They walked back to the horses and Bryon leaned her against his as he rummaged in his saddlebags for a scrap of cloth to use as a sling. He took one of his shirts and used the sleeves to tie around her neck and the body of the shirt to cradle her arm.
“How’s that?”
“It’s fine. How much further do we have to go? I saw some lights before I fell. Is it our destination?”
“Yes, it is. We were only five minutes from stopping. Can you manage to ride your horse, or do you want us to walk?”
“How long will it take to walk?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
“Let’s ride,” she said, just as the rain started to come down in earnest.
Much to her embarrassment, Bryon had to almost lift her in the saddle, but she was thankful all the same because she would not have managed it on her own. Because she was so lightheaded, she did not bother with the horse’s reins. She held on to the pommel with her left hand to keep from falling off.
Bryon saw her position and reached up and took the reins. “I’ll lead your horse,” he said quickly as he walked her horse over to his own as he mounted.
The rain was now a constant shower which soaked them through to the skin. Amanda kept her head low as she moaned in pain and clutched the pommel to hold as still as possible against the horse’s unsteady gait. She was intensely relieved when they finally came to a stop.
Bryon lifted her down from the saddle and put his arm around her waist, leading her down a lit pathway to a small cottage. When they got to the front door, Bryon knocked three times quickly and waited. Within a few seconds, the door opened, and a little old lady ushered them into the living room.
“The lady has broken her wrist falling off of the horse just moments ago after being bitten by a beetlesnatch,” Bryon said to the old woman.
“I’ll get my medicine kit,” she replied and shuffled out of the room.
Bryon settled Amanda in front of the lowly lit fire on the broad stone hearth. She cradled her arm again to try to stop the throbbing ache she felt traveling up her arm. She started to rock back and forth to try to alleviate the pain as she waited for the woman to return.
The woman shuffled back into the room, carrying a large wooden box. She set the box down at Amanda’s feet and opened it to display a vast array of medicine bottles and cloth bandages. She sorted through the contents, rattling the bottles, occasionally pulling one out and reading the label, shaking her head and putting it back. She repeated this until she found the correct bottle, opened it, and poured a generous amount onto a spoon which she had dug out of her apron pocket. She brought it to Amanda’s lips and said, “This’ll taste bitter, but the pain will stop.”
Amanda fleetingly wondered about how sterile the spoon might be, but the pain flashed through her, and she impatiently leaned forward with her mouth open and swallowed the contents in one quick gulp. Her eyes watered with the intense bitterness. She hoped the medicine would take effect promptly.
“Help me get her out of this wet coat,” the woman said to Bryon. She removed the sling and supported Amanda’s wrist while the two of them worked together to remove her soaking wet cloak.
Amanda did try to help with the removal, but all of her limbs felt heavy and not her own. She realized her thoughts were wandering as well. She heard the woman tell Bryon her wrist was broken more severely than she could handle. Amanda wondered what would happen now, but she could not get her mind to care about it anymore as she drifted off to sleep.
“The beetlesnatch venom has gone too far for my experience. I’m going to have to contact an Elder!” the wise-woman’s tone expressed her urgent concern.
“Do what you have to do, just do it quick!” Bryon watched as the woman closed her eyes and silently mouthed a petition for help. Bryon had a fleeting concern about contacting an Elder since he suspected Amanda to be an old soul, but he knew she would rather stay alive.
Chapter Two
ELDER DEBBON’S interest had been piqued when he had received an urgent petition for help from the wise-woman. He knew her to be a very competent healer, so this would be a special case. After arriving by teleportation directly into her consultation room, Elder Debbon knelt beside the sick woman on the cot. He gathered elemy to create a healing energy for the woman’s injuries when he realized the amount of energy required was not at all right. He knew at once this person was not from Tuala. He was actually surprised the wise-woman had not felt it as well.
