The War of Six Crowns: The Vanished Knight

A Dream of Blood and Darkness

Darkness surrounded Callan. A world of shadow so silent that it usually brought her calm.

Usually.

This serenity had a deathly cast to it. Dank air hung heavy with the stench of blood and filth. It made her want to stop breathing. When she inhaled through her mouth, she tasted rust at the back of her throat as intensely as she would have if her nose bled.

How much blood was there? She stepped forward with her hands outstretched. The floor was slippery. She didn't want to know why.

About ten steps later, she touched a damp wall. The cold shocked up her arm and she jerked her hand back.

Why was she here? No human being could live in a place like this, could they?

An agonized groan ripped the silence, raising the hair at the base of her neck.

"Who are you?" she demanded, hurrying toward the sound.

"Back for the next round?" her mysterious companion mumbled.

Her heart lurched with recognition. The voice...

"No." She waved her arms in front of her and touched something fleshy and human. And sticky with drying blood. She yelped and jumped back a step.

The man groaned. Chains rang in the deathly silence. "Why are you here?"

Callan's heart rate picked up. "I don't know; I have to help you." She searched blindly for a way to free him.

"Callan?"

"Yes. What happened to you?"

The sound of laughter whispered in the darkness, but it was far away. Alien.

"Callan, listen to me," he whispered. "Go back."

"No. Not before you can come with me." She waved her arms about, but she couldn't find anything that could help her. Desperation edged her attempts to free him.

"Go back!"

His shout pushed against her, forcing her back into nothingness.

"No, wait!" she screamed. "Don't make me go!"

She fell back against her wishes. Everything blurred past her until she came to a sudden stop.

Someone's touch to her cheek jarred her to consciousness. Heart beating wildly, she dragged in a deep breath and forced her eyes open. Her eyes focused in on Quinlan's palm.

"Are you all right?" he whispered, voice hoarse.

Callan's muscles spasmed. She pinched her wrist to pull herself together. Right in the middle of the black spot the tree had given her. She had to calm down. It was nothing but the entity messing with her after a trying day. She was used to little tortures like these, but still, it took a while to settle her nerves. Why the entity spent years making her dream of the Nordians, she'd never know. She swallowed down the sour taste in her mouth and nodded.

"You're awake?" she asked, striving to keep her voice normal.

His mouth's corners lifted. "Yes ...you must be very stubborn. There were times..." He shook his head. "Could I have some water?"

She jumped up and poured some into a bowl. Her trembling hands created ripples on the surface. She ignored them and held the bowl to his mouth.

His gaze never left her while he gulped down the water.

"Are you all right?" he asked again when he finished.

She stared at her wavy reflection in the water, not wanting to meet his eyes. "I'm fine. Just had a nightmare."

His fingers brushed against her throat. Callan tensed, keeping as still as she could.

"I did that?" he asked gently.

Callan forced herself to breathe. He wasn't going to hurt her. "Yes."

"I'm sorry." He traced the bruise's outline.

"It's—"

"Of course," Darrion commented from the door, his head tilted to Gawain at his side. "He could have apologized while keeping his hands to himself."

"I could, but where's the fun in that?" Quinlan shot back with a smirk.

Fun. Right. Fun... All night spent keeping the wretch alive and he saw her as fun... She stood, replaced the bowl with more care than necessary and marched to the door, meeting and beating Darrion's glower on the way out. 

I love that Callan's so feisty. Even when she's still recovering from her nightmare, she still holds her own. 

Don't worry about this scene being so short. I'm posting another one for you because I'm awesome. ;-) 

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