The Weaver's Source

Chapter 6

I stared numbly as numerous familiar white faces came into sight. They were like ghosts, staring up at the sky from the watery darkness that swallowed them. They were the missing people from the town. They were dead. Their faces were rotting and maggots trailed from the holes in their white skin. I would've reeled back in revulsion if it wasn't for the face at my feet. She stared up at me without the usual mirth and passion. She was completely void of all emotion as death's mask forced an expression of terror on her rotting face. A face I knew and loved. It was Gabi.

I woke up with a start and battled to keep my heart from exploding from my chest as a sense of danger clung to me. I calmed rapidly when I realised I was home and daylight was streaming in through the window. I breathed a sigh of relief until I glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been four hours since Gabi left me. She should've returned long ago.

Instantly nauseating fear gripped me. Was she in trouble? I swallowed thickly. Then again she might just be back at home. Her father always had the knack of detaining her at the most awkward times. The rotting face of Gabi flashed in my eyes. I squeezed them shut. I had to check. I had to go down to the river.

I darted onto my feet and made a mad dash for the door. I wrenched it open and nearly fell over as my boots failed to get a grip on the mud. I ran over the field without much thought for my own safety and the magic that began to squirm uncomfortably the closer to the river I got. I slid down the muddy bank and frantically cast my gaze across the murky waters, ignoring the chill that swept through me, making me only faintly aware I had neglected to dress myself in my cloak again.

"Gabi!" I called out frantically, my gaze flicking over the fat river's surface even as my magic squirmed with upset.

I couldn't see anything. No blood, body and no monster, but my magic only sent dreams when it was certain. Gabi was in trouble, I knew it, and it made me feel so sick. She was my fighter, pushing me to stand up for myself and be proud of what I am. I couldn't lose her, especially when I had brought that thing into town. It would be no different to me stabbing her in the back.

"Gabi!"

I took a closer step, wanting a better view of the water, but an arm was abruptly about my waist, yanking me away from the edge and bundling me up against something powerful. Very quickly I realised who it was by the heady song swelling into me and the sheer strength swallowing me up whole. The Weaver.

I couldn't move. His arms caged me against his chest, wrapping about my waist and his fingers slipping about the nape of my neck, his magic rumbling protectively and his body dangerously stiff. All I could do was look up at him and battle back my magic's growing interest in how close he was to me, urging me to notice the masculine lines of his throat and jaw as he gazed at the water with such furious hostility.

Then his attention snapped to me, his steeled gaze locking with mine so fiercely I grew instantly shy, making me kick myself for being so meek.

"What were you doing? I told you to keep away and not cause me trouble."

A stab of fear pierced me. "I had a dream."

"A dream?"

"One of Gabi. She was dead, in the river."

He frowned and glanced at the dark waters briefly. "Likely a nightmare, so return home."

I gazed at him, bewildered he didn't appear to know what I was talking about. 

"It's a true-dream. My magic sends them to me; warnings. Gabi's in trouble." I pressed. "I can't do a thing, I'm useless and unable to fight whatever it is in the river, but you're a Weaver. Can you help her? Please."