Medieval 03 - Enchanted

lichen-etched
stones, as though they cast shadows even when there was no sun. Or
perhaps it was something else she was seeing, a second ring
wavering like a reflection in disturbed water….
    For his part, Simon looked everywhere except at the
timeworn stone monoliths.
    “Simon?”
    He grunted.
    “Is there more than one ring of
stones?”
    He gave Ariane a long, cool look.
    “What makes you ask?” Simon said
finally. “Do you see another ring?”
    Amethyst eyes narrowed. Ariane stood in the
stirrups and leaned forward as though a handspan closer to the
stones would make a difference in the clarity of her view.
    “I don’t think I see another
ring,” she said slowly. “There is something odd about
it all, though.”
    “Such as?”
    “Such as shadows standing upright instead of
on the ground. Or a second ring inside the first, a ring made of
shadow stones that ripple as though seen through mist or troubled
water,” Ariane said slowly. “Is that
possible?”
    “What does gossip say?”
    “Ask the maids in the buttery,”
retorted Ariane.
    Simon smiled faintly.
    “The Learned,” he said, “believe
that there is a second, inner ring. It is there the sacred rowan is
said to bloom.”
    “Then you have to be Learned to see the
sacred rowan?”
    Slowly Simon shook his head. “Duncan
isn’t Learned, yet he has seen the blossoms. At least, that
is what he says.”
    “Don’t you believe him?”
    Simon’s jaw flexed beneath the short pelt of
golden beard. This was the crux of the matter. As it had no
reasonable solution, Simon would have preferred to ignore it
entirely.
    Ariane, however, had the look of a cat that had
just spotted movement in the hay. She wasn’t going to turn
aside of her quarry short of an argument. An
unreasonable argument. And Simon was nothing if not
reasonable. He had learned the terrible price of letting emotion
rule his actions.
    Worse still, it had been his brother who had paid
the price, not Simon himself. It had made Simon’s lesson all
the more savagely complete.
    “I don’t doubt Duncan’s honor for
even the space of a breath,” Simon said flatly.
    “But you don’t believe there’s a
second ring?”
    “I see none.”
    “Then how did Duncan see it?” Ariane
asked.
    “You have more curiosity than a
cat.”
    “But less fur,” she retorted.
    Simon cursed softly, yet could not entirely conceal
his amusement. The longer he was with Ariane the more he enjoyed
her quick tongue.
    Unfortunately, thinking about that selfsame tongue
had an annoying habit of making him harden like a boy in the first
rush of understanding why God made men one way and women
another.
    “How can Duncan see what we cannot?”
Ariane persisted.
    Simon bit back a scorching curse.
    “Legend has it,” he said tightly,
“that only those who truly love one another can see the
sacred rowan’s bloom.”
    The leashed sarcasm in Simon’s voice was as
clear as the first ring of stones silhouetted against the windswept
autumn sky.
    “And the second ring of stones?” Ariane
asked. “Is love required to see them too?”
    Simon blew out an impatient breath. “No. Erik
and Cassandra say they see the second ring, and neither of them has
been foolish enough to become enchanted by love.”
    “So they don’t see the sacred
rowan?”
    “God’s teeth,” muttered Simon,
“is there no end?”
    Ariane waited, watching him with eyes that were
more beautiful than the silver and amethyst circlet she wore about
her head.
    “They see the rowan,” Simon said
grimly, “but its branches are always barren for
them.”
    “So…” Ariane’s fingers
drummed thoughtfully on her saddle. “One must be Learned to
see the second ring and truly in love to see the rowan
bloom?”
    A tight shrug was Simon’s only answer.
    “Then Duncan must be Learned,” Ariane
concluded.
    “I suspect the bolt of lightning that felled
him simply muddled his wits,” muttered Simon. “God
knows it took his memories for a time.”
    Ariane tilted her head thoughtfully. Simon was
certain that if she had been holding her harp, a questioning rill
of notes would have come forth.
    “What happened in Ghost Glen?” she
asked.
    Simon all but smacked his forehead in frustration.
After Stone Ring itself, Ghost Glen was his least favorite topic.
It was another of the incidents that reason could not fully
explain.
    It was also the primary reason that Duncan’s
quest for Amber was rapidly becoming a legend in the Disputed
Lands.
    “Ask Amber