Ahmad and the Goddess

By JoAnn

"Ho, fire ahead!" the man at Ahmad's side cried as he pointed toward the forest.

Ahmad looked up, spying the thin trail of smoke wafting over the huge, thick trees that lined the road. Most of the native men in his caravan were tense, as they were every night when darkness fell. Their minds were stuffed full of childish tales of woodland sprites that would sneak up on them as they slept and snatch them away to a land of no return. Ahmad grinned, secretly amused by their fears. Yet, one thought of what he had seen with his own eyes in the land of the Northmen swept away his smile. There were more things in the world than could be explained logically. What he had seen in that cave, what he had seen on the day of the final battle, still had the power to turn his dreams into nightmares. He made a swift prayer to Allah for protection, then turned to his companion.

"I see the fire. Let us leave undisturbed whoever warms themselves beside it. We mean no harm to any man while on this mission. I am an ambassador, not a marauder."

"Of course, Lord Ahmad, it is only that…perhaps they have food they would wish to…share with us?"

Ahmad smiled, sensing the younger man's true intentions. William was a strong and clever guide through this wild land of the Celts, but he was not above stooping a bit low to fulfill his own needs. Ahmad continually kept watch over him, trusting him only as far as his internal compass would allow.

"Share, William? A fine notion. Let us set camp in the clearing ahead, and perhaps I will approach our neighbor concerning this idea. We may find that they are the ones in greater need, and it will be we that share our food instead." Ahmad smiled again, aware that he was baiting the young man.

"That is indeed…kind of you, Lord Ahmad," William replied, as if the word "kind" was distasteful to him. Ahmad looked away, disappointed but not surprised by William's response. The whelp had much to learn about life, about manhood, about honor and truth. He had once been like this boy, thinking only of himself. The Northmen had taught him a different way to live. Perhaps one day this boy would learn the same lessons, if Allah smiled upon him.

As darkness overcame the sun and the stars emerged, the men gathered around their small campfire, laughing and joking roughly with each other. The meat juices from the deer that William had slain dripped into the fire, causing it to pop and sizzle. William was boasting about his hunting skills, beating on his chest that he and he alone was capable of such a feat, bringing a loud and lewd round of catcalls from the other men. Ahmad sat quietly, peering into the fire and contemplating other nights he had spent in the same fashion, in the company of others whom he did not know, traveling to yet another far-flung part of the world that was unfamiliar, so different from home. It seemed as if it had been a lifetime since he had been with another person with whom he could share his soul, with whom he could truly be himself. Only Omar was a constant in his life, having remained by his side over the last dozen of his travels. Omar had once been a slave, but he was now a free man, thanks to Ahmad's diplomatic expertise. Ahmad trusted Omar with his life, but he was not a man with whom he could discuss his secret passions. The burly barbarian was a man of the sword, battles and weaponry his only interests. Not the sort of man who would appreciate poetry.

Perhaps it didn't matter, he thought bitterly. Perhaps he had already lost whatever remained of his poet's soul. He no longer felt much of anything except exhaustion. His journeys, which had begun as wondrous, exciting adventures, had slowly begun to take their toll on him. He felt hollowed out inside, and had begun to lose hope of ever being filled again.

He glanced up at the fire once more, watching the blaze flicker and spark. Suddenly his breath caught as the image of a woman appeared, dancing amongst the flames. He closed his eyes and rubbed them, wondering what manner of insanity had finally grasped him. But when he opened his eyes again, she was still there. Beautiful, free, and exotic, she dipped and spun, her skin smooth and flawless, as much an element herself as the fire that burned. He watched for several more minutes, almost afraid to breathe, until finally she turned to him in the midst of the fire and held out her arms to him. He reached out, the long sleeves of his red robe falling away from his strong arms, eager to take her into his embrace. Then she disappeared. All that remained was her vision, seared into his memory.

