Medieval 02 - Forbidden

whistled through thousands upon thousands of wings as skeins of wild geese spiraled down, their bodiesdark against the falling sun, their voices calling in autumnal urgency, crying of untimely winter.
    Death will surely flow .
    Death will surely .
    Flow .
    Death will .
    Surely .
    Amber put her hands over her ears to stop the sounds of a terrible prophecy coming true.

9
    E RIK waited for Duncan and Amber in a chair of riven oak whose seat was softened by a loose cushion. Despite luxurious wall hangings and a roaring fire in the central hearth, the great hall of Sea Home’s manor house was cold. Each time a violent gust of wind forced icy air through chinks in the manor’s thick timber walls, the tapestries stirred. Though the carved wooden screens were placed so as to turn the drafts from the manor’s main door, torch flames leaped and wavered when the door opened, as it just had.
    The flames of the central fire bent and whipped in the draft. Their dance was reflected many times over in the eyes of the rough-coated wolfhounds that lay at Erik’s feet, in the peregrine’s unflinching glare from the perch behind the oak chair, in Erik’s own eyes…and in the ancient silver dagger that he was turning slowly in his hands.
    A door bar thumped home as the main door was shut once more. Moments later the leaping flames shrank to their accustomed size. Sounds of hurrying footsteps accompanied the low urging of Alfred’s voice as Erik’s knight approached the great hall.
    Without a word, Erik stared at the three people who had barely beaten moonrise back to the keep. Egbert looked sheepish. Amber appeared flushedwith more than the cold wind that had sprung up. Duncan looked like what Amber had named him—a dark warrior.
    In the silence that stretched and stretched, Erik watched the three people, ignoring Alfred entirely. In defiance of Erik’s usual good manners, he invited no one to sit on the chairs that had been dragged close to the fire for warmth and ease.
    It was very clear to Amber that Erik was holding on to his temper by a bare thread.
    “You seem to have brought winter with you,” he said.
    Despite Erik’s nearly tangible anger, his tone was mild. The contrast between his voice and the dagger gleaming wickedly in his hands was alarming.
    “The geese,” Amber said. “They have just come to Whispering Fen.”
    The news did nothing to soften Erik’s expression. Yet his tone remained the same, calm to the point of flatness.
    “Ahhhh. The geese,” Erik murmured. “Cassandra will be pleased.”
    “By an early winter?” Duncan asked.
    “It must be reassuring to have one’s every though turned to truth,” Erik said without looking away from Amber, “while mere mortals must depend upon such slender reeds as trust and honor.”
    The blood left Amber’s face. She had known Erik for her entire life, yet she had never seen him quite like this. She had seen him angry, yes, for he had a volatile temper. She had even seen him in a cold fury.
    But never with her.
    And never this cold.
    “You may retire now, Alfred,” Erik said.
    “Thank you, lord.”
    Alfred vanished with the alacrity of a man fleeing demons.
    “Egbert.”
    Erik’s voice was like the flick of a whip. The boy jumped.
    “Yes, lord?” he said hurriedly.
    “As you slept the afternoon away, you will have guard duty tonight. Go to it. Now.”
    “Aye, lord!”
    Egbert left with impressive speed.
    “I believe,” Erik said thoughtfully, “that I’ve never seen the boy move so quickly.”
    Amber made a sound that could have meant anything or nothing at all. She was still absorbing the fact that Erik knew Egbert had spent much of his time asleep.
    She wondered if Erik also knew that she and Duncan had ridden off alone.
    “He is frightened of you,” Amber said.
    “Then he is smarter than I guessed. Smarter than you, certainly.”
    Amber flinched.
    Duncan took a step forward, only to stop when Amber grasped his wrist in an unspoken plea.
    “How was your ride?” Erik asked silkily. “Chilly?”
    “Not at first,” Duncan said.
    “The day was beautiful,” Amber said quickly.
    “And how was your special place, Learned maid? Was it beautiful, too?”
    “How did you know?” she asked in a strained voice.
    Erik’s smile was that of a wolf just before it leaps.
    Abruptly Duncan wished he were wearing a sword or carrying the hammer. But he had neither weapon. He had only the certainty that Erik, for all his moments of charm and