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Unanswered Questions Chapter 8, Chronicle I By William Black Will glanced away and walked to where Willow stood. He mounted her and nudged his steed close to Morgana. "Morgana, let’s be going." With that he helped her up to her place behind him, then spurred Willow forward towards Morion’s realm. William turned his mount Northeast that would eventually take them to Morion’s river, then beyond to Morion’s Castle. Once they reached the river, he would have to find a place shallow enough to ford it. Yet most of his thoughts were on the Lady who rode with him. "I’m truly sorry for my attitude, Morgana," then after a brief pause, "geez, I don’t even know if that is your real name, or is it Catherine?" The enchantress just shrugged and said, "Whatever you call me is fine. I go by many names." She had put emotional distance between herself and the knight. Though she didn’t like it (she feared loosing him), Morgana felt she had no other choice. Mentally she wondered why life seemed so complicated? Why couldn’t they just abandon their pasts and take each other for the present? Morgana knew the answer, though she loved him dearly, she would not give up what she had. "Will?" Morgana finally ventured, "Would you give up everything for me?" The knight let out a hearty laugh, his deep voice sounding dark but without malice, "I once told you, or was it Catherine," he paused to let the point sink in, "that I would give up everything even to my own life for you or her. So why ask me know?" He looked over his shoulder at the lovely lady behind him. Morgana shrugged again and remained thoughtful. She knew that this man meant what he said, though it was what he didn’t say that bothered her. He was the one man she could not read completely. There was still something dark and mysterious about him. He was in many ways an enigma to her. They worked well together; however, others depended on him. How could she bear the guilt of taking him away from all who relied on his strength and presence? Somehow she knew that he could fulfil it all, but she doubted herself. She had to admit that there was another for her, one she could read, and whom she had loved longer than this knight. She knew that Will was more than he claimed to be or possibly more than he himself knew. She could feel it in him. Morgana smiled to herself, but kept her face expressionless. William did not try to engage her in conversation for the rest of the day. When night fell, a damp chill pierced the air. The knight looked up at the sky. Large blotches of clouds scurried from west to east, thickening as they went. "Morgana, we need to make camp. It will rain soon." He could feel Morgana nod in reply, but no words were spoken. The knight nudged his mount to a small grove of trees that would afford some protection from the elements. He dismounted and held out his arms to help the Lady down, but she refused the offer, sliding down with agile grace. "I will get the fire going," she said turning to fetch some firewood. William set to work constructing a makeshift lean-to. Once this was accomplished, he went out alone to gather what food he could find. He was back when the first rain drops started to drip from the sky. He had trapped a rabbit and found some edible roots. Combining them would make a fine stew. Morgana was sitting under a tree tending to the fire. "Better hurry before the real downpour comes," she said without feeling. Will prepared the catch and vegetables with the efficiency borne of lonely necessity. Despite Morgana’s emotional distance, she watched him with grudging admiration. Soon the pot shimmered over the fire and there was nothing left to do but wait until it finished cooking. Morgana occasionally stirred the contents, but continued her silent treatment. The knight watched her, loved her, and his heart ached. He wondered what Morgana had seen in him, he doubted everything the Catherine persona had told him, and worst of all he felt his heart breaking. Some ‘knight’, he thought to himself. He hadn’t noticed when she dished up the stew, but she handed him a steaming plate full and simply said, "Here, eat." He tried to catch her eye, but she kept her focus to the ground. "Morgana, why won’t you talk to me?" "What more is to be said?" She looked at him, but her eyes were emotionless. William shook his head angrily, "Much more. How have you turned this around? Why do I feel guilty? It was you who deceived and denied me. But I still..." "STOP right there! If you REALLY had forgiven me, this topic would not be coming up again. Will, I do love you, but you just won’t give this a rest. So don’t expect me to be social anymore. I have my own life to live. When we get back you’ll be rid of me for good. So eat your food and leave me alone!." Tears were in her eyes, but also longing. "For God’s sake, how can I show you that I really do forgive you? Why are you putting me to the test? Why are you trying to make me feel guilty?" "Because Will, I can. Does this make sense to you?" She looked deep into his dark brown eyes. "No? Well, my beloved knight, I have felt guilty ever since we met. Guilty I could not meet your high and holy expectations; that you wanted more out of me than I could ever give." "Rubbish! Pure stinking rubbish! Let’s stop talking and acting at cross-purposes. If you love me and I love you, then