Titel: Roses by Moonlight

Sprache: Englisch

Summary:  Sindbad liefert in einem Dorf Güter aus, nur Ronkar und Bryn sind bei ihnen. Außerdem qäulen ihn seine Träume und als sie dann ins Dorf kommen warnt ihn der Führer nicht zu gehen. Doch wieso?

Category: Abenteuer

Rating: Ohne Altersbeschränkung

Status: ohne Altersbeschränkung

One thing Sinbad missed while in the woods was the immensity of an endless horizon stretching for miles and miles in every direction. He glanced sideways at one of his traveling companions, how she slipped silently through the bracken choking their tiny trail. Raised on the sea, Sinbad never felt quite the same while off it. The trees seemed to hem him in, obstructing his vision, making him feel vulnerable. Bryn, on the other hand, looked completely at ease among all this greenery. Her dubious ancestry might have something to do with it. Or maybe it was that her sixth sense gave her warning of approaching danger, freeing her from the uneasiness that plagued Sinbad.

Bryn now turned her liquid brown eyes to his glittering black ones. Her level gaze sent a wave of something not quite fear through him. Sinbad couldn’t figure out just what it was about her eyes, but he couldn’t look into them for very long. Something in them made him avert his eye every time, as he did now.

"What?" Sinbad asked. Bryn stopped walking, waiting for him to catch up.

"I’m not sure." She cast a glance behind them, where Rongar still stumbled along the unsure path. "Something’s watching us."

What?" Sinbad asked again. His pulse began to quicken as Bryn twisted around to look where they were headed. He squinted into the foliage they had just shoved their way through. He detected no movement, heard no noises save birds and a little stream trickling close by.

"With the two of you making all that noise stomping through the bushes, practically everything living in these woods will know we’re here," Bryn commented dryly, a mask of intense concentration on her face. A shaft of sunlight found its way through the thick canopy of branches to alight upon her straight brown hair, making it shine almost unbearably bright in the yellow-greeny light of the forest floor.

"I don’t see anything," Sinbad said finally. "Let’s keep moving. We’ve got a long way to go yet, and I don’t really feel like spending the night out here in the woods."

"We have no choice about that," Bryn said, turning to him. An expression of surprise lit her face. "There’s nothing for miles in any direction. We’ll be lucky to make the city you’re aiming for by sundown tomorrow."

"You’ve got to be kidding." Sinbad watched how she still turned uneasily, knowing something was out there. If Bryn said a thing was there, then a thing was there. It was something you didn’t question.

Rongar came trudging up to them, leading the tired packhorse. He patted its drooping neck soothingly. Soon they would stop. Soon.

"Sorry, Sinbad. We’ll have to spend at least one night here," Bryn said, plopping down on a large boulder by the side of the path. Long, dark sword ferns grew up all around it, and she plucked one absently, running pale fingers through the slender fronds.

"Then let’s keep moving so we can get out of this forest before tomorrow night," Sinbad suggested, and started off in the direction they had been heading. Rongar ran a hand over his coffee-colored face, as if he could banish fatigue with the action. He held up his long-fingered hands, one flat, the other walking along it with little legs fashioned of his middle- and fore-fingers. Then he pointed to the sun overhead, where it could be glimpsed already westering in the sky.

"I don’t know," Bryn said, interpreting his sign language. "He probably means to continue at least until sundown. I don’t think it’ll be any safer to press on after dark than it will to make camp."

Rongar nodded wearily, and, with a tug on the packhorse’s reins, they set off after Sinbad. Bryn stood where she was for a moment longer, turning full circle as she gazed intently at the forest around her. "Strange," she murmured to herself. "It’s almost as if…" She shook her head and followed the others deeper into the forest.

*****

Sinbad looked tragically up at the sky, hampered by hundreds upon hundreds of branches obscuring his view. Dusk had fallen, it was the time of day he liked best upon his ship. Spectacular sunsets melted away from blood reds and brilliant oranges into tranquil purples and sleepy blues. Twilight wonders unfolded upon the ocean at this time of day. Orcas and dolphins came to the surface more often, and in greater numbers. While at the tiller, Sinbad would watch for spouts, knowing the great jets of air and water often preceded a sighting. Bryn swam with the dolphins occasionally, climbing down the ship’s rope ladder and plunging into the warm seawater. She convinced him to try it once, and he had never forgotten the experience of it.

