Paul Decelle ~ The Source

Shadowdancer Chapter 29

part of: Shadowdancer

by Carrie Radna

The De’aiîo’ eating area was one of the places on the way to the garden. As they paused to check it out, Frieda understood why humans were not permitted to eat with healers: the entire room was within a waterwall. She saw them sitting and mingling with each other as they ate, which made her even more famished.

“How much farther to the garden?” she asked Kenjaon as they were leaving the establishment.

“It’s the door at the end of the hall,” he promised. The sea green colored door was as tall as the ceiling. A round brass handle was at Frieda’s eye level; it reminded her of a nose for a very large beast.

“There’s no doorknob,” she thought out loud.

“No cause for alarm. Just grab the handle and knock it twice,” he told her calmly. “I will let you do the honors.”

“Thanks,” she replied. Rubbing her palms together to warm them up, she raised her right arm and took the brass handle in her hand then knocked on the door two times. She stood back, lowering her arm. Nothing happened.

“Should I do it again?” she asked Kenjaon.

“No. It takes it short while. You need to stand further back though…”

Before she could ask him why, the door quickly swung open, almost hitting her. The width of the door covered half of the wall space, and the material used to fashion its construction seemed extremely heavy. She was thankful that it had not hit her. Looking up, she held her breath. The dazzling colors of the plants behind the entrance consumed her attention.

To her amazement, the flora were not laid out in neat, organized, small rows as her mother’s organic basement garden was, but were stacked in tiers, growing on top of each other like an exploding beanstalk of tangerine, violet, lavender, silver, lemon yellow, turquoise, bubblegum pink, fuchsia, emerald green and other Spring colors. Fruit hung plentifully off bound branches. There were twenty tiers total, each corresponding to a theme of some sort. Many varieties grew in harmony with each other. As she approached one of the tiers for closer inspection, she saw that the roots were spiraling into each other, forming a solid base resembling an oak tree.

“Wow!” she breathed slowly. It was mystifying. Kenjaon grinned.

“That’s where our food comes from,” he said casually. He pointed to the tier that was in the second row from the main entryway, in the middle, “That is my tier,” he told her, taking her hand.

“You planted that all by yourself?”

“Yes, ma’am. Gardening is a wonderful hobby of mine. Each one of us has the talent to grow things. See that one to the right of us?”

“I do,” she answered, her gaze following his finger, as her own hand became mush again in his other hand. She felt alive once again.

“That one was grown by Xuam, Mob and Jeil,” he told her.

“Is that right,” she commented, leaning closer towards him. He smelled delicious, which distracted her. Do I smell the food or him? Nevertheless, it was very pleasant. Kenjaon turned towards her.

“Do you want to eat?” he asked her. This woke her up from her reverie. She nodded, not saying anything.

It was as if his touch had made her completely dumb.

She wanted some Yas immediately. Holding her nose with her left hand, she grabbed a particularly ripe one and set it in Kenjaon’s hands, ripping the top open. By this time Frieda was used to the awful stench of the innards, but she didn’t want to take chances…he laughed as she quickly dug in and polished off the fruit, like a woman possessed. His eyes widened. He had never seen a human get out of control like this.

“Want more?” he asked her incredulously.

“Oh, yes,” she answered, wiping off theYas juice splattered on her mouth and chin, then licking her fingers clean.

“How about some Woma?”

“Absolutely. Can I take some with me?”

“Of course. And some Oongi?”

“Please!”

“Recesii?” he offered in jest.

“No thanks!”

“I’ve heard of your disgust for that particular thing,” he chuckled.

“I thought it was something else,” she admitted, reaching for a second Woma.

“Every human is fooled,” he commented, shaking his head.

Popping a green Woma into her mouth, Frieda resolved to herself that recesii and its Earth equivalent, cherries, should be outlawed from all human consumption.

Three fruits later, she was finally satisfied.

“I’m full…I need to sit down. I’m a little tired,” she told Kenjaon.

