The Avatar: Part III

Cold. So cold, and yet it meant nothing.

The cobblestone street was bathed in the light of a full moon, a silver path that wound up the hillside towards Thornhaven Castle. He stood, alone for the moment, and wondered at the stillness of the night. Where were the dogs? A stranger walking up the hill towards the castle and still no baying hound to sound a warning? It was unnatural!

But then again, he wasn't natural. Not any more.

A bitter smile flashed briefly across his face. So much he had lost; so much he had yet to learn. He knew he should do as the other had told him: forget the past, embrace his future and move on. But still…. He had to see. He moved to his right, stopping just outside the familiar door as he had done so many times before that final night, and reached out to rap softly on it with the back of his right hand. He hesitated, staring at the hand, calloused and rough, not at all the hand he recalled having.

Another reminder: as if the fact that the bitter cold had no effect on him was not enough. And his shadow; he refused to look at his shadow. He scowled, hand still poised to knock, wondering if Emma would even still be inside, then with a snarl he rapped on the door in the knock they had agreed upon, when he was just a young warrior from Castle Blackthorn, come to court a dark-haired lass with brown eyes. The sound of a chair being moved and voices came from inside. He rapped lightly again. A muffled question from within, and then the door creaked slowly open, and there at last was Emma.

"Who are you? How did you learn about that knock?"

A middle-aged woman with gray streaked hair stared at this stranger at her door. The years, in their way, had been kind to Emma. Her waist was a bit thicker than he recalled, but her face was still fair, its laugh lines speaking of a happy life. She looked at this person who had knocked and a light of recognition danced in her eyes. "Herrel? Is that you, Herrel?" Hearing her voice, still the same as he remembered it, coming from this kind faced woman, he stepped forwards so the moonlight showed his face clear to her. Her hand flew to cover her mouth. "It can't be. You are too young, Herrel would be three years older than I. Who are you, his son?"

The words he had dreamed of saying to her struck in his throat. Cernunnos had spoke true; years had passed as Herrel had slept within the King Oak. He looked at Emma and grieved for the life they might have shared, the laughter that they would have found in each others eyes as they aged together. "Aye ", he said hoarsely, "his son. He sends his love, and his regrets, mistress." He turned away, but he had said too much. Her hand shot out and gripped his arm.

"Sweet Jesu, it is you! Herrel! Its you!" Her voice began to rise. If her agitation grew louder, all of Thornhaven would hear her shout. Herrel looked fully into the eyes of the woman and saw the heart of the maid he loved within them, and he did the only thing he could do. Avatar, he had been named. Let the naming be true, he prayed, and willed Emma away. He willed her back inside to her chair by the fire, to sit sleeping next to the man she had turned to when he had gone to the Goddess.

He willed her to a sweet dream of youth, and love, and no regrets.
A last gift to his only love.

He turned and once more walked away and up the road away from the town he had been born in, past the castle once called Blackthorn but now returned to its first name of Thornhaven, and towards the grove that had been his last memory of this place. A tall bearded figure stood at it the entrance waiting for him.

"Well?" asked Herne.

"You are right. There is nothing left here for me. I'm ready to do as you ask"

"I am sorry, Herrel. I truly am."

The young man nodded. "Can't we just go now? Please?"

The other nodded, and stepped out into the moonlight to stand beside his newly Chosen. On the road two shadows stood side by side, two horned shadows, and Herrel stared at the one that was his own at last in silence and in acceptance. He nodded.

"I'm ready."

A cloud slid across the moon to dim the light.
When the light returned, the road was empty.