy eyed man who stumbled into the clearing all those weeks ago. 

Then he smiled hesitantly, and Leah began to feel young again.

The End