The first time a large gray body came near him he was hesitant to touch it, wondering if the dolphin would mind. Bryn had no such inhibitions; perhaps because of her peculiar affinity with animals. They understood her, and she understood them. He had watched her, treading water, as she grasped a dolphin’s dorsal fin and let it pull her along. The dolphin had thought it great fun, clicking and singing in the most jubilant tones. It had pulled Bryn under, diving deep. Sinbad had been afraid then, when they did not resurface right away; but he need not have worried. The large dolphin surfaced in a great cloud of spray, Bryn safely grabbing hold of its rubbery dorsal.

"Copper for your thoughts?" Bryn asked, slipping silently up beside him. Sinbad jumped and cursed silently, annoyed at himself for being startled by her. It’s only Bryn, he told himself. But he knew at the same time that no matter how long she was around, she would never be only Bryn, and he would never get used to her abrupt entrances. Just as he would never get used to those eyes, he thought. She flicked them up at him now, liquid brown drinking in the soft twilight and making it hers somehow. It had grown so dark, he could no longer see her features clearly, though she stood less than two feet away.

"Just thinking about how different things are aboard ship," Sinbad said, laughing self-depreciatingly at his train of thought. Bryn smiled understanding.

"I know you miss the sea," she said. "Why did you agree to take on a landbound job in the first place, if you didn’t want it?"

"We need the money," he said simply. "Upright customers with cargo to transport have been few and far between, and I’m willing to carry this load across land if that’s what the customers want."

"It still sounds strange, if you ask me. They employed you back at the seafront, and they asked you to come out here to a small village in the middle of nowhere to pick up the cargo and bring it back to the harbor. That seems a little backwards."

"I know. But they paid us in advance, and well above the price I would have asked for a job like this. We’ll be all right for quite a while once this package of theirs is delivered."

"I’m still wondering why you left Firouz and Doubar back on the ship," Bryn said, her soft brown eyes gazing around the darkening forest.

"The village of Teriah is supposed to be a small one," he explained. "I didn’t want to overburden them. The one packhorse can handle this cargo, and I wanted you along to help us through the woods. Rongar is the best man to have watching our backs, and Doubar was the logical choice to leave as captain in my place."

Rongar grunted deep in his throat and held up his forefinger, then slid it across his throat sideways.

"Of course we’ll get out of these woods all right, right Bryn?" Sinbad said, though he could no longer see anything but the shine of starlight on her hair; it had grown so dark. She turned her head, looking up at him. Without the aid of his eyes, he knew the quiet gaze she would be leveling at him, and he nearly closed his eyes to block it out, before realizing the vision came completely from his own mind.

"I guess we might as well make camp here," she said in place of an answer. "That path was hard enough to follow with the sun; I don’t really want to try it in pitch blackness."

"Then let’s build a fire. I’d like to see what I’m doing."

*****

Rongar and Sinbad gathered sticks and bits of kindling in the darkness, feeling their way for the wood. They each made three trips out, finding ample dead wood for the purposes of a three-person fire. Bryn unloaded the weary horse, rubbing it down with a cloth, trying to get the worst of the day’s sweat off it. The tired animal didn’t object to the soft rope she looped around its neck and then tied to a skinny young tree. It stood for a while, cropping mouthfuls of grass without much enthusiasm. With a thankful sigh, the dark horse sank to the ground, tucking awkwardly long legs up under itself.

"That should hold us for the night," Sinbad said, stacking the last piece of wood on top of a lopsided pile. Bryn chose a few smaller branches and some kindling, and arranged them in a cone shape, while Rongar placed a circle of stones around what would be the campfire. Bryn rose and stepped back, concentrating on the cone of dry sticks. She didn’t see Rongar back away as well, didn’t feel the horse’s attention on her as she pulled on the wild power that flowed through her.

A thin column of smoke curled up from the kindling, followed by a delicate blue flame that quickly flared into yellow, and orange, and red. Rongar fed some larger sticks on the pile as the hungry young flame attacked the kindling with voracious speed.

