Metamorphosis: The Ghost Runner Series Book 1

By Robin Freeman

It is the 14th century when dark spells, magic and sorcery were common and rife across the land. King Avalon is on a quest to find the immortal Sorcerer who long ago put a curse on his ancestors that has been passed down to the first-born son for generation after generation. The curse now affects Avalon, and whenever he sees the last flash of light from the setting sun the metamorphosis takes affect turning him into a black jaguar. He can only change back into human form the next morning if he sees the first flash of dawn's light. Three beautiful women join Avalon on his quest, and they are totally committed to helping him rid himself of the dark spell he is afflicted with. A ninety-foot schooner named 'Ghost Runner' comes into their possession and they set off across the ocean following the next clue to the Sorcerers whereabouts.

Extract from novel.....Quick, shouted Avalon, we havent a moment to lose. If we can get the sail sheeted in, it will help drive the ship forward over the anchor. If you take the helm, Ill signal from the bow which way for you to steer.
By following the two ropes attached to the clew on the end of the small flogging sail, they found the ends amongst a confusion of ropes. Between them they hauled in the sheet rope until the stiff canvas filled with wind, and once the rope was secured firmly the ship slowly started moving forward across the wind.
Genevieve turned and hurried down the heaving deck handhold by handhold until she reached the large wooden steering wheel. She gripped two of the ornate spoked grips tightly and waited for Avalon to direct her from the bow.
Avalon studied the familiar anchor-windlass, and when he was sure he remembered which lever to release and how to winch in the chain and anchor, he pointed ahead to show Genevieve which way to steer toward the anchor. The ship had sailed forward and the chain was now slack. He started winding in the chain with the capstan and was glad it was geared with many well-greased cogs to take the strain, as it would have been a hopeless task by himself.
The wind was by now gusting up to fifty-knots and Ghost Runner surged up and over the waves as she slowly nosed up to the deeply embedded anchor.

By the time the anchor broke free of the seabed, Avalon was a lather of sweat and exhausted. Trying to catch his breath, he was about to shout to Genevieve that the anchor was free, but realised she wouldn't hear him above the roar of the gale force winds and storm tossed seas, so once again he used arm signals for her to change course.
Avalon continued straining on the capstan, but this time he had a heavy anchor dangling on the end of the heavy ships chain, and with the ship picking up speed it was an impossible strain for him. He again signalled for Genevieve to round up more into the wind to slow the ship, and he then changed to a different gear on the capstan. He now found there was much less strain as he hauled in the dead weight. By sheer effort and stubborn determination he finally winched the anchor clear of the water and with the last of his remaining strength snugged the anchor into its opening in the bow beside the bowsprit and lashed it with the stout rope provided to prevent it working free.
He quickly signalled to Genevieve to fall off the wind and steer a course parallel to the coast.
As he rested and regained his strength and breath, he saw that the storm was now upon them with a vengeance and there were flashes of lightning stabbing the sky all around. Luckily the rain hadn't started yet but he knew it wasn't far off. It will be a close run race my boy, he thought. But with luck and God on our side we just might be able to make the safety of the cove.
Suddenly remembering Sarina was still on the beach, he looked towards shore and saw her standing at the waters edge looking out at them. He signalled what their intentions were with his one free arm as he hung on to the bulwark with the other, and saw her wave in acknowledg

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Mar 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503503779

Robin Freeman

Robin Freeman is an artist, adventurer, sailboarder, surfer, diver, photographer, environmentalist, world traveler, published author and blue water yachtsman. For the past 25 years Robin and his wife have been sailing and exploring the deep blue oceans of the world on board their catamaran. They have had many exciting adventures and close encounters with cyclones, pirates and giant whirlpools, and have sailed over 75,000 nautical miles together. He has been able to draw upon many of these exciting experiences and adventures and vividly capture them on paper in gripping, graphic detail that will keep the reader spellbound until the last page.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Robin Freeman.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015903856

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5035-0375-5

                Softcover        978-1-5035-0376-2

                eBook             978-1-5035-0377-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 03/19/2015

Xlibris

1-800-455-039

www.Xlibris.com.au

633162

This Book is dedicated to my beloved wife Diane for I couldn’t have done it without her inspiration, patience, understanding, encouragement, and expert editing skills during the undertaking of this mammoth 4 Book series.

