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 Four

Chapter Nine: The Rose

Something was insistently prodding at her back. She turned away from the annoyance, waving her arms and grumbling almost incoherently. "Leave me be. I don't want to arise yet." A loud croak answered her, and opening her eyes, she found herself face to face with a large black bird. She was lying with her cheek painfully pressed to the earth, and seemingly covered with leaves and debris.

Pushing herself into a sitting position, Amanda saw before her a small hut. Turning to gaze behind, she gasped and leapt to her feet. The raven hopped away a short distance, startled and watching her with its brilliant beady eyes.

"A massacre!" she managed to choke out, as her throat closed and her gorge started to rise. She staggered backward toward the hut, using its sturdy walls to support her as she scanned the horrific scene that lay before her in the clearing.

Strewn over the small glade were contorted bodies and armour, tendrils of smoke arising from several as if they had been struck by lightning. As Amanda tried to recall this event and how she came to be in the midst of it, a carrion crow lit upon one of the nearby trees. Attracted by the sweet fetid scent of death, it was soon joined by others, until the trees were blackened with the ghastly birds.

Confused though she was, Amanda knew she couldn't tarry here much longer. Even as she thought this, one of the crows flapped down onto a body, and Amanda looked away quickly. There was nothing she could do for any of them, and she surely did not want to witness this grisly feast.

She flung open the hut door and stumbled into its cool interior. Adjusting her eyes to the dimness, she looked around for provisions or weapons, realizing the former occupant would not likely return to this place.

The small room was rudely furnished but tidy. A lute hung upon a peg, and near it, a bow and quiver. As she touched them, Amanda felt a vague sense of familiarity. Shrugging it off, she took the items down and lay them near the door. Earthen vessels, somewhat crudely made, lined the shelves. She opened each one, searching for food. Most were filled with dried leaves and powders of various colours. In some she found dried fruits and berries, and poured their contents into a leathern pouch which had lain upon the table.

The raven hopped along behind her as she moved about the hut, and flapped up to try to light on her shoulder. She carefully set it on the floor. "Shouldn't you be with your friends, the crows? Sounds like they're having a feast, " she said to the bird as it cocked its head and kept up a cackling prattle.

Outside the hut, Amanda could hear the cawing racket of the crows. The hideous cacophony lent urgency to her movements. The raven seemed affected too, as it fluttered about the hut, nervously lighting here and there. Amanda laughed shortly at its antics. "If you don't like it here, why don't you fly away? There's nothing to hinder you. The door is open." Then, she chided herself, "Talking to birds, Amanda Montrose! What next? Seeing faeries in the woods?" Shaking her head, she continued her search of the hut.

She lifted the lid of a woven basket and caught her breath. A gown! Her own gown. The one that she had been wearing when she met up with the Spanish cavalier. How had it got in here, she wondered. Not taking time to puzzle it out, Amanda dropped the garment near the door with the rest of the things she had collected.

As she emerged from the hut, her sudden appearance startled the crows and they flew up to the trees in a rush of black feathers. The air was filled with their scolding cries.

Trying not to look too directly at the corpses, Amanda scanned the area for a sword. Her own had apparently disappeared, and she could not go further without one. A movement just beyond the clearing caught her eye and she saw one of the soldiers' horses cropping grass, and raising its head anxiously to peer around for danger. It was a fine-looking animal with a sleek chestnut coat and a flowing black mane and tail. Upon its back was a well-worn saddle attached to which were two panniers and a sword encased in a leather scabbard.

"It must have come back for its master," Amanda thought. "Poor beast. It must have been terrified during this battle." As she watched the horse, she realized that fortune had smiled upon her. A horse was what she needed to get as far away from this odious place as possible.

She could see that if she tried to approach the frightened animal, it would bolt. Taking some dried apples from the leather pouch, she held them out in her hand and began to walk slowly toward the horse. It snorted and shivered, backing away nervously.

"You don't need to be frightened of me," Amanda coaxed the horse, softening her voice as she inched forward carefully. "See what I have for you." With painful slowness, she advanced stealthily toward the horse, keeping her hand outstretched with her offering and talking softly all the while. The skittish animal watched her warily, and then testing the air, caught the scent of the apples.