Sinbad appeared, laden down with foodpacks. One contained a hard, flat, biscuity bread that kept for months. Another held dried fruits and meats, wrapped up in old cheesecloths. He dumped the bags unceremoniously by the fire, pulling out a share of bread and meat. Sinbad passed the packs to Bryn, who, as usual, refused the dried flesh, taking only bread and fruit. Rongar took a bit of all three.

"I don’t like not being able to see the stars," Sinbad said, breaking the weary silence.

"You know they’re still there," Bryn answered softly. She had pushed away from the hot fire, leaning her back against a tree trunk, and her face was swathed in shadows.

"Yes, but being able to see them; it’s something I’ve always taken comfort in."

Rongar slapped the tree behind him, pointing up at its leaves and branches.

"It’s not the same to be able to see a tree when I look up," Sinbad insisted. "I feel cut off from the rest of the world here."

"That’s one reason people like to live out in the wilderness instead of in crowded cities," Bryn said. "It makes them feel safe to be away from everyone else."

An owl hooted far off, haunting the forest with echoes. Sinbad started. "I’d feel safer in the middle of a storm."

Rongar laughed, the firelight shining on his dark skin. He popped a date into his mouth, stood up, and began unwrapping his bedroll.

"I agree," Sinbad said. He could feel a pleasant sleepiness creeping over him, even out here in the middle of a vast forest. The ground was firm under him, unlike the rocking cradle of the ocean, and he heard no soft waves or spouting whales. Instead, his ears drank in the soft thrum of crickets and tree frogs, the call of night birds, the whisper of a light breeze higher up within the tree tops. Sinbad rose, helping Bryn bank the fire for the night.

"About how far are we from the city?" he asked her. Her eyes grew distant.

"I can detect a large group of humans about another half-day’s travel northeast. I’m guessing that’s Teriah."

"Since it’s supposed to be the only settlement around, I’d guess you’re right," Sinbad said, settling into his own bedroll. Bryn went back to "her" tree, curling tightly under her blankets. Before drifting off to sleep, she felt the warm red furriness of a fox crawling over her and settling near her face. She reached out a hand to smooth the fur around the fox’s ears, and it nestled close in to her; sinking into sleep as if it was not a nocturnal animal.

*****

Sinbad dreamed that night. He was swathed in mist, and the whole forest stilled against something’s coming. He felt in tune with the animals, all souls tensed with apprehension. Whatever was approaching wasn’t like them. It was…different, but in a way he couldn’t describe.

A shadow pierced the mists; and a creature so indescribably lovely stepped out from the billowing grayness. Sinbad got the feeling this creature could fly with the stars. The shimmering starlight of its coat constantly shifted and flowed, so Sinbad was unable to get a clear look at its size. Smaller than a horse, he thought. Bigger than a large dog. A flash of silver moonshine caught his eye, and he found himself looking at a moonbeam shining on the forehead of this creature. Big dark eyes stared at him placidly and unafraid, though he got the feeling if he made a single move the creature would be gone in an instant. Don’t worry, he thought to the animal. I couldn’t move if I wanted to. It was true. He stood rooted to the spot, transfixed by the beauty of the…what was it? The dream began to dissipate, breaking up as the fog was blown away. The last thing he saw was the great dark eye of the beast watching him. Sinbad opened his own black eyes…and knew he had dreamt about something.

"Bryn," he said. Before another heartbeat she was beside him, as he knew she would be. "I dreamed last night," he said, noting the light tint to the forest darkness; shadows of the night being pushed away by daylight’s first messengers.

"About what?" she asked. She pulled a leather cord through her shiny brown hair, pulling it up into its usual half-ponytail.

"I don’t remember," he said. All he had now was a sense of loss, of something bigger than the world he had been allowed to see, then had snatched away the minute he started to comprehend. "But it was beautiful. Dark and light, together without competing with each other… Do you understand?"

"No," Bryn said calmly. "But I wasn’t meant to. The dream came to you."

Rongar sleepily sat up and pretended to take a long drink out of a bottle, then pantomimed falling down in a drunken stupor.

"We didn’t bring any ale with us," Sinbad said. "So it wasn’t that." He thought a moment, rubbing a hand against a chin that was not so much bearded as it was unshaven. "Was I meant to understand?" he asked, turning to Bryn. She shrugged noncommittally.