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T he pi

ercing cry of an eagle soaring high overhead went unheard by the lone rider as he sat upon his weary horse in the blazing sun. They stood near the crumbling edge of a dry, sun blistered ridge and stared down into a deep rift valley, an oasis after the parched, barren desert he had just spent seven torturous weeks riding across. After the constant drab tans and pale yellows of the desert sand dunes, the rich colours laid out before him belied his senses. As he looked out across the valley floor far below he suddenly saw the sparkle and silvery glitter of a stream draped across the land like a dew-laden cobweb, and he licked his dry, cracked lips and his throat convulsed at the thought of the wet, sweet coolness sliding down his parched throat. Water, at last, he said out loud to his mount.

The Knight’s horse suddenly jerked up its head and snorted loudly, becoming restless beneath him as if it also saw or smelt the distant water. The long arduous desert crossing had taken its toll on the powerful black warhorse, as there had been little feed and water for days on end, and the stallion pulled at the reins eager to be off. Absently the man quietened his restive mount as he stared down into the emerald green valley. He saw here and there dense pockets of majestic trees with smooth white trunks standing solemn and tall. He could also see in the heat haze in the far distance, a small town or hamlet near a castle with tall white spires and minarets that butted onto a forest so vast it blended into the distant heat haze. Even as he looked on, the shimmering mirage wavered and then obscured the view from his sight.

As he sat in the searing heat, the solitude of the lonely escarpment became a tangible thing. Blending with the soft sighing of the desert winds at his back came the strident shrilling of cicadas in the nearby half-dead trees fringing the ridges, a nerve wracking sound that beat on his senses. Weary from his long, dangerous journey across the trackless desert, his gritty eyes began to close against his will and his head nodded. In a half stupor he dreamed.

He saw a blond haired, hauntingly beautiful woman appear out of a swirling mist, and she stood tall and proud with regal bearing. Unable to stop himself, he reached out to touch her, and as his hand nearly touched upon the pale skin of her forearm she skipped away, laughing gaily with a sparkle in her beautiful sky blue eyes. He saw small, delicate white flowers in her hair fall like a glittering comet’s tail behind her, and then mist, ethereal and smoky closed around her and she was gone in the blink of an eye.

With a start he came back to the present and shook his head from side to side to dispel the unexplainable sadness that weighed strangely heavy upon him. With a loud sigh he gathered up the reins and giving two sharp clicks with his tongue urged his horse forward to the brink of the escarpment. As the horse paused briefly at the crumbling edge, the rider nudged the horse’s flanks with his heels and it obeyed instantly, stepping over the edge and down the sharp incline.

On that long, treacherous forty-five degree descent, the slope was such that they were able to pick their way through the rocks and rubble, but in some places there was loose scree, which started his horse slipping and sliding out of control. It wasn’t until firmer ground was reached much further down the slope that he managed to get his horse under control again. He found his heart was beating madly in his chest and sweat soaked his face and shirt.

After an hour, with the unrelenting sun beating down on them and reflecting back off the steep slope, the weary, sweat lathered horse and rider finally reached level ground. The man dismounted and lifting each of the draught horse’s massive hooves in turn, checked for imbedded stones or any bruising. He found one pebble the size of a small walnut had wedged itself in the frog of the left hind hoof. With careful prying using the tip of his dagger he eased it out, but when he led the horse along he was most disconcerted to see his mount had come up lame.

He swore under his breath as the injury could take days or even weeks before his horse might be fit enough to ride. On the valley floor the heat was oppressive, as there was little breeze to stir the hot, still air, and beads of sweat ran into his eyes causing them to sting and smart from the salt. Wiping his eyes with his dusty sleeve he said to his horse, Come on old fellow, let’s go find that stream and we’ll get you a well deserved drink and some of that nice green feed I saw from the top of the ridge. Then we can rest in the shade of the forest until this wretched heat passes.

He set off slowly leading Midnight towards where he had last seen the meandering stream from the escarpment.

Once the horse had drunk its fill he hobbled the stallion and turned him loose to graze on the lush grass. Returning to the bubbling stream he drank some more of the sweet, cold water and then filled his three goatskin water bags. With that chore done, he removed his boots, then stripped off all his weapons and leaving them close to hand on the bank, took off his grimy, sweat stained clothing and left them at the edge of the stream. With a grateful sigh he eased his hot body into the crystal clear stream and with his small bar of soap began to wash away the accumulated dust and grime of fifty days in the harsh desert.

His clothes were next, and once they were scrubbed clean he took the dripping bundle over to some nearby bushes and draped them over the branches to dry in the hot sun. Returning to the water’s edge he gathered up his weapons and boots, and naked as the day he was born went over to the shade of the nearby trees and lay down on the grass. Closing his eyes he let the soothing sounds of the burbling stream and chittering birds wash over him, and for the first time in a long while he relaxed and was at peace.

