“I have read it a few times,” he said.
“Oh, Soren,” she said, wishing she could remember him. But perhaps she did, though not in the normal sense. Her mind could not recall the memories, but her heart could, for it felt so full, burning with desire, coming alive again with his voice and touch.
“We must plan for our new lives now,” he said, coming around to face her.
“Yes.” She could barely see through her veil of tears. She tried to imagine how difficult it must have been for Soren to wait for her all these years, when after having been with him for so shot, she could not imagine living a day without him.
He drew her in close, and they gazed into each other’s eyes, their noses almost touching. He caressed her cheek first and then he traced the edges of her lips with his fingers. She could see in his magnificently blue eyes how much he needed her and though she had imagined this moment countless times before, she had never anticipated how blissful a state his touch would send her.
He started showering her neck and face with kisses and she closed her eyes, tilted her head back and let out a sigh. Her spirit merged with his, exalting her into a higher state; yet, she had never felt more true to herself.
Then, finally, he reached behind her head and gently pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was unbelievably sensual. Their faces so near, so sensitive to the touch, sweeping against each other, as their cold noses brushed with each wet kiss. Their breaths mingled warm and close in the chill winter air, together as one. Ailia became lost in her senses, feeling only love coming from him and her loving him back.
He is mine and I am his. The kiss grew more passionate and Ailia’s desire for her Sentinor had never been deeper. She could feel in his movements that he had been waiting for this moment too, and that he wanted and needed her in every possible way. She wondered if it had been this wonderful during her first two lifetimes, if he had been able to arouse her body to this level of absolute need to have the flames quenched. His arms moved across her back, pulling her closer to him—so close, she could feel his heart beating. She reached to the back his head and locked her arms behind his neck. She tasted his sweet lips, but she couldn’t get enough and wanted to be even closer to him still.
Her heart dropped a little when she felt him starting to pull away.
Still embracing her body, he looked into her eyes. “I have something else I would like to show you.”
“What?” she asked, her chest still pounding, her body still yearning so much for his. She didn’t want to be anywhere other than in his arms, kissing him, holding him, making love to him.
“Come with me.” He took her hand and started down the road.
Next to Sorenhall was an empty lot, and in the middle of the snow-blanketed field, Ailia could see timber and the unfinished construction of a longhouse.
They waded through the snow and finally at the incomplete longhouse, Soren said, “Our new home.” He guided her in between the sawdust and logs. “I started building it right before I met you.” He knelt down in front of her, pulled back his hood, and looked up at Ailia. “For three-quarters of a century I have been waiting for you and awaiting the day when we could begin our lives anew. The loss of your life has been the hardest thing I have had to endure, but now, having you stand here in front of me, I realize that the pain has all been worth it, just so I can see you and marry you again. Will you, Ailia? Will you marry me?”
Ailia fell to her knees and kissed him over and over again, tears streaming from her eyes. “Yes, Soren, yes,” she said. “I have always known there was only one person for me, a special someone waiting for me, and now I have finally found you again. I’m already yours, forever.”
Just as she had said the last words, the earth below them started to quake. A worried look flashed across Soren’s face and he quickly lifted Ailia to her feet. “Back to Sorenhall,” he said. By the time they had arrived back home, the quaking had ceased.
“Did you feel the earth move?” Otto asked them when they entered.
“Yes,” Soren said. “It must have been a small earthquake.”
“No,” Erlend Sr. bellowed from his rocking chair. The irises in his eyes had turned white. “Eiess knows you have found each other. She has just sent legions of Surtorians out after you. I saw it just now.”
“How many are in a legion?” Ailia asked.
Soren looked at her, his face ashen. “Six thousand.”
Ailia shrunk. “And how many… legions?”
“Six,” Erlend Sr. said, his eyes still white from the vision.
“Six? That means there will be—” Ailia did the math in her head. “Thirty-six thousand Surtorians.” The only references she had to these Surtorians were from her maredreams and that one incident by the Bergendal Stave Church, and brushing shoulders with only a few of them had nearly shaken her to pieces.
“We must head for Floraland,” Soren said.
“No!” Erlend Sr. stood up slowly and walked toward Ailia and Soren. “You must go to the place where Eiess does not want to go. You must head south where the sun shines nearly all day and all night.”
“The Southlandic Kingdom.” Soren nodded and looked at Ailia, his eyes brimming with sincerity. “Mumtaz will be delighted to have us.”
Epilogue
Brandersgaard