Disclaimers: The Highlander/Raven characters are copyright to Davis/Panzer. No copyright infringement is intended or revenue expected from their use. The story plot and other characters are copyright to the author, Maril Swan.

Note: This story takes place after "Dead on Arrival".

The Raven and the Rose
A Fable
by Maril Swan

Part Three

Chapter Six: The Raven

The wheel of the year turned round and round until seven years had passed. True to his word, Myrddhin shared his knowledge unsparingly with Amanda, and she became more than an adept. He assured her if Avalon still existed, she would be its High Priestess.

Since their first meeting, there had been no further mention of her leaving the Sanctuary. She seemed almost perfectly content with her life. But, sometimes in the early spring, Amanda felt a strange disquiet. At these times, she roamed far from the Sanctuary, a deep longing filling her soul for she knew not what.

When this restlessness was upon her, Myrddhin would watch anxiously as she wandered far into the forest, and the sense of her Presence dimmed then vanished. Would she return this time, he wondered, as the hours passed with no sign of her?

In the spring of the seventh year with Myrddhin, Amanda had followed that strange summons that led her away from the Sanctuary and into the deep forest. Away his powerful Presence, Amanda felt free. Her spirit, though, was troubled by one recurrent thought: "I should leave here. I need to be with others, to have a life beyond Sanctuary."

Even as she considered this course, guilt would assail her. She owed him everything--her life, her knowledge, everything. But did she not owe herself something too? He was old, having lived many lifetimes, been in the midst of momentous history, a man of legend and myth. He had done and seen great things in the world beyond Sanctuary. Should she not take her knowledge into the world to do some good? But gratitude and loyalty to Myrddhin held her back.

And fear. The fear of the Immortal Game.

She meandered aimlessly through the new springing glade, oblivious to the scents and sounds of the woods, strolling over the carpet of white blossoms which covered the forest floor like snow. As she was about to take a step, a weak chirp and flutter on the ground brought her out of her reverie.

A tiny black bird struggled awkwardly amid the short grass, trying to right itself. Amanda realized it must have fallen from its nest and scanned the branches. There was no sign of a nest nearby, and she shrugged regretfully at the helpless chick as she was about to pass by.

"I'm afraid your fate is sealed," she said. But its pathetic chirping tore at her tender heart, so she picked it up, feeling its tiny pulse beating wildly in her hand. "Well, maybe something can be done for you."

Cupping her hand so the bird would not fall, she held it close to her face, her spirits lifting as she smiled tenderly at the wee thing. Turning her steps back toward the Sanctuary, her own problems were temporarily forgotten.

Myrddhin laughed softly when he saw what lay in her hand. "You know it can't survive. It needs its mother to feed it and teach it to fly."

"But, Myrddhin," Amanda protested, looking at the fluffy black thing sleeping trustingly on her palm. "Surely, we can try to feed it and keep it alive. Is this life not as worthy as any other?"

He smiled fondly, glancing at the pathetic little creature and at Amanda's determined face. "Concentrate, my child, on the little bird. It has an instinct for survival. It will tell you what it needs."

Amanda cleared her mind as Myrddhin had taught her long ago, and stilled her thoughts to open herself to the tiny creature. After a few minutes, she suddenly smiled. She knew what to do.

Myrddhin nodded with evident satisfaction, and touching paternally her on shoulder said, "You have the makings of a great healer, Amanda."

Chapter Seven: The Tocsin

The summer sun was hot upon her back as Amanda hoed her garden rows. Starting a garden had been her idea, and she was proud of her efforts. With a plentiful water supply nearby, every plant was flourishing. Though, she thought grimly, the seeds had nearly cost them their lives.

Resting on the hoe, Amanda recalled their visit to the village. A few weeks after she found the tiny raven, Amanda had suggested the planting of a garden.

"Myrddhin," she explained, "We could grow what we need in the clearing, and not have to go so far to find food."

He was not opposed to the idea, except as he said patiently, "We have no vegetable seed, and the nearest source would be a village two days travel from here." He realized his error at once, as her face brightened.

"There is a village only two days away?" Excitement flushed her cheeks at the prospect of other people so nearby, and Myrddhin knew nothing would dissuade her from going there. But he had to try.

"Your tiny pet will perish in your absence," he cautioned, "Four days without food or water will kill it for certain."

Her enthusiasm was dampened momentarily, but rebounded as she said, "You are right, Myrddhin. I shall have to take her with me. In four or five days, let us go to that village." As if the matter was settled, Amanda went out to the clearing and began to mark off the area where her garden would be.