Amanda stopped and waited. It seemed an interminably long time until the horse ambled up to her and nibbled the fruit out of her hand. With infinite care, she took hold of the bridle, while feeding the apples into its velvety lips. Speaking softly and stroking its neck, she led the horse through the woods around the clearing and tied it behind the hut. She feared the scent of the corpses would cause the horse to bolt. "Not that I would blame you," she reassured it. "I plan to bolt myself as soon as I gather everything together."

She walked around the hut and was about to re-enter when the raven hopped in front of her. Something large and shiny was clenched in its beak. Amanda laughed. "A bird after my own heart. You like shiny things too," she said, bending down to see what it had. The raven flapped to her shoulder, gripping painfully with its talons. It walked down her arm and dropped the object into her palm.

Her startled reflex shook the bird off and it flew to the roof edge, scolding her raucously. The shiny object she held in her hand was an enormous red gemstone! Amanda looked up at the raven, then the stone. The sun glinted and angled through its facets as Amanda stared in awe at the beautiful crimson jewel.

"Where did you get this?" she asked the raven absurdly as if it could tell her. The black bird fluttered its lustrous feathers and flapped onto her shoulder.

Amanda was beginning to get used to the bird's odd behaviour, deciding that it must have been the pet of whoever lived in the hut. She even felt some strangely familiar affection for the raven, its lively company welcome in the midst of all this death.

She slipped the gemstone into the pouch which hung by her belt, and looking at the ghastly field before her, wondered who had such a treasure in his possession. Surely none of the soldiers, she thought. Possibly the priest, who lay among the soldiers, his body blackened and still smoldering. His brown cassock was torn and bloody, and Amanda, looking at him, felt such a surge of pure hatred that she was shaken. "I don't recall having any animosity toward the clergy," she thought.

The racket of the carrion crows reminded Amanda that it was time to go. She untied the horse and mounted it. The animal pranced nervously for a few seconds, but Amanda got it under control and reined toward the deep forest. The raven flapped ahead into the woods a short distance, then perched on a branch. It kept up an animated cackling and the horse pricked up its ears as if listening.

Amanda kneed her mount forward and then reined to the right. The horse tossed its head and walked on toward the raven. The bird flew ahead some distance and alighted, calling back, it seemed, to the horse. Amanda tried again to change direction but the horse stubbornly seemed to be following the raven. It plodded forward, twitching its ears and whickering now and then.

"What kind of enchantment is this?" she wondered aloud to the horse. "Whose commands are you following, if you won't follow mine? Surely not the raven!" Even as she said it, the absurdity made her laugh out loud, an ominous edge of hysteria echoing through the silent forest. The myths she had heard about the land of Faerie suddenly did not seem so far-fetched.

The raven flew on ahead and the horse continued to trudge along after it, as Amanda gave up trying to give the beast any direction. The creatures seemed to be communicating and to have some destination in mind. "I suppose humans are not the only beings on earth who have a language of their own," she rationalized. "Why should not other creatures be able to speak?" Though, she had to admit, she had never considered her fellow creatures as equals before this.

The gentle rocking rhythm of the horse's gait and the quiet murmuring of the wind in the trees made Amanda feel drowsy and she leaned forward over the horse's neck, and was soon asleep.

Some time later, she awoke with a start, realizing the horse had halted and was contentedly cropping grass near a brook. The sun was near the western horizon and the air was getting chill. Sliding off its back, Amanda eased her sore muscles, unused to riding. She unsaddled her mount and tied the reins to a branch.

Of the raven, she saw or heard nothing. Feeling rather bereft, she scanned the trees for the unusual bird, hoping she would see it again. She missed its cheeky companionship. She also had no idea where she was in that seemingly boundless forest. Without her magical guide, she feared she would wander endlessly through its unfamiliar depths.

Amanda quickly built a small shelter of boughs for protection and warmth for the coming night, then assembled a hasty meal of dried fruits and some strips of cured meat that she had taken from the hut. Without risking a fire, she soon found the blackness of the woods encompassing her little camp. The birds sounds of day gave way to crickets, frogs and other night creatures. Above all, she could hear the reassuring rustling and browsing of the horse, and see its dim huge outline as the moon rose above the forest.

Snug inside her shelter, Amanda began to ponder the circumstances that had brought her here. How had she got into the midst of that awful slaughter, and had no sign of blood on her own clothing? For that matter, how was it she was wearing these rough garments? Whose hut was that and how did her own gown find its way into the basket where she found it? Most mysterious of all, where had that immense gemstone come from? Amanda patted her pouch and felt the hard lump of the stone safely hidden therein.