"Who can say? If it was important it will find you again," she said. "Try not to worry about it; we’ve got a long journey ahead of us today." Bryn stood, brushing dirt from her short skirt. The packhorse looked at her accusingly as she started loading their bags back on it. "Sorry," she told it. "Just one more day. You can make it that far, and then there’ll be a nice stable for you and lots of food to eat."

"And water to drink," Sinbad said, coming up with his bedroll and strapping it on the horse. "Our water skins are nearly empty, and we haven’t come across any streams yet."

"I hear them sometimes," Bryn commented, "But they’re always off the trail, and you wanted to get to Teriah as fast as possible."

"Now we’re going to have to find one," Sinbad said. "The horse needs a drink, and we should fill up our skins just to be safe."

Bryn glanced at him out of the corner of her liquid brown eyes. "You don’t plan on getting us lost, do you?"

"You’re the guide," Sinbad said. "I have no idea where we’re going." Rongar groaned and hid his face in his hands.

*****

Around midmorning Rongar felt his feet start to object to such strenuous activity. The path twisted and rose up on small hills and dipped into tiny valleys so often that it seemed his left leg would be traveling uphill while his right was traveling down. He tapped Bryn on the shoulder, and when she turned he set two fingers against his mouth and then brought them away in a downward arc. Next he pointed to the sky and to his feet, exaggerating his fatigue.

"I’ll tell one if you want me to," Bryn said, "But I don’t know how well a story will keep your mind off the journey."

"Better than you think," Sinbad called back from in front of them. "Tell one."

Bryn thought a moment, then started.

"Everyone knows there is one full moon each month, and that this full moon is a time when magic hits its peak. Some people who have no magical ability at other times can do amazing things during a full moon. Sorcerers will use this night, and the two nights surrounding it, to implement their hardest, most demanding spells, because the moon supplies them with extra magic.

"However, few people know of the second full moon; the one with more power in it than all twelve others put together. This full moon happens once a year, before Midsummer’s Eve. It is known in magical circles as a blue moon. Because it happens only once a year, many people have associated it with things that happen very rarely; and that’s how the phrase ‘Once in a blue moon’ was coined.

"Many strange things happen during this full moon. Creatures long since banished from the world of light show themselves. Other creatures, older still, that inhabit dreams and visions become solid flesh. Human eyes grow deceived. You can see things that aren’t there, or things will be the way you know they are not. It is a time when everything seems possible, and nothing is what it seems."

"What about your power?" Sinbad asked. "Is it heightened at a blue moon?"

"I never tried to find out. Using power during a blue moon is tricky. If you are not careful, terrible things can happen."

"But you said that nothing bad can happen if you use power for good," Sinbad started, confused.

"Usually," Bryn explained. "But on the night of the blue moon the gap between white magic and black is bridged. If I tried to summon a doe during a blue moon, I might wind up with a tiger. Do you understand?"

"Not exactly," Sinbad said, and Rongar swept a palm back and forth above his head, motioning incomprehension. "I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t understand the theory behind it."

"To be truthful, neither do I," Bryn confessed. "Just because I have magic doesn’t mean I understand it any more than you do."

"How can that be?" Sinbad asked. Bryn thought a minute.

"Let’s see if I can explain it in terms that make sense," she said. "You understand that all animals, people included, need to breathe to live, right?" Sinbad and Rongar nodded. "If you held your breath too long, you would die. You don’t understand just what it is about air that your body needs to keep going, do you?" They shook their heads. "But you understand that your body needs it. That’s really all you need to know. Does that make the magic make more sense?"

"Let me see," Sinbad said. "You do magic just like the rest of us breathe. It’s a part of you like breathing is a part of us. We don’t understand just how our breathing works, and you don’t understand just how your magic works, right?"

"That’s it in a nutshell," Bryn approved. Rongar suddenly waved his hands to get their attention. He pointed to the sun, then held up a fist and revolved his other hand around it. Next he spread his hands out as if asking for something and shrugged his shoulders expansively. He turned to Bryn and waited expectantly.

"When is the blue moon?" She thought a moment. "Not long, actually. A few days, maybe more."

"That’s how long until this year’s blue moon?" Sinbad asked, surprised. "I thought…but Midsummer isn’t that far away. I guess you’re right." Something tugged at his memory, asking to be remembered but hovering just out of reach. Sinbad found Bryn looking at him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Maybe she did. Maybe she did.