She built a small twig cage for the bird to keep it safe, and make it easier to carry. The little raven demanded a lot of her attention as its tiny beak was always open for food. She delighted in her new pet as it hopped trustingly into her hand when she opened its cage. Even Myrddhin was surprised by its tameness, but especially that it survived at all.

"I have never seen a bird so trusting of a human. It has become quite attached to you, Amanda."

Amanda spent the next five days dividing her time between caring for the bird and preparing the ground for the garden.

Myrddhin accepted the journey as inevitable, and made his own preparations. He packed pouches of food for their travel, as well as some of his medicines and potions they could trade for seed and other items. Each time he thought of the trip, a sense of foreboding overwhelmed him, though he tried to shake it off. Amanda seemed blissfully unconcerned and saw nothing amiss.

An ill-assorted pair they made as Myrddhin and Amanda trudged along the cart track that led to the village. He, looking like an old travelling bard in patched clothing, with his lute strapped to his back, and she, a fair young maiden in a linen gown, carrying a light pack over her shoulder, and with a small birdcage attached to her belt.

They emerged from the forest onto the track, and followed it for half a day. The woods gradually gave way to small farms surrounded by hedgerows and stone fences. As they passed, the farm folk, labouring in their fields, called out greetings, and offered refreshment to the weary travellers. Amanda's face was alight with joy as she exchanged greetings, stopping occasionally for a word or a sip of water.

"This is where she belongs," thought Myrddhin sadly. "In the world, living her own life." But he knew, selfishly, that he would never send her away. She must go of her own accord. All he could do was make it easier for her.

At length, the village came into view, just a handful of huts clustered around a small green. The clanging of iron from the village smithy drew their attention. Something about the sound seemed to trouble Amanda, as she stood listening intently.

"What is it, my dear," he asked kindly, though he already knew the answer. The smithy's hammering sounded very much like a sword fight, and evoked a memory which haunted her.

They had only walked a few paces toward the village well to refresh themselves, when an old woman rushed out of one of the huts, anxiety etched into her wrinkled features.

"High Lady," she implored Amanda, dropping an ungainly curtsey. Amanda was too taken aback to speak, as the old woman continued, "Please, you must come to help us. My daughter is birthing and the babe won't come. She's getting weaker, dying. Please, lady, help us." A sudden scream and a moan rent the air, chilling Amanda to her very marrow. She looked to Myrddhin for advice, but all he said was, "You must go with her, Amanda."

The old woman ran back to her hut as more screams pierced the air. Amanda, her hands shaking, said, "I don't know anything about midwifery, Myrddhin. I can't help them. Please, you must go."

"Birthing is woman's business," he said sternly. "Use what I have taught you. Feel for the babe, it will tell you what it needs." So saying, he pushed Amanda gently toward the hut, and turned his own steps toward the smithy, who seemed to be watching them intently.

The smithy eyed Myrddhin suspiciously as he approached. His sweat-grimed face was scarred from the fiery forge, as were his brawny bare arms. A leather apron protected his chest. He set down his hammer and waited for Myrddhin to speak.

"I bid you good day, smithy," he said, smiling with all the charm he could muster. A wasted effort, he noted, as the dour blacksmith did not reply. "I am a travelling bard, and I have some goods to trade for seed."

"Aye, and what would a bard be wantin' with seed?" the man snarled, his gravelly voice and surly expression clearly suspicious of this odd-looking stranger.

"Tis for my lady, for her farm. We are on a pilgrimage, and she needs the seed for this year's planting." Even to his own ears, the explanation sounded weak.

The smithy's eyes narrowed, then he said, "Up yon road apiece there be a farmer who might have some seed for ye." He seemed to be considering a thought, then added, "Be your lady a wise woman"?"

"Nay," said Myrddhin, a bit too hastily, "Just a good Christian woman returning from a pilgrimage to Canterbury."

"Or Avebury, morelike," retorted the blacksmith, spitting rudely onto the ground at Myrddhin's feet.

The flash of anger dissipated into the ominous feeling he felt from the start of this journey. Without a word of thanks, Myrddhin turned on his heel and strode in the direction of the farm.

Though still early spring, the day was excessively warm for the clothing he was wearing. A half- hour's weary trudge up the road finally brought him to his destination. After much haggling, which left Myrddhin feeling he had been bested on the trade, he returned to the village with Amanda's precious seeds, hot and tired, and in no sweet temper.

He spied Amanda by the village well, dipping water from a bucket with a pannikin, and pouring it over her hands. She beamed on him as he approached.

