been wrong. This did matter. It mattered very much. Dream or no
dream, he was more real to her than anyone she had ever known. And whatever was
to happen between them now would change her for all time. She hesitated for the
space of a single breath, so short a time that he could not have noticed it. But
still, it was too long. She watched in horror as his outline shimmered and
began to fade.
"Wait," she said desperately. "Oh,
don't go—please—"
She reached to grasp his outstretched hand, then cried
aloud in wordless disappointment as her fingers met only air.
But Alistair felt the warmth of her touch. It streaked
through him like a burning brand. Quickly, before she could vanish altogether,
he leaned close and kissed her full soft lips. At that moment a flame leaped
between them, searing to his soul, so sharp and sudden that he could not tell
if what he felt was pain or pleasure.
She drew a quick breath and stared up at him, one hand
pressed against her mouth. She had felt it too, then, had been burned by the
same fire that had marked him for all time. Oh, he did not want to wake. Whatever
she was, wherever she had come from, he would stay with her and gladly, even if
he could never have more of her than this.
Her sapphire eyes were large and wondering, shimmering
with sudden tears. He moved to draw her into his arms, knowing from the start
that it was hopeless, yet powerless to stop his instinctive gesture of comfort.
She swayed toward him, then froze with a small gasp of fear, her gaze moving
over his shoulder. Turning, he saw nothing but the forest and heard naught but
a bird's harsh cry.
"Two ravens," she whispered. "There,
just behind you. What does it mean?"
"Ravens?" he repeated. She began to waver
before him, as though he viewed her through a veil of water. "Ah, corbies.
Twa corbies," he said and was seized with an unreasoning terror, as though
he had pronounced his own doom.
"Ah, no—farewell!" Her voice was small and
distant, and as his sight faded, he tried once more to reach her.
"Wait!" he cried. "Who are you? What is
your name?"
Whatever answer she might have made was lost in the rushing
of the waterfall. Alistair pulled the stiffened hide around him and stared into
its depths as dawn slowly lit the sky beyond.
CHAPTER 4
F ergus stepped out of his cave and leaned upon his
staff. It was a golden day, bright with summer, but with a fresh breeze blowing
from the mountains. Time for harvest, time for hunting...time for the restless
yearning to grip a young man's heart. Alistair stood at the edge of the
clearing, one arm leaning on an overhanging branch as he stared into the valley
below. He had put on flesh in these past months, Fergus noted with
satisfaction. Through constant exercise he had regained his strength and his
eyes were clear and focused.
"You'll be leavin' soon," Fergus said.
Alistair turned with a start. "How d'ye do that?"
he demanded crossly. "I never hear ye come or go."
"I canna tell ye all my secrets. Ye must
leave me some mystery and magic." He brought out the last word with a
twist of his lips.
"Oh, you've plenty of that to spare,"
Alistair said. "How did you know I was thinking of leaving?"
Fergus shrugged. "I could say I divined it by my
arts, but the truth is, 'tis writ upon your face. And you're right. 'Tis time
ye were away. And if you're worried for me, don't be. I've weathered many a
winter here before."
He lowered himself carefully to the flat rock, sighing
as the sunlight warmed his bones. "This is not the place for you," he
said with some regret. "I'd hoped—but there's no arguing with what's meant
to be."
"But where can I go?" Alistair asked. "Have
ye forgotten I'm a banished man?"
"Kirallen doesna own the world, just one small
piece within his borders. Ride north or west or east..."
"East of the sun and west of the moon?"
Alistair asked with a scornful curl to his lip. "Is that where I shall
find her?"
There was no need to ask whom he meant. Since