*****

Late that afternoon they came upon the forested village of Teriah. Like something out of a fairy tale, the thatch-roofed houses sat quietly by an idyllic stream; soft emerald green grass a welcome change from the brush and stony dirt they found along the path. The threesome found themselves welcomed by an old man, his rounded belly showing the simple, prosperous life this town in the middle of the wood promised. The man smiled welcomingly at the travelers.

"Welcome, my friends, to our modest home! Please to make yourselves comfortable here." He led them down the only street, into a pleasant cottage made of stones and thatch. "I am Bricken, brother to the man who sent you here. He told us before he left that others would come to bring his things to him. You see," here the man leaned toward them conspiritually, "He doesn’t like traveling these woods; especially around this time of year." Bricken straightened again. "Actually, none of us will be leaving our houses in a few days."

"Does that have anything to do with the blue moon being so close?" Bryn asked, intrigued. The old man looked her in the eyes, and an expression of surprise crossed his face when he found himself lost in their liquid darkness.

"Yes," he said, flustered. "It makes people around here act weird, so we stay inside on the blue moon. But how would one such as you know about the blue moon? Very few people actually do, you know."

"From what I hear, it makes people everywhere act weird," Sinbad stated to save Bryn from answering the last question.

"Yes," Bricken said. "But our forest holds residual magic from a time long gone. Every year at the blue moon it stirs, grows slightly stronger."

"What caused this magic to be imbedded here in the first place?" Bryn asked. "Only a few events can cause magic to take root in a place and not dissipate."

Bricken smiled proudly. "A unicorn was born here, many centuries ago. A forest where a unicorn is born will always retain some magic, even a merely residual echo. I will give you some advice now, my friends. Stay here in Teriah until after the blue moon. You will not make it out before then, and if you are caught in the forest on the blue moon night, I would not be in your place for the world."

*****

Sinbad dreamed again that night. He was in the same place as before, but the image was more detailed, more real. The creature that came to him stood on strange blue-violet hooves; pale, silvered and shimmering. The shaft of blue moonlight on its forehead materialized into a glittering horn made of the same stuff as the creature’s hooves. Sinbad could smell the animal, and its scent was compounded of soft meadows, deep forests, and –wonderful agony—the sea. The dark eyes spoke to him in a language he did not fathom, but it seemed to him he had seen before; somewhere. Just as before, the mists blew away; and he was left feeling empty as he woke. Unwilling to go back to sleep, he left the room Bricken had generously allotted to them and—taking care not to wake the others—he slipped from the house.

It was brighter outside. A perfectly normal ivory moon hung in the sky, nearly full. Sinbad wondered if a blue moon actually was blue. He spotted a familiar figure leaning on a fence, and stepped over to it.

"Hey." Bryn spoke first.

"You can’t sleep, either?" Sinbad asked. He folded long arms across his chest and rested his chin on the top rail of the wooden fence.

Bryn shook her head. "The blue moon always makes it hard for me to sleep. It’s part of the effect it has on my magic." She crawled halfway through the fence, sitting on the middle rail, holding on to the top one and leaning her cheek against it.

"I keep having this dream. The one I told you about," Sinbad said. "It comes to me, and it’s like I know things that humans haven’t known for hundreds of years. But then I wake up and it’s gone."

Bryn turned her head to him, and he could just make out her features in the bright moonlight. "The things humanity has forgotten were meant to be lost," she said. "I don’t know what’s calling to you, but I’m not sure I want to hear what it has to say."

"Do you think it has something to do with the blue moon?" Sinbad asked, looking at the sky.

"I don’t know. If it does, then I’m fairly certain that Teriah won’t be any safer for us than the forest out there."

"I almost wish we were out there on the night of the blue moon," Sinbad contemplated. "I think that’s when whatever is going to happen will happen."

"So do I," Bryn said, "But Rongar hasn’t complained about any strange dreams or premonitions."

Sinbad nodded. "I don’t want to put the two of you in danger if there’s no need. We’ll stay here in Teriah. For now."

They stayed at the fence all night, until the sun began to turn the eastern sky pink with dawn.

*****

"What’s the matter?" Bricken asked that morning over a breakfast of cold venison and fresh bread. "Cat got your tongue?" he addressed Rongar with an air of curiosity.

