The Screaming Stone: The Otherworld Series Book 2

by N. K. Vir

  Chapter Seven

  Inn and Out

  He was adrift in a form that lacked physical presence. His mind traveled through time and scattered, no one thread aligning with the next. He was a boy; at home wandering the Heather covered Highlands, enjoying the feel of the open air on his wind chapped cheeks as his boyhood dog nipped playfully at his heels. He was a ball of agony lying naked and cold on the shores of the Otherworld Loch, crying and shuddering over the loss of everything he loved. He was a bairn in his cradle quietly cooing as his mother tended to one of the sick that always found her door.

  That was when she appeared. That was the first time he remembered seeing her.

  In every scattered frame of his life this mystical journey showed him he could now see her. Always hidden, yet always there; she remained still and silent as she watched over him. The hood of her black cloak drawn low shielding her face from his view. Even with his newly found perspective her identity was sheltered from his curious sleepwalker gaze.

  He had felt her push and pull his whole life. When he had wanted to go left she had pushed him to the right. When his mother told him they had to flee Scotland and he had run away, it was her voice that had compelled him to listen and follow his mother. She had guided and saved him from every disaster that threatened his wellbeing when he was young and it was by her hand he felt every harsh blow life unsuspectingly delivered. He had felt her push and pull his whole life, but he did not know who she was.

  Now she was calling to him again. She was begging him for something. Her weakened voice was quickly being overtaken as light crept in and the sound of the natural world found his ears. He was unable to hear her pleas as he felt himself being pulled away, drawn out of the realm of sleep as his body began to take control of his mind. She was becoming a small memory something easily forgotten once his eyes opened to the world beyond dreams. In one last desperate attempt she sent a lunging image to snatch him back to her. The last thing he saw before he awoke startled and frightened from his false sleep was the image of a strong silver hand reaching out to snatch him back from reality.

  His eyes struggled to open as his eyelids refused to separate. His throat and mouth had been stripped of moisture and his tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth making speech almost impossible. His muscles were sore and stiff and felt devoid of their usual strength. The air around him was stale and thick with artificial smells too potent and flowery to be natural. Only his ears appeared to be working properly and he would have given almost anything for them to immediately stop working. Over the sounds of shuffling, hushed soothing sounds and whispered orders he could he the muffled agony of pain. It was raw and heartbreaking to hear. His mind clung to one thought, the last face and memory it had retained before strange visions had filled the darkness and overtaken him…Annie.

  She was scared; she was alone, unprotected and in pain. Chemical induced fear injected his stagnant muscles with new life as he blindly threw himself upward. The sudden change in position made his head spin and he threw his arms outwards to try and regain his balance. His legs, seemingly incapable of holding his weight, buckled beneath him. The second sudden change caused his head to swim and his stomach to lurch in protest. Without warning his head was struck by a hard object as his accelerated fall to the floor came to a quick and sudden halt. Unable to break his fall the ground met his head suddenly causing a painful blow to his already throbbing temples. Dazed, he lay motionless on the floor, unable and if he was honest with himself, unwilling to move. His parched mouth refused to even let him groan in pain properly.

  The fear that had induced his sudden movement quickly evaporated as his mind and stomach came to a quick decision on priorities. First his stomach would expel the growing sickness it felt then, and only then, his mind could retake control of his body. He was not looking forward to this. His body clenched in a violent spasm as it prepared to rid itself of the vile contents of his stomach.

  “He’s gonna be sick,” declared a voice that should have sounded familiar. But since his brain and hence his memory was not allowed to be in control at this particular moment in time he could not give a name to that voice that he knew so very well.

  “I see that,” retorted another voice. His brain once again tried to put faces to those voices but his stomach was quicker. He felt his head being shoved inside some sort of container right as his stomach emptied into it.

  “Och, did ye no’ feed ‘im afore ye poisoned ‘im?” asked the first voice.

  “You take care of yours and I’ll take care of mine,” spat back the second voice.

  With his heaving stomach emptied Duncan felt his mind begin to refocus. From the ongoing noises coming from the room he guessed there were three people in the room. Two of them were speaking, or rather arguing in hushed tones, and a third sobbing loudly a few feet away from him.

  His mind took quick stock of his body. He felt no pain apart from his throbbing head, which had been battered at least twice maybe even more, that would account for his lack of memory and the horrific pounding that would not stop inside his head. He dismissed his head as secondary only to his parched throat. When his stomach begrudgingly agreed his raw voice managed to croak out his one word request, “Water.”

  He heard footsteps, soft and light and felt the vibrations of the floor telling him his request was being attended to. A few moments later he felt cool, soft hands on his back as they assisted him in rolling over. His stomach clenched again, threatening to rebel but through sheer will he shut it down. He felt his head being slowly lifted and elevated as cool water brushed against his lips. He reacted greedily wanting to ingest a river’s worth to quench his hungry thirst. The water was quickly taken away after only a mouthful.

  “Easy,” whispered the soothing second voice.

  His hands reached out without permission, clawing and grabbing at the being that withheld the liquid. A hiss of pain froze his hands as they felt the delicate skin beneath his calloused grip. “I’ll give you more,” the second voice promised. “But only one sip at a time.”