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I nside the ancient, granite castle the Knight had spied from the top of the escarpment, the heat had permeated every room and hallway, even the thick granite walls were hot to the touch. In the east wing Genevieve lay naked upon her large four-poster bed, the top sheet and her underclothes cast aside as she sought a coolness that wasn’t to be found. She had earlier retired to the semi-dark of her bedroom, and there in the sweltering heat languished for hour after hour. She slept fitfully, tossing and turning, her long blond hair matted with sweat and her feverish brow moist with perspira tion.

In her dreams she was on a ship, a beautiful white schooner far out to sea. The vessel lay becalmed, beam on to the large rolling swells causing the ship to roll from side to side and the limp sails flogged and cracked incessantly, sounding like a bullock whip cracking seemingly just over her head.

She flinched involuntarily as each crack of the sails tore at her mind. Her cabin door suddenly opened and looking across she saw a tall, deeply tanned man framed in the doorway staring across at her as she lay on the bed. She smiled up at him and raised her arms inviting him into her embrace. As he came closer and was about to fall into her out-stretched arms, the scene changed and the man was suddenly gone.

Now the ship was in the grip of a fierce lightning storm, with flashes of searing white lightning arcing across the black skies illuminating the frenzied, wind ravaged seas and casting weird dancing shadows across the pitching deck. She hung on to the mast for dear life as the cold, gale force winds lashed at her, whipping her long hair around her head and flattening her clothes against her lithe body. The ship was truly alive, her storm sails full and straining as she raced into the black, storm tossed night like a living thing. She could hear the creaks and groans of the mast beside her as the enormous pressures of the gale-force winds and sails were exerted against it. She laughed out loud and threw her head back, exalting in the intense pleasure of the moment. When the lightning flashes lit up the skies she looked across the canting deck and saw that same handsome man standing at the helm. He stood with his legs braced against the motion, and in that brief moment their eyes connected and held.

Then the darkness fell again and she marvelled at the intense feelings this man caused within her. With a mischievous grin she decided to join him in the cockpit, and waiting for the right moment to dash across the heaving deck, she let go of the mast and lunged towards the next hand hold. Just as she let go, a large, steep sided rogue wave suddenly picked up the ship and slew it sideways like a piece of flotsam. Caught unawares, she lost her balance and was flung headlong across the deck, screaming as she went.

As the ship heeled over at an acute angle, the gunwale went under and swirling black water surged on board, grabbing at her, sucking and pulling and lifting her up. She felt herself carried aloft, up and over the side of the ship and into the black void of the sea. She screamed and screamed until the icy cold water stifled her cries as it encased her in its smothering embrace.

With a jarring thud she suddenly awoke and found herself lying in a tangle of sheets on the hard timber floor of her bedroom in the castle. Shaken and confused, she picked herself up and untangling herself from the sheet, climbed wearily back onto her sweat soaked bed. Lying down she stared up at the high ceiling with unseeing eyes as she tried to remember as much of her dream as she could, especially the part about that tall, dark and very handsome man. The more she tried to recall the man, the quicker the images alluded her, until in frustration, and unable to bear the oppressive, stifling confines of her room a moment longer, she threw herself off the bed and hurried across the room to the large wardrobe in the corner.

She dressed in her riding habit and then pulled on her riding boots made from the tanned hide of a young deer. With one last look at herself in the full-length mirror on the wardrobe door, she pushed a strand of damp hair behind her ear and quickly left the room.

As she hurried down the hot airless hallway she had no doubt in her mind that if her parents discovered her about to go horse riding in the heat of the day instead of resting, she would be forbidden to go.

Stepping out of the side door on the ground floor, the searing heat and intense glare made her gasp and she almost changed her mind. Instead, she hardened her resolve and quickened her pace, and with her usual long strides soon reached the stables where her favourite horse was stabled.

Slipping in through the side stable door, the aromas that assailed her senses brought back a flood of memories, for she loved the smell of freshly cut straw, horse manure, oiled leather and horse sweat, and she inhaled deeply as she savoured the heady smells. Going over to the stall where her mare Bella stood looking at her with her beautiful brown eyes, she rubbed her soft, velvety nose and said softly, How would you like to go for a ride into the cool of the forest my lovely? In response the mare nickered softly and began pawing at the stone paving as if she was eager to be off. Genevieve laughed as she collected the saddle, bridle and saddle blanket and returned to the stall. As she saddled the mare she said, We’ll go as far as the old forest where the pool is and hopefully we can get some respite from this wretched heat. How does that sound?