Without announcing his intention, he used his abilities to remove both himself as well as the unknown girl and translocate them both to his Elder Isle Residence. Alone in an upper bedroom, he had used his considerable power to finish the healing which the wise-woman had begun. As an Elder, it was his responsibility to locate any foreigners and question their reasons for being in Tuala. He had not expected to encounter her latent power in such quantity, and he was intrigued.
Foregoing the usual questioning techniques, Elder Debbon took advantage of the sedative which had been administered to the visitor by the wise-woman. With his hands resting gently on her temples, he delved into the unconscious mind of the young woman and was both amazed and angered at the story he encountered. Her thoughts became his own as her story was revealed…
Nealand settled his arm more comfortably under Amanda’s head as they cuddled closely on the bed. She could not believe she was lying naked next to him; this had definitely not been in the plan.
“What are you thinking about right now?” Nealand’s soft inquiry broke the peaceful silence which had settled over the nestled pair. His fingers, suddenly restless, ran along the length of her long, brown hair. He loved the feel of the silky strands as they fell across his chest.
“I was just wondering…,” she sighed and looked seriously into Nealand’s beautiful brown eyes, “what we’re going to do now?”
“I can think of lots of ways to answer your question,” his lowered voice answered devilishly while he moved down to nuzzle his smiling lips against her neck.
“You’re terrible!” She pushed herself away from him with mock indignation, trying to restrain an undignified giggle. “I was talking about our future!”
“You don’t think it’s what I had in mind?” he teased, leaning up and reaching for her again.
“I’m sure your future only involves the next ten minutes.”
“Ouch,” he groaned as his muscular frame fell back against the bed, pretending to stab himself through the heart. “I was thinking more along the lines of the next half hour, at least!”
“You wish,” she retorted and settled back next to him. She traced the contours of his extremely muscled abdomen and chest as she considered her next words. “Seriously, Neal, what’re we going to do when we have to go back home?”
“Get married, of course,” was his quick retort, while he wrapped his arms around her petite frame and held her snugly again.
“No. Before that! After spending weeks with you alone on this yacht, I can’t bear to think about going back to my parents’ house and being away from you. Doesn’t it bother you, too?”
“Sure, but what else can we do? My mom would kill me if we didn’t allow her to plan an embarrassingly huge wedding along with your mother. It’s going to take months, you know.”
“Ugh! Why don’t we just elope and tell them about it later? I’m not a prize horse to dress up and show off, you know!”
“You’re my prize. We’ll be so dazzlingly gorgeous that people will talk about our wedding for at least a week,” he replied with another devilish grin, loving to egg her on.
“Months of planning just so people can talk about us for a whole week, huh? I don’t think so!” She sat up and leaned over him with a hand on each side of his head. She used the advantage of her naked torso to invite him to agree with whatever she wanted from him, “C’mon! Let’s elope before going back.”
His resolve weakened as his eyes looked over her body longingly while hands reached up automatically, unable to
resist the silken fall of her hair. “What, do you want to stop off somewhere in Mexico? I’m not even sure if it’d be considered a legal marriage in Florida if we did.”
“Oh, I don’t know, and I don’t care! I just want to be with you every night for the rest of my life,” Amanda groaned as she realized her attempt at seductive persuasion was not working. She flopped onto her hip at Nealand’s side in exasperation.
“We’ll figure something out to make everyone happy,” he assured her as his hand caressed the soft skin on her shoulder and traveled along her spine to try to get her back in the mood. His hand braced her hip as the bed swayed violently under them. His forehead creased with a look of concern.
“What?” Amanda asked as she saw his expression change.
“I just realized how much the yacht is rocking. There must be a storm blowing in. I checked the weather warnings earlier today, and they didn’t say anything about any small craft advisories.”
“Do we need to do anything to get the yacht ready if it gets worse?” Amanda asked, feeling her anxiety rising.
“Nothing right now,” he answered easily, wanting to reassure her, but continuing to look troubled.
Amanda flinched as a flash of light erupted in the sky outside the window right next to them, and she automatically counted in her head, one, two, three, fo…bang. She was pleased to remember learning about counting the seconds between the flash of lightning and the sound to calculate the storm was less than a mile away.