As much as she reflected on the day, she could find no answers. She had no memory of anything beyond being challenged by that Spaniard who had tracked her down and tried to take her life. A hot-blooded race, she thought to herself, and vengeful too, all over some trifling gold coins she had won from him. She allowed herself a smile, recalling his chagrin in front of his comrades as she beat him over and over at cards, until he accused her of cheating. It had been a mistake, she decided, to taunt him, as it inflamed him further, though in honour, he couldn't do anything while in the company of his friends at the tavern.

Ah well, she thought, he regained his gold apparently, recalling that her purse was missing. And she was thrown back upon her own devices, with nothing of her own but a horse, and the giant gemstone. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt she would never part with the stone. It had a value far above price, she felt intuitively, and wondered at this knowledge. Selling the gem would set her up in a grand fashion for a long time. But she would preserve it through any extremity, she knew.

Chapter Ten: The Flight of the Raven

The horse whinnied and snorted. Amanda awoke, disoriented for a moment. Sunlight was filtering into her shelter and she stretched her cramped muscles as she emerged into a brilliant morning. The day would be warm and fair, she thought, as she drew in huge breaths of the moist forest air.

To her surprise and delight, the raven sat perched, almost expectantly, upon a branch above the horse. It seemed the two creatures were waiting for her to finally arise.

"So I'm a slug-a-bed," she chided the horse. "You'll have to get used to it."

And then to the raven, she reached out and it flapped over to light heavily upon her hand. She stroked its lustrous black feathers, feeling a warmth of affection for this singular bird. She had never had a pet, never staying in any place long enough to attract any commitments, never wishing to. But the raven pulled at her heartstrings with its cocky gabbling and apparent trust of her, the way it followed her and then guided her. She was quite taken with the mysterious creature.

"Well," she said after her morning meal, "We had best be on our way." The horse shivered and snorted as Amanda hoisted the saddle onto its sleek back and cinched it. The raven fluttered and cackled from a branch as if encouraging Amanda to hurry.

As before, the raven flew on ahead as if leading the way and the horse followed. Through the trackless forest, the trio wandered, with the raven changing direction several times. Amanda's confidence in the bird began to wane as midday approached with no end in sight to their journey. She chided herself for being a fool, assuming a raven could know its way out of the forest. But every time she tried to regain control of the horse, it tossed its head wilfully and plodded on after the raven.

Saddlesore and weary, Amanda was despairing of ever seeing civilization again, when the woods began to thin gradually and the horse stepped out into a well-worn track. The raven sat perched upon a branch on the far side of the narrow thoroughfare, cackling loudly as if congratulating itself on finding the way. Her horse halted and riffled through the grass along the road edge. Amanda slid down gratefully from its back, astonished and delighted to be on some path at last.

Looking down at her rough clothing, Amanda said to herself, "Time to discard these garments and put on something more seemly." She divested herself of the leather garments and put on her gown. For a moment, she was undecided whether to keep or throw away her mannish garb. "Maybe these things can be traded for something," she thought as she stuffed them into the pannier.

Amanda gave the horse a rest while she had her midday meal. The raven chortled noisily above them, and then was suddenly silent.

The unusual quiet attracted Amanda's attention to where the raven had been perched. It was gone. She looked up to see the raven circling overhead, high above. It made a steep deep toward her, and up again, higher and higher until it was only a black dot. Finally, even the dot disappeared.

Unaccountably, Amanda felt her throat tighten and her eyes prickled with tears. She tried to banish the emotions, but somehow knew, something was ending with the raven's flight to its own kind. She knew she would never see her magical friend again. A great sorrow lay behind her, she felt, but couldn't find it in her memory. It was connected with the raven. Her heart was heavy with a grief that was out of proportion to the loss of her pet, but it remained like a dark cloud beyond her reach.

The stamping of the horse reminded Amanda it was time to continue her journey. It seemed to be impatient at the inactivity. Her spirits revived, as she stroked the horse's sleek neck, grateful for at least one friend who had not abandoned her.

Remounting, she said jestingly to the horse, "Which way, my good Gifyd?" The name, Gaelic for gift, Amanda had decided, was appropriate, as the animal seemed like a gift just when it was needed most. The horse snorted, and shivered but remained quietly awaiting her command.