Once saddled, Genevieve led the powerful horse out into the cobbled yard where she again checked the buckles and tightness of the girth strap. Satisfied that all was in order, she gathered up the reins, quickly mounted and rode out of the yard and down the lane that led to the open fields. She kept a tight rein, for Bella was straining at the bit and as skittish as a young filly as she wanted to run like the wind and feel a breeze on her lathered hide.

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B y the time she reached the animal trail that wended its way into the heart of the ancient forest, she was berating herself for not wearing her wide-brimmed straw hat. The sun had beaten down on her without mercy during the hour’s ride, and she felt over-heated and light headed. Entering the welcoming cool of the gloomy forest, the temperature dropped dramatically and she sighed with relief. The leaf litter and mulch under the horse’s hooves muted all sounds of their passing, and she became aware of an all-pervading brooding sil ence.

As Genevieve rode along she found herself whispering to Bella’s flickering ears as she tried to calm her flighty, highly-strung mare that was beginning to start and shy at shadows and any strange noises in the undergrowth. Genevieve had never been afraid of the forest, or of any of the wild animals that live and hunt within it and she couldn’t understand her feeling of unease.

Deeper and deeper into the oppressive silence and gloom she rode. The light filtering down through the thick tree canopy high over head was dappled and diffused, shedding hardly any light on the deeper shadows.

They finally reached the sunny clearing in the forest, where several years ago in a violent storm the oldest tree in the valley had come crashing down due to termites which had eaten out its heart. Looking up she saw blue sky high above and snow-white clouds seemingly hanging suspended. The glade was undoubtedly her favourite place in the forest, and with a sigh she dismounted and led Bella towards the spring fed pool of crystal clear water. She began to relax as Bella drank noisily beside her and softly hummed a melody that had been going around in her mind for the past hour.

She stared about at the profusion of colourful flowers that grew around the edge of the pool, and the rich, vibrant colours caused her to exclaim with sheer delight. Over the years she had planted many different varieties of bulbs and also transplanted wild flowers, and they now grew in abundance and there was always something in flower, no matter what the time of year.

With Bella’s thirst slaked, she led her to a nearby log and after taking all the gear off and putting it on a moss-covered log, she turned the mare loose to graze on the lush grass that grew in the clearing. Genevieve then began removing her sweaty, restrictive and very hot clothing, which she folded neatly and placed on the saddle. She sighed aloud as the cool forest air caressed her naked skin.

Ahh, what a blessed relief. How I hate having to wear such heavy clothing on days like this, she said softly to herself. She then whirled round and round, her arms flung wide with her loose hair floating out behind her like a golden shimmer of ethereal light. She laughed gaily, a pure, sweet sound that filled the sunlit glade. Oh, it feels so good to be alive, naked and free, she cried aloud to the treetops.

She stopped spinning and dancing, and coming to a halt found she was flushed and breathless. Her eyes fell on the pool and without a second’s hesitation she ran lightly on tiptoes across the short grass and taking a deep breath plunged headfirst into the sparkling pool. The icy water was a shock on her hot skin and took her by surprise and as she surfaced she gasped and spluttered, exclaiming loudly as she tried to get her breath back.

Gradually her body adjusted to the cold and it wasn’t long before she was diving and swimming about like a nimble young otter, frolicking and rolling about in gay abandon as the bubbles from the rising spring water in the centre of the pool tickled her naked body all over and she giggled delightedly at the sensation it created.

But all too soon she began to feel chilled and swam to the pool’s edge. In knee-deep water she stood and throwing her head back raised her face to the warm sun. She then lifted her arms high above her, and as the warming rays shone down upon her in a rich, golden glow she sighed aloud saying, Aahhh, that’s so much better.

She lost all track of time as she revelled in the moment, the sun warm and sensual on her skin, and there were strange sensations deep within her.

She suddenly heard Bella snort in alarm and then became aware of eyes upon her. Someone or something was watching her and the wet hairs on the nape of her neck came erect and her heart began to beat madly in her breast as she looked frantically around the glade.

‘There, what’s that? I can see something,’ her mind screamed silently as she saw an unfamiliar, vague shape in the trees off to her right. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she saw it move out of the deeper shadows and in shock she realised it was a man, a stranger, and he was staring at her with a grin on his face.

Genevieve was so taken by surprise she could only stare back at him, mesmerised by the tall, handsome man. She saw he wore dark coloured clothing and had a jewelled dagger at his hip. He also wore a sword in a long black scabbard with silver inlay, which glinted as the rays of dappled sunlight touched upon it. Looking up she saw that his dark hair was pulled back into a long ponytail. She slowly became aware that not only was she staring open mouthed and slack jawed, but she was still naked. She suddenly felt vulnerable as she stood before his silent appraisal and quickly tried to cover her private parts with her hands. In a fluster she thought to herself, ‘I must not panic. I must remain in control of the situation.’ Quickly glancing across at her clothing, she realised it was too far away to snatch something up to cover herself with.

