The Tor - 29. Chapter 29

Rain swept across the summit until the standing stones appeared only as pale shadows within the darkness. The sea struck the cliffs below with such force that the ground trembled beneath Christopher's feet.

Marco stood just beyond the circle beside the outer stones where Vale had vanished. Neither of them spoke. Beyond the harbour, the clouds were breaking apart, revealing a narrow strip of pale sky above the sea.

Marco rested both hands upon the stone. He turned when he heard Christopher approach. For a moment neither spoke.

For the first time since they had met, Christopher saw uncertainty upon his face.

Marco stepped forward. Then stopped.

Christopher understood why.

For eighteen centuries Marcus Aemilianus had crossed every distance between them.

He had searched. He had pursued. He had refused every separation. Now he remained where he was.

Then Marco looked past him. Christopher understood the unspoken question.

"He's gone."

Marco's expression changed. "Vale?" Christopher nodded. "What happened?"

Christopher stopped beside him. The harbour lay strangely quiet after the night's violence. Broken branches and seaweed littered the promenade. Water still ran along the gutters towards the drains.

"I spoke to him." Marco waited. "He remembered more than I thought."

"What did he tell you?"

"That he had spent two thousand years believing he could undo what happened."

Marco looked down. "And?"

"I forgave him."

Marco closed his eyes. For several seconds he said nothing.

Then he asked, very quietly, "And the curse?"

Christopher looked out towards the sea. "I don't know."

Marco turned towards him. Christopher could see the question forming before he spoke it.

"Did something happen?"

"No."

"Did you remember?"

"Some things."

"Everything?"

Christopher shook his head. Marco's face remained still.

"Did Vale say it was over?"

"No."

"The ritual?"

"No."

"The memories?"

"They're still there."

Marco looked towards the Tor again. The silence between them lengthened. Christopher could almost feel the old hope moving through him. It was there in the way his shoulders had straightened, in the way he kept looking towards the hill as though expecting some visible sign. A light among the stones. A change in the air. Anything that might tell him that eighteen centuries of searching had finally reached their conclusion. There was nothing.

The Tor stood beneath the clearing sky. Ancient. Silent. Unchanged.

Marco let out a slow breath. "So nothing has changed."

Christopher considered that. "No."

Marco gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "I see."

Christopher reached for his hand. Marco allowed him to take it, but his fingers remained still within Christopher's.

"You thought it would be different."

"I hoped."

Christopher looked at him. "You thought I would remember everything."

Marco's mouth tightened. "Perhaps."

"And if I had?"

"I don't know."

Christopher waited. Marco looked down at their joined hands.

"I spent so long believing that if you remembered enough, everything would make sense."

"Would it?"

"No."

The answer came so quietly that Christopher almost missed it.

Marco lifted his eyes. "I think I wanted the past to give me permission to stop being afraid."

Christopher felt something tighten in his chest. "And now?"

Marco looked towards the sea. "Now I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

Christopher stepped closer. "Neither do I."

A faint smile touched Marco's face. "That is becoming a habit."

Christopher laughed softly. Then the smile disappeared. "I was frightened when I left."

"I know."

"I thought if I went somewhere else, the memories might stop."

Marco nodded. "They didn't."

"No."

Christopher looked towards the harbour. "But something else happened." Marco waited. "I realised that I had been treating you as though you were part of the curse." Marco's expression tightened. "I don't mean that I thought you had done this."

"I know."

"I mean..." Christopher searched for the right words. "I kept thinking that loving you might be the thing that was trapping me."

Marco looked away. "And perhaps sometimes it has," he said. Christopher frowned.

"You searching for me. Finding me. Remembering for both of us."

"I know."

"You've spent centuries carrying something I hadn't asked you to carry."

Marco's voice was almost inaudible. "I couldn't stop."

"I know."

Christopher tightened his fingers around his. "But you stopped this time." Marco looked at him. "You let me leave."

"Yes."

"You didn't follow."

"No."

"You didn't try to convince me to come back."

"I wanted you to come back because you wanted to."

Christopher nodded. "That's why I did."

Marco's eyes closed briefly. When they opened again, something in them had changed, something more uncertain than relief.

"Christopher."

"Yes?"

"If this happens again..." Christopher waited. "If you wake one morning and you are Celyn again..."

"I might."

"And if you remember another life before you remember this one?"

"I might."

Marco swallowed. "And if you decide you don't want this?"

Christopher felt the full weight of the question. The harbour bells sounded faintly somewhere behind them. He did not answer immediately.

"I might," he said. Marco's face tightened. Christopher continued before he could speak. "And you might lose me."

Marco looked down. "I know."

"You cannot prevent that."

"I know."

"You cannot make me remember."

"I know."

"You cannot follow me into every life and make the choice for me."

Marco's jaw tightened.

"No."

Christopher moved closer until there was almost no space between them. "And I cannot promise that I will always choose you."

Marco looked at him. For the first time, Christopher saw how much those words cost him.

Yet Marco nodded. "Then I have to learn to live with that."

Christopher's eyes filled with tears. "Yes."

Marco gave a small, broken laugh. "You make it sound very simple."

"It isn't."

"No."

Marco looked at him. "I have spent too long believing that loving you meant refusing to lose you." His fingers tightened gently around Christopher's hand. "If loving you truly means anything..." He drew one careful breath. "It must also mean allowing your life to be your own."

Christopher rested his forehead against Marco's. "The only thing I can tell you is what I know now." Marco waited. "I am Christopher Edwards." Marco's eyes closed. "I am twenty-eight years old. I teach history at a school three streets from here. I know which bakery burns its first batch every morning. I know the lighthouse keeper's dog hates bicycles. I know the harbour smells different after rain." A smile appeared briefly on Marco's face. "And I know you." Christopher drew a breath. "Not Marcus." Marco opened his eyes. "Not because he loved you." Christopher's voice faltered. "Not because Celyn loved you." He took Marco's hand and placed it against his chest. "I love you because I am Christopher." Marco stared at him. "And that is what I can give you."

Marco's hand trembled. "For now?"

"For now."

The answer was deliberately small. Marco understood that. He nodded slowly.

"Perhaps that is all anyone ever has."

Christopher smiled through his tears. "I think so."

They remained there while the last of the rain fell around them. After a while Marco asked, "What did you say to Vale before he left?"

Christopher looked towards the Tor. "I told him to go home."

Marco glanced at him. "Did he?"

Christopher smiled. "I think so.”

Marco's fingers tightened around his.

Neither of them looked towards the Tor again. The hill remained behind them. The memories remained. The curse, if it was still a curse, remained unanswered. Nothing had been defeated. Nothing had been guaranteed.

For once, Christopher found that he did not need certainty before making a choice. He leaned forward and kissed Marco. It was not a promise of forever. It was something harder. A promise of now.

When they parted, Marco rested his forehead against Christopher's. "I don't know what happens next," he whispered.

"Neither do I."

"That frightens me."

"It frightens me too."

Marco smiled faintly. "Good."

Christopher laughed. "Good?"

"I'd rather be frightened with you than certain without you."

Christopher held his hand more tightly. By the time they reached the harbour, the eastern sky had begun to pale over Penmere.

They walked home.