Aelswyn and the Angels

Chapter Thirteen - A Mad Dash and a Near Save

876AD, Exeter, Wessex

He couldna see her, but he could feel her. Her heartbeat, twas a maddening presence in his head, a steady rhythm mixed with both fear and reassurance. No matter how far he traveled, he couldna get away from his young wife. Aely was a storm on the horizon, and Trystyns single hope for survival was to stay away from her. If only he could quiet the cacophony that rattled his brain, causing her image to flash in his mind with every pounding drum.

Een in Exeter, which twas many leagues away from Corfe Castel, he knew she lived, that she breathed, that she existed. This strange tether that bound them and the power that kept them apart from each other had somehow opened a tunnel between his life and hers; his spirit and hers. He was running down that tunnel at full speed, racing to find the answers that twouldna come. He came to a fork, not knowing which way to go. He looked to his left and all twas darkness, but off to his right, there were distant rays of light.

Of a sudden, Trystyn was standing in the forest. Twas a very familiar place. A tiny brook slipped by with only a mere trickle. Turning around, he spied the small circle of stones where he had first met his Aely. She IS mine he thought, and tho I canna touch her, nor can another. She is mine alone. The hair stood up on the back of his neck, and standing beside him was Gabriel. He looked up in wonder at the one he had met in the wood. Twas one thing to hear of his wifes companion, but a very different story after one has met said engel.

He thought he spied his wife, and reached out to her, but when he touched her hand, the pain returned. His heart began to pound. Suddenly, he was peering into the eyes of a demon. Blood poured from its eyes and fire flew from his mouth. It headed toward Trystyn and he found himself retreating. He tried to dive out of the path of the flames, but woke up in a cold sweat, sitting up in his own cot instead.

His gaze flew to the sliver of light that signified the rising of the day. The bed curtains were still tightly drawn. Only the barest line of white reached his eyes. All else around him appeared black as a starless night. He was oercome w the sensation that evil lurked nearby, and he dove for the light, tangling himself in his bed linens in the process. Ceasing his struggles, Trystyn carefully disentangled from his sheets and crawled to the edge of the bed. He pulled himself to a sitting position at the opening of the curtain and swung his legs oer the side. Throwing his arms out, he pulled the curtains open at the same moment he placed his bare feet on the cold ground.

He had arrived at Aels encampment late into the night, and gone directly to see his king and dear friend. Ael had been sitting on his furs, hunched over in pain. Holding a pillow against his stomach, he looked up at him with a strained expression. Removing one o his hands from around his middle, he weakly reached up, beckoning Trystyn closer. As Trystyn gazed down at Aelfred, one recurring thought spun its way through his mind. Poison, it must be poison that plagues him so.

My king, Trystyn said. Are ye aright?

Nay, Trystyn winced at the tightness in Aelfreds voice. Tis unbearable sometimes.

Yeve been ill much too oft of late, Sire. Trystyn knelt by Aelfreds furs and extended his hand to him. Twas poison?

Nay, twas an assassins blade sneaking into my tent at night. Ael stated baldly, as he allowed Trystyn to help him to his feet. Dinna be concerned, Trys. We captured the vile creature. He is now under guard and secured.

Glad, I am at that. Tis a relief. He settled Aelfred down on the settle near his furs, making certain he was steady afore sitting beside him.

Hair in disarray and clothes rumpled from sleep, Ael appeared frail and vulnerable. A fierce protective sensation overcame Trystyn and he had the sudden urge to go to the center of camp and torture the scoundrel who hung there until he revealed all he knew. Tied to a post, the man would neither say his name, nor speak of the one who hired him, but Trystyn had seen the dagger. It was no dagger belonging to a man dressed in rags.