Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [137]
Sickened, Tristan watched the last Ffolk enter the castle, and heard the great oaken gates thud solidly shut. Suddenly seized by the need to see Robyn, Tristan turned from the battlefield and hurried into the castle.
Outside of her door he hesitated, and then knocked softly at the heavy oaken boards. For seconds he heard nothing, and then came the faint invitation to enter.
Slowly he pushed the door open. For a moment he could not see Robyn – only a huge mound of a bed, opposite the narrow window.
Robyn’s pillow and heavy quilts swelled around her, seemingly smothering the bed. The maiden in the middle of it all looked very, very small.
Her black hair, lying in a shiny black cloud across the great pillow, accentuated the exceptional pallor of her skin. Her green eyes seemed to have sunk deep within her head, and dark circles marred her cheeks.
But she smiled at him, and that lit up the room. Tristan rushed to the bed and knelt, wrapping his arms around her. For a long moment the two friends who had been through so much held each other.
Then, the prince lifted his head and brushed back a thick tress of Robyn’s black hair. He leaned forward to kiss her, and she pulled him to her lips eagerly. After long moments during which the world stopped, they broke apart.
They each saw that the other was short of breath, and they laughed together.
Robyn’s face turned somber. “I thought I’d never see you again,” she whispered.
“If not for your magic, you wouldn’t have – nor would anyone else.” Tristan saw the Staff of the White Well beside her bed and silently thanked the goddess for it.
The prince touched the circles of weariness under the new druid’s eyes. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I’m just very exhausted. That was not my power that called the lightning down. It came from the staff, through me, but it seemed to drain me as well.” She looked sadly at the ashwood rod. “I fear that its might has been expended. Still, it served very well!”
“You have given us the chance to persevere!” exclaimed Tristan, trying to cheer her. “We can remain within the castle for months, and even if we don’t drive them off, the coming of winter shall!”
She smiled sadly, easily penetrating his bravado. “I fear for their attack. They are still very mighty.” For a brief moment, her composure slipped, and she looked like a small, frightened child. “Tristan, hold me!”
He gathered her in his arms, and pressed her to him. For a minute, she shivered uncontrollably, but then, slowly, she calmed. She turned her face toward his ear.
“I love you,” she whispered, squeezing him.
All of Tristan’s concerns vanished in his joy at her words. He held her close, and imagined peaceful days in the future, when they would be together always. The moment suddenly vanished as a insistent tapping came at the door. Robyn sighed, but she relaxed her hold as the prince stood.
Tristan opened the door to reveal Friar Nolan, who nodded politely at him and then looked curiously at Robyn. The cleric’s wide eyes were soft with concern, although lines of weariness had carved themselves into his face. His hands were chapped and raw, but a clean robe covered any other signs of battle.
“Pardon the intrusion,” said the cleric, as he entered. “I hope you are not too tired?”
“What do you want?” demanded Robyn.
“I can help protect you,” the cleric said simply. “You realize, of course, that you have made of yourself a very visible target.”
“This had not occurred to me,” replied Robyn.
“But, of course, you have. I am sure you are well aware that our enemy is not – how shall I say? – not entirely natural?”
“I am aware of that, yes.”
“I feel certain that the driving force behind this evil will seek you out. I will stay here and help you drive it off.”
“But if Robyn remains here, in her room