Zimara rode slowly down beside the foaming flanks of such a waterfall. Tiny gems of spray misted her face, and winked as crystals in her horse's mane. The path beneath, a narrow ribbon of track etched by animal paws, was soft and moist, so that the mare trod carefully. Zimara was very much aware of possible danger.
Step by step, down the curving pathway, down to the group of boulders that had long ago been hurled from the heights to rest here for ever in the cool. She glanced back up at the falls, revelling in their freedom, in their song, in their silvery foaming beauty.
The mare rounded the first boulder. A flicker of movement brought Zimara's head whipping around. A man, a man who had been kneeling, drinking from the pool, a man leaping up in alarm, tall, bearded, looking like...looking like...
She cried out in shock, not daring to believe it could be true. Her heart seemed to flip over in her breast. He scrambled towards her, reaching for her horse's reins, looking up ashen-faced into her eyes.
Zimara's head reeled, and she felt the blood draining from her face. It could not be--
But it was him. It was him! She tumbled from the saddle, pitching towards him, her legs so weak they could hardly support her.
She could smell earth and leaves on his clothing. The brown cloth over his chest was rough, patched in places. He slipped momentarily as her weight sagged against him, then found a firmer footing, and his right arm was around her body.
Her spine tingled with a surge of pleasure, just before her eyes closed and her knees buckled.
"You are alive! You are well!" Zimara's voice sounded strange in her ears, a whisper from far away.
Warm hands cupped her face, tilting it upwards. Without conscious thought she put her own arms up, encircled his neck. Their lips met suddenly, passionately. Long-suppressed desires sparked into an all-powerful inferno that neither could or would resist.
Oh, how much she had dreamt of this moment, long ago when she had been a different person. Her dreams had been pale shadows, mere ghosts of the reality. He was stroking her hair, murmuring words into her ears, soft words, sweet words, words that set her shivering with ecstasy. How could the touch of a man's lips send fire flowing lightning-swift through her whole body? How could a man's caress wake in her such wonderful, terrible hunger? Never before, never...
Reality reared its ugly head, so savagely that again she cried out, and almost blindly pushed herself away from his embrace.
Puzzled, Roddri drew her towards him again. "Why? What is it?"
"What am I doing? What have I done?"
"Only what we were destined to do. Oh Zimara, to have found you again. It's a miracle."
All the air was forced from Zimara's lungs. Her mouth went dry as the dust of many sombre years. Wordlessly she stretched out her other hand to him, with the thin silver twist encircling one slender finger.
Roddri's face blanched, as if she had struck him. His eyes searched hers, desperate for denial of what he saw--the tiny symbol of another's possession.
She felt scalding tears brimming up, even as she turned her head away in agony.
"No, no, my darling, do not distress yourself so. There must be something we can do." Again he drew her closer to him, and this time she did not resist, and dropped her head against his chest, vainly trying to muffle the sobs that shook her.
"Oh Roddri. I thought you must be dead. But you are alive, you are here. I should not grieve. I should rejoice."
"There, that's better. Don't cry. Look at me, Zimara, trust me. I love you. I've loved you a long time, even before I would admit it to myself.
"And you? Do you love me too?"
"Of course. Can you doubt it?"
"Then it must end happily." |