"No," Bryn answered calmly, speaking for him. "A sharp blade did."

"Oh," Bricken said, swallowing hard. Rongar chuckled behind his hand, hiding his laughter with another bite of cold venison. "Anyway," the old man continued, "The blue moon snuck up on us faster than we thought. It’ll be here tonight. You won’t have to stay here too terribly much longer. No offense," he said, looking towards Sinbad, "But I saw you gazing longingly down the road earlier this morning."

"Yes," Sinbad answered. "We’re travelers by trade. I miss the ocean and my ship; it’s high time to be getting back to them."

"Tomorrow my friend," Bricken promised.

All that day Sinbad paced like a cat around the tiny village. He couldn’t seem to keep still. Something was nagging at him; something big. Tonight was the blue moon. Tonight a force greater than all the world would be unleashed; and somehow he, Sinbad, would be a focus for it. He wondered if Bryn ever felt like this, knowing that power beyond anyone’s imaginings lay at her fingertips. Without knowing why, he felt nearly certain such thoughts would not bother her as they bothered him.

She snuck up on him unexpectedly again, appearing by his side out of nowhere. He wondered if he would ever get used to her mysterious ways. At the moment, she had Dermott perched serenely on her forearm. He fluttered and shook slightly when placed too close to Sinbad. Bryn stroked the hawk’s soft chest with two fingers, calming him. She brought her dark eyes up to rest on Sinbad’s. He looked away, finding her ambiguous nature irritating rather than intriguing today.

"Sinbad, I don’t know what’s going on with you today, but you’ve got to snap out of it! Do you think anyone in this village with an ounce of magical ability isn’t feeling exactly the way you are right now? The blue moon calls to anyone who has the magical ears to listen, but it’s calling you even without them. Sinbad, you need to deal with whatever it is about this blue moon and this forest that’s upsetting you."

"How do you expect me to do that?" Sinbad snapped, turning away. Dermott flapped his wings and squawked, showing his agitation. Bryn tried to pacify him, whispering to the large bird and stroking his head. The hawk shuffled his claws on her arm, raking a large gash along it. She winced, and called the bird to order.

"I’m sorry, Bryn," Sinbad said, rubbing his temples. "After tonight I’ll be okay. Just leave me alone until then."

"No," she said, shaking her head firmly. Sinbad raised his head, tendrils of dark, curly hair brushing against his face. She was speaking to him as she spoke to her wild creatures when they came to her. "I’ll help you, Sinbad," she said, "But I can’t just leave you alone to do whatever the moon tells you to do."

"You yourself said that the blue moon could work for good or evil. How do you know whatever’s calling to me isn’t right?"

"I don’t," Bryn said, refusing to lower her eyes. "But I don’t know that it is, either. Are you willing to take that chance?" His silence spoke for him. "Then let me help you."

"How?"

"I’m going with you tonight, into the woods. Until whatever is supposed to happen happens."

*****

The sunset seemed a precious one; even Rongar feeling drawn to the light, fearing darkness and the night ahead. Bryn and Sinbad slipped silently out of Teriah shortly after moonrise; her magic and his dreams leading the way.

The forest was bathed in silver-blue mists. A fully round moon hung in the sky; a haunting shade of pale, pale blue violet. Sinbad would remember that shade long years after the precious gift of premonition left him. The trees, every single leaf and twig, were black, edged in pale blue-silver. Even Bryn’s fair skin held a silvery blue-violet cast.

Bryn shivered with the magic held in this forest on this night. Her sensitivity to forces normal people couldn’t feel became overwhelmed by so much magic all at once. The air fairly crackled with it!

Sinbad led, the strange power drawing him someplace he’d never traveled before but knew without the slightest hesitation it was there. The trees closed in around them, cutting them off from Teriah and all thoughts of turning back. They walked on.

A glade opened up in front of them, swathed in silver mists. Sinbad sucked in his breath, stopping where he stood. Blue moonlight cascaded down upon the tiny vale. He felt the animals of the forest gather, waiting. And then he felt it, the other presence. Bryn stirred beside him—she felt it, too.

A shadow appeared in the mists. It was no more than that, simply another shadow among the millions on this brilliantly lit night. Bryn squinted, trying to see what made it.

