The Legend of Lapis

A story does not sleep. You have heard a thousand, maybe more. Novels, rumors, legends and anecdotes, and you may think you have forgotten them, but they merely hide in the abandoned corridors of your mnemonic palace. A story lingers there, it's sensors spread across the perimeter of your awareness, listening, watching, sensing every nuance you experience. It waits for the spark, the trigger to recollection. Like a pollen particle in the desert, on a stubborn race toward the improbable rain. Patient enough, and the spark will come.

I am a story, and you will read, and probably think you forget. But I will linger, and listen. And one day I will bloom in your mind, explode in a swirl of connotations and connectors, reasons and references. Then, and only then, will you truly know why you read me.

I am the story of Lapis, who conquered lions, and Monia who conquered Lapis, and Tesla, who taught them both new truths. I am old, older than the tales of kings and prophets that have shaped the world of men, older than most tales of gods and monsters, although I am a tale of gods and monsters too, in a way. Most old tales are, one way or the other. I am so old, that words of wanton, the magic of lust and the power of flesh had not yet been stained with shame. So bear with me, although concepts might seem alien, I can assure you that they are more familiar than you have been lead to believe.

I begin on the plains, in the thigh high dry grass. Sun crazy mosquitoes hovered in columns over grazing small game in the distance. Sun weary seedling pods vibrated with life like they only do once every year, threatened to burst into a riot of color at the most gentle touch. There was not a sound, but the faint rustle of termites on the ground. The air was perfectly still, and so was Lapis. The only thing moving was his heart, beating on a stealth pulse. His shoulders gleamed with faint drops of sweat, and strands of hair clung to his neck. His back was straight, his head scouting, but his legs were strained, kneeling in the hunter's stance with one closed fist in the dirt and one closed around the spear. His eyes were fixed on a huddling shape fifty steps ahead, and his lips were fixed in a daunting smile. The lion was his. It just didn't know it yet.

Lapis was the finest hunter in his tribe for five generations, and the finest alive in any tribe that shared the plains. By the age of thirteen, he was lighter in his steps than any woman scout. By the age of seventeen, he was faster and stronger than any grown man. And as a grown man, he towered above all other. Not in stature, although he was a tall man, but in the minds of his peers. He knew the trail of beasts like no other and the mind of the lions better than the lions themselves.

Not only was he the most skilled and revered of hunters, he was also the most beautiful of men. There is no other word that would do him justice. His cobalt blue eyes, seldom seen among the black ones of most tribesmen, could capture anybody in the middle of a thought and not let go. His strong body always in perfect balance, his smile and wit always winning. Countless were the women who had dreamed of his skin on their lips, his strong hands on their breasts, his hips against their thighs and his cock inside of them, who wished they had not been so hasty to settle for other men. Countless were the older ones who wished they had been born one or two generations later. Countless were the hopeful maidens, the brash and beautiful unbetrothed, who tried to lure him into their arms, bodies and lives.

But Lapis was not to be trapped like that. He only gave in to a woman when he was sure her motive was pleasure for the night, and not a father for her children. And therefore, it was only a select few that he shared his body with. They were hunting women, fast and agile scouts of neighboring tribes, who had no time yet for mating and motherhood. They were brave, proud and strong, they knew where to draw the line, and had sense enough to spill his seed outside of their wombs.

No, Lapis' true lover was the plains, the hunt he had honed to perfection. Only a hunter could truly understand that, so it was only with hunters, in accidental encounters on the plains, that he gave in to the animal inside and let lust take over. The stories of writhing shapes under the stars, of his touch and taste, the sensation of his cock between thighs and tongue between lips became bushfire rumors spread by giggle and bragging from proud scouts to envious friends all over the plains.

Lapis was no fool, and he knew of his reputation. It would come in handy when his feet were one day too tired to hunt. When he wanted to find a strong and sensible mate to mother his children, there would be plenty of options. He was thankful to the gods for this grace, but right there and right then, it didn't matter much. The lions did not care about the strength of a man's seed, only the sharpness of his spear.

