Tír na nÓg Trilogy, Book II: The Rising Dark

Bound

The meadow--she was in the meadow again. Her meadow. Oh, how relieved she was to be here, now. The warm glow of the late afternoon sun, the panoply of flowers and grasses and drowsy bugs and butterflies. Those unidentifiable wisps of light flittering past in strange, slow movement, chittering as if conversing with one another in some unknown language. Emery's fingertips played at the petals and furry tops of the grasses nearest her, a light temperate breeze swaying the plants and her dress. Her hair was long and free; her heart was untroubled. Even as the forest stretched out to her left, mildly foreboding, she knew someone was there with her. Maybe many someones, if she could only move to look. But her dream kept her from turning right, kept her from knowing the comfort she was sure radiated from a place she couldn't see. And though she couldn't look, a dream instinct caused her to put out her hand, her right hand, toward the space she couldn't turn, and her fingers hung lonely in the air for only a moment before someone else's wrapped around them. The hand was large and strong, emanating assurance, security. She knew this solace--

The hand pressed against hers, and though Emery could not turn, the person the hand belonged to suddenly stepped into her vision, and he stood beside her, slightly in front, gazing ahead with his emerald eyes, looking toward the horizon, into the setting sunlight, determined and unafraid. He had always been there; he'd just been waiting for her to reach out toward him.

Emery woke coughing violently, her chest aching but unburdened, as if a huge weight had been lifted from it.

"Lady! Emery! Calm yourself, calm . . . you are well. Oh, all is well! Please . . ."

The girl had never been so happy in all her life to see Cathbad hovering over her in the dark, his worried peaked features lit by the soft glow of a sphere of light floating next to him. She flung her arms around his neck, simultaneously yelping in pain.

"Oh Gods! I am grateful. Please, stay still. Lie down. I must assess your injuries."

She did as he asked because she hurt too badly to do otherwise. "Everything--hurts." She caught sight of Cathbad's moist cheeks. "Are—you crying?"

"Hush. Do not speak," he gently insisted. "You may harm yourself further." But he wiped his eyes with his sleeve as he spoke.

Emery listened to him. Exhaling and inhaling was excruciating. Recalling the way The Dark Man had squeezed her ribs so tightly, she wondered if a few of them had been broken. The thought was terrifying. Whatever medical care was like here, it couldn't be ideal.

"I came the moment you called, sure that it was a false alarm of some kind. I had no idea you were here, of all places. And when I arrived, I saw you on the ground, in such a state, and was terribly confused." Cathbad rolled up her tunic to look at her stomach and ribs, being respectful with the placement of the fabric, and pressed softly in various locations. When he reached her left side and her sternum, Emery groaned in terrible pain, unable to emit any louder noise. "Oh, this will take some work, though I am pleased to see that this blood is not your own." He frowned in consternation. "But I am able, I assure you." The druid turned away from her and busied himself with whatever odds and ends he'd brought with him. "First," he continued, "we shall relieve the pain so that I may work." After a moment, he leaned toward Emery's face, a small cup the shape and size of an acorn in his fingers. Bringing the cup to her lips, he tipped several drops of bitter liquid into her open mouth.

Emery was doubtful what he gave her could relieve what she felt, but she was willing to try anything. To her surprise, though, within mere seconds, the pain began to subside, until she realized that she couldn't feel it anymore at all. Amazed, the girl made an attempt to sit, but Cathbad took her shoulders and pushed her back as delicately as possible.