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Alone in the darkness, he had lain there for centuries, drifting in and out of elusive dreams of the world above. His entire
existence had long ago become velvet darkness, cool stone and shadowed memory. How long since she had trapped him here? Time
had no meaning. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into years, years into centuries, and still the pain of her treachery burned
like a brand in his broken heart. Had she truly loved him so little? Had he been such a burden to her, that she'd felt her only
escape was to seal him under this great stone for all eternity? Had she merely used him to gain knowledge?
And what of Arthur and his knights? Had his kingdom succeeded? Or had it crumpled and fallen, like the dreams had suggested? He sighed. The dreams. Were the only the imaginings of a trapped mind? He fervently hoped so, but in his heart, he knew that he dreamed truth, disturbing as it was. The dreams told him of the world above, a world that had abandoned the Old Ways, the ways of magic, and had turned to science as the greatest Truth of all. It had all but forgotten the knowledge of old, the spirits of earth and sea, flame and sky, the language of trees and animals, the glowing life force that connected every living thing. Was he the only one left in all the world who understood such things? No. There was one other. One who had…her…soul. And she did not want to acknowledge such power. She wished to be like other men, with no magic about her. In every life she'd lived, she'd denied her power, ignored it, pretended it wasn't there. But magic had a way of catching up. It was not a passive force. It wanted to be used, to be unleashed. And though it might take lifetimes, magic always triumphed... The girl stood alone on the moors, the wind whipping her dark hair around her face. She wasn't sure why she was here, but something inside of her had been clamoring for weeks, and finally she had followed the feeling. And had found herself in the middle of nowhere on the British moors. She began to walk, instinctively knowing the way to her mysterious destination. It was dusk, and the sky was awash with watercolors, reds and purples and blues, with a sprinkling of glitter, the first stars. The full moon was just floating over the horizon, an orb of silver-white radiance. The smell of lavender was everywhere, and she bent and picked some, twining the stems into her hair. The wind moaned over the moor, an eerie, but strangely exhilarating sound. The air tasted fresh and wild and raw, filling her with a sudden energy. She began to run. Her lavender-strewn hair streamed out behind her like a banner. The wind sang in her ears, and she wailed along in harmony, filling the moor with uncanny music meant for no other to hear. No other but one... He tensed as he heard the first tendrils of unearthly melody filtering down from the moor above. She was coming. In all the lives she had lived since the one he had known her in, she had never once ventured near this place. Whether it was because she felt guilt for imprisoning him here, or simply because she had forgotten, he wasn't sure. But now she returned. Was it to take him to a new prison? To finally kill him, perhaps? Or simply to gloat? Or...was it for a reason that he hardly dared to hope for...? To...to set him free? This was a thought that he dared not examine too closely, lest it burst like a delicate soap bubble floating in the sunlight... A hunched, dark shadow reared up out of the sea of whispering moor grass, a great gray island of stone. She brought her headlong gallop to halt. This was the place. This was where weeks of wandering had brought her. This was, in some odd way that she could not quite grasp, her destiny. She stood on the hill, staring out at the moon-washed moor all around her and at the stone that waited patiently beside her. Waited for what? She realized that the whole world was still, waiting for what she would do next.ÿ_ She slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out a book of matches. She struck one, and the flame sent dancing shadows out around her. She let go of the match, and it hung suspended in the air before her, still burning. She had a vague feeling that this should have startled her, but in some curious way, it felt right. The wind suddenly started up again around her, and she began to sing in a strange, old language, words that rubbed her throat raw with their power. The wind's wailing increased and the moon and stars seemed to brighten. The match's flame reared up impossibly high, as she continued to scream the incantation into the wind, arms raised above her head, hair flying wildly in every direction. Slowly and majestically, the great stone beside her began to rise. Higher and higher it climbed, as the storm of wind and flame and words grew to a crescendo. Until suddenly, it stopped. A figure emerged from under the stone. He walked with a halting, stumbling gait, using the great stone to support him as he drank in the night air like a starved man. His flowing white beard cascaded like a waterfall down his front. His hands were gnarled and his face was weathered with immeasurable age, but his eyes were clear and blue, deep as the oceans, and vast as space itself. With these twin orbs of consciousness, he scrutinized the girl who stood motionless in front of him, with lavender twisted in her wild dark hair and a burnt and blackened match in one hand, and spoke, with a voice as deep and resonant as thunder, but as gentle as spring rain. "I knew that you would return someday, Nenyve." "Was that my name?" she asked, her green eyes wide and staring. "Yes, it was. Long ago." "I think I remember..." she said wistfully. She met his eyes, searched them for a long moment. "I know you," she told him quietly. He nodded, but could not speak. "I came back to...to set free the magic that the world has forgotten. And...to beg your forgiveness." "It has already been granted. Only tell me this, Nenyve: did you love me?" There was a long pause. "I...I don't know. It was so long ago, and..." He put a gentle finger to her lips. "It doesn't matter, Nenyve. That time is dead." He sighed, and carefully lowered himself to the ground. He leaned against the stone that had so long been his prison and stared up at the diamond encrusted sky. Nenyve gracefully sat beside him and gently laid his weary head in her lap as she used to do, so long ago. He smiled, remembering days past. His eyes met hers. "It will not be long now," he told her. Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I know." "There is no need to cry, my love. It has been a long time."ÿ_ She nodded wordlessly. His face was radiant in the moonlight, his bottomless eyes saw something that she could not, as his arms reached out for something invisible to all but him, and he cried out in ecstasy, "Look for me soon, Nenyve!" She sobbed quietly as his body went limp in her arms and crumpled away to dust. She rose, taking the lavender blossoms from her hair, and set them gently on the stone that had once been a prison, but now was a grave, and stood alone on the hill as the sun rose over the moors, whispering softly, "Farewell...Merlin." |