"Babe and mother are doing well," she said, glowing with obvious pride. "The family has invited us to sup with them, and to accept their hospitality for a night's lodging."

Myrddhin's temper exploded as he snapped, "I do not wish to eat their maggoty food nor lie in their lice-ridden beds! We are leaving--right now!" Those blue eyes were cold as ice and hard as crystal, and Amanda fell back slightly before this unexpected harshness.

"NO!" she flashed back, her own temper erupting, as her eyes blazed furiously. "No, I am not leaving yet! The babe and her mother need more care. And I shall sup with these folk, whether you will or no." She marched rigidly back to the hut and was lost to his sight in its dimness.

Myrddhin, panting with rage, tried to compose himself as he considered what to do. He noticed the blacksmith had witnessed their little scene. And then the fellow turned his gaze down the road and Myrddhin followed his glance to see a lone rider in the distance, plodding toward the village on a donkey.

"Oh no," he thought, all thoughts of anger gone as he rushed to the hut in near panic. As he entered, he nearly gagged on the stench of too many unwashed bodies and too little ventilation. He saw the young mother and her newborn lying on a straw mattress on the floor. The child was quietly nursing. Several other children of various ages, all unclean and in rags, sat at a trestle table, waiting for their grandmother to feed them. Amanda sat in their midst, a bowl of something Myrddhin preferred not to examine too closely, in front of her. He wondered, irrelevantly, how she could have any appetite in this fetid atmosphere.

She cast an angry glance at him which became concern as she read in his face that something was amiss.

"Amanda, please, you must believe me. We are in danger here. We must go - now!" he whispered urgently. At that moment, through the open door, they saw a brown-cassocked priest ride by on his weary donkey. Myrddhin strode to the door and watched as the priest, beckoned by the blacksmith, stopped and dismounted. He could see the smith gesturing animatedly, then both turned toward the hut.

The priest patted the blacksmith on the shoulder. Bright sun shone on his tonsured head, and as he squinted toward the hut once more, Myrddhin could see he was very young. The old Druid could almost feel the fanatical hatred gleaming in those priestly eyes as he glared into their temporary refuge.

The priest moved over to his donkey, and opening the pannier, lifted out a shiny brass bell. Immediately, he began to ring it, loudly and urgently.

Everyone in the hut stilled at the sound of that clamour. Myrddhin was the first to move as he rushed to Amanda, dragging her up from the bench.

"What is that?" she asked.

"The tocsin. And it's for us. Come on, Amanda, as you value your life!"

On the town common, people were gathering around the priest, in answer to the summons. Several of the men had hoes or pitchforks in their hands, as they milled around, awaiting the priest's message.

Myrddhin and Amanda slipped out of the hut and ran for the woods behind the village. "There they are!" shouted the priest. "After the pagan devils!"

Amanda didn't stop to look behind her, knowing the priest and the men were in hot pursuit. She knew she could outrun them or lose them, but what of Myrddhin? How long would his strength hold out? Immortal or not, he was old and had not her vigour or stamina.

She felt her pulse beating in her ears as fear lent her wings, but after a short while, realized she was alone. In a panic now, she turned quickly to search for Myrddhin. He was some distance behind, clinging to a tree, spent and seemingly in pain. She hurried back to his side, but he gasped, "Go on, save yourself. I shall be all right. They can't hurt me. Run, Amanda!"'

The crashing of branches and yells coming nearer told Amanda it was too late. The rabble would be upon them in seconds.

"They can't kill us, we're Immortal," she reassured him. Myrddhin's face was set and grim.

"There are some things worse than death."

The priest, leading his band of vigilantes, broke into sight and halted, fanatical joy lighting his face.

"We've caught them!" he crowed to his followers. "The Devil's Disciple and his whore! Rid the world of their evil. They're an abomination! Destroy them!" he exhorted, and the men, brandishing their weapons, moved forward almost as one.

Amanda stepped in front of Myrddhin, and raised her hand. The villagers stopped abruptly, and Amanda detected superstitious fear in their eyes.

"Thou shalt not kill!" she shouted at the priest.

"We are doing God's will," he screamed back, his high nasal voice haranguing his followers, as he looked around at them for support.

"Thou shalt not kill!" Amanda repeated. "Is that not God's commandment? Is not killing evil? Are you leading these good men to do evil?" She looked each and every man in the eye as if daring them to step forward and they dropped their gaze to the ground, having lost any heart for this day's vengeance.

The zealous young priest, realizing he was losing them, their courage failing in the face of this formidable woman, shrieked defiance at her, "Spawn of Satan! She-devil! Witch! Harlot of Hell..."