He glanced up from where he sat in the grass, at the polished flint tip tied to the fresh sapling rod that was his weapon. It was his own design, lighter and less deadly than most hunters' spears, but with a better range. And not only good for throwing at a fleeing prey, but for swinging, slashing and hitting, in close combat with an attacking one. This tells us that Lapis had an agile mind, well suited for thoughts and solutions that didn't follow tradition and the habit of the elders. Just the fact that he hunted without a scout, that he was his own eyes and ears, was unheard of. But as it turned out, there were still many barriers to knock down, and Monia was good at both finding and destroying them.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Forgive me, it's been a while since I was told. We are still in the sea of grass, with a hunter and a lion. A lion that had finally settled, stretched out and gone to sleep. Lapis saw the back of the beast heave rhythmically, and knew it was time. Lions were, and are still, fierce creatures, but also vulnerable. They sleep long hours in the basking midday sun. Always cautiously, and always with one eye open. One eye was all that Lapis needed though. It was enough to sneak close for the strike. He had done this hundreds of times, always with the same result. A silent approach, a swift stab in the neck, and the mighty animal would shudder and die within three heartbeats.

But not this time. As Lapis stood up and began treading lightly towards the lion, he noticed that it was not alone. He had not seen the other shape on the ground from his crouched down position in the grass, but beside the beast lied a woman. At least it resembled a woman, it had the shape and size of one, and Lapis had never heard of animals using weaves and string. The woman had a piece of cloth tied around her waist, and her hair was tied up behind her neck. The hue of her skin was very strange though, much paler than Lapis had ever seen, more like sun burnt grass than his own dark bark tone. And her hair was brighter too, and also straight, where the plain-people's hair was curly.

But no, she was definitely a woman. The smooth, round form of her hips and waist, the mounds of her breasts and large nipples and the graceful curve of her neck spoke to Lapis in the same way that woman has spoken to man since the dawn of time, since long before the age of words. Lapis stopped in his tracks, unsure what to do next. Should he kill the lion, and hope that he didn't wake up the woman before the animal? If he did, her stirring would unsettle the lion, and cause it to run away. And what was she doing there anyway? Was she hurt? Caught by the beast to eat her later? Was she already dead? No, she breathed, just like the lion, and seemed to be in no pain.

He didn't have to waver long though. Before he could contemplate further, and take another step, the woman spoke. Her eyes were still closed, and her voice was soft and gentle, but in the absence of wind, he could hear her clearly.

"Hunter," she said. "Please lower your spear. She is mine."

Her speech was familiar, and Lapis understood every word, but there were differences in how they were spoken. Closer to the teeth, lisping, more like a snake. Not much, but enough to be noticed. The woman opened her eyes and looked straight at Lapis. Her eyes were blue, just like his. He had only met a few blue eyed men before. It was a trait that would sometimes be inherited from father or grandfather, but only among men. He'd never seen blue eyes on a woman before, and the unwavering gaze they gave him made him lower his spear and relax his striking stance.

"Don't worry about her," the woman said, as Lapis' eyes darted from her to the lion and back, "She will not attack, unless I ask her."

"I'm not afraid of her," Lapis said.

"Of course you're not. You're a hunter. And a good one it seems, by your walk and your body. A smart one too, by the look of your spear. But you will not have this lion, or any of her pack. They are mine."

Lapis was confused. The hunt was clearly over. The lion was awake, and eyeing him cautiously. Not hostile, not crouched to attack. Just wary, prepared. No hunter, not even Lapis, could attack a lion that looked him straight in the eye. And this woman sat there peacefully beside the beast, seemingly unafraid. "She is mine", she had said. Did she claim the kill? But how would she kill it? She was a woman, and the lion was wide-awake.

"Who are you?" Lapis asked.

"I am Monia," she said. "And you, you are Lapis."

Yet a surprise. "How come you know my name?"

"My people trade with the hunting tribes closest to our land. Some of the women told me stories of Lapis, the master hunter with the blue eyes. Very interesting stories."

She said the last words with a telling smile, and her eyes wandered down his body and up again. Lapis shifted uneasily where he stood. He did not mind being appreciated by a woman, especially not one as striking as this one, but this was not the time or place for indulging in mating games. There were too many questions, too much that didn't make sense. Who was she, what was she? A human? Something else? A god? She might be. After all, there she sat, exposed to a lion, and stroke it's ears, gently, fondly. The lion did nothing, lowered its head to its paws and rested.

"Your people," he asked. "Do they look like you?"

