The winter wind whistled through the ancient stone
halls. Though not as cold as his
previous home, the wind always chilled Reginald.
No, he thought, it’s not the wind. It’s what comes with the wind.
Reginald hurried through the stone halls, crimson robes
streaming behind him. He didn’t want to
be late. He’d been late before. It hurt to be late.
But that’s better than
missing it all together, he reasoned.
He reached the spiral stairs leading to the top of the east
tower and scurried up them. Reaching the
top, Reginald flung open the iron strapped door and stepped out to the parapet
walls. Reginald breathed a sigh of
relief. He’d made it in time. He spent the next several minutes scouring
the skies, looking for any telltale trace of her.
At first he didn’t see her.
His heart raced. Everything was
right. She had to come. The old seeress said so. Then, as his panic tightened icy fingers
around his throat, Reginald saw the first sign of her. Reginald danced in anticipation just like a naïve
schoolboy. The wind whipped particularly
hard blinding him for a moment. When he
could see again, she was there on the tower with him.
Reginald fell to his knees.
Tears streamed down his face. He
reached out, hands shaking, praying for a single touch. A touch that didn’t come. She wasn’t even looking at him. She circled the walls, watching the
surrounding countryside.
“Sarande,” Reginald whispered.
She turned toward him.
Once again, Reginald’s heart raced.
Joy threatened to crush him. Just
as he believed that this time it worked, she walked right through him without
any sign that she knew he was there.
Reginald crumpled, the scarlet fabric pooling around
him. It had failed. Sarande was the reason he’d fought to take
this land, to take Scarborough Castle.
He’d almost died in the fighting.
It had all been for her.
The battle replayed in his mind. Each move, each sword stroke. Reginald felt each blow all over again. Wounded, exhausted, numb, he’d finally
reached Sarande. She turned to look at
him as he’d fallen to his knees in front of her.
As Reginald remembered the look on her face, his mind shied
away from the image that was indelibly carved into his memory. Tears poured down his face.
“Why, Sarande? Why
did you do that? Was I really so bad?”
he screamed into the frigid air as she faded away.