what else matters?" William kept his voice level, though he felt like shouting. Then calming himself, he said, "My Lady, would you do me one last courtesy? It won’t be easy, but I think it is worth it." Morgana looked at him with suspicion. "Go ahead, I’m listening." "Love, I think we both owe each other another chance with all we have been through, and all that we feel for one another. Would you just do this for me? At least consider it?" Morgana looked at the fire, her mind racing. Here it was; the plea. She knew she would never get another chance. This knight was no fool, just deeply in love. But something in her balked. "Will, I don’t know. We’ll see." Morgana convinced herself that she would return to the subject one day, but for now she went and laid down in the bedroll. The rain started coming down with more persistence. "Honey, come to bed. We need to get going early tomorrow. I’m as eager as you are to get to Morion’s keep. I need a hot bath." She closed her eyes and was soon fast asleep. "And to be rid of me," the knight added under his breath. Pain filled Will’s heart, for he had laid himself bare the only way he knew how and been rejected, or so he felt. He poked at the fire and added more fuel. The flames were cheery, but brought no solace to the heart of the man. Then he let his mind wonder. He remembered his childhood, solitary and filled with one illness after another. If not for his beloved nursemaid, he would have died. With her help his body, heart, and mind gained strength, and he was able to enter the training of knighthood. He recalled how hard it was; first as a page, then squire, and ultimately as mounted warrior. He also remembered with a proud smile the lonely all night vigil preceding his solemn vows as a knight. His proudest memories, however, were of riding in tournaments and besting those far more "seasoned" in the art of combat; even his older brother Sir Alan of Annsbury. He also achieved high honours in the art of "Courtly Love", and never broke his word to any Lady. Thoughts of festivals and dancing young maidens, fragrant flowers in their soft flowing hair, made him smile sadly. He had met Catherine, or was it Morgana, at just such a gathering. "For crying out loud," he whispered to himself, "I had met several nice young women at that festival. Why was Catherine so special? Why was Morgana more so?" He looked at her and sighed. "Shoot, it doesn’t really matter now." He recalled the discontent of his heart; always wanting to learn more, but not of battle. He wanted to learn about life and healing. Suddenly the knight’s mind snapped back to the present. He looked up and saw it, a wraith! Or was it just shadows playing with the light of the fire. Regardless of what it was, his rune covered sword was out of its scabbard, and flashing brightly in the light of the flames. The shade stood covered in a smoky grey robe. Its face obscured by the hood shrouding its head. No words came from it, just whispery thoughts and images. Will could see right through it to the darkness beyond. A common man might mistake it for swamp gas, but this thing moved with purpose. Will was on his feet instantly and between the thing and his beloved lady; her breathing deep and undisturbed. Instead of conversing with the wraith as a man would talk to his fellow, Will sent tendrils of thought aimed like darts at the mind within the grey robes. The wraith recoiled slightly as if in pain. This was the reaction the knight had hoped for. He calmed his thoughts, kept the sword at the ready, and asked the most obvious question he could think of, "Why have you come?" The shade's voice was high and squeaky, "For you, most loathed of all knights, for YOU!" Will brought the sword up protectively. The runes glowed with their own fire. The wraith backed away a few meters. "Who sent you." "Dumah, the Under Lord of Loki" the ghost hovered higher in the air as if to pay respect to the name of its master. "Why does Dumah seek me?" The knight knew, but wanted confirmation. Dumah seldom sent an emissary to announce anything. Dumah, or the Angel of Death as he was also known, always acted first to destroy his enemies, no explanations ever being given. "Because you have hindered his work, killed his children, and disrupted his death. Your life and the life you give is putrid to him. But you have his poison within and it calls your name. He would like an audience with you." If a wraith could smile, this one was putting on a huge grin. "Don’t give me your answer now, oh scum of the earth. There will be another sent to receive your answer." With this the shade just disappeared. A rank odour lingered in the air where the ghost once stood. The knight looked around and sent probing thoughts out into the stillness of the night. The only hint of life returned were those of night creatures on the prowl and day creatures safely burrowed away until the morning light. The knight went to his bedroll. After removing his outer garments he lay next to Morgana, her warmth comforting him as little else could. But this night was not for resting. It was for planning. When Morgana sensed him next to her, she turned and rested her arm across his chest. "Morgana, this is how it could be if only you would but ask." Will said in a whisper, and then turned his mind to the battle yet to come. William Black © Continues... Chronicle I, Main page |