She sank down into the water to hide her nudity and in an authoritative voice, the one she used when speaking to the servants when they had done something to annoy her, said, Please be so kind as to turn around. How dare you stare at me so rudely! Turn around if you are a gentleman and have any decency in you so I may retrieve my clothes and dress myself.

When he spoke his voice startled her, for it was deep and beautifully modulated, and so hauntingly familiar she was not sure if he was a stranger after all, as he now looked disturbingly familiar.

I am sorry if I startled you young lady. Don’t be afraid or alarmed, I mean you no harm. I am a gentleman of this I can assure you. I shall turn around as you bid, although it grieves me to do so, for never have I beheld such exquisite loveliness. He then chuckled as he turned his back to her.

Genevieve was blushing so furiously she was at a loss for words, and feeling flustered and quite out of breath, she quickly stood and stepping out of the water hurried across to her discarded clothing. Reaching the log she again glanced over her shoulder at the stranger to make sure he wasn’t peeking. Satisfied his back was still turned, she picked up her under-garments, but her silk lacy underpants slipped from her shaking hand and fell at her feet. She bent over and picking them up brushed the grass and leaf litter off before quickly putting them on.

Her mind was in turmoil wondering who this tall, handsome stranger was who seemed so familiar to her. She was terribly conscious of his near proximity, for not only was it the first time that she had ever been naked in front of a man, she had certainly never dressed herself in a man’s presence. ‘Why was he so hauntingly familiar and where did he suddenly appear from? And for that matter, how long had he been staring at her before she noticed him lurking in the shadows?’ At the mere thought of it her cheeks flamed crimson and something stirred deep within her.

Dressed at last, she sighed with relief and gave her wet hair a final pat as she tried in vain to do something with it. Turning around she said, You can turn around now Sir. I am dressed.

Genevieve was dumbfounded to see that she was alone in the clearing and the man was nowhere to be seen. Her mouth fell open in bewilderment as she searched the deeper shadows, but he was definitely gone.

Perplexed, she called out, Hello, you can come out now. Where are you? But all she could hear were the sounds of the burbling brook and the bird’s overhead, which were again in full song after their strange silence.

Hello, she called again in a louder voice. Nothing, no response, and she began to wonder if she had just imagined the whole encounter from a touch of the sun.

With a frown she hurried across to where the man had been standing and was amazed to see a black crossbow leaning up against the bole of a tree. ‘I wasn’t dreaming. He was here,’ she thought to herself. Picking up the unusual weapon she saw that it was made of some type of black ebony wood inlaid with silver whirls and scrolls, and was of such excellent workmanship she had never seen the likes before. It was obviously well worn from long use and appeared to be very old, but was also lovingly cared for, as it was highly polished and seemed to glow even in the forest gloom. She was amazed at how light it was and as she studied it she saw fine writing on the stock. Looking closer she could make out the word Avalon. ‘Avalon, now that is a name that is very familiar to me,’ she thought. She wondered if that was the stranger’s name or if it was the name of the craftsman who had originally made this unusually designed crossbow.

She wondered what to do with the weapon now. Where is he? she said aloud. Should I take it with me and go in search of him or leave well enough alone? Yes, I must find out more about him and put a name to this enigma of a man. Going over to collect Bella, she led the horse back to where she had left the saddle and gear on the log and saddled her restive mount.

Once all was in readiness she set out to follow any tracks left by the stranger. Her penetrating, keen eyes soon picked out where he had passed along the trail. A bent blade of grass here, an ant’s nest crushed underfoot there, an upturned stone, and she hurried along leading her faithful horse through the ancient trees following the animal trail the stranger had taken.

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T he man, who name was Avalon, had looked over his shoulder long after the beautiful maiden had requested him to turn around. He had expected her to be dressed, as all had been quiet behind him and he was just in time to see the lady of the glade bend over as she picked up something silky from the ground at her feet. He had seen a flash of sunlit golden hair between her legs, and something else so totally and utterly desirable that he had groaned under his breath, My God. Oh my God.

