Songs of the Dancing Gods Read Online Free

seemed very patient and understanding, even interested, and he was so very, very lonely. He knew not if she be nymph or goddess, demon or sorceress, but she was something right now that he needed very, very badly; the one thing he could not even steal in these trackless wastes.
    She was an audience.
    The wind which had been constantly swirling and twisting and screaming through the wastelands paused as well; the very air seemed impossibly frozen, the night still, yet oddly expectant. Although incredibly weary, his voice echoed from the dark walls unseen beyond the firelight with the strength and vigor of youth as the very experience brought forth his last reserves of energy, saved for just such an occasion as this.
    And yet, there was still enough of the gentleman in him that he paused, after telling the Forty-Seventh Tale, realizing that he was getting so carried away he was not only imposing upon her hospitality, he was, worse, starting to improvise the tale after so long a time. And so he reached for his water flask, drank, and said, “But I have imposed far too much, and you have been gracious to hear me out beyond measure.”
    “I do not mind,” she responded quietly, sounding very sincere. “This is not a place where interesting company often travels through, and, after you, it may be long until I hear a man’s voice again—and perhaps never one with such wondrous sagas to spin.” She paused a moment, staring at him. “But in truth it is I who have imposed. You are weary; the way from here is long and harsh. Rest if you like. Sleep and dream great dreams.”
    He was mad, even he knew that much, but he wasn’t crazy. The quest, all the sacrifices, all the loneliness and travails, would be for nothing if he slept here now and failed to awaken the next morning; even worse if he did awaken, but undead, stranded here to serve her as slave forever, knowing he would never be able to fulfill his grand ambition.
    “How come you here?” he asked her, the weariness which she noted now coming to him full as the energy stole quickly away. “What is your name and who and what are you?”
    She seemed to shimmer slightly in the firelight, and the wind stirred a bit.
    “I am cursed to be here,” she told him. “Once my people reigned over a great kingdom, but we were overthrown by treachery and sorcery, expelled and cursed forever to reign over waste and desolation, commanding none but wind and barren rock. We had great power,” she added wistfully, “but, obviously, not great enough.”
    The weariness kept creeping over him; he felt himself nodding off in spite of his best efforts, his storytelling having drained him even more than the travel. “What was this kingdom,” he asked her, “and where? And what is your name?”
    To know the name of an entity was to gain some power over it.
    “I can be whoever you want me to be,” she responded evasively. “I can be the one who you desire most.”
    She stirred, then, moving more into the firelight, and pulled back her veil, and he gasped and stared in spite of himself, and his jaw dropped.
    “Mary Ann … . ” he breathed.
    For a moment all defenses were down, all rationality fled, as she came closer and closer to him. She was more beautiful even than he had remembered her, more sensuous than the fantasies that had gotten him through this much of his quest.
    Now she was to him, and they were in an embrace, and for the briefest moment it was the closest to Heaven he would ever come, but there was something wrong, something that triggered all those defenses that had kept him alive all this time.
    Through all that exotic perfume, she smelled like warmed-over horse dung.
    He broke free of the kiss. “You—you’re not Mary Ann!” he gasped. “You—you’re all the rest!”
    Where the strength came from he would never know, but he lashed out hard and shoved her away, unbalancing her for just a moment. As she staggered and tried to retain her balance, the wind began to