Love: Over Before it Began

Love: Over Before it Began

  The Prophecy #7

  By John Stevenson

  Copyright 2010 John Stevenson

  Nicholas was both glad and relieved when they turned the corner. The lights of the tavern disappeared behind the black rock, and the sound of the fiddle was swallowed by the night.

  Though he was less pleased at how the slight jarring of the horse had made his pain return. He felt his hands shaking too, and preferred to think it caused by the cold rather than belated fear as the surge of adrenalin ebbed. Worse still before they had left the light, he had seen see the creases across Harriet's brow. Now as the minutes ticked by she would be feeling the onset of shock.

  There was nothing he could do; they both desperately needed the relief of deep sleep. He consoled himself thinking that likely it would have been impossible in the tavern: even if they had had the chance, filled as it had been with the rowdiness of drunken patrons. But such consolation was of little comfort to their weariness. He decided that whatever the complications they would stop once they came to any nook or cranny that could shelter them, so that she at least could catch a few hours of rest.

  They rode on in silence, the river now so far below that only the clip clop of the horse's hooves seemed to be echoing up and down the silent canyon in the chill night air.

  The hot breath from the nostrils of their animals condensed around them as the horses continued to snort their protest at being dragged from a relatively comfortable night's respite.

  They traveled a good way: though slowly, up the side of the mountain. It was dark and they could barely see anything in front with the moon hiding behind thick cloud, so they kept close to the rock face. Nicholas had far too vivid memories of what lay unseen just the other side of that low wall.

  There was no mist, as such at this height above the plain, though even if there had been it could not have made visibility any worse, but mostly Nicholas was surprised how cold it had become; even for this time of the seasons. If Harriet felt the same, she did not say so, but she had likely considered it before they had set out, as they were well rugged up.

  They lost sense of time, but long after they had left the tavern it began to drizzle. This turned to light rain, which quickly gave way to a heavy downpour. If the wet wasn't enough the wind gathered speed and whipped icy droplets into their faces. They pulled their hoods down against the bitter onslaught, but whatever they did exposed pieces of face and fingers were soon numb and smarting. It did not take long for them both to become soaked and thoroughly miserable at their plight.

  No doubt the horses felt the same as they tried to hide up even closer against the cliff face, continually banging Nicholas's knees against the rock; and at times they slowed as they turned corners into the full force of the driving rain.

  There had been no others travelers on the road for a long time. The last ones had been closer to the tavern, hurrying to the dubious shelter or pleasures it offered. Nicholas rode in front in a futile attempt to protect Harriet from the worst of the weather; consoled in the thought that as no living thing, including any dangerous wild beast would be out by choice in this: at least nothing would delay them more.

  From what he could tell the road was still well made, and occasionally he glimpsed a thin sheet of water running across the pavement; then flowing alongside the Crete wall before disappearing through the periodic openings at its base. Head down against the rain it was reflected in this moist layer that Nicholas thought he imagined a flickering light.

  It caught Harriet's attention, and with effort she called out his name drawing his notice up ahead. Some distance away was a tiny spot of light.

  It grew in intensity until a covered lantern could be made out, and that held by a person wrapped as they were. Only the flickering light that reflected from his half-hidden eyes betrayed that a man hid within. A voice was straining against the wind and the noise of the rain. "Do you need shelter?"

  "Yes... Yes? We do? Thank you." Nicholas found himself saying without hesitation.

  Whoever was holding the lantern turned wordlessly. They followed close, afraid they may lose him.

  It was not far, a short stretch of road then off amongst the trees up a small track, then suddenly the rain stopped. Without realizing they had ridden into a cavern.

  Nicholas helped Harriet down from the saddle, her light body weight increased several fold due to the saturated garments.

  "Take the lantern and go forward. You will see the way," said their savior. "I will wipe down your animals and tend to their needs."

  They felt too fatigued to argue, and did as they were bid. Some distance along the cave, an entrance to another chamber came into view, and from this the warm glow of an open fire greeted them. They went in.

  What at first had been no more than a cavity in the rock now became a room, and such a fine room that they could become used to. Of decent proportions, furnished with tables, chairs, and all the other fittings as would befit a well to do household. If this man was a hermit, he liked his comfort more than any Nicholas had met before.

  They took off their saturated outer clothing, self-conscious that they would drop water on the smooth timber that served as a floor, and left them in a pile at the end of the cavern.

  Drawn like moths to flame, they crossed to the fire and stood in front of it warming themselves. Immediately the heat made their fingers and toes ache, but otherwise they had begun to feel much better when their unknown host joined them.

  "Take off your clothes. I have towels and robes you may use." He almost demanded

  As if young children at their mothers request, they again did as he asked, too relieved to greatly care for modesty.

  Sat by the fire, at last warm and dry, he gave them steaming mugs of hot goat's milk. The creamy froth laced with spicy herbs. They began to talk as they drank the nourishing liquid.

  The stranger made no enquiry as to who they may be: of their destination or its purpose. Instead they talked of daily things, as if it was a meeting of old neighbors.

  Nicholas felt he should explain at least why they were on the road, but the stranger gave him no opportunity, in fact he seemed to not have the slightest interest why they had continued to travel in such atrocious conditions.

  He brushed off Nicholas's gratitude, saying only that no person should be out in such weather. He said his name was Eridani, and he had lived in this place 'since it was created?' he said with a laugh.

  Harriet was starting to doze, her head slowly dropping low on her chest; then suddenly sitting up straight again, only seconds later to drift off once more. "Pray follow me young mistress," Eridani said noticing her futile efforts to remain awake. He pulled aside a tapestry revealing a small anteroom, furnished with a comfortable looking crib

  As he returned back to the fire, Nicholas took the chance to explain that she was his sister, and that he was taking her to the aging at Lakesend.

  Eridani nodded. "She may sleep there in peace. For you I will bring blankets, as you must make comfortable as you can on the couch young sir."

  While he was out of the room Nicholas went over to the wall opposite the fireplace. Along this wall were dozens of books and manuscripts, of all shapes and sizes. His eyes went to a small but interesting looking volume, bound in soft red leather. The book felt comfortable in his hands as if it had been held in a thousand others. He opened the first page. It read 'The Legend of the Stone'.

  "It is a peculiar taste in reading that you have."

  Nicholas looked up embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I should have asked your permission, but manuscripts interest me."

  "Then that is the most interesting of all," he said. "For of the writings I have, that is one that asks questions of
the reader, rather than giving him the answers he seeks."

  Nicholas put the book back without a clue what was meant, and made up the couch into a passable bed. Eridani bid him goodnight and withdrew from the room. Nicholas lay down; cozy, warm, and feeling that safe sleep would come soon. But sleep did not. He tossed and turned, closed and opened his eyes. Several times he went and looked through at Harriet; she was deeply asleep. He stared at her face for so long that he could have painted it from memory. Her damp hair lay as if drawn oh her unblemished forehead: below her sculptured cheekbones taking his eyes to her slightly parted, full lips. Her nose: small and pert between eyelashes that curled over closed eyelids. He couldn't see her eyes, but he had already and would never forget them.

  He lay down again looking into the fire; he was tired; he wanted to sleep, but couldn't. He wondered if this was what violence did, charged the body so much that relaxing was impossible. At