"You've picked a fine time to be indecisive," she chided the horse. "Now we're on a road but I don't know which direction to take. Maybe it doesn't matter. But Londonium is in the hands of the Danes, so I shan't be going there if I can help it. Perhaps I can find my way to Gloucester which is under the control of the Britons and Mercians. Queen Aethelflaed defends Mercia with the help of her brother, King Edward. I may be safest there."

Amanda glanced up and down the road trying fix which of the cardinal directions it followed. North and south, she determined using the sun's shadows, and turned her mount toward the north and she hoped, Gloucester.

Chapter Eleven: The Raven Reborn

The ticking of the bedroom clock beat loudly in his ears, as Nick realized Amanda had stopped speaking. He drew a deep, uncertain breath, stretching his cramped muscles. He had hardly moved since she began her tale -- how long ago? he couldn't remember. Time seemed to have no meaning.

"Lady, that was some story!" he said finally, arising from his seated position on the bedroom floor next to Amanda.

She, too, arose. A hurt look filled her eyes as she responded, "You don't believe me?"

"No. That's the trouble. I do. Every word," he growled. "You're too much for me. I've known it all along. I always feel you're way ahead of me and I'm always running to catch up. Except I never will, will I?"

For several long moments they stared at each other, then Amanda shrugged and said, "If that's the way you feel, why did you come here today?"

"Because you called me. You said you needed my help."

"Hardly, darling. You made it quite clear at our last meeting, you never wanted to see me again. I can take a hint, especially when it's delivered with a sledgehammer."

She walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where she poured herself a large brandy. Nick followed and she gestured toward the brandy, "I need this. How about you?"

"Sure. Thanks." He accepted the liberal shot she poured into a brandy snifter, inhaling it appreciatively. He took a large gulp and enjoyed its burning sensation, then the warmth that suffused and relaxed him. Good stuff, he thought, but then she would have the best, and the oldest. He decided not to follow that thought any further.

"I don't get this," Nick began. "You called me on my cell phone and said you needed me. It was your voice. I'm not making this up! I broke all the traffic laws in Paris to get here, and now you're trying to tell me you didn't call? Then who did?"

"Myrddhin, probably," she answered cryptically, studying the amber depths of her glass.

She glanced at him and he saw something new in her eyes. A depth of wisdom and knowledge that he had only been privileged to see in his Zen master years before. Amanda's dark eyes seemed like a black hole in space where all time and dimension merged into oneness, nothingness. He was shaken, nearly dropping his glass. Those dark eyes rivetted him and he found it hard to breathe. Like a black hole, he found himself being drawn into those depths.

"He was here?" Nick gasped.

"In a way," Amanda replied, her voice barely audible.

She looked away from Nick and he felt almost as if a force had let him go. Rather shakily, he sat down on the sofa, gulping down the last of his brandy. "What does that mean, in a way?" Nick persisted.

"I was feeling pretty low this morning. Everyone I cared about seemed to have gone --Lucy, Duncan, Methos, Joe... " Amanda didn't finish but Nick knew he was on the list. "I went into my bedroom, drawn for some reason by a compulsion to see 'The Rose'. All the time I've had it, it has been a comfort, like an old friend. It always seemed to have some power to calm, and to encourage me. I've drawn on its strength many times, though I've never known why."

Amanda went back for another large shot of brandy, and at Nick's nod, she refilled his glass as well. She settled onto the sofa at the opposite end and continued.

"I pulled it out of my secret cache," she glanced at Nick, expecting a wry comment, but his face was only interested, non-committal. "When I picked it up, a force like an explosion hit me and I was suddenly on the floor, dizzy and disoriented. I closed my eyes. There were whirling bright spots and when I opened them again, an old man seemed to be floating, like a hologram in front of me. I thought I was unconscious, or dreaming."

As she continued her narrative, Nick felt again that he was moving through time and space into another world. Nothing seemed real or tangible, only the soothing sound of Amanda's voice anchored him and he clung to it for support.

The apparition hovered and glowed, and Amanda tried to shield her eyes from it. A sense of dread pervaded her as she felt its presence. He was ancient, his crystalline blue eyes shone with blazing intensity as if he looked into her very soul. He had long white hair and beard, and was clad in a purple robe, inscribed in gold with esoteric symbols which flashed as he moved.

"You know me, Amanda," he said tenderly.

And suddenly she did! The dread turned to an unutterable grief as she remembered the last time she had seen him.