The creature stepped from out of the mists of time. It was no taller than her; shorter than Sinbad. Tears leapt to her eyes at the sheer beauty of it. She smelled the sea, and the forest, and far-off sparkling meadows. This creature knew all of them intimately. Bryn felt she needed to curtsey, genuflect, something, anything, before this majesty of beasts.

It seemed to know exactly where they were. Unlike in his dream, the animal came forth, straight for them. Sinbad shivered with anticipation…and fear. He locked his wobbling knees, forcing his legs to keep him upright. The creature seemed born of the moonlight; made of the moonlight. Its equine form shimmered and shone like white fire, and its hooves and single spiral horn glimmered with the force of ten thousand blue moons. Nothing, he thought, nothing could be as beautiful as this.

The unicorn, for that is what it was, strode to them in sedate, kingly strides—and yet, there was something uniquely feminine about the animal. Now it stood not a hand’s breath away from Sinbad, and he found himself looking into a great liquid brown eye. He lowered his head, unable to stand up to the unicorn’s soul-searching scrutiny. Vaguely, he recalled another gaze that forced him to stop and cast down his eyes, but he couldn’t for the life of him think clearly enough to sort it all out.

Sinbad heard a soft whuff, like the plop of an icicle hitting the snow. A puff of warm, sweet air touched his head, brushed against his lowered face. The unicorn had breathed. Ever so slowly, it backed away a pace. Sinbad raised his head, gazing at youth’s eternity. The beast lowered its mighty alicorn and touched his shoulder with the tender care a mother gives a newborn. A wondrous surge of power and rightness flowed through Sinbad, and for a moment he rode the stars. He understood the mysteries of the universe never to be unfolded for human minds. Then it was gone, leaving an aftermath just as full, even for all its uncertainty.

The unicorn turned to Bryn, looking her over. Sinbad watched his friend match the unicorn eye for eye, and he thought he saw a trace of a smile cross the delicate beast’s countenance. The unicorn breathed even more gently on Bryn, barely ruffling her soft brown hair. It lowered its head, and rubbed its silver-blue alicorn against the deep cut on Bryn’s arm given to her on accident by Dermott. The ugly red gashes faded away, leaving pale new skin behind. Sinbad heard Bryn’s breathing come short and fast as the unicorn stepped away, and her face held the gentle awe of youth. He realized he was holding his breath.

The creature of utter perfection backed up, retreating off where it had come. Neither human tried to hinder it. The gifts it gave them that night were more than any human deserved or desired. It became a shadow in the mists once more, and then was gone.

*****

Bryn awoke first. She blinked, the clearing appearing strange in everyday daylight. Her arm still tingled where the unicorn had touched her. She looked down at it.

"Sinbad! Sinbad!" she called to the still form beside her. He stirred and sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes.

"What?"

"Look!" She showed him her arm. A pale, blue-violet scar adorned it, in an odd shape. Sinbad twisted her arm about, looking at it from all angles.

"It looks like…" he glanced up, and his gaze was caught by a bush on the other side of the clearing that hadn’t been there before. He rose, pulling Bryn up by her arm. They walked cautiously across the vale, peering at the new bush. It was covered with palely silvered blue-violet roses.

Bryn held up her arm. The scar was shaped as a rose, delicately curved around her arm just where the falcon had pierced her fragile human skin.

"You’re marked," Sinbad said wonderingly. "Marked by a unicorn." He looked into her liquid brown eyes and startled himself by holding their gaze. She smiled up at him and touched his shoulder, where his white shirt was ripped a tiny bit. She pushed the flap of cloth away, showing yet another pale blue-violet scar.

"So are you."

*****

Years later, looking back on that night, Sinbad never felt surprised that his memories of that night didn’t fade from season to season. His pale scar was much smaller than Bryn’s; a tiny rosebud in the hollow of his shoulder. The magic given to him for that brief moment faded with the morning’s light and never came back, but a magic greater still came to him in his memory every time he thought of the unicorn. Both he and Bryn plucked a single rose from the flowering blue moon rosebush and dried them out, keeping them safe from the salt-sea air of their ocean life. Though dried and brittle, the blue moon roses always kept their scent—the strange unicorn scent of meadows, ocean, and forest. And late at night once a year, Sinbad and Bryn dreamed of roses by moonlight.