“As you wish.”

One of the sides of the garden had seats built out of the wall for visitors. Both of them sat down wearily. For no apparent reason, Frieda’s ear started to throb again.

“Oh, damn!” she shouted, holding the side of her head.

“Is your ear still causing you trouble?”

“Yes…I don’t know why though. It was fine,” she told him.

“Relax – it’s from the radiation from the laser, that’s all. Let me tone it,” he offered.

“You can tone?”

“All healers have the power to do it. You’ve experienced it before?”

“Jeil did it once while the others tried to sedate me. It lulled me to sleep.”

“Well, I need you to stay awake. Can you do that?” he asked her.

“I’ll try,” she said.

“Good girl. Now turn your ear toward me,” Kenjaon instructed.

“Okay,” she answered. She got up and sat on his other side. But then he stopped her.

“Actually, you could sit on the floor. I could reach it better.”

“Where should I sit?”

“Between my legs.”

Her mind made a clicking noise.

God, I hope that I don’t melt completely into him, she told herself. Even though she was innocent in the ways of physical contact and lovemaking, she was concerned about losing herself totally into his essence, which she figured would be the method the De’aiîo’eans used to make love. She liked him a lot, but she wasn’t ready to take that step. Besides, she was human!

Frieda sat down on the floor, holding her breath. Nothing happened. She didn’t melt, which was a relief. But she did glow, which was more powerful!

Kenjaon took the bandages off her ear, which was pink and clean. The exposed skin seemed to revel in the air; at last, it is now free! He figured that the main discomfort was inside the external canal. This task would be easily accomplished by toning, which would dull the pain instantly, even permanently.

“Just relax,” he whispered soothingly. “And try not to move.”

He then covered the pinna and the opening with his right hand. Closing his eyes, he started to meditate within, feeling and gathering the hidden knowledge and impulses in his being, like lightening the impulses increased in speed, centering in his mind and hands, his most important instruments. As the circling motion swirled inside of him he started to tone.

His voice was a wonderful conductor. As the volume increased, his healing power grew, like golden fire-honey pouring out of his entire being. Concentrating on her ear, he transferred his voice and healing power into her, feeding it constant energy as she started to glow brightly. The feeling was intense for both of them.

Frieda dared not fall asleep. Closing her eyes, she focused on his touch and song. As she began to glow, she felt his constant stream of lightening; fire-honey impulses mix with her own nervous system and bloodstream. It warmed her up, and the fire within her heart grew stronger. Her ear felt like it was floating in outer space. Suddenly, the visions came: the training, the trees of a forest, Kenjaon’s embrace, and her brother, Gareth in the Center in the Quiet Room. She also experienced horrible sights: Xenzoy, the Blue Beast, facing down a horrible thin, ruddy man wearing spectacles, with her pointing a gun towards him. Instantly, with no explanation, the visions disappeared from her brain as mysteriously as they had come.

She did not melt into him this time. But in some strange cosmic fashion, he had already become a part of her. Then the toning stopped.

“Feeling better?” he asked her.

“Uh huh,” she answered softly, facing him. His eyes now seemed like fire as he gently stroked her hair. She took his hand without a word and started to lean into him. She had no fear.

However, nothing happened between them. The main entry door suddenly swung open. Both Frieda and Kenjaon looked up and saw another De’aiîo’ean healer approaching them. He was strange to Frieda; she had not met this one. Kenjaon tensed up, letting go of her hand.

“Oh no, he’s here,” he whispered to her, straightening and standing up to greet him.

“Who is he?” she asked, standing up as well.

“You’ll see, unfortunately…”

The healer came towards them with a smirk on his face, acting as if he would require a bribe to keep quiet. Kenjoan stood at attention.

“Hello Son,” the elder one said.

“Hello – Dad,” Kenjaon cuttingly answered.

The loveliness of the garden seemed suddenly as cold as ash. Frieda stood on guard.