Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

N ude, on a wooden slab, legs apart, ankles shackled, his wrists bound above his head, the sense of helplessness filled him with fury.

How long had he been here? Days? Weeks? Tristan heard footsteps followed by the sound of two male voices.

“Is it time to wake him up again?”

“Yes.”

“How long is he going to keep this one?”

“It’s not our place to ask, or to care.”

“So we are mindless drones that sit, beg, and roll over? That’s not what I signed up for. Where’s all the power I was promised?”

An unhappy recruit, Good to know.

“Shut up and hand me the needle.”’

“Fuck you.”

Tristan peeked through half-closed eyes to see two men struggle over the injector. The larger one, an olive-skinned male, bashed the smaller man’s head into the wall. When he slid limply to the floor, the larger of the two walked toward Tristan

“Are ye awake?” The man spoke in a soft whisper. Tristan opened his eyes. “What did you do to anger Meliot so?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Tristan whispered, his voice almost gone from hours of screaming and nothing to drink. “Can I have some water?”

The man shrugged and brought over a ladle full of water. Lifting Tristan’s head, he helped him drink it, refilled it twice, until he’d had his fill.

“Why did you hit him?” Tristan asked referring to the person on the floor.

“He’s an idiot, I’m tired of hearing his bullshit,” came the reply, as he studied Tristan.

“Like what you see?”

“I don’t swing that way,” the male replied, his cheeks coloring. From his contemporary speech, Tristan knew he was from modern times.

“I’m supposed to heal you enough so that you can withstand the next round with Meliot.”

A healer.

The man walked over and laid his hands on Tristan’s ribs. Instantly, warmth crept through him. His body bucked up from the table when a powerful bolt of energy surged into him. The male’s eyes locked on to his private area.

From the hungry look, Tristan knew he’d lied. The male was very interested in what he saw. Maybe he could use it to his advantage.

His gut wrenched at the thought. He’d never once been attracted to men.

Once everything began to settle, he took a deep breath. For the first time in days, his ribs were fully healed.

“Thank you,” Tristan locked gazes with the man, who looked away, reddening slightly. “What now?”

“I’ll get Meliot.” He didn’t move.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Ryan.”

“Have you been watching Meliot torture me?”

Once again Ryan’s eyes flashed across his body. “Sometimes.”

“Will you torture me?”

Ryan’s discomfort radiated from him. He was not cut out to be one of Meliot’s henchmen.

“I don’t think so.” The man turned to walk out.

“Wait.”

Ryan hesitated but didn’t turn.

Tristan scrambled for a way to stop him. “Do you want to touch me?”

This time Ryan turned. His eyes flashed, angry, but at the same time they locked on to Tristan’s mouth. “What the fuck?”

“I know you want to.” Tristan told him, forcing his eyes to linger at the male’s mouth. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Ryan’s hands clenched at his side, he glanced to the man on the floor before answering. “Yeah. Fine. You’re right.” He locked gazes with him, but didn’t move. Slowly he dragged his eyes away from Tristan. “But I’m not stupid.”

Torn between relief at not having to follow through and disappointment at not being able to stop the man from leaving the room, Tristan tried another angle.

“If you want power, you’ll have to take it. Meliot will never let you be more than his lap dog, to sit and beg as he commands.” When Ryan’s shoulders sagged, Tristan knew the man believed him, already suspected as much.

“Meliot is very powerful; you made a mistake joining his ranks. There is only one way you’ll ever leave this place. Believe me. I know.”

A moan from the guard on the floor caught Ryan’s attention. He kicked his downed cohort back to unconsciousness.

“This fuckin’ sucks,” Ryan yelled to no one in particular. The man stepped toward the table and Tristan waited to see what he would do. He placed his hands on Tristan’s knees, sending healing power into the broken bones; the muscles around his knees tightened, accompanied by heat flowing through his legs.

“I wish I could do more for you.” Ryan’s tormented eyes met his before he stormed from the room.

The frigid ground was hard when Gwen landed on her rear. Padraig stood next to her holding her hand. He pulled her up to her feet. “Sorry about that, it’s hard to retain your balance when leaping.” They were in an icy hell, nothing but white as far as she could see.

The alter-world was nothing like she expected. The air felt dense, the sky a strange hue of purple, with reddish streaks resembling claw marks across the expanse. There were trees, but they were not like any she’d ever seen. With twisted, blueish trunks, and ice-covered black leaves hanging from limbs that stretched sideways.

Big fluffy flakes fell to a ground already covered by grey-hued snow. Icy wind blew across the frozen expanse. She shivered, not only from the cold, but from fear of being stuck there forever.