Monia smiled and spread her arms. "Do you mean if we are all this color? Yes. We have lived in the shade of the woods and the mountains for many generations. It's the sun that gives you color."

"I have never heard of a people in the mountains"

"And yet, here we are. My father used to say that some of you try to forget us. That your elders don't speak about us. There were fights, you see. You killed our lions, so some of us killed your hunters. We have peace with the nearby tribes now, but the faraway tribes seems to pretend that we don't exist."

"Your father..." Lapis began.

"He is with the winds now," Monia said. "He died a long time ago."

"With the winds?"

"Where you go when you die," she said, as if that was common knowledge.

"No," Lapis said. "You go to the dirt when you die."

She said nothing for a while and gave him a curious look. A little amused, a little annoyed. A little... something else that he couldn't place.

"Maybe you do, but we don't." she finally said.

There was no point in arguing. And there were other things on Lapis' mind anyway. "You are a long way from home," he said.

"No, blue eyes," she replied, again with the same confidence. "You are."

With this, Lapis finally took his eyes off the beast he had pursued for several days, and took a good look at his surroundings. Behind his back, the vast stretch of the plains spread until there was only grass and the odd tree sprinkled across the horizon. But ahead of him, it gave way to a whole new sight. A towering massive of rock that stretched all the way to heaven, lined with dense, lush forest and stretching so far up that it disappeared into nothingness. He had seen the mountains before. On dry days, they could be seen in the distance if you stood on the low hills or climbed a high tree in the plains. Vague shadows on the horizon. But up close, the vision was breathtaking. It looked almost as if it was leaning out over him.

He realized what must have happened. He had been too focused on the hunt and the prey that he didn't notice the scenery changing. This was not unusual. In fact, that was one of the things that lead him to such hunting success. He never took his eyes off the game, not for a moment. Not until it fell asleep, and was safely dead.

But lions wandered in circles, so he never ended up very far from home. A hunt could take several days, but to drag home the prey was never more than half a day's work. This lion had done what no lion before it had. It had walked a straight line, from Lapis' hunting grounds and out to the rim of the plains. To this woman. To lie down beside her. To be petted? To lower it's head... in respect? Maybe she was a god after all.

Monia stood up. The lion looked at her with a questioning gaze. So did Lapis.

"Come, blue eyes. You must be hungry. I'm sorry your hunt amounted to nothing; I can't help you there. But you will need food and rest if you want to make it back to your people. Come, be my guest."

Monia leaned over and whispered something to the lion, which stood up and trotted away out towards the plain. Lapis stared at it, dumbstruck, as it became a smaller and smaller shape in the distance. The pale woman, this Monia, had talked to a lion. She had commanded it to go away. She had given orders... to a lion. Monia gave him a brief nod to follow her, and walked away towards the mountains. The mass of the hills still worried Lapis, but now he had no choice. He would follow the beautiful woman with the amazing powers all the way to the sky, if that was her choice.

The walk ended much earlier than that though, at the lower edge of the dense forest that crept up the hillside. A short line of clay huts and tents of a crude weave that Lapis could not identify, just under the first row of trees, formed a small village. He followed the woman, and his eyes couldn't decide if they would marvel over the strangeness of the scenery or the allure of her strange, but mesmerizing, dust pale skin. A few people, older women and children mostly, were scattered in the open field in front of the huts. They gave him a curious look as he passed by, but soon returned to their own interests.

It made sense, Lapis realized. They had seen dark men like him before. He was the only one with virgin eyes here, the only one seeing alien sights. He was the true child among elders. And still, not a child. A child would not look at the arms, shoulders, back and hips of its guide like he did, and wonder how they would feel under his hands. He looked at her as a man, longing to run his tongue along the inside of her thighs, to graze his teeth on her neck and to thrust his manhood inside of her. His own thoughts caught him by surprise. What was he thinking? He was a hunter, and a hunter must always be able to set urges of flesh aside. He had to remind himself that he was still on a hunt. The prey was an unusual one, but a prey nonetheless. He hunted truths among confusion. He new nothing of that kind of hunt, but he had to try.

He had to try.

It was no use. His wits were gone. His discipline, the rhythm of the stalk, the grip of the spear, the stealth breath, all failed him, and his eyes kept drifting back to the beauty of Monia's back and the alluring movement under her waistcloth.