He stood up, suddenly restless. He felt impelled to flee, to throw himself headlong into the woods, to run and not stop until what he needed was found.

"My lord, where are you going?" Omar asked, as Ahmad turned and began to leave the light of the fire.

"I shall return. Do not follow me, Omar." He didn't look back. He looked up at the full moon, grateful for its soft guidance, then ducked beneath the leaves.

"I…my lord, I will await you," Omar called out, unsure what to do in the face of such an unpredictable act on the part of the man he considered his master.

"Ah, let him go, getting lost in the woods will do him some good. Get him off that high horse he's always on," William said, munching on a piece of venison. "Besides, that means there's more for us to eat."

Omar swiftly slipped the edge of his sword under William's Adam's apple, so swiftly that few surrounding the campfire saw it leave its scabbard. "I warn you, young pup," Omar said, his expression deadly serious. "I do not care to hear others speak ill of my master."

William swallowed, the lump in his throat making a detour around the tip of Omar's blade. "I understand," he said, the whites of his eyes visible as a trickle of sweat beaded on his upper lip.

"That is wise, young one," Omar said, sheathing his sword once more. William stumbled back a few steps, sitting heavily on an old oak log. Satisfied, Omar turned towards the forest, praying to the gods that the master returned safely. Many things could happen to a man lost in the forest at the full of the moon. Things the master was not prepared for, not in the least.

Rhiannon glanced up, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting slightly. He was coming. She could see him now in her mind's eye, pushing through the small trees at the base of the forest, lost in the semi-darkness yet still propelled by a force that he didn't understand. She could feel his confusion, his frustration…and his desire. She hadn't expected him so soon. She'd thought that it would still be several more days before he would come to her. Yet she knew well enough to stop expecting anything. All That Is had a way of taking her expectations and tossing them to the winds. It was better that way, she thought, bemused by the game that life sometimes seemed to be. Expect nothing, receive everything. That was the law of spirit. She bent forward, stirring the dinner cooking over her campfire. He would be hungry, this man from her dreams. Hungry for far more than the stew she had prepared.

Ahmad felt disoriented, as if the world had turned upside down and he was traveling in another realm. The moon was overhead, but the tips of the trees seemed so high, he felt as if they met and formed another level of earth. Where was he? He stumbled over a tree root, catching his red cloak on a branch. It ripped from his body with a loud tear as he fell. Cursing, he got up, dressed now in only his white shirt and black pants, the black riding boots coming to his knees. The cloak was irreparable, yet somehow he didn't care. What he needed lay still further in the forest, and he again felt the hot rush of his blood, calling him to find it. He left the cloak hanging from the branch and continued his pursuit, following a path that his conscious mind seemed to be unaware of. He followed his heart, his soul…and he felt powerless against them. A part of him was almost giddy, as if he were a boy and his mother was calling him to come see the presents his father had brought for him from one of his travels. But this was more. He was no longer a boy on an imaginary quest. It was the strength and dreams and needs of a man that urged him on now.

He weaved through the forest for several more minutes before he finally saw it…the light of a campfire. He could smell the aroma of something cooking, and his empty stomach growled. Pushing the last of the small trees aside, he stepped into a clearing. There, bent over a small pot, was a young woman. Not just any woman. It was the woman he'd seen in the flames. She stood up, as if sensing his presence, and lifted her eyes to his. Even in the moonlight, he could see how dark and green they were, like the trees that towered over them. Her hair hung to her waist in rich, heavy waves. It was red, as red as the fire that burned before her. As red as the fire of his vision. As red as the dark, hot passion he felt rise within his soul.

"Who are you?" he finally managed to say, his voice sounding raspy and winded.

The woman turned away from him, bending down to stir the pot once more. "I am called Rhiannon. And you are hungry. Come, and eat."