This last imprecation was too much! Her temper at the flash point, Amanda strode forward to confront the priest. He stood his ground but his followers fell back. She towered over him by several inches, which seemed to enrage him further as his face flushed hotly and his eyes blazed with hatred.

Her voice level, she said, "I saved two lives today in that village. Where were you? Or were you just coming to bury them? I practice medicine, not witchcraft." She raised her eyes to the crowd of men, looking at each and said, "Why don't you all go home to your families? There is nothing for you to do here." She smiled slightly, and more than one man sighed at her beauty.

The men looked at each other uncertainly, then relieved, they began to drift away, the rumble of their deep voices fading as they wandered back to their village, leaving the priest alone with the two Druids.

"You may think you have won, witch, but they belong to me!" the priest sneered, gesturing at the departing men.

"Don't you mean God? Or perhaps you think you are God," she said contemptuously, turning her back on him and returning to Myrddhin.

"Your time will come!" the priest shrieked as Amanda helped the old Druid to his feet, supporting his weight as he limped beside her, while the priest continued to hurl shrill curses at their backs.

After a little distance, Myrddhin was able to walk on his own. For over an hour, not a word passed between them.

Myrddhin finally spoke. "I am proud of you, Amanda. You stopped what would have been a bloody business. Those poor, ignorant folk didn't know any better, of course. They were under the command of their priest. Had it not been for you, it could have ended badly for all concerned."

He limped on for a pace, then added sternly, "But from now on, when your master tells you to do something, you must obey!"

Sudden anger flashed in her eyes, as she replied hotly, "I call no man master!"

"It is only an expression," he replied placatingly.

"Find another!" she retorted and stalked off.

For several seconds he watched her stiffly retreating back, trying to stifle the laughter that welled up inside. "Well, well," he thought to himself. "We are finally seeing the real woman at last." In all their time together, she had been deferential and compliant. Somehow, he knew her true nature was hidden, like her memory. He chuckled to himself with pleasure at the re-emergence of her real character, congratulating himself once again on his choice of an apprentice. A new spring in his step, Myrddhin hurried to catch up with Amanda, all thoughts of their near escape and slight disagreement forgotten.

The wheel of the year made another turn. The events in the village were never spoken of again. But Myrddhin knew the time was close at hand when she would leave. Her knowledge was almost equal to his, and the rest would come with experience. He could do no more but wait.

Her tiny bird grew into a full-fledged raven. The lustrous black bird followed Amanda everywhere, hopping along the ground after her, or flapping to perch on her shoulder. The young raven had the run of her house, perching on furniture or shelves as it kept up a raucous cackling. Amanda had made quite a pet of it. The raven took food from her hand, and when she sat, would nestle down in her lap as she stroked its shiny back.

One day in early spring, the raven flew to her rooftop and perched there for a long time. It appeared to be listening as it cocked its head from side to side. Amanda tried to coax it down, but it paid her no heed. She watched the raven with a rather wistful expression. Myrddhin joined her, placing his hand paternally upon her shoulder.

He said rather sombrely, "Perhaps it is time for the raven to leave."

Startled, Amanda turned to study his face. The brilliant blue eyes held a depth of sadness that she realized had nothing to do with the bird. "Why has she stayed this long?" she asked quietly.

"Love, or loyalty. Or she needed time to mature and become what she is." He looked away and sighed heavily, then added, "Now that she knows what she is, she hears the call of her own kind and longs to join them."

"There is nothing to hinder her."

"When the time is right, she will go. The raven is meant to be free."

Chapter Eight: The Quickening

The month of the Oak had passed the full of the moon, and the days were warm, the rains abundant. The garden flourished and Amanda felt at peace with the world.

The day dawned with a bright freshness and the great forest beckoned. Amanda packed her pouch with provisions for a morning's outing looking for fresh wild herbs. Dew sparkled the leaves in the early morning sun that shafted through the ancient oaks and she breathed deeply of the heady forest scents.

Mydrddhin was not about yet. She watched his hut for some sign of activity, then decided not to wait. She struck off into the woods, her raven following, flapping from branch to branch.

The hours passed quickly as she ambled through the now familiar forest. Her pouch was not quite full but Amanda had a vague sense of foreboding. It had been with her almost since leaving Sanctuary, and though she tried to shrug it off, she felt compelled to return home. Something was amiss.

As she neared her enclave, a horse whinnied from somewhere just ahead - in the direction of the Sanctuary. Her breath caught and a tight band seemed to have gripped her chest. Forcing herself to calmness, she crept forward cautiously, with the quiet stealth of a cat.

