Blood of the Abyss

Chapter 2: The Viscount of Aglirim

Caspian

Crushed under the weight of the shelves, a wound still bleeding on my head. Her voice reached my ears, and then I was alone. The weight threatened to crush me, kill me, and then it was gone. Everything was blurry, everything ached. The snorting of horses, their hooves striking against stone, my body being flung onto one.

"We need to hurry back. Viscount Mordanticus will want to know we found his son." A gruff voice had reached my ears.

"Wa-wait." My voice sounded so muffled. Everything felt like it was happening around me, not to me. "Lysandra..." I had tried to open my eyes to look for her, but everything hurt.

"Callan." The gruff voice was stern. Smooth hands reached up and touched my face, brushing the long hair off my forehead.

"Sleep, my boy. There is no need to fear. When you wake, you won't recall a single event involving that woman."

Rapidly, visions flooded past me, the swirling images making my nausea grow. Visions of her running from me, away from me, escaping from me. Her name, I couldn't remember her name, couldn't remember who she was. Panic raced through me, my blood sung her name, but no memory reached me of who she was. The visions raced until they blurred, and a darkness overcame me.

"It is done."

***

Linen sheets kept me tucked tightly in the down mattress. My body ached at the slightest turn. I blinked as the warm sunlight entered the room, curtains being drawn back to let more light bathe it. I groaned, pushing myself up, or at least trying to as a tinge a pain in my abdomen forced a gasp from me.

"Oh dear!" A woman's voice gasped and suddenly she was by my side. "Is the medicine wearing off? Are you in pain? I will go grab Callan." She gathered her skirts and fled the room before I had a chance to speak. I glanced down, noticing that I was shirtless, linen bandages wrapped around my torso, though I could see the edges of the deep, purple bruises against my ribs. Had I been injured? What happened? Every thought came with a fog, causing my head to ache. I reached up to rub my temple and winced as my fingers met another linen wrap. I felt like I had been trampled.

"Viscount Caspian." I looked toward the doorway to see a scrawny figure, pale blonde hair with piercing blue eyes watching me curiously.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice cracked, likely from the disuse. I cleared my throat, watching as the man approached. He watched me carefully, assessing the linen wraps.

"Callan, my lord. We found you in a rough state last night. How are you feeling today?"

"Tired. And confused." I tried to speak, a hacking cough bubbled up my throat making me feel more sore. Callan stepped forward offering a cup of water. Holding my hand up I said. "How did I get here?" Flashes of a forest filled my mind, before Callan filled my vision.

"We found you and brought you home, my lord." His voice was tight, and firm as he moved over to a small table and placed the glass down. He moved over checking my bruises. The pains eased, though the coloration remained the same. He extended a hand to me. "We must prepare you for meeting your father. Come, you look," he paused, taking in my appearance. "Like a brute." He sighed.

I reached out for his hand and he helped me stand, my legs sore and shaky. He pulled me after him to the washroom that was connected to the bedroom and motioned for me to sit in front of a vanity. My appearance in the mirror was jarring. My hair was long and disheveled, dried blood coated the bandage around my head, cuts and scrapes on my face. Certainly not the appearance of a viscount's son as they all kept calling me. Callan motioned for a woman to come into the room and pointed to my hair.