Turning on his heel he set off to where he had left his horse tethered a short distance away in amongst the trees. His thoughts were in a whirl, for he couldn’t get that erotic image out of his mind and he was totally bewitched by what he had seen. He was so distracted he temporarily forgot where he had left his horse and stopped on the animal track he had been following to get his bearings. All the trees looked the same, so he whistled his horse’s special whistle to which he had trained the stallion to respond. An answering nicker off to his right soon led him to his horse. As he walked up to his faithful friend of many long years, the black warhorse pawed at the ground with his front hoof and snorted loudly. Sorry I’ve been so long. I found a beautiful forest nymph bathing in a pool and upon my soul, I think I have been put under an enchantment. As he untied the reins he sighed at the memory of her haunting image.

He began slowly leading the powerful warhorse back towards the glade, and ever mindful of his lame hoof he took a different trail which he thought would be quicker and less of a roundabout way, little realising he was being followed by the very one he sought.

When he finally reached the clearing after several false turns and some back tracking, he was expecting to see the woman waiting for him. He was mortified to find she wasn’t anywhere to be seen and her horse was also gone. He cried aloud, Oh no, she’s gone. He went over to the moss covered log where he had last seen her and stood staring down at it dumbfounded. Confused by the strange emotions sweeping through him, he sat down on the log as he tried to pull himself together. He put his chin into his cupped hands and rested his elbows on his knees, while vivid images of that bewitching water nymph consumed his thoughts.

Genevieve eventually found the stranger when she returned to the glade after following his tracks in a wide circle through the forest. Before she could say anything, Bella saw the black stallion in what she thought of as her territory, and with a piercing whinny screamed a challenge to the interloper, shattering the peace and tranquillity of the glade.

The black stallion jerked his mighty head up for he recognised the whinny of a mare, and without warning reared back on his hind quarters pawing at the air, tearing the reins from Avalon’s hand. Caught unaware, Avalon was too late to grab at the reins as Midnight dropped back onto all fours, and forgetting his lameness thundered across the glade in a blur of speed, neighing shrilly as he went.

Bella just wasn’t quite quick enough, for Genevieve had clung on grimly to the reins as the mare tried to surge forward and meet the challenge. In a loud, commanding voice she shouted, Whoa Bella. Whoa girl, and it was only because she had trained Bella so well that the mare stood her ground with quivering flanks.

The charging stallion was now only yards away from crashing into Genevieve, as she had placed herself in between the two horses, when the man’s voice roared across the glade, Stand Midnight. Stand.

With all four hooves skidding to a halt, the mighty horse stopped within a hand’s reach of a wide-eyed and ashen-faced Genevieve.

His nostrils were flared and his eyes fiery, but she reached out her hand tentatively, and as she began to rub his nose she said with a quiver in her voice, Easy now Midnight. Easy boy.

But the huge stallion only had eyes for the mare standing behind her, and it was all she could do to keep the two horses apart. She felt very small sandwiched between them both.

The black clad man was suddenly there beside her grabbing at his horse’s reins. He was so close she could smell his male odour, and it made her breath catch in her throat and her heart beat madly in her breast, for it was a healthy, virile smell.

In a concerned voice he said, Are you all right? Are you hurt my Lady? Please, accept my sincere apologies. Midnight was too quick and got away from me.

In a voice that was not her own she stammered in a whisper, I - I am fine thank you Sir. No, no harm was-was done.

He led Midnight twenty-feet away from the mare to put some distance between the two horses and was deeply concerned to see Midnight’s limp was now more pronounced. He blamed himself for not being quick enough to stop Midnight bolting, and with a sigh he turned and said, Where are my manners. Let me introduce myself, my name is Avalon, Avalon De’Monterae. I come in friendship my lady and mean you no harm. After a pause he said, I really am sorry if I offended you by staring at you so rudely, but at first I thought you were a forest nymph or water sprite and I was totally captivated and enchanted by your loveliness.

With a deep bow, he then stood tall and looking into her eyes smiled, a smile that transformed him, and once again her heart began pounding in her chest.

She stammered, My-my name is Lady Genevieve, Genevieve Durbenville, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I-I live in the castle an hour’s ride from here. I-I come into the forest every chance I get to escape the hot confines of the castle and escape my duties. Out here I can be myself and free without all the restrictions that my life as the Baron’s daughter entails. She was quiet for a moment before saying with a frown, How is it that you seem so familiar to me Avalon? Have we met somewhere before perhaps?

Avalon was still looking deeply into her sparkling blue eyes and was silent for so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer, or had perhaps misunderstood her question. She was on the point of repeating herself when he spoke.

My lady Genevieve, where our paths have crossed before I recall not, but of our knowing each other somewhere before, yes you are right. It is as you said, for you are very familiar to me also. In fact, everything about you stirs up something deep within me, something that seems to touch upon my very soul.