"Myrddhin," she gasped as she saw again in her mind's eye the deadly stroke that severed him from this world. She heard again the bitter howl that shrivelled her soul, and the wild tumult which ensued after his death.

"I couldn't save you," she murmured wretchedly. "I should have stayed ...to defend you. I failed you."

Myrddhin chuckled softly, "That was not the plan, Amanda. I was well prepared to leave this world. I knew the priest and the soldiers were nearby. I sensed them the night before as a disturbance in the tranquillity of the forest. They were about half a day's travel from the Sanctuary and hopelessly lost."

"How did they ever find the Sanctuary? It was hidden from the eyes of unbelievers."

"I led them to it," Myrddhin said reasonably. "They would never have found me otherwise," he laughed. "I searched out the priest's mind and planted the thought that his god would lead him and he should follow his own intuition. He was not really an evil man, just unbalanced by fanaticism. Too much fasting and self-flagellation. Too little belief in his own goodness."

Amanda shook her head unbelievingly. "How can you speak of him like that? He murdered you ...for nothing! Why did you let him do it?"

"Because of you, Amanda. Rebecca sent you to me. She had chosen you from the many Immortals she had mentored and trained. The half-moon tattoo on your sole was the sign that you were her chosen one. After I found you, I sent Rebecca a message by carrier pigeon that you had arrived at the Sanctuary and agreed to be my apprentice."

He paused and smiled at Amanda's look of shock and something approaching anger. "You feel manipulated, Amanda. You were, but only as far as you were willing. Anytime you wanted to leave, you were free to go. Like your raven."

"You knew Rebecca?" Amanda felt dizzy with these revelations which answered so many questions. Why Rebecca had taken her in, treated her like a daughter, given her the skills she needed to survive, then pushed her out of the nest. Like my raven, she thought, fearful, yet wanting to be free to follow its own destiny. A firm push was needed to make it fly on its own. Like me.

"Rebecca had been one of my students on Avalon. She died there too. She left and returned to her castle and we lost track of each other for many years. I found her again, and we sanctified her castle as holy ground. She shared my concern that the old knowledge would die with us. We needed another, a survivor, who could carry the ancient wisdom to another time when it would be respected again. I hid myself in the Sanctuary and Rebecca began her quest for our apprentice."

"You certainly chose the wrong person! What a waste!" Amanda cried. "I feel so ashamed ...of what I've done, what I became. A common thief. I've spent all these years conniving and stealing, selfishly making my own way, no matter what the consequences to others."

"A fine choice you made!" she wept, averting her eyes from his penetrating blue gaze. She didn't want to see the disappointment that was surely there.

A hearty guffaw brought her back to face Myrddhin. His eyes twinkled merrily, with no hint of censure in them.

"Amanda!" he said fondly, "I am so proud of you. As proud as any father could be of his daughter. You have survived, against the greatest odds, through the most perilous of times and situations. What does it matter how? And, my dear, to say fair for yourself, you have never taken from those who could not afford to lose what you took. On balance, you have also done much good along the way. Under that tough exterior is a very tender heart. You have never failed to make me glad of my choice."

"I have never remembered anything of our time together in the Sanctuary,...until now. What was the good of all that training, all that knowledge? I have never used it in all this time."

"On the contrary, Amanda, you have drawn upon both, many times during your long lifetime. Did you never wonder how you knew about healing, or herbs, or navigation by the stars? Some of that knowledge has always been available to you whenever you needed it." He beamed on her with great affection and Amanda felt the warmth of his love begin to melt the chill in her heart.

"Myrddhin, it is so good to see you again. But why have you come back at this particular time? There have been many times over the years when your counsel would have helped me. Why now?"

His face became grave suddenly and his gaze intensified. Amanda wished for a moment she had not asked that question, as she feared the answer would be fateful and life-changing.

Myrddhin, too, seemed to feel the sense of import and held back his answer for a long moment, as if undecided whether to go on. He sighed heavily, and began, "Amanda, you know the Immortal Game is all about acquiring the Prize. No one has ever explained what the Prize is, ...but I know now. It is great knowledge and ancient wisdom, ...and something more."

He paused significantly, and added, "Amanda, you are the Prize."

If anyone else had told her this, Amanda would have laughed. Now she felt frozen, scarcely able to breathe. "What do mean, I'm the Prize? That doesn't make any sense." She shook her head ponderously.

"All the great wisdom of the ages is locked in your memory. You have been shielded from most of it, but now is the time to unlock it. Amanda, you will remember."

