Toren lay in the dungeon, his cheek against the cold stone exactly where the mercenaries had left him after shaving him raw. At least the witch had left him alone without starting immediately back in with her whips, or worse, her magical tortures.
She was correct in that even with the recent healing, he wouldn't be able to endure much longer.
He stared at the enchanted band on his wrist, feeling the frustration of no choices as deeply as the exhaustion enveloping his body.
He could goad her into outright killing him, but then her attention would be turned to his siblings. Nay, he had to continue as long as he could to give them a chance to flee. If they hadn’t already. There was no way to know.
He was just so achingly bone-weary.
Squeezing his eyes closed, Toren drifted away, allowing sleep to bolster the reviving energies the little healer of the future had gifted him with.
At the last moment before Aldreth had pulled him back, the young healer thrust everything she had into him. It hadn't been anywhere near the amount needed to restore what Aldreth had bled from him, yet Toren was touched that the maiden would give him all that she had.
Toren escaped to sleep with the swirl of a name on his lips. Charity.
He knew her. Somehow during her healing, a connection between them had been forged. He knew all the depths and layers to this woman of the future and marveled at the sweetness that existed in her demeanor. She hoped deeply and loved fiercely. Family meant everything to her. She would dive into the murkiest waters to protect them.
A faint smile curved his lips in sleep. He’d had nothing to smile about for so long, yet the lass had managed to coax several from him.
She came to him then—in his dreams—all creamy skin and lustrous dark hair. He'd wanted to feel the softness of it when he'd first seen her, but coming as a beggar in search of a Healer Enchantress's aid, he had refrained.
But he walked in the dreamworld now and she but a manifestation conjured by his mind.
She ran to him across the moor, mist curling at her hips, teasing cloudy swirls around her breech-covered legs until she stood before him, slender hands upon his crisp white shirt.
"Toren," she breathed.
He smiled at the unusual inflection she gave to his name and since she was but a dream, he indulgently dragged his fingers into her hair, sighing at the silkiness.
"Toren, I need you to tell me where you are. I'm going to help you."
What's this? Toren grazed the back of his knuckles along her cheek. ‘Twas soft and warm. His dream conjured enchantress shouldn't look so troubled.
He wanted her to be pleasant, pliant, a lovely peaceful memory to hold on to, to focus his mind on during the worst of what Aldreth would surely bring. He knew naught how long he'd be given uninterrupted sleep and he intended to make the most of it. Toren willed his dream to fall into order, arranging his thoughts so that the focused lines above Charity's pert little nose would smooth.
Her lips tightened in exasperation. "Toren, focus please. Tell me where you are. Where is the dungeon? Within a castle? Tell me how to free you."
Toren pulled back, holding her at arm's length to really get a good look at her. Impatience and sharp intelligence stared back through disarming violet eyes, filled with far too much life to be a dream-induced manifestation.
"Are ye dream-trailing?"
Dainty shoulders hitched up in a shrug. "I'd just dozed off, exhausting day you know, even though I didn’t intend to sleep. Now I'm here." She fluttered her hands. "But I know enough to realize that sometimes truths that you normally can't see in the light of day will come to the surface in your dreams. I took an entire course on dream analysis once. Well maybe not a course, more like a weekend workshop. Anyway I figure since I'm dreaming about you I may as well be direct and ask you what I want to know. Who is that horrible woman? She’s a witch, isn’t she? Has to be a witch. Nobody else could hold a sorcerer. And those spelled leather on your wrists, the glowy bands…definitely a witch. Where is she keeping you and how do I get you out?"
She was talking rapidly about things she couldn’t possibly have any hand in and all Toren wanted to do was silence those lips with his own. The blood in his veins heated, dropped below the waist of his kilt. Toren clasped her hands between his in an attempt to stop her from rambling since her fingers twirled and gestured to emphasize every word. The only thing certain was that she was real and believed him to be the dream.
His lip quirked up, pleased that she would deem to dream of him at all, especially after the state he’d come to her in.
"Charity." Hands still within his, he brought her finger to his lips and kissed each tip. That brought her ramblings to a quick end. She blinked owlishly up at him as his lips moved from one finger to the next. Her breasts lifted on the swell of a breath and everything in Toren went still. He stared at her over her hand at his mouth. Déithe, she was lovely, her soul brimming with a passion he yearned to explore.
He spoke to her simply to distract him from the dishonorable thought of taking her here and now within a dream when she had merely come to help him. "Ye are dream trailing. We both are. You're here. I'm here. Yet neither of us really are. We have a connection somehow, you and I."
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, then opened it again, but only swallowed. Then blinked again. The flit of emotion filing across her face was mesmerizing. He could watch her for an eternity and never tire. Pulling a hand out from between his, she poked his arm. "You're real?"
He grinned. "As real as the part of me that can travel to the realm of dreams."
She jabbed him again. "So you're not real."
He recaptured her hand. "I am real enough to feel that…” As well as other more potent things. “…so cease, though in truth my flesh and blood sleeps in Aldreth's dungeon."
Her eyes narrowed like a hawk that just spotted prey. Cunning little hunter. "Aldreth is the witch then? Where is she keeping you?"
So she was back to that again. "Shhh, 'tis naught ye can do from centuries beyond mine. Forget about me.” He tugged her hand, bringing her closer where she stared up at him with those huge beguiling eyes. “My time is finished before yours ever begins, little hunter."
"But I can help. I can do something."
Her earnestness sailed straight to his heart, melting the protective fortifications. What bride price he would pay to be free to pursue a woman like her. Nay, not like her. Her. If his circumstances were not doomed, he would travel through time again to make her his own. Ah, the fanciful musings of a weary, beaten soul. He was dreaming like a love-struck youth. Yet dreams were beyond him now. He had this dream, this one moment where they both happened to think of each other at the same moments to dream-trail together. Centuries apart. ‘Twas a rare occurrence and not likely to happen again so he would remember this time with her, cherish the promise of violet eyes and a gentle soul and pray that would be enough to sustain him for the coming trials Aldreth would put him through. "Ye have helped me. More than ye know."
"But your entire—" She looked away as she worked her bottom lip between her teeth.
Ah. He understood. She'd been about to tell him something of his future. 'Twould be easy for her to have searched the histories of his people and find out what had become of him and for a moment the temptation to ask how his clan fared ran great. But knowing could be a danger as well, could unwittingly change an already set outcome.
Except…from the worry in her expression and the urgency in her tone, he'd wager all was far from well.
His Adam's apple bounced hard in his throat, the words dry in his mouth. “Tell me” he wanted to ask, but said instead, "You're right to not say anything."
"I know." Her free hand twisted patterns in the air again. Her other hand curled inside his palm. "That whole stupid time continuum thing. It's dumb. What's the point of having knowledge if you can't do anything about it? Who even made that up?" She dropped her arm to her side and tilted her face up to look
him in the eye. "Well, I don’t care. I'm going to save you Toren Limont. Don't think that I won't."
And for just one moment, regardless of the lack of innate magic he sensed flowing through her, he believed that she could.
Chapter Six
Highland Sorcerer Page 5