He seemed at a loss for words then and fell silent, and she thought she saw a shadow pass across his lovely brown eyes with their amazing golden flecks. But it was gone in an instant and she wondered if she had just imagined it. ‘That voice,’ she thought, ‘why does it sound so incredibly, hauntingly familiar? Was it the voice in her dreams that had whispered long in her ears on many a night? But how can this be?’ Feeling suddenly weak at the knees and to cover her confusion she said in a whisper, Forgive me, I don’t know what’s come over me, I feel rather faint. I must sit down.

Without waiting for a reply she left his side and leading Bella behind her went over to a nearby log and sat down rather heavily on the mossy surface.

Seeing her obvious distress, Avalon led Midnight to a nearby stout branch and securing the reins returned to her side with concern showing on his face. My dear Lady, how can I help? Is there something I can do, anything at all? You look very pale. Perhaps a drink of water will revive you?

Feeling terribly foolish and embarrassed at all the fuss, and extremely flustered by his nearness as he knelt down on one knee in front of her, she said, It must be a touch of the sun. I will be all right in a moment. There was no way she could tell this handsome man that it was his voice and his very presence that was creating so much turmoil within her, for she had never in her whole life experienced anything quite like this before.

He said softly, If I may be so bold, do you mind if I sit on the log beside you, as I feel a little ridiculous kneeling in front of you?

His smile touched something in her heart and she replied, But of course you may. It will be more comfortable here and we can talk at our leisure. After a slight hesitation she said his name softly, Avalon.

As he sat down beside her his knee accidentally touched hers and she quickly moved a little further away as she blushed crimson.

At first she had been very conscious of his nearness, and several times when, to make a point about something he had put his hand on hers or on her forearm, a distinct tingling sensation had shot up her arm. This threw her whole being into confusion and she became short of breath as she blushed furiously like a young girl.

As Genevieve gradually shed her natural shyness and defensive barriers, she also cast aside her fears, for he made her laugh and brought her out of herself. She had never felt so at ease and so perfectly relaxed with a man, and it surprised and delighted her, for it was obvious they were both thoroughly enjoying each other’s company as they became more acquainted.

They talked and laughed away the day, and by late afternoon they had become firm friends. It was as if they had known each other for a long, long time instead of only four or five hours. They told each other personal and very private things that they had never divulged to another living soul, and it brought them closer together as a bond grew between them slowly but surely.

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T hey met in the glade by the spring-fed pool every day for the next four days, while Midnight slowly recovered from his lameness and the long desert crossing. Genevieve brought a picnic lunch with her every day, food she had secretly taken from the kitchen while the cooks were in bed asleep. Their friendship grew and flourished to such an extent that they were both amazed and in awe of the depth of their growing feelings for each other. They felt so natural with each other it was as if they had known each other for many long y ears.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun sank towards the rim of the escarpment, Avalon became quiet and pensive. With Midnight’s lame hoof now fully recovered he was planning to set off in the morning to continue his quest, and he didn’t know how he was going to tell Genevieve, let alone say goodbye to her.

When she inquired if there was anything the matter, he turned to face her with a serious expression on his ruggedly handsome face and looked deep into her eyes for such a long time she began to fidget and squirm. She could feel her cheeks beginning to redden under the intensity of his gaze and her heart began to beat fast, as if she had been riding a horse at the gallop.

Reaching a decision he sighed and said in a subdued voice, I would like to tell you a story. It is a long story, but I will attempt to keep it as short as possible. Long ago, in the kingdom where I was born and where my ancestors have lived for many, many generations, there was a High Priest of a very ancient order of monks. He fell into dark and evil ways and became possessed by the very spells he wrought from the ancient books of magic he studied. As he delved deeper into the ancient art form of black magic, he became very powerful and darkness filled his soul. He became so powerful in fact, that any who dared to oppose him were never seen or heard of again. To make matters worse, he had the ear of the sick and ailing old King. The Priest’s evil council turned the country into a blood bath as civil war raged unchecked between the rebels and those loyal to the King. When my Great Grandfather, Avalon paused briefly in his narrative as he contemplated whether or not to tell Genevieve that his Great Grandfather was in actual fact one of the old King’s sons, the first born, but for some unexplainable reason decided to withhold the information.

Picking up the thread of his story he continued. "When my Great Grandfather returned with his fellow Knights from the crusade wars in the Holy Lands, they found the Kingdom in flames from the civil war, with death and destruction everywhere. When he heard that the Priest was to blame for the war and ensuing rebellion, he decided to take two of his most trusted Knights and go in search of the rogue Priest at his monastery in the snow covered mountains to the west and challenge him, hoping to put an end to the rebellion.

