There was grass between my toes. Soft grass, without any weeds, and slightly long. The ground was slightly soft as I stepped forward, but not muddy. There was no wind, only a vague breeze that stirred the wisps of hair around my face, and the sun was very warm. And the scent was strange. There were trees nearby, but not close I thought, and some sort of flower I didn't recognize. And except for a single bird call, complete silence.
I stood completely still, trying to get my bearings. Trying to understand what had happened.
Footsteps approached through the woods, large and heavy. Too heavy to be a person. Then I heard the soft whickering of a horse, and a muffled exclamation of surprise. I remained still, like a frightened rabbit, as the horse and its rider approached.
A deep voice, rumbling up through a large body, spoke to me, in words that made no sense.
"I'm sorry." I spread my hands. "I can't understand you."
"Who are you?" He spoke in English, with an accent I still didn't recognize.
I turned slowly to face in the direction of the sound, and tried to smile while my hands automatically brushed loose stone dust from my palms onto my jeans. "My name is Celia McGovern.
"Celia," he repeated. He seemed to be considering me, and I wished I could stare back. Instead I listened carefully, still wondering where I was. "What are you doing here?"
I shrugged, and could feel a slight blush rising to my cheeks. "I'm not certain myself. It seems to be a lovely place, though." I breathed deeply, enjoying the crisp, clean feel of the air. "Everything I could ever want in a forest hideaway." My voice dropped low with the memory. I had always dreamed of a place like this, and had done my best to create the image in marble. Then I was here.
He said nothing at that, assumably staring at me again. I attempted to make myself more presentable, dragging fingers through my hair, drawing back the braid and tucking in stray strands that had escaped. I brushed loose dust from my sweatshirt, feeling the grit under my fingers. It could have been worse. I could have been working in clay when it had happened, and then been covered in the thick grime that leaves me with. Marble simply leaves a fine dusty grit, that seems to get everywhere. I suddenly realized I desperately wanted a shower.
"This is a private area." His voice had softened somewhat, and I could feel the horse moving closer to me. His hand brushed my shoulder, then he grasped both shoulder and pulled me easily up. I found myself seated on the horse in front of him. "It might be best if we go up to the castle and see what to do with you."
I was seated sideways on the horse, my shoulder up against his chest. He was tall and broad, larger than any man I had met before. I resisted the urge to touch his face, curious what he 'looked' like. Instead I focused on staying steady as the horse moved beneath us. "What castle? Where am I?" He hadn't spoken any language I recognized. I thought it might be just a dream, but the grass beneath my feet had been real, as was his body behind me.
"You are in Amber." From the sound of his voice I wondered if he thought I should already know that. I didn't.
"Is it on the continent?" I was humoring myself. After all, it had to be a dream, no matter how real it felt. It would be impossible for me to move from my studio to a forest glade on the continent in a matter of seconds.
"Where are you from?" he answered with a question of his own.
"London, England."
He chuckled, and I felt the rumble spread through him. "You are very far from England now."
I should have been afraid then. But I felt safe there, despite his size and strength, and despite the sudden knowledge that he spoke the truth. I was very far from home. It struck me then that I trusted him, strangely enough. He was big enough to crush me without a thought. But he wouldn't.
I twisted, trying to face him, and he tightened his grip so I wouldn't fall. I steadied myself with a single palm pressed against his chest. The cloth felt rich beneath my fingertips. "What should I call you?"
"My name is Gerard."
"Just Gerard?" I was curious.
"Just Gerard," he confirmed.
I was still curious, wanting to know what he looked like. I tentatively raised my hand from his chest, and let it hover between us, reaching for his face. My voice was very soft. "May I?"
"Yes."
I felt muscles clench as he signaled the horse to stop moving. I didn't have to worry about falling off any more, and relaxed, letting my hand find his thick head of hair. Slightly wavy, I wondered what color it was. Dark, like mine, or pale? "What color is it?"
"Brown."
