Ayla shook her head curtly and pulled the hood high over her face so that it was hidden in shadow. “I don’t want your help, Ariadne.”

The goddess bristled with irritation and a trail of cold frost appeared on the ground between them. “I’m not asking if I can help you. I am telling you that this rampage is at an end. So far nobody has been harmed, but that is more a matter of luck than any caution on your part.”

“You cannot stop me.”

“As I said, I will not stop you. I will not contain you. I lack the long term interest and perhaps, the sensitivity. I am not a redeemer. I know myself well enough.” Ariadne curled her fingers in the air and mist rose from her fingertips. “I know you well enough too. I have known you from the beginning, and I have seen this descent coming. You will not be allowed to inflict the pain you carry on the world about you, Ayla.”

“Then what is your plan?” There was a mocking lilt to the witch’s voice.

“I am going to send you somewhere. Somewhere far away. Somewhere you won’t cause any trouble and somewhere where you can be helped.”

Ayla’s lips twisted darkly. “I would not take me to your village, Ariadne.”

“No. Nor would I. I am sending you somewhere far more secure.”

“So it is a prison you have in mind for me.” Ayla’s rage began to grow again. Little flames licking at the tips of her fingers, battling the freezing fury of the goddess.

Ariadne looked at Ayla with an expression which bordered on sadness, the dark lines swimming in slow, mournful patterns about her face. “I believe I know what is wrong with you, Ayla. What has been wrong with you for a very long time.”

“You killed the love of my life.”

“No. I gave rest to a mortal who had lived many years beyond her natural span. Your problem, Ayla, is that you have been deprived of your kind.”

A flash of bright anger lit Ayla’s gaze. “Deprived? I was imprisoned from birth and cast out at maturity. I have no interest in… my kind.”

*****

“That is a pity.”

The voice which spoke next was not Ariadne’s. The forest was gone. Ayla had been transplanted by the power of the goddess to an unfamiliar place. An expansive dwelling made of living wood. The change of scene was as abrupt as it was disturbing to the disoriented witch.

Ayla gathered her cloak about her. The smell of burning hung in the air. It was her smell, the cloud of acrid smoke which clung to her very skin.

“Welcome,” the voice said. It was warm and feminine and Ayla did not want to hear it. She turned about, looking for some exit. There was none obvious. The space she found herself in was entirely sealed. It would no doubt yield to the inhabitant, but not for her. She was, in effect, imprisoned inside a tree. There was a woven rug upon the floor, a red and gold round fringed with tassels. There were a few items of furniture about the place, none of them interested Ayla. She was looking for a door, not a seat, or a table.

“My name is Riva.”

Ayla still did not want to look at the speaker, but she could not avoid it any longer. She turned slowly and cast her gaze across the mistress of the tree. The woman was sitting on an elegant chaise, dressed in a deep ruby robe. She had long rich chestnut hair falling in soft curls down to her shoulders, and eyes of a similar hue. Her skin was tan, a beautiful copper caramel. Ayla stared at the beauty. The woman had a particularly alluring face, full lips and great almond eyes. She was a full-blooded elf, but not of Ayla’s ilk.

“I did not know Lesbia was home to another family.”

“It isn’t,” Riva smiled gently. “You are not in Lesbia anymore. You are in one of the deep forests of Iskendar.”

Ariadne had thrown her far indeed, but Ayla could not begin to bring herself to being surprised. There was little under the sun which surprised her anymore. She had been seeking to provoke Ariadne. She had not anticipated this outcome, but she took it in her stride.

“Ariadne has power in Iskendar?”

“I believe she retreats here from time to time,” Riva said. “She was here for quite a few hundred years… avoiding a certain…”

“I can imagine,” Ayla said tersely. “Let me out of here and I will find a boat. I will return to Lesbia.”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that,” Riva said. “I have promised to keep you with me for a time. Ariadne tells me you have not been well schooled in the ways of the elves.” She spoke in a melodiously rich voice which would have been pleasant to listen to if the words had not made Ayla bristle.

“I am centuries old,” Ayla replied. “I have no need for schooling of any kind. Please, open the doors, wherever they may be, and let me leave.”

“When you truly have no need for schooling, you will be able to let yourself in and out,” Riva replied with a calm smile. “For now, I will open the internal passages.”

She cast her hand and from the floor, a spiral staircase grew. It rose through the space and extended branches and tendrils which connected rooms above her head. It was a thing of wonder to behold, and if Ayla were not so very angry, she would have been impressed. Perhaps even awed.

Riva turned to Ayla with a kindly smile. “You will find this place spacious enough. I know you think you know all there is to know, Ayla, but Ariadne has spoken to me, and she has told me of your recent… decline. I want to help you.”

“I do not need your help.”

“Then we can just talk.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“I understand your anger, Ayla…”

“You do not understand a thing,” Ayla interrupted. “We are strangers to one another.”

Riva’s calm persisted in the face of Ayla’s increasingly terse replies. “We do not have to be. But there is time. I will not force you to speak with me. For now, you may explore my home. Your room is on the floor above. You will recognize it by the green bedspread. There are windows, but they will not open and they are not made of glass. I would implore you not to break them. You will harm the tree and perhaps, yourself.”

Ayla snorted softly. “So this is how it feels.”

Riva tilted her head to the side and looked at Ayla curiously. “How what feels?”

“I have played this little game with so many,” Ayla said, pulling the hood from her head and looking at Riva directly for the first time. Though she was captured, Ayla’s bearing was proud, as always, her stature tall. Riva was perhaps a little taller. “I have assumed the role you are trying to take now.”

“Oh yes? And how did that go for you?”

“Most of the time they capitulated. A few times, they did not. I always enjoyed the ones that didn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I was so often bored, and they were a challenge.”

“As you will be for me.”

Ayla cast a knowing look over at the elf woman. “You will not enjoy me, Riva. I can promise you that. I know every trick that a captive can use to irritate and torment her captor. I will make your life quite miserable if you insist on this charade.”

Riva’s smile became warmer and more genuine, as if Ayla had pleased her. “You don’t understand, Ayla. With me, you are as powerless as those mortals were with you. I control your comings and your goings. Your powers of movement and speech. You will eat, breathe and sleep by my leave. You will not like this. I am sure that you will feel a rage like no other. And I will be ready for it.”

*****

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