Knowing he had but moments left to him in this transitory state, he oncentrated on the slender form he could barely distinguish in the gloom of the darkened room. His eyesight was not very effective in this astral plane. Reaching down, he stroked one hand over her face, liking the delicateness of its features. If she awoke, she would think ghostly hands played with her. Grinning, Xandor placed a hand on either side of her breasts, caressed her body all the way down, to the top of her thighs.
He couldn’t really feel the softness of her flesh. His senses were dull. But he could imagine. His mind could very well fill in the gaps of his cloudy long-distance senses. Even in his ethereal form, he found her tremendously exciting.
She groaned in her sleep and he wondered if she’d felt his touch. The soft moan stirred him even more, encouraged him to stroke her flat abdomen. He realized then that she was totally nude; that stimulated his interest even further. Flouncing restlessly, she mumbled in some unknown tongue. He pressed down harder with his transparent hands, kneading her breasts, and she moaned loudly.
Abruptly, he sensed his time was at an end. In frustration, he ran one hand through her soft-looking tresses while he slowly withdrew. She sat straight up, staring as if she could see him. Xandor knew this was impossible, even for one trained in the magical arts, but she seemed to sense him floating above her.
“Sinar biur.”
Even her words haunted him with their singsong beauty. Both hands reached for him in entreaty, and somehow he knew she whispered, “Don’t go.” His energy was dissipating fast, her face fading; the last image he had was a single tear tracking down her formless face.
While his spirit traveled super-fast, back to his physical body, he thought about that tear. How odd it was that something as insubstantial and impermanent as a tear should be the only thing clearly visible to him in that dim room.
Xandor’s mind and spirit returned with full force to his body, which shivered violently. His pulse raced and he had trouble breathing. He seemed to be on overload. He’d never cut it so close before when thought-searching. Breathing deeply, he calmed his frazzled senses.
His thoughts went to the mysterious woman, who called to him again and again. She’d been awake the last journey. Today, when he found her, she was deep asleep. He had floated over her form, only a dim outline to his astral senses. But it caught his interest and fired his imagination with its slender lines. What was it about this particular female that drew him two galaxies across the stars?
He didn’t know but intended to find out.
Her thoughts had been unshielded. Curious. She is not psychic, nor does she practice magic of any kind. Xandor found this puzzling. He would have guessed only a creature of immense power could have drawn his attention and pulled him, as she had done.
Xandor shook free of his musings. His body’s biorhythms had returned to normal. Glancing around, he thought about the method by which he thought-searched.
He sat cross-legged in the center of his room softly lit by four fat red candles strategically positioned in a semi-circle in front of him. Each foot-high candle represented his level of magic power. Fourth level was attained by a limited few, he among them. Xandor frowned in frustration when he momentarily considered the fifth level. A place reached by even fewer students—never, as yet, by an Earthling, among whom it was rare to attain even the third level. Hence, as a fourth class wizard from Earth, he was already seen as strange by some. To others, he was an inspiration, especially young Thorras, the only other sorcerer from Earth. For three years now Xandor had been studying and practicing fervently, but felt no closer to his goal of attaining the fifth level.
The room was set up to further such studies—it was circular to channel psychic energy toward the room’s central area. The walls were green granite; the speckled and swirled patterns in the heavy stones were beautiful, but decoration was not their purpose. The stones’ thick, absorbent nature created a room of solitude, undisturbed by the noisy life outside its walls. For his stature as a fourth class wizard, Xandor had earned a room with a large window overlooking one of the few lush courtyards contained in the busy hub.
While preparing for meditation, he closed the heavy, luxurious gold velvet drapes, which adorned the window frame. His favorite form of meditation and self-teaching in the arts was thought-searching. It took only a few moments of intense concentration before his inner spirit soared to spaces beyond this planet, often, even beyond the confines of this galaxy. Many nights he practiced this searching activity.
Connecting with minds of sapient aliens was thrilling and educational. One never knew what new tidbit of information he would pick up from a humanoid inhabiting another world. Most beings were not even aware of his superficial infringement on their thoughts. But some, who had mystical powers, had become friends over the years, pen pals of the mind.
Once he’d crossed paths with an Aki witch, something he’d been warned against. He’d returned to his body with a splitting headache that lasted for several days. He’d been lucky. The mental blow she’d dealt him easily could have resulted in insanity.
During one of his thought travels, he’d encountered a race of beings that were whispered about in dusky corners; no one ever knew by what name they called themselves, for it was rumored to invoke their name was to invite them into your soul. A few sorcerers who’d turned to the dark forces for their power source were thought to have given allegiance to this demon race. While on his short sojourn to their world, he’d noticed the very air was laden with stygian evil. He’d withdrawn immediately, but not before the cold red glare of one creature’s eyes lit upon him. Returning to his room shaken, he was convinced he’d barely escaped with his soul intact. It’d been weeks before he attempted another journey.
On his next search after the horrible incident with the grim creatures he found the Taweeg. The planet was filled with magic; it danced on the wind, sighed through the trees, sparkled in the air and lakes like rainbows.
Today’s journey had been different, though. Today he had sought her. Last week he’d been in the middle of a search when he was drawn to a particular planet on the far fringes of the galaxy. The distance by ship would be astronomical, but to his trained wizard mind, it was but a moment’s flight. It’d taken him a few minutes to wander among the stars, following the singsong voice of some unknown being, before he’d located the right planet. By the time he’d connected with her mind, it was time to return.
Thought-searching throughout the galaxy took much energy. His body let him know to reconnect with his physical form, before he was on the verge of collapse. He’d touched her unique mind—let her surprise and curiosity, at his intrusion zing through his nerve endings, before having to depart.
She was not a magical being. She shouldn’t be able to call to him like the Taweeg do. Xandor found this confusing. At least she was not frightening like the Aki witch. He smiled at that thought. Still, why was she able to contact him?
Shrugging mentally, he went over the details he learned in delving into the fringes of her open mind. Her thoughts were filled with happenstances of her daily life: romps through forests so lovely as to take a man’s breath away, some strange rite where she splayed her body among thick leaves of low growing flowers, and singing to a funny-looking creature perched on her hand.
Her singing was ethereal, ghostly in its beauty, angelic. He had never been a religious man, unlike some of his peers. He never seemed to have time to even consider his options. But if one could truly hear angels sing, he’d wager this petite female would outshine them. Her siren song spoke to his very soul. Listening to her, he’d been as spellbound as any youthful sorcerer caught up in a Zardak’s web spell. As he thought, he realized it had to be her singing that drew him to her.
Uncertainty rioted through him. Was she filled with an alien magic he knew nothing about? Was she going to pull him under a wicked spell, destroy him somehow? Perhaps drain his magic through her singing? Such things had been known to happen, but he still couldn’t reconcile the fact that he sensed no mystical powers on her. Only the witch and demon race had stirred his reactions as much as his brief encounters with the mysterious, siren female.
His thoughts returned to her slim figure and soft skin. A throb in his groin drew his attention from his musings about the girl. He was rock hard, his cock pulsing madly, like it did when he was a teenager and spied some attractive girl. Idly, he wondered if her flesh would be as velvety smooth as it seemed.
