"Carrach's Gift"
by Freyah

Dark storm clouds chased the caravan north towards Theren. Alder limbs tore at his cloak and battered the braying donkeys as they tried to make the Keep before nightfall. Thick fog clouded the moors, causing once familiar shapes to take on the appearance of something otherworldly. Carrach leaned into the wind, tugging his cloak tightly around him, and alternately pulled and prodded the skittish animals forward. Soon, with relief filling his chest, he sighted the familiar turrets in the distance; rain began to fall in earnest. Hooves clattered in the bailey, the smell of wet donkey was everywhere as Carrach pounded his walking stick on the tightly closed door. "Open up in there, I have the Baron's whiskey! Open up, I say!"

With a muffled oath the great door swung inward creaking on its great iron hinges, to reveal the face of Seig, the Baron's Houseman. "Carrach! Well I see ya made it at last, we almost gave up on ya! Come in, man, come in!" With a bellow, Seig yelled for the stable boy, pulling on Carrach's arm as he ushered him inside.

Warmth rolled from the huge stone hearth at the back of the hall. Struggling out of his sodden cloak, Carrach was pleased to see a decanter of the Baron's finest port resting beside the two enormous armchairs that flanked the fire on either side. "The Baron is nae at home, but he left instructions ye be treated well in his absence," Seig spoke with a grin. "When you're ready, the blue room, first door on your left at the top of the stairs, has been made ready for your arrival."

Carrach nodded as he settled into the depth of the warm, soft chair. "Thank ye, Seig. Oh, by the way, " he said with a wink, "I did find one keg of that honey ale you like so much, be sure you have the stable boy bring it in for ya." Seig grinned in reply, rubbing his hands together happily as he trotted from view.

Carrach leaned back in the chair, sipping the smooth mellow port with a sigh. He was happy this trip was over at last. First there had been the thieves on the northern trade road that had made him lose his temper, then the trolls in the woods above Langenfirth, after that horrible barge ride, and now this godawful storm. His thoughts drifted sleepily as he watched the flames dance in the grate. He rose with a grunt, stiff road-weary muscles complaining with every motion. His mind turned to more pleasant memories as he dragged sleep-heavy feet up the great staircase to his room.

The big oaken door closed with a thud. The room was lit only by firelight, as he slipped out of his clothes. He stifled a gasp as cold air rose from the floor to grasp at revealed flesh. A bone-deep shudder rattled his frame as he dived beneath the covers, then purred at the feeling of warmth that rose from his toes and the foot-warmer that obviously rested there. Sleep was almost instantaneous, filled with vague and restful dreams.

Moonlight filtered through the heavy drapes to cast dancing shadows across the silk of the coverlet. The rain had stopped, and a soft breeze wafted across the room filled with the scent of ... roses. Sun-drenched roses late in summer, their fragrance full, heady and intoxicating. Carrach sat up with a start, his trader's well-developed sense nagging at him that he was no longer alone. The bedclothes rustled as the mattress sagged; Carrach dove for his sword, then stopped. A soft and lilting voice whispered, "Do not fear, it is only I, beloved."

"What in the... " Carrach reached, scrambling to find tinder and a candle. The fire burned low in the grate, providing almost no light to the dark echo-filled room. The feel of silken limbs and the scent of roses drew closer again, the bedclothes rustling as if someone unseen rested beside him. "Tonight of all nights, can I come to you? Will you not hold me?" Gentle and plaintive the voice crooned as a caress light as a butterfly's wing brushed across his cheek.

Carrach's heart pounded in his ears, yet his mind refused to believe such folly. He struggled from the bed to add wood to the fire. Chairs and tables, no danger before dark, now assaulted his exposed knees, scraping across his shins and bending back toes in his haste to reach the hearth. He cursed loudly to every god he could think of as he hopped and stumbled, throwing the nearest log onto the fire. Peals of feminine laughter rose on the brisk night air as the fire leapt to life. Carrach drew his sword and turned to face the bed.

There was nothing there. No man, no woman, nothing. "Uthmor's Ax!" Carrach swore as he thrust his sword in, under and through the bedclothes, to no avail.

The scent of roses surrounded him as the voice whispered near his ear, "Only one night, so few hours and so long. Come to bed, beloved."

"I don't know who or what you are, but bed is the last place I'm going!" Carrach growled as he knelt to peer under the bedframe, sword at the ready. Delighted, joyous laughter greeted his pronouncement, as with a shove he sailed across the short distance between himself and the bed, landing with a clank of steel against wood amid the rumpled sheets.