In the distance, turrets of a castle caught her attention.

Just as Gwen was about to ask if it was where the evil wizard lived, the sound of a low, guttural growl announced the presence of an enormous white wolf. Gwen scurried behind Padraig and peeked around him at the wolf that stood silently watching them.

“Why is he staring at us like that? Is he hungry?” Gwen whispered. “I have a granola bar.”

“No. He is a friend who guards the lands around Meliot’s castle. Not unlike our home, which is surrounded by our enemies. It keeps balance in this world, I suppose.” Padraig held his hand up to the wolf, in some sort of greeting gesture. Two additional wolves appeared, eyeing them with suspicion.

Seeming to be satisfied, like the humans had passed some sort of inspection, the wolves trotted away. Padraig took her hand. “They’ll lead us to their leaders and shelter. The weather is about to get bad.” He glanced at the sky. Gwen looked up as well, but didn’t see anything that stood out.

She glanced back towards the castle. “I don’t want to get shelter. We need to go rescue Tristan.”

Padraig’s eyes were soft. “I know. I can’t stand the idea of him being there any longer.” He hurried behind the wolves, Gwen almost jogging to keep up. “But we must let those that live here know why we’re here, and hopefully they’ll agree to help us. Just being invisible won’t help us get Tristan out. If Niall was able to sense us, no doubt Meliot will too.”

They arrived at a cave entrance. Two even larger wolves exited as they approached, and sat on their haunches watching their every move, but allowing them to enter.

Only the first wolf continued inside ahead of them. Gwen looked around in awe. The rock walls were smooth. Both sides flanked with lit torches every few feet. Once they arrived at a set of wooden doors, the large panels swung open slowly, allowing them into a large room, warmed by a huge fireplace.

On one side of the room, two women sat on tall throne-like chairs. Both turned to watch them enter, neither looking surprised. A wolf sat between them, no doubt the messenger.

Padraig walked a few paces in front of Gwen and fell to one knee in front of the women. He reverted to old English. “Greetings, Your Highnesses, I am Sir Padraig Clarre, knight to James the First, King of Scotland. The lady is Gwyneth Lockhart of America. We’ve come to seek your assistance in rescuing Laird Tristan McRainey, the Laird of Dunimarle Castle , subject of King James the First. He is being held prisoner by Meliot.”

Gwen watched in fascination, as the women seemed to communicate telepathically, looking at each other, but not speaking. They wore long, richly colored, fur-trimmed robes. The women, who were either twins or sisters, had the same long platinum hair that matched the frozen world outside. They were not beautiful, but striking, with bright-blue eyes and flawless pearly skin, their faces unadorned with any makeup. One wore an emerald-green robe, while the other a ruby-red one. Neither wore a crown, but if they had, it wouldn’t have surprised her. She noticed that Padraig had not risen, and she wondered if she should kneel as well. Or curtsy.

“Rise, Knight,” The women in red spoke, her voice a thick velvety sound. “Welcome, Lady Gwyneth. Please sit.” She motioned to two chairs with wide flat arms.

Once they sat, servants appeared and served them a hot beverage which looked like tea. The cups sat on the arms of the chairs along with a small tray of what looked to be shortbread. Padraig did not drink or eat, and Gwen followed suit. The women lifted their cups and took drinks. Only after they placed their cups down did Padraig lift his. Gwen drank from hers and was pleasantly surprised by the sweet flavor of the liquid. She didn’t dare speak, so she thanked them with a smile.

The woman in green spoke. “I’m Esmeralda, this is my sister Rubiana. We are the Princesses of Atlandia, as this region is called. Our land borders Meliot’s. The wizard is not a friendly neighbor.” She glanced at her sister. “Our father left us to ensure that his power is not used against our people and to maintain control of our region, protect it against his evil.”

Rubiana clapped her hands, and a large man walked in. The male wore a heavy woolen tunic, brown leather pants, and fur-lined boots. He was flanked by two wolves. “Argo, once the Icing passes, you are to escort our guests, Sir Padraig and Lady Lockhart, to the neighboring lands and assist in the rescue of their friend.”

Argo, a large, powerfully built warrior, looked at them, acknowledging Padraig with a nod. He turned back to the princesses. “How many men should I take, Your Highnesses?”

“Six men and two wolves will go,” Esmeralda replied.

Rubiana spoke next. “And Argo, ensure everyone returns.”

Esmeralda turned to Padraig, eyes locked with his. “Ensure your ward of protection is strong enough to keep my men and sentries safe. They die only if you die with them.”

His expression blank, Padraig replied without hesitation. “Understood. We are deeply grateful for your assistance.”