Ghostwalker - Erik Scott De Bie [79]
Walker said nothing and Arya felt profoundly comfortable in the silence. His sapphire eyes burned, but he did not match words to his gaze. Could not.
At least, though, they had made progress.
She scooted closer to him, leaned in, and rested her head on his shoulder. Walker sat frozen for a moment, seemingly unsure how to approach the situation.
Then he put his arms around her, and the knight melted.
"Walker, can I tell you something?"
To her astonishment, his answer was not "perhaps." Instead, Walker said, "Yes."
She leaned back into his chest and encircled his arms with her own. She gulped, steadying herself.
"You've never felt this way before," she said. "I can see it in your eyes. You've never had someone to love."
Walker looked at her in confusion, but Arya knew it was not because she was wrong-it was because he was unfamiliar with the term. She felt a twinge of sadness, but tilted her head back and to the side, so that she could kiss his cool lips. They needed no words.
* * * * *
The semi-transparent image of a beautiful elf lady stood before him, dressed in a long gray gown that trailed away to nothing. She seemed to melt out of the mists, and indeed he saw little of her features distinctly except for her burning red-gold eyes. The ghostly face raised its eyebrows, but Meris saw that any surprise was feigned.
Meris made no move to sheathe his weapons, even though he knew they would be useless against this spectral apparition.
You are not afraid, the feminine voice said in his mind. It was obvious that the other rangers heard it as well, for they cringed and gasped.
"No."
Why? It seemed she was more amused than angered.
"How do you know me?" asked Meris.
That is not an answer, she replied.
"But it will suffice. Tell me how you know me, and I will tell you why I do not fear you."
The Ghostly Lady smiled, and it was a beautiful if unnerving expression. She drew mistlike fingers along Meris's cheek and he was surprised to feel a cold, physical touch. Stunning in the moonlight, her face had a smooth, hungry look to it that excited Meris's body in ways he had not imagined-even in the arms of the barmaids and hunters' daughters of his youth, even when he looked upon Arya's lovely form.
Then she laughed. "I do not need to answer your question, Meris Wayfarer," she said aloud, and he was surprised to hear her voice in his ears. "For the answer is written upon your heart: you do not fear me, because you fear nothing. You have overcome your last love and, with it, your last fear…" She fixed his eyes with her own. "Your father."
In a flash of movement, Meris drove his long sword through the Ghostly Lady's heart.
A long breath passed between them. Then she looked down at where the weapon protruded. No blood oozed from her breast. It had passed through her like so much mist. In contact with her ghostly body, the blade became chill as ice, but Meris held it even as the cold burned his hand.
"Impressive," she said.
He held it as long as he could, gritting his teeth, but it was too much. With a gasp, Meris let go, and the sword stayed, borne aloft in her body. The elf smiled.
"You have great spirit, Meris Wayfarer." She slid away, and his sword fell to the ground, chilled. She seemed unhurt. "I am Gylther'yel, and I need your aid."
Meris's eyes narrowed. "My aid?" he asked as he rubbed his hand.
She nodded.
He looked down at his long sword, white with cold. "My sword?"
"Let it lie," replied Gylther'yel. "I will find you a greater, when you have accomplished your task for me."
"And that is?" A little smile tugged at the corners of Meris's mouth.
"Rats infest my woods. I want you to remove them."
* * * * *
Arya and Walker sat together in the grove, bathed in moonlight, their eyes only for one another. The sun had set and moon had risen, but they hardly noticed, holding one another through the night, relaxing in blissful eternity. The grove lay peaceful around them and Selune smiled down from high overhead.
Arya hardly believed it. It had all happened so fast. She felt as though her