Nealand shook his head, deciding there was nothing he could do about the storm. He cleared his expression and resumed his prior exploration of Amanda’s naked body. The waves crashed against the yacht from unpredictable angles making them both clumsy and awkward. The romantic mood was effectively ruined, however, as the rough waters made even cuddling difficult.
“Ahh!” Amanda squealed as another flash of lightning was followed almost immediately by a boom of thunder. “It was right next to us!”
“I’m going to check the radar in the wheelhouse,” Nealand spoke quickly as he threw his legs over the edge of the bed. Taking one step away from the bed, he quickly grabbed a pair of previously discarded sweatpants from the floor and started to put them on. Another wave aggressively rocked the yacht making him fall sideways onto the bed. Amanda squealed as he fell against her legs. “Sorry,” Nealand said over his shoulder as he continued to insert his legs into the pants. He paused in the doorway and turned to Amanda, “Stay put, I’ll be right back. I love you.” Nealand smiled, turned quickly and raced down the corridor to the stairs and out of Amanda’s sight.
The yacht rocked brutally again, and Amanda made up her mind, “Stay put, he says! What am I, a dog? He may be big and muscular, but I can be of help too!” She ripped back the covers and threw her legs over the edge of the bed. She stood up and leaned over to grab a discarded shirt from the corner of the bed just as another rogue wave hit the port side of the yacht. Amanda stumbled as she lost her balance, toppled over backward and hit her head on the bedside table. The last thing she remembered was a flash of lightning piercing her closed eyes and a thunderous roar splitting her ear drums…
Elder Debbon was surprised to know the electrical storm could become a conduit into Tuala. He would have to take some time to consider the possibilities which this phenomenon could produce. Returning to Amanda, he could feel some time had elapsed, and the setting had changed drastically as her unconscious stream of thought continued…
She could not keep two thoughts straight in her head, and she wondered why it was so hard for her to be able to stay awake. Her dreams were confusing and disturbing, almost otherworldly. She tried to focus when she drifted into another dream...
I sure hope this map is accurate, she mumbled to herself as she navigated the open-air hallways through the school.
Finally arriving at the orientation room, she sat down at the front row desk. During the orientation she learned the location of the cafeteria, called The Commons, and which lunch shift was going to be hers. The rest of the orientation spiel was a blur until dance team tryouts were announced. She excitedly wrote down the tryout information on the front of her new PeeChee.
Starting to stir from her dream, she blinked slowly to clear her eyes and looked around warily at her unfamiliar surroundings. Taking in the strange room, she startled badly when she saw the pudgy man leaning casually beside the bed. She could feel a frown pulling her full lips down as she barely managed to croak, “Where am I?”
“You’re on my water craft. You’re safe, don’t worry,” the man replied softly.
She saw his lips moving, but she had trouble making out anything he was saying. She wondered if maybe there were something wrong with her hearing as well. Trying to create some moisture in her mouth, she swallowed with difficulty. “Who are you?”
“I’m Petre. Do you think you could manage to swallow some broth? It might soothe your dry throat.” Petre moved over to her purposefully, one hand balancing the broth as he used the other to steady her as he brought the cup to her lips.
She struggled to sit up and brace herself against his spongy arm. She nodded and was rewarded by feeling the warm liquid in the cup being pressed to her lips. She gulped quickly for the moisture. The broth was drawn away too soon and held out of her reach. She felt a faint whine of protest rise in her still parched throat and was vaguely mortified to feel tears pricking in her eyes. Looking up into his bright blue eyes, she wondered just who this stranger was to her and how she had come to be lying unconscious in bed.
Petre gently pulled the cup away from her as he said, “Easy now, too much liquid will make you sick.” He set the cup on the counter just out of her reach. Her eyes were fastened on the mug. He chuckled and said, “Relax, you can have more in a minute.”