The hair prickled on the back of his neck as chilling drafts of fog-kissed air wrapped themselves around his bare and now bewildered form. The fire died, and darkness once more filled the room. Carrach sat, trained senses intently listening, his darting eyes watching for the slightest movement. Silence was all that greeted him; no more laughter, no scent of roses, or soft spectral kisses on his cheek. His body sagged, adrenaline spent as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

Warm arms pulled him close; the soft scent of the woman filled his senses, leaving them tingling. Fingers danced along the broad expanse of his back, tracing gentle narrowing circles before slipping along his ribs. Carrach struggled with sleep. Sense sought to awaken him, but the dreaming muse remained. Lips dewy soft trailed down his throat, leaving clouds of warm moist breath in their wake. Languorous limbs intertwined, exploration revealing familiar curves beneath his fingers. He moaned at the touch as fire rose in his veins.

"So long," a familiar voice sighed against his ear, deep, husky, heavy with passion. The touch grew bold, intimately seeking all the places only a lover would know, leaving shivering fiery kisses like brands on his skin. Carrach groaned, his hands reaching, pulling the full soft curves closer. He buried his face in the scent of her hair. "Beloved." Hoarse, urgent, her voice beckoned. Heat flooded his body, radiating outwards in ever-widening circles until he echoed her cry with his own.

Kisses rained upon his face, tender, gentle, filled with love. He reached to pull her closer as she seemed to slip from his grasp. Carrach gasped as the chill of predawn air crept up to replace her warm silken form. Wind sighed in the trees, filled with the heartache of a thousand lost loves. "Only this night, beloved." Her voice faded softly as the first rays of sun stained a grey and cloudy sky.

Carrach sat up with a start. Even as he woke, his arms reached for a form no longer there. Cursing, he thrashed at the bedclothes wrapped around him, sending his sword to the stones below with a nerve-shattering clang. Once able to stand, he struggled into his clothes, yanking on his boots like a man possessed. "Hodierna's Blessing," he mumbled as he greeted the sun.

He broke the ice on the water pitcher and added wood to the coals till they once more burned with steady flame. Inhaling deeply, he threw apart the curtains at the window, bathing the room in full light for the first time. Crimson and gold greeted his eye; it seemed the whole room was bathed in scarlet velvet and ornate gold leaf. He knelt once more and peered under the bed, only to find that dust and the chamber pot were the only residents.

Voices sounded in the hall as chambermaids and liverymen started the day with friendly greetings. Carrach threw open the door and strode out into the hall. The chambermaid stopped with a startled look, her eyes round as two Arthe Dale tarts. "Well, what are ya staring at, girl? Ya look like ya seen a ghost." Carrach bellowed half in jest and more then a bit in…fear? The chambermaid babbled and scurried down the hall, stopping to whisper to a gaggle of similar lassies, who all turned and looked at him with the same wide-eyed expression before bustling down the hall and out of sight.

Seig greeted him in the stable yard with a hearty handshake and thump on the back. "Did ya sleep well? The Baron gave ya the best room in the Keep, he did. Pure goose down that bed is."

Carrach glanced at the Houseman with a mixture of confusion and distaste. "It was alright," he mumbled.

The chambermaid he had first seen upstairs came running across the yard and whispered urgently in Seig's ear. Seig stared at Carrach, his eyes gone round. "Didn't you sleep in the blue room last night, sir?" Nervously Seig twisted his house keys in his fingers.

"Wherever I slept, it was…not very restful." Carrach felt the blush creep up his cheeks and redden the tips of his ears.

The chambermaid finally found her tongue and blurted, "Ye slept with the Red Lady's Ghost!" Seig shushed her with a frown and sent her back to the house with a muttered curse.

"Red Lady's Ghost?" Carrach glanced at Seig, brows raised.

Seig coughed. "It seems you slept in the Red room last even, Sir. I did tell you it was the Blue room the Baron had set aside for ye. Ya see.... the Red Room is haunted." Seig shivered and pulled his coat tighter. "No one ever sleeps there on the turn of the year; that's when the Lady lost her love."

"Seig, man, what are you talking about? You mean I…that…was a ghost?" Carrach shook his head, partly to clear his thoughts and partly to drive them away.

"I don't know what ya saw or…" Seig looked decidedly uncomfortable. "…Or did last night, Sir, but ya weren't in the Blue Room, that much I do know." Seig seemed to find much needing his attention across the yard as the stable boy brought up the caravan in a chorus of jingling tack, trailing clouds of steamy breath where the mules whoofed and snorted in the chill morning air. Carrach gazed upwards, past the clamor of the stable yard, past the crumbling ramparts until his eyes rested upon that single tower room. Then with a soft shrug of his shoulders, he turned the caravan south towards the gate to begin the long journey home.