Angry voices now came faintly then more clearly as she closed the distance to the Sanctuary. Mydrddhin! she thought desperately. He is in trouble!

The thick woods gave onto her clearing and what she saw made her blood freeze. The priest from the village stood in front of her hut encircled by eight soldiers on horseback. Two soldiers afoot held Mydrddhin as the priest harangued him, his high nasal voice hysterical with fanatical glee.

"Where is the other witch, old man?" he shrieked at Mydrddhin. The old Druid held himself erect and did not speak. At a nod from the priest, one of the soldiers smote Mydrddhin with his mailed fist.

"Tell me where she is, and save yourself a painful death," the priest cajoled reasonably.

Mydrddhin, dazed from the blows, simply shook his white head, his icy blue eyes boring into those of the priest. The cleric crossed himself and screamed abuse at the old man while the soldier pummelled him cruelly.

Amanda overcame her first impulse to flee for her own life. Mydrddhin, her spiritual father, was suffering to save her. She could not abandon him. Trembling with fear and outrage, she slipped closer and found the sacred tree. As silently as she could, Amanda opened the secret door and pulled Excalibur from its hiding place.

A howl of pain made her nearly drop the sword, her hands shook so. Yet when she gripped its hilt, she felt again the melding of the sword with her body. A deadly calm settled upon her as she crept behind the hut, not knowing what she could do against such odds, but determined to save Mydrddhin further pain. She felt his Presence and hoped he was reassured that she was near.

As Amanda emerged from between the huts into full view of the intruders, a cry broke from her as one of the soldiers plunged his blade deeply into the ancient Druid and he crumpled lifeless to the earth. Time seemed to slow down as Amanda tried to reach Mydrddhin's side. As if a heavy force held her back, she could not move as she watched the second soldier's sword arc down in agonizing slowness to sever his head from his body.

"NO!" her mouth made the motion but no sound emerged. An unearthly howl, like that of a huge wolf, pierced the sudden stillness, echoing and increasing in shrillness. The soldiers' horses began to prance nervously. Again the howl rent the air until the pressure of the sound forced the soldiers to hold their ears to shut it out. Their terrified horses leaped and pawed the air, tossing their heavily armoured riders to the ground as they galloped away into the woods.

The force released Amanda suddenly and she stumbled slightly as she rushed into the midst of the soldiers. With one mighty slash, she killed the two soldiers and turned toward the priest. He saw death in her face and his eyes bulged with fear, as she advanced, sword held high ready for the killing stroke.

The howling ceased as a new more terrible sound gathered force and momentum toward the Sanctuary from somewhere deep in the woods. The trees thrashed, blasted by a mighty wind, as the roar of thunder shook the earth. Lightning exploded from the sky, striking trees and men alike. The roaring wind struck with the force of a cyclone, sweeping all before it, picking up the soldiers and priest like ragdolls and whirling their bodies high into the heavy blackness that lay over the clearing. Amanda was swept into the vortex still clinging to Excalibur. High into the eye of the tornado, she rose, dimly aware of the lifeless bodies being flung by centrifical force against the trees.

But Amanda spared no thought for them, as a mystical cloud rose from Mydrddhin's body, growing larger and more iridescent until it formed into his beloved features. In all the chaos, she heard the resonant voice she loved so well, and felt as if her heart would burst.

"Do not grieve for me, Amanda. I am free now to join Morrighana in the Otherworld," he said gently. His blue eyes glowed with an inner fire and he was surrounded by a glowing light. With a kindly smile, he continued, "You have all my knowledge, my dear child. It is in your keeping. Protect it well, and when the time comes, use it wisely." The old Druid paused, seeming to look over his shoulder. Another light shimmered behind him then resolved into a beautiful woman, dressed in an electric blue gown, her long golden hair seeming to glow. She was tiny, almost elfin, but power radiated around her like an aurora. Myrddhin's face filled with joy as he watched her glide toward him.

"Fare you well, Amanda," he said sadly. "For a long while, you will not remember me, or anything that has passed here these many years. But keep the 'Rose' with you always. It has power. You will need it."

As he said these last words, he began to change, the old man becoming young again as he joined his beloved Morrighana. The sword Excalibur that Amanda has been gripping began to radiate such a bright light that she had to avert her eyes. When she looked again, the sword and Myrddhin had vanished.

In the midst of the maelstrom, Amanda felt she was spiralling down from a great height, terror gripping her as she tumbled helplessly toward a dark abyss. Blackness swallowed her and she knew nothing more.

Concluded in Part Four