She sighed and seemed to wilt back onto the sleeping platform. She dropped her head back on the cabin wall to rest and gasped at the instant pain which engulfed her. “What happened to my head?” She reached up to assess the damage.
“You must have fallen; I found you on the floor.” But all she heard was another mumbled response.
“I don’t remember what happened,” she wailed to herself drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms around them protectively. Realizing she was naked, her eyes darted around her, and then they widened in panic as she cried out, “What happened to my clothes? Why don’t I remember anything? I don’t even remember my name. What’s my name?” She clutched his arm, but then realized she did not know who he was either. Suspicion made her eye him warily. He could be a kidnapper. A rapist! He could be the one who hit her on the head! She spoke quietly trying to force the words out without her voice breaking, “I don’t even remember you. I don’t remember how I got on this boat. Who the hell are you?” Fear and frustration overcame her, and she started to cry.
“My name’s Petre, remember?”
Even through her tears, Amanda noted the odd way he pronounced his name, as though it was short for something else. “Peter?” she asked, careful to pronounce it like she thought it should be spelled.
“Close enough, honey. Now, now, don’t cry.” He tried to soothe her by rubbing her arm. I wonder what a boat is, he thought to himself, it must be an old soul word.
She mistook his comforting gesture as an aggressive move, and she reflexively jerked out of his grip.
“I’ll tell you everything just after you finish your broth,” he said, but she could not understand him. He turned to the counter and thought about what to put in her drink to make her sleep. Epeny should do it, he told himself as he focused his thoughts on her cup. He could see the epeny now floating in her broth, so he swirled it gently before bringing the cup back to her lips. He looked with calculating satisfaction into her brown eyes as she gulped the fluid down eagerly.
With the broth gone, her mind started to cloud again, and she could feel the man tucking the covers around her. She curled up on her side and swiftly drifted into another dream.
She saw herself and her
best friend, Sherry, standing behind the noisy crowd of girls, watching the hopeful candidates as they looked at the final selection list for the dance team’s newest members. She did not have much hope of making the team because freshmen were seldom picked.
She watched Sherry impatiently shove her way through the crowd to look for her friend’s name on this list. She intently watched Sherry’s face as she scanned the list, trying not to let hope bloom, and saw Sherry’s expression grow sad. With tears beginning to well up in her eyes, she lowered her head to allow her long hair to cover her face. She turned away from the crowd, hoping nobody would see her tears, and quickly walked toward the parking lot where her mother waited for her.
Sherry caught up with her and put her arm over her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Amos,” Sherry whispered using a silly nickname for her best friend’s first name. “I was just so sad because you and I aren’t going to be spending much time together this summer,” Sherry turned her toward herself to make sure she had her attention before she shouted, “YOU MADE THE TEAM!!!”
The tears of sorrow quickly changed to those of joy. “What?! What?! Seriously?” She shoved Sherry on the arm and said, “How could you let me think I hadn’t made it? You know what it means to me.”
“Hey, I said I was sorry, and I meant it both ways.”
“Mmm hmm,” she hummed, then grabbed Sherry’s arm and said, “Let’s go back and see when the first practice starts. Oh, and who else is on the team with me!”
Seeing Petre MacVeen in her memories raised immediate concerns with the Elder. Without another thought or allowing himself to calm down, he used his power to locate Petre and immediately transport him into the adjacent room to the bedroom where Amanda was now resting comfortably. He angrily got up from the chair at her bedside and strode across the room. Just as he was closing the door to Amanda’s room, he could hear loud complaints issuing from where Petre was now located.
Elder Debbon calmed his expression to neutrality and opened the door to see Petre facing him. Not wanting to hear any accusations of impropriety from Petre he sliced his hand in front of his body and Petre’s voice immediately was silenced. After shutting the door behind himself, he strode confidently into the room and pointed to the chair, “Sit down, Petre. You have some serious questions to answer. I don’t have time for your cooperation; you will submit to my questions by compulsion.”
Outside Ascension Page 3