I slowly allowed my fingertips to move over his forehead, down to find thick eyebrows. "Dark or light brown?"
"Dark." He held perfectly still while I 'looked' at him, patiently allowing me to take my time.
His features were broad, appropriate for a man so large as he was. Tiny wrinkles at the corner of his eye were laughlines. A sense of humor. He had both a beard and mustache. "What color are your eyes?" He closed them as I traced the lashes - thick, but not long.
"Blue. Have you been blind since birth?"
I didn't take offense at his question. "Yes. Nineteen years, and I've never seen the sun." I smiled, lifting my face to feel that warmth upon it. "That was one of the parts of my dream. A perfect glade set into a forest. Soft grass, and the feel of the sun on my face. I can see it in my mind as if it exists, know exactly what it feels like to be there." And then I was.
Again he tensed briefly, and the horse began to move again. We moved slowly, and I shifted my weight to sit more easily.
"Vialle will help you while you are in Amber."
I think that was when it hit me what had really happened. I understood that I was no longer in England. No longer anywhere near England. But until that moment, I hadn't realized that I didn't know how to get home. I slumped with the realization, and was silent, eyes closed, for the rest of the ride.
I could imagine my flat easily. The living area was small, but the studio made up for the rest. Large and spacious, all my equipment strewn all over the place. My father used to laugh at me, wondering how anyone who couldn't see could live in such a mess. But I knew where everything was, and that's what was important.
The horse slowed, then stopped, but I didn't bother to open my eyes. A moment later Gerard slid off the horse, taking me with him. I stumbled slightly as my feet touched the ground, and he steadied me. I opened my eyes, knowing it would be impolite not to.
He stepped away, and I could hear him talking to someone off to the side. Then the other person moved away from us, stepping onto stone and walking away with footsteps echoing. Gerard took my arm and led me to follow the same path, up the stairs and into the foyer of Castle Amber.
I tried to remember how we went in the castle, feeling lost and small, unable to get my bearings. Gerard's hand never left my elbow, and his boots echoed beside me. The stone was cold on my feet, and I wished I hadn't been barefoot when all the strangeness began. But in time, my feet grew used to the stone, and I never did complain.
We reached a room finally, after going through more hallways and stairs than I could remember easily. When we stepped inside, the door closed heavily behind us, echoing slightly. A high ceiling? Gerard dropped my elbow and moved away, leaving me to stand quietly until I had some sense of the room.
There was someone else in it. Gerard had moved to talk to the stranger, but their voices were too low for me to hear. Then both moved back to me. Gerard took my hand, placing her hand in mine. "Vialle, this is Celia. And Celia, this is Vialle, the queen of Amber."
My mouth dropped into a round 'O' as I tried to recover my wits. Queen? All that time I thought Gerard had been speaking of the sort of castle we had in England. Where someone with an old, but useless, title lived. I had been quite wrong.
Vialle took my hand in hers, raising it immediately to her face. A slender face, high cheekbones that were accentuated but not angular. Her hair was long, but more sculpted than my own. Her bangs were short, and the rest falling to about the middle of her back. When my fingers fluttered across her lips and chin, I 'saw' that she was smiling.
"My hair is light, and my eyes are green," she told me softly. She had one of those soothing voices, that immediately set me at ease. "Gerard tells me your eyes are violet..."
There was a moment of silence as I realized what she was saying. Slowly I dropped my hand to grasp hers, then raised it to my own face. Her touch was feather light as it skimmed over my features, then lingered on my hair, feeling the texture.
"If I were to sculpt you, it would have to be marble. Or perhaps alabaster. Gerard told me your skin was pale."
"You sculpt?" I couldn't hold back the smile. "I had just finished this lovely frieze of a beautiful scene. The sort of woodland grove I've always dreamed about."
I heard the door open and shut as Gerard left, but I hardly paid attention. Vialle was asking about my technique, and my background in art. Suddenly I felt completely at home.