The War of Six Crowns: The Vanished Knight

Waking Up in Another World

Disjointed words floated senselessly in Callan's mind. They didn't even sound like her. The voices sounded male. An annoying flapping sound went off in her ears.

"I say we return her," one voice growled.

"We can't. You know that," a second, gentler voice replied.

"I know that we have no interest in any of Aurek's activities beyond ensuring that—"

"But—"

"She's trouble."

Callan furrowed her brows, struggling to identify the voices. They stopped and flapping filled the void. Somewhere a wind blew over grass with a soft hush. Cloth...wind...tent. She had to be in a tent.

"You don't know that, Darrion," the gentle voice reasoned.

"Did you not count the bodies?" Darrion's shout pierced the sleepy fog in Callan's mind.

She gasped and tried to sit up, but a stab of pain to her chest threw her back onto the softness beneath her. Her lids stayed fused despite her efforts to open them.

"Shh, Callan," Gawain whispered and stroked her hair. "It's all over. Sleep a little more."

The tent flapped out of cadence with someone's angry pacing. It was as irritating as an unwanted touch.

She pried her eyes open with the intent to put all of her anger and discomfort into a glare at its cause, but ended up blinking instead. It was dark. Very, very dark. She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. Nothing but pain. Every huff of breath stabbed at her. She struggled to stay calm.

"What happened?" Her tongue slurred.

She fought to sit up, only to have the intense pain rack her again. Someone thrust her back down before she had time to gasp.

"Be still," Darrion commanded.

"Drink this," Gawain coaxed. His hand tangled with her hair and lifted her head. Something cold, hard, and smooth pressed against her lips.

No. What was going on? She turned her head away to ask.

Hands tensed around her aching chin and forced her mouth back to the object. What could she do? She was tired. She hurt all over. The last thing she wanted was to fight.

When the liquid touched her lips, she drank.

And drank...

And...

Red spanned Callan's eyelids and something rustled nearby. She wanted to sleep, but when she heard approaching footsteps, she forced her sticky eyes open. The tent's high canopy fluttered in the breeze. She pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her chest still ached, but this time with more of a dull thump.

Gawain was seated on the ground next to her mattress, stirring something in a small stone bowl resting in his hand. His sword lay across his crossed legs.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Morning," he said and stared at whatever he was mixing. "You're up early."

Callan tried to shrug, but the ache in her torso intensified to a burn.

She lay back down with a grimace. "Where am I?"

Gawain's stirring slowed. "Tardith."

"What?"

"It's a continent. In another world Earth forgot about."

"That...that can't be possible. This...can't be real." Her heart raced. She squeezed her eyes shut. This had to be a dream. The entity must have blacked her out. How much damage had it done?

"Shhh, Callan. I know it's a lot to take in." His voice and caress to her cheek calmed her a bit.

"But...it can't be," she said, opening her eyes.

"It is, though." Gawain picked up the bowl and resumed his stirring. "Thanks to the magician who opened the hallway millennia ago."

Callan frowned, trying to make her thoughts fall into place faster. Everything felt so sluggish. "The corridor...the ground being closer than it should be..."

"Exactly."

Images of the last moments before her blackout flashed before Callan's eyes. "What happened...after...I stabbed him?" She swallowed back her horror.

"He dropped you. Darrion kicked him through the door and I caught you." Gawain smiled. "It was a tidy little solution to that problem."

Callan's eyes filled with tears. "Did I—"

"Kill him?" Darrion entered the tent and dropped the flap closed behind him. He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. "Probably."

Callan's heart clenched.

Gawain took her hand into both of his. "Callan, you didn't do anything we wouldn't have done."

She looked into his green eyes, searching them for comfort.

He brushed her temple with his finger, smiling gently. The cold dissipated with his touch. "I saw him after you kicked the ladder down. He would have killed you."

"I know. It's just that..." She sighed, trying to find the words. Her throat ached.

Gawain grimaced and rubbed her numb hands. "I know. The first time I killed someone, it felt like I'd killed a part of myself."

She saw him then. Really saw him. His eyes shone and danced like a schoolboy's, but darkness lurked behind the spark, adding a sense of age. He wore his uniform like a man, all too comfortable with the sword lying across his lap. As if he dealt with attacks every day.

Nothing like a playacting child.

She peeked at Darrion, whose hand rested casually on his sword's pommel.

They both seemed relaxed, but Callan had seen how fast they'd reacted when the battle started. Yes...the black-clad soldiers had loosed their arrows by the time the first of the red soldiers' arrows hit the medic's back.

She shuddered. "The medic..."

"Is dead, thanks to you." Darrion's words punched her in the stomach.

She turned her head away to hide her tears.

"Will you stop it?" Gawain demanded, his hand squeezing hers, "She's been through enough!"

"No, he's right," she whispered, seeing the medic's surprised face in her mind's eye. The way his brown eyes had widened with shock. The blood rushing from his lips. "He died protecting me."

Darrion marched out.

Thanks for reading, everyone! If you liked this section, please don't forget to vote. :-) 

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Let me know what you think of Darrion, Gawain and Callan's predicament!