22 #4
A standing stone loomed out of the mist ahead.
Duncan knew what the stone would look like when it was only a handspan away, knew what the thick cushion of growing things felt like at the stone’s feet, knew that there of all places in the world Amber would be waiting for him, remembering as he remembered what it had been like to burn together in a golden fire that knew no pain, only passion.
Duncan kicked out of the stirrups and dismounted with a knight’s skill, landing on his feet, running. But it wasn’t a sword he held in his hand, nor was it a war hammer. It was a pendant as venerable as the land itself.
And it burned as only hope could.
“Amber!” Duncan called.
Nothing answered but thousands upon thousands of geese rising into the mist, black wings beating fiercely.
“Amber, don’t hide! ’Tis Duncan!”
Heart hammering, Duncan stood at the foot of the ancient stone, listening for an answer.
It never came, though he called until his throat was raw.
Stunned, Duncan stood without moving, holding the pendant that had unlocked so much. But not enough. He had been so certain that Amber would be there, waiting for him.
So certain.
And so wrong.
Then he saw her from the corner of his eye, standing in front of the ancient stone. Her image wavered as though seen through water.
“Amber,” Duncan cried, reaching out to draw her close.
But his fingers touched only mist-drenched stone.
The ragged cry that came from Duncan’s throat sent more clouds of geese hurtling from the marsh, wings beating blackly, voices calling back in their thousands, telling Duncan that he had learned Amber’s truth too late.
She was beyond his reach.
Duncan cupped the pendant in his hands, trying to find her once more. He found nothing but the tears that blinded him.
He buried his face in his hands, knowing his own truth too late. He wanted the very thing he had driven away from himself, and he wanted it more than he wanted life itself.
“Amber! Come back to me!”
No geese lifted in response to Duncan’s raw cry. No wings beat against air. No wind stirred dried marsh grasses. There was no sound at all.
Whispering Fen’s uncanny silence touched Duncan as no cry could have. He came to his feet and looked around wildly.
What he saw was a fen such as he had never known.
Where there had been myriad birds there was nothing. Where there had been wind there was stillness. Where there had been misty silver light there was now clear gold.
And there was silence, complete and perfect.
It was as though the fen had been cut adrift from time and life, caught like a bubble in sacred amber, neither touching nor being touched by anything of the world.
Duncan closed his eyes and wondered if this was what death felt like.
“Dark warrior…”
The soft whisper pulled the ground from beneath Duncan’s feet. He spun around.
She was there, within reach, wrapped in her golden robes, watching him with eyes that were too dark in a face that was far too pale. She looked ethereal, more fragile than flame.
“Amber,” Duncan said, reaching for her.
In the moment before he would have touched her, she flinched away.
“No more,” she whispered. “Please. No more. I can’t bear it.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
“You won’t mean to. But you will.”
“Amber.”
She stepped back as Duncan stepped forward.
“You must go from this place,” Amber said urgently. “It is too dangerous for you. Erik and Cassandra never should have guided you here.”
“They didn’t.”
“They must have. There is no other way.”
Duncan opened his hand. Amber’s pendant lay on his palm.
“You guided me,” he said simply.
“That cannot be. We aren’t joined in that deep and final way!”
“But we are. I am here. If you will not come away with me, I will stay with you in this amber silence.”
Amber closed her eyes and fought against the grief and hope that were destroying her equally.
“I’m sorry, dark warrior. I meant for you to be free.”
“Without you there is no freedom except death.”
She sensed his movement and would have retreated again, but the ancient stone was against her back. With the last of her strength, she gathered herself not to cry out at the touch that would come.
What Amber felt was a pendant being gently placed against her fingers. The instant she felt the weight, her eyes flew open. It was not only her own pendant that had been given to her.
It was Duncan’s as well.
“Take them back!” she cried. “You will die here!”
“Breath of my breath,” Duncan whispered. “Heart of my heart. Soul of my soul. Touch me.”
Slowly Amber lifted her hand. When her fingers brushed against Duncan’s palm, she cried out.
Pleasure not pain.
A pleasure more exquisite than any she had ever known before.
Crying, laughing, she threw her arms around her dark warrior and held him, simply held him, drowning in the radiant truth revealed by his touch.
Around them the air shimmered and changed, sound pouring in as though a bubble had burst, life returning in a rush, geese calling, wind stirring long grasses until the fen overflowed with whispers and sighs, the same words endlessly repeated, weaving a spell that knew no boundaries of time or place…
I love you.
IN a distant, sacred circle, a rowan bloomed for the first time in a thousand years.