  He felt a cool cloth being placed over his brow. He let out a slow delighted breath as the wet cooling sensation spread across his face, briefly covering and freeing his eyes from the substance that had sealed them shut. “Try and open your eyes,” the second voice encouraged gently.

  His eyelids strained under the effort but he finally succeeded in separating his upper and lower lashes. His vision, although cloudy at first, had but one thing to focus on. A cloud of red gold framed by the most beautiful thing his eyes had seen. For a moment haunting hazy visions threatened to overtake his earthly vision but her smiling face chased them away. His mouth curved up in a poor imitation of her smile and he closed his eyes just to inhale the pleasant sensation her presence gave him.

  “Here take another small sip of water. You’ll feel better in a few minutes,” she whispered pressing the cup of water to his lips once again.

  He swallowed a small amount of the water she offered him as he lay content for the moment cradled against her soft form. He tested his newfound sight by gazing up at her again. “You’re alright,” he said forcing the words out of his still dry throat. “Thought you were hurt, heard you crying,” he muttered sleepily. He tried to reach out to her, tried to pull her beautiful face closer to his so he could look upon her better. His arms found nothing but air and finally fell exhausted from his search to the ground beneath him.

  “Drink some more,” she encouraged again. This time she let him drink more. When the cup left his mouth he was gasping for air. “Do you think you can sit up?”

  “Aye,” he eagerly replied. He forced his muscles to respond to her request and his head immediately regretted the decision. He shut his eyes as the world around him began to tilt ant twist. His head fell back and was rescued from another harsh blow as she braced his back with her own body.

  “No, no easy, go easy,” she coaxed him encouraging him to take his time.

  He rested for a moment, con
tent and comfortable against her soft form. When the external world stopped spinning around him he reluctantly withdrew his weight from her body amazed that she had held him upright for so long. With his eyes still firmly shut he supported himself and sat completely upright without her assistance. She slowly pressed a hand against his chest guiding him backwards until he felt something solid and secure at his back.

  “There do you feel that?” she asked. “That’s a bed. I want you to put your legs beneath you and push up. I’ll guide you to lie back down on the bed,” she instructed him. “Can you do that for me Duncan?”

  “Aye, I’ll do anything ya ask,” he replied as he tried to smile blindly at her. A bed sounded like a very good idea with her so near to him.

  “Oh, may demons rip out me ears,” said a voice from his far right.

  He stilled for a moment hoping he had not let the comment about the bed slip out for all to hear. He had been raised better than that. He could think such things he just couldn’t say them out loud. Especially, since they were not alone.

  “Shut up furball,” she hissed in response.

  Although he thought he was incapable of such a response he snickered. “Furball,” he repeated. “Aye he’s a furball. Ready when you are lass,” he said slowly pulling his legs up and prepared to give them all his weight.

  “On three,” she instructed him. “Ready, one, two, three,” she said as she pulled, he pushed and by some miracle his back found a soft bed and not the hard floor. He was only mildly disappointed that she had not followed him down onto the bed. Had they been alone, and truthfully if he had the strength, he would have capitalized on the predicament he found himself in. It had been too long since he had kissed those soft lips.

  His head spun, his mind remained covered in a thick fog, and his hands remained latched onto the physical being that had eluded him for so long. “Stay with me, please, just a while longer Áine.”

  Then the darkness of sleep took him once more to the land of dreams and nightmares.

  Minutes, hours, days or weeks could have passed, all he knew was that his mind had collapsed. Memories he could not recall living through and cloudy visions that terrified him fought for dominance in his broken mind. Roaring metal dragons swallowed his friends whole as he remained still and numb unable to move to their defense. What drove him mad were their smiling faces as they waved goodbye and then were gobbled up by the gigantic hungry beasts. They seemed to go willing to their fate, without struggle and without fear.

  He had felt and witnessed it all, and prayed that these images were nothing more than a dream. As he opened his eyes he felt his prayers had gone unanswered. His surroundings were unfamiliar. He was lying on a bed, it was firm yet comfortable but the length and girth barely contained his frame. The walls that surrounded him were made of dark wood and with only one dim light to illuminate the room he could see little else; although he sensed he was not alone.

  He sat up cautiously, his head slowly and dizzily acclimating to the change in position as he felt his heart beat in his temples. As he slowly reached a full upright position the sensation faded. He swallowed back the nausea and dizziness and through his raw throat managed a few words.

  “Where am I?” he inquired with a raspy tone that made his voice sound foreign even to his own ears.

  “In a small inn a few miles from Cnoc na Teamhrach, as I’ve been told to pronounce it by her,” replied Annie in a voice strangely devoid of emotion, which she seemed to save all up for the last word of her reply.

  “Annie,” he exhaled in relief. She had been the one person that had remained strangely absent from his horrific sleeping visions. “By what magick?” he asked as he rubbed the rest of the throbbing beat out of his head. “Where is everyone else?” More questions demanded answers but he feared asking them.

  “Are you thirsty?” she asked instead of answering either of his questions. Her voice seemed so far away. He sensed, no he knew, she hoovered just inches away from him hidden in the shadows of the room; but her voice seemed as if it were speaking to him from so far away.