"They set out on their quest as soon as they were able, and after a week of hard riding they eventually came in sight of the grim looking monastery perched precariously on the side of a rocky snow covered mountain. It was partly obscured by swirling, snow laden clouds as they led their horses up a narrow path cut into the side of the mountain. It was really nothing more than a goat track and the sheer drop went straight down for well over three thousand feet. They hugged the cliff face for their very lives as the bitterly cold winds of a fast approaching storm-front began to lash at them. The inky, black clouds swirled and tumbled in and upon themselves as the storm grew in size and power by the minute. Bolts of searing lightning slashed across the sky just above them, temporarily blinding them as they shivered from the cold wind and driving snow. They stumbled on up the treacherous path and when the thunder began, it reverberated so loudly off the cliffs they had to fight to keep control of their terrified horses as they tried to bolt in terror.

"It was no ordinary storm Genevieve, for there was a hidden menace and power in it that the three Knights could feel within their souls. If they had been ordinary men and not brave Knights of the realm, they would have fled back down the way they had come screaming mindlessly, as some unnameable terror seemed to grip their very hearts. When a bolt of jagged lightning struck the cliff twenty-feet above them and showered them with flying fragments of sharp stones, one of the horses reared back in terror. Losing its footing on the crumbling edge, the horse stumbled over the precipice dragging the Knight with it as he tried in vain to free his hand from the reins which had tangled around his wrist. The Knight’s long, drawn out scream tore at their minds as their life-long friend and horse fell to their death thousands of feet below. Lightning then began striking all around, exploding the rocky cliff face into deadly missiles, tearing and lacerating men and horses until their mounts were totally uncontrollable. They were forced to set the horses free before they were also dragged to their death on the jagged rocks far below. One of the horses somehow managed to turn itself around on that impossibly narrow track and quickly disappeared from sight around the last bend, while the other horse, blind with panic, ran straight over the edge. Unnerved and close to hysteria, the remaining two Knights huddled together for protection against the flying rocks and deadly slithers. If it wasn’t for their armour, they would have been slashed and cut to bloody ribbons. By now the wind was gale-force and threatening to blow them off the track, and they clung on for grim death as they prayed as they had never prayed before.

Time ceased to have any meaning as the unnatural storm lashed at them in a mindless frenzy, a cacophony of sound that beat upon their senses.

Avalon halted his dialogue to draw breath, and when he looked across at Genevieve sitting at his side, he saw she had been hanging on his every word and was round-eyed and pale of face. He smiled at her warmly and said, There is more of the story yet to come, or have you heard enough? The whole point of the story is not far away and in actual fact concerns myself.

Oh please, do continue. I’m sitting on the edge of my seat and do so love a good story. You have such a marvellous way with words. I can’t wait to hear what happens next. She smiled at him then and something tripped in his heart.

He returned her smile saying, "Where was I? Oh yes, the storm. When the storm finally eased and the lightning bolts and thunder passed them by, they gave thanks to God for sparing their lives. They helped each other to stand and with grim determination set off along the debris-strewn path.

"Arriving at the ancient, formidable looking granite monastery with its tall spires and towers, they finally stood before the double, heavy bronze doors. As they leant on their broad swords for support trying to collect their breath and strength, a lightning bolt flashed down from above and struck the Knight standing beside my Great Grandfather. His heavy armour literally blew apart, sending human remains and jagged, molten metal in all directions. If my ancestor hadn’t thrown himself to the ground he would have met the same fate as his friend. The force of the explosion sent him sliding and rolling to within inches of the edge of the precipice. In shock he crawled on all fours away from the brink and was able to reach the double doors again, bruised and battered, his armour twisted and misshapen. He could feel blood oozing from both ears as it trickled down his neck. When he crawled over the bloody remains of his friend he broke down and wept bitterly, for the brave Knight had been his closest friend. He had to shut his mind to the blood and gore on him and on the snow covered ground.

"Weary and exhausted beyond belief, he dragged himself erect and with legs braced apart for support, he once again used his sword to steady himself and steeled his resolve for what lay ahead. There were no more unnatural bolts of lightning and after ten minutes rest he felt strong enough for the task before him. Taking a deep breath he stepped up to the doors and with his mailed fist began beating loudly upon them.

"Time and time again he shouted out his challenge, but to no avail for no-one came forth. As the sun began to set he grew disheartened, bitterly cold and weary, until in despair and thoroughly exhausted from the bone chilling cold he slumped to the ground. He then succumbed to a tiredness that seemed to wash over him, an almost unnatural force that consumed the last of his strength. A swirling grey fog enveloped his mind,