Ahmad stepped carefully towards her, unsure whether she was real or a figment of his imagination. She spooned some of the stew she was cooking into a bowl. He didn't know what it was, and although he knew he should ask in case it was something forbidden to him, he didn't. Somehow the idea of anything being forbidden didn't seem relevant next to the woman standing in front of him. He shook his head, not even recognizing his own thoughts. He reached up and took the bowl, murmuring his thanks. The bowl seemed to be solid enough. Perhaps the woman was also flesh and bone.

"Rhiannon…I have heard that name in these parts. It is the name of one of their local goddesses. Are you…? He stopped, surprised at himself. He had almost asked her if she was the goddess! There were no goddesses, only Allah. He grimaced at the course of his thoughts, but she only smiled at him.

"I am named for the goddess, Ahmad. But trust me, I am as human as you are."

"How…how do you know my name? How did you come to be here? How…"

Rhiannon reached up and touched his lips, silencing him. "So many questions, Ahmad. Yet so little patience in searching out the answers."

Ahmad's lips burned where she touched him, but with a fire that was pleasurable, not painful. She sat in front of him, facing him, and she motioned for him to eat. He lifted the spoon to his mouth, refusing to take his eyes from her. She seemed to be unwilling to speak to him until he had finished his meal, so he ate hurriedly, anxious to discover what secrets lay behind those evergreen eyes.

"Like a ravenous wolf you are," she said, taking his empty bowl from him. She set it aside, then crossed her arms over her knees. The calm and ease she had with him, a total stranger, set him on edge. She was unlike any other woman he had ever met, and that was saying a great deal. He had met a great many women in the past few years. In bed as well as out of it, he admitted. This woman…this woman was different.

"Tell me why you are here. Why I felt drawn to come here. Why I saw you dance in the face of the flames. Why, even now, I feel powerless to leave." Ahmad lifted his hand, touching the curve of her cheek. Her skin was as soft as he'd imagined, perhaps more so. His blood pounded in his ears, his desire for her almost frightening him with its intensity.

"I am here…for you, Ahmad," she said quietly, rising to take his bowl to the fireside.

"For me? How is that possible? No one knew we were traveling in this direction. In fact, we had not planned to use this road at all. A fallen tree kept us from crossing the main…"

Rhiannon turned to him. "Indeed. But there are no coincidences, my lord Ahmad. And I am here for you. To heal you. To refill the well inside you that has long been empty. Is that not what you prayed for, not so long ago? For someone to come that would put fresh water into your well, and make you feel whole again?"

Ahmad's mouth fell open, his shock at his secret prayers being spoken filling him with a strong chill. Rhiannon walked to a wooden chest and pulled out a huge deer hide, then spread it on the ground next to the fire.

"Do not be surprised, Ahmad. All Gods are but the same God, the All That Is. Come to me. Lay with me beside the fire, and let me sing your soul back home."

Mindlessly, Ahmad rose and walked to the campfire, looking down at her as if she were one of the woodland sprites he'd heard the men speak of. She laughed, the sound of it lifting to the trees like small white doves.

"Come, Ahmad…fear not. I will not take you to Tir na n'Og, the land of eternal youth and beauty. Not your physical body. But your mind, and your soul…oh yes, I will take them there. We will travel many places tonight, my lord. And you will feel renewed again, as you were before your banishment, as you were before your losses…but you will retain the lessons you have learned, because you are the better man because of them. Do you agree to this?" She lifted her hand to him, her palm open in entreaty.

"Yes," Ahmad said, sinking to his knees in front of her. The deerskin was suprisingly soft and warm, as if it were holding them in a cloud of fur. He took her hand, knowing that he was unwilling to deny her. Or to deny himself. She lay back on the pelt, pulling him down beside her. Cradling his head in her arms, she held him close, and bade him close his eyes and open his heart. He did so, trusting her as he had trusted no other person before. She began to sing a song in a language that he didn't understand, a song both haunting and lovely. Slowly, he felt himself lift from his body, still holding her hand as he looked down at their prone forms below them. He turned to her, anxious to ask yet another question, but she only put a finger to her lips and pointed toward the treetops. She began to fly, pulling him upward with her. He felt afraid, but the strength of her grasp assured him that he had nothing to fear. She was with him…Rhiannon. Nothing else mattered.

