Medieval 02 - Forbidden

him more was that even when he dismounted, he couldn’t find the trail Duncan had followed. Mist swirled, lifted, teased,confused, concealed…and Simon found himself back where he had started.
    Neither Erik nor Cassandra fared any better. Ghost Glen was as it had always been to them.
    Closed.
    Duncan didn’t notice that no one had followed him down the ridge into Ghost Glen. He knew only that the way became clearer with each step forward.
    Without a thought to safety, Duncan urged Whitefoot to greater and greater speeds. Soon the mare was galloping swiftly down the glen, leaping brooks and fallen branches, skirting sacred circles, devouring the ground as though she had been born to run through the glen’s ancient stillness.
    Gradually, almost secretly, the rhythmic pounding of hooves was consumed by the myriad cries of geese. Calls lifted and tumbled, soared and turned, stirred by a restless wind. Answers stitched over other calls, other answers, countless wild voices weaving a tapestry of sound over marsh and sea.
    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 touchedDuncan 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