  “Annie, please,” he begged. “I can’t see you. My mind has been poisoned by dreams and strange visions. Please show me that you’re alright; let me know that this is real.”

  She slowly, almost reluctantly appeared out of one of the darkened corners of the room and stepped into the small circular sphere of artificial light. Her usually neatly brushed hair had the disheveled look of either too much sleep or not enough; her eyes were bloodshot and swollen indicating it was the latter. She looked as though she had traded sleep for tears and the wear was beginning to show. She had never looked more beautiful. Her power, her strength, her human essence shone brightly through her ragged appearance and his heart shattered under the pressure of her presence. He had failed to prevent or at least shield her from whatever had attempted to crush her. He seemed to being doing that a lot lately, causing her more pain than she deserved to bear. He needed to make things right, to make things better. She deserved so much more than he had given her, and he only hoped that he could fix that now. He had been ill. That much was obvious; and she had seen to stay with him and tend to him. Now that he was better it was his turn to take care of her.

  He was pulled by some unseen power to rise up and step towards her. By will or by magick the weakness that had permeated his body evaporated as he took one cautious step after another slowly consuming the distance that separated them. When his foot crossed the threshold of light that encased her he saw her muscles tense in preparation to flee.

  “Don’t you run away from me now,” he ordered in a soothingly firm voice. He approached her warily, hands extended in surrender as if she were a skittish mare ready to bolt and never to be seen again. That threat settled like a heavy weight deep in his core and his eyes quickly assessed any escape route she might take to avoid capture. “Don’t run please,” he begged as he slowly extended one hand and held it still, inviting her to come the rest of the way. “Annie.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth her irises began to swirl and dance. Blue fire ignited behind her eyes as anger expanded inside her straightening her sagging figure. Her reddened cheeks paled to a smooth porcelain white as her eyes darkened to a deep velvety purple hue.

  “You dare call me that?!” exploded a thunderous otherworldly voice.

  The windows blew open as a ghostly wind swarmed into the room and curled violently around her blowing tendrils of golden red hair away from her now perfectly beautiful face. She threw out her arms surrendering to the power of the wind as it threatened to pull her off the ground. Her feet flexed as her body rose up off the ground and balanced only on the tips of her toes. Her fingers spread apart as they seemed to reach for some unseen force, craving and needing it, but it remained just beyond their reach.

  The magickal vortex that had blown in screamed in a rage that seemed to reflect the anger still burning in her Sidhe colored eyes. The goddess had awoken, had taken control, and was angry.

  “Annie!” he screamed above the unearthly howl of the spectral wind.

  Her fierce gazed hindered any attempt he made to reach her now levitating form. The goddess was pushing him away and stealing Annie. His darkest fear began to play out before his eyes. He was losing them, he was losing her. The terrified sound of her voice screaming his name mingled with the powerful screeching of the howling wind and forced him to continue to try and reach her but it felt like a losing battle as time and again he was knocked to the ground, each time landing further and further away from her. For a moment he wondered if they had been found by the Unseelie, by Bres, that a new and more powerful enchantment had been woven around her and that she would disappear again, this time forever.

  “You will be asked to choose dark warrior,” threatened the only voice he truly feared. It was the Morrighan, not the Unseelie who held Annie in a bubble of air that floated a few feet off the ground. He was being reminded by the Seelie, by the Queen of his obligation to the royal court. He would be as
ked to choose, He was being asked to choose.

  Once the Morrighan was sure, once the Battle Queen was positive that the message had been received the storm vanished, Annie’s body went limp and the power of movement returned to him. He lunged forward rescuing Annie from a hard fall to the floor. Catching her he cradled her limp form against his body as gravity pulled them down to the floor. She was not unconscious but exhausted. She sobbed almost silently against his chest and he wrapped his arms tighter around her in an attempt to draw her pain into his body.

  “Annie, please let’s run,” he begged her. His hands moved in soothing circles gliding up and down her back. He held her, for now safe and secure.

  She shook her head violently against his chest. He seized her face between his palms forcing her to stop and look at him. The tiny shards that represented what remained of his heart splintered further as her watery human gaze met his.

  “We can’t go, not now. Finn and Robert are missing,” she whispered. He could see and feel the strength returning to her. Determination overpowering the dark light of fear that had only moments ago haunted her eyes. “We have a lot to talk about,” she said with a nervous chuckle as she swiped at a stray tear on her cheek.

  “Aye,” he agreed with a slow nod. A fire of unconscious will kindled inside of him growing from a weak flickering flame to a blaze that heated from the inside out. A new found power was quickly growing within him and with it a newly developed fear. He gently squeezed her head tighter between his palms and slowly drew her face closer to his. When her mouth reached a breath’s space from his he gave voice to his new fear.

  “Don’t you ever leave me Annie Locke.” He spoke each word slowly with deliberated care as he relished the feeling of his lips delicately gliding over hers. But nothing could compare to the feeling of her shuddering in his arms. She exhaled in passionate awe and he inhaled that beautiful breath and he knew then he could not survive without her.