After what seemed like hours later, he awoke in her arms. His body felt good, connected and whole. He could recall traveling with her to beautiful places….a city filled with golden light, a mountaintop capped with snow, a deep blue ocean where they could dip beneath the waves yet still breathe as they swam amongst the brightly colored fish. All of them places he had never seen, but that he wanted to see again. Most of all, she had taken him home…to his mother, his father, his brothers and sisters. To women he had loved, and women he had hurt. To men who were friends, and men who were enemies. He had spoken to each one of them, at times giving a gift, at other times receiving one. It was strange yet beautiful, all of it. He felt renewed in spirit and mind. Many of the questions that had plagued him over his entire life were answered while he traveled, often without words…he seemed to receive images instead of sentences, feelings instead of direct actions. Yet it all made sense. Everything made sense with this woman beside him. He lifted his head, looking down at her with awe.

"What is it that we have done?" he asked in a whisper. "We have gone many places, yet our bodies never left the warmth of the fire."

"Your soul is free, even when your body is not," she said, threading her fingers through his hair.

"I do not even know you…and yet I love you," he said, his voice reflecting his confusion. Rhiannon smiled gently, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt.

"You know me, Ahmad. You have always known me. You simply did not believe that you could find me. Now you believe." She slipped one of her hands into his shirt, caressing the springy black hairs that covered his chest. He felt as if his body had turned to molten metal, bending where the touch of her hand allowed. He moaned, unsure of what was happening to him.

"I have helped you to free your mind and heart and soul, Ahmad. Let me free your body as well. This I choose to do, to give myself to you."

"Rhiannon…yes, yes," he said, burying his face in her hair as he surrendered to the powerful sensations pulsing through him. She was his. She had always been his, meant for him before time began. He pulled the ties of her gown undone, baring her beautiful body to his eyes. He caressed her gently, causing tiny shivers of delight to ripple through her. She arched her back, ready to receive him.

"Come to me," she said, pulling his shirt over his shoulders. "It is meant to be."

Ahmad closed his eyes, lifting his body over hers as she murmured his name.

The fire had long grown cold in the fire pit when he awoke. He lifted his head, his ears assaulted by the snoring and bodily emissions of the other men around him. He was no longer with Rhiannon. He was back at the caravan camp, on his usual pallet, his head cushioned by his red cloak. He sat up, lifting the cloak for inspection. It was no longer damaged. It was whole and secure, and in fact, seemed cleaner than it had been for a long time. The gold embroidery shone like new, as if he had just been given it as a gift instead of wearing it through all manners of mishap and weather for the past several years. He turned around on his pallet, looking back toward the woods. The little entryway that he had found into the underbrush was gone. The only thing that faced him now was an unending mass of green growth, which seemed to have actually grown thicker since the night before. His path to Rhiannon was gone.

He knew in his heart that it was meant to be gone. There were no coincidences, just as she'd said. He'd received a great gift, although not in the way he would have ever envisioned possible. He'd received a new life in his soul, and a love that he knew he would always be his. She was his. Forever, his goddess. Rhiannon of the Celts. The woman who would always inhabit the forest of his dreams. He was healed. Life would go on for him, in peace. And at night, when he slept, he knew she would be there…waiting for him.

Rhiannon lifted the last of her packs onto the horse, smiling as Ahmad's thoughts were made known to her. He would be all right again. He would go on to perform many great deeds, and help bring freedom to an entire civilization. And she would be there, for all of it. There, in his heart. She lifted herself into the saddle and turned her horse toward the trees, following the path that only she knew. Always traveling, like Ahmad. But not alone. Neither of them would ever be truly alone again.

What had begun, would remain.