Her hut stood at the far end of the column, a low, clay red circular wall with a grayened hide roof. It was lower than a man, but build over a hole in the ground, so inside Lapis found that he could still stand up comfortably. Monia pulled a dense weave over the entrance, sealing the hut to the outside.

"We will not be bothered," she said. "I am the whisperer. They leave me alone."

Lapis didn't know what to say to that. There was hunger in the strange woman's eyes, a hunger that spoke directly to the animal in him. He could feel it stirring, moving in his loins. At the same time he wondered; what did she just say?

"And you want to ask; what is a whisperer? You also want to ask what I said to the lion? Am I right?"

He nodded. What else could he do?

"I can see why you find it strange. To you, a lion is food. To us a lion brings food. You hunt them. They hunt for us."

"But how? What is this? Magic?"

She laughed and stepped closer. "No such thing. They are part of the village. We take their young and raise them as our own."

"As people?"

"Oh no, as lions. But we let them know what is right and wrong. How did your mother raise you? By telling right from wrong. Reward when you did good and punish when you did bad. You can raise a beast the same way. Teach them words, even. I told the lion to hunt. She will bring back food to the village when she returns. We keep her babies safe while she hunts. She knows this, that's why she shares her meat with us."

The clouds of confusion slowly parted from Lapis' mind. It was no act of gods, no strange magic. Only trickery. He understood trickery. But another trickery was taking place, one that he had no defenses left against. The oldest trickery there is, of glances, smiles and soft promises. Monia stepped even closer. He could feel her breath on his face, her fingertips pressed softly against his chest, and he knew where this was headed. The hunter was gone, and the mere man was all that was left. A mere man defenseless against this kind of attack.

"Enough about lions," Monia said. "You are my guest. A man welcome in my home is a man welcome to all I can offer. Food, drink, healing, song and pleasure. I want to know if the stories are true, if those scouts were telling truths or tall tales about Lapis, the beautiful, blue eyed man of the night. I need a strong man, and our men are weak. They are sensible, but weak. I haven't had a hunter in my bed for a long time. Will you take me, blue eyes, my guest?"

Lapis said nothing. He was not a man of words, but he knew what actions spoke volumes. He firmly gripped Monia's wrists and pulled her hands down to her sides, and then behind her back. He pulled her body close to his, her breasts pushing against his torso and his erection grinding into her loins. The fire in her eyes and wide, inviting grin, hunger, joy and ecstasy all in one, told him all he needed to know. The hunt was over, truth was his, and he could give in to the burning need that had been pushed aside for days. Yes, the hunt was over. But who was the prey? Did it matter?

"I've never seen a woman like you," he whispered.

"I've never seen a man like you," she murmured back.

They spoke of nothing else, but merged with a kiss, with teeth clinging to lips, tongues sliding against each other. With arms wrapped tight around aching bodies, with cloth torn and string untied in haste, with teeth teasing shivers from earlobes and necks. With tongues licking dust off shoulders, arms and necks, with lips sucking sighs from nipples and salt from fingers.

Monia was strong in head and strong in body, and the softened men of her own tribe, builders, gatherers and thinkers, could no longer satisfy her. But here was a man who knew how to respond to fearless strength. It was as natural to him as breathing, and he matched her moves with his own, a dance between power and power. He wrestled her onto the floor, laid down on top of her, and she laughed up at him, kissed his lips and sucked his tongue into her mouth. His hard erection was pressed between their bodies, and as they broke the kiss and gasped for air, Monia thrust her crotch up against it, and Lapis responded with a groan.

He stood up on his knees and looked down on the wonder. The grass pale woman who had astounded him, spellbound him, was now spread, open for his taking, urging him on with hungry eyes. He lifted her ass from the dirt floor and eased the tip of his cock into her hole. Then a firm grip around her waist, and a deep thrust blew away the last remaining distance between them. Her eyes shut tight and she threw her head back in a silent scream at the first, forceful invasion. But as he began to withdraw and pump into her with a heavy, steady rhythm, she raised her body, wrapped her arms around his neck, and locked her burning gaze to his. The hunter and the whisperer were gone. This was animal to animal, hunger to hunger, a breeding frenzy long since robbed of conscious thought.