No Quickening could have prepared Amanda for the electrifying shock and force that rushed through her body. She felt as though her brain were trying to expand beyond her skull, and every particle of her being were glowing with light. She could almost follow the neurons and synapses firing and creating new pathways as if a bright beam were focussed on a dark corner of her mind, exposing it suddenly to brilliance. It was there, all of it and more! All the ancient lore, the histories of lost peoples, the secrets of the earth. All there.

She was transformed. She could feel it. Not like a Quickening transformed her, but something infinitely, ineffably, more. "What am I?" she managed when she could find her voice. "What just happened?"

"For centuries, we Immortals thought the Prize was something Otherworldly, something that would come about as a consequence of being the last Immortal. Rebecca told me the truth of it, when I met her in the Otherworld. It was no accident that you were chosen, Amanda. You had already been chosen long before. You have a great mission to perform. I hardly know where to begin or how to explain it."

He studied her silently for several minutes. Amanda bore his scrutiny patiently, as she tried to regain a level of equilibrium with her transformed self. She felt alight with joy as she pored over her new treasure of knowledge. Such wonders, such mysteries, how could she encompass it all? She laughed aloud with the pure pleasure of being. The eyes she turned to Myrddhin were deep and wise, and he smiled radiantly with satisfaction.

Myrddhin resumed his narrative. "The Immortal Game must be stopped, Amanda. It will be part of your task to end it." She opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand and she remained silent. "Those who are left have been tested as worthy, though there are still many who are not. You must hold a Gathering of all Immortals on holy ground. This is the message you will convey to those who come."

The message implanted itself into Amanda's mind and she felt herself reeling from its mandate. It was too much! She couldn't do it! Who would believe her? There would be a bloodbath and she could not prevent it. The old Amanda struggled against this responsibility but was overcome by a calm acceptance. She would bring this about, and succeed. It was too important. She would not fail, whatever it cost her.

"My time here is nearly gone, Amanda. The veil between the worlds parts now and then, and we are permitted some time on your world. I will come again but perhaps not for a long time in your years. I will continue to watch over you, my dear child, and may Fortuna favour you. One more thing you must do, Amanda. Have 'The Rose' implanted into the pommel of your sword. Like its predecessor, Excalibur, it will make you invincible. Fare you well, Amanda." Myrddhin's voice and image faded away as if they had never been.

Amanda remained seated on the hard floor, oblivious to the discomfort and cold. The departure of her beloved mentor, so suddenly, after such a short time, aroused a fresh torrent of tears. After a long while, she felt the Presence of Nick, but was too burdened with remorse to move.

Chapter Twelve: The Knight

Nick swirled his brandy, trying to marshal his thoughts. He felt Amanda's eyes upon him and looked again into their compelling depths. "So why did Myrddhin call me? What do I have to do with all this? I've already sworn not to get involved in the Game, no matter what."

"I think that's why you were called, Nick. An innocent Immortal, unlike the rest of us. The pure knight. Sir Galahad, Sir Nick." Amanda seemed to be coming to a decision as she studied Nick's unshaven face. She smiled suddenly and its radiance caught Nick off-guard. Her joy reached out to him and he felt warmed, his cynical heart seemed to flip over. He returned her smile.

As if a force field has dissipated, Amanda felt again the easy companionship that she and Nick enjoyed together. What she had to tell him would be difficult enough, but if his heart was still set against her, it would have been impossible. Now, she knew their friendship could resume, and with time and trust, grow stronger. It had to. Her mission was inextricably tied with Nick.

He laughed at the idea of being a knight, yet he had to admit, he had always loved the romance of the Arthurian legends. As a boy, he played at being Arthur. As a man, he tried to act honourably, chivalrously. It wasn't a great leap to envision himself a knight. "Sir Nick. I like it, Amanda," he laughed, then added more earnestly, "But I will never use a sword, or take any heads."

"You won't have to, Nick. All that is over. Once we hold the Gathering and I convey my message, there won't be time to fight each other. There will be too many other, more important things to do."

Nick lifted his glass in a salute, and said half-jestingly, half-seriously, "To Amanda, Queen of the Immortals."

Amanda coloured a little, and returned his toast, "To Sir Nick, Guardian of the Queen."

The Beginning

©The Raven and The Rose -- Maril Swan, April 2000

Please send your comments on this story to the author, Maril Swan