Chapter 3
The sun warming my face was the first thing I became aware of. I felt a little off balance and my dreams were attempting to break through to the front of my mind from their current location on the fringes. I tried to help the images along, it seemed important, but it was like trying to catch smoke with your hands.
Birds were busy spewing out a happy melody that surrounded me from all sides and….that seemed odd. I registered something soft, cool, and a little damp beneath my fingers. Equally odd. It was at this point that I had a revelation.
My bed did not feel like this. I opened my eyes and realized this was absolutely not my room.
A deep green canopy of leaves hung high over my head from towering trees above, beams of sunlight filtering through it. I started to sit up and became acutely aware of a dull ache at the back of my head. Touching the spot gingerly, I felt a decent sized lump. I turned at the waist to examine where my head had been and spied a large root protruding from the ground. I suspected it to be the culprit of my injury and therefore cursed at it.
I stood up slowly, trying to figure out the direction of the road. If my aunt was awake, she probably would realize I was gone at this point. But, as I took in my surroundings, I became aware that they were totally unfamiliar.
The forest floor was carpeted in luxurious, thick green moss, the trees too tall, and the sky perfectly blue spotted with puffy white clouds. To the west a full, lavender moon retreated toward the horizon, to the east a golden sun was climbing toward the middle of the sky, warm rays radiating from it to temper the chill of the morning air. Everything was rich in color and texture and while I had seen beautiful landscapes before, this was surreal. This was like something out of a dream.
Something pulled at the back of my mind, it was important, relevant to this situation even but, I couldn’t put the pieces together.
I heaved myself up off the ground and began walking, trying to make heads or tails of my predicament as I went. I remembered Jones had ended things with me (and by Jiminy that stung new all over again), I remembered I had reacted like a bit of a drama queen and run into the woods to escape the situation, and I remembered breaking down to pile of sobbing, pitiful little girl after he left. Then just fuzz, like a TV with really bad reception. I knew something had happened but, what that was well, that was beyond me. At the moment I would successfully translate the teacher from Charlie Brown before I would decode what had transpired from that point to this one.
Quiet gurgling interrupted my thoughts and I realized two things, I was sooo thirsty and I really had to pee.
My faux suede boots traversed almost soundlessly across the moss covered ground as I worked toward the sound. As the trees thinned slightly the ground began to descend downward and then, I saw it.
It was the most beautiful river I had ever seen. I actually gasped when it came into view. About twenty yards wide, it’s pale, translucent green water rode lazily over crystal clear long, flat stones. They sparkled in the sunlight like diamonds on crack. The sand along the river bed and bank glinted and twinkled as if it were composed of ground up canary diamonds.
My bladder reminded me that it could burst at any moment, so I backed away into the thick trees again, unwilling to desecrate that beautiful place.
I popped a squat behind the thick cover of some underbrush and to relieve my overly stretched bladder. Then, I trekked back toward the ridiculously gorgeous river.
I reached out to touch one of clear stones on the bank, this one small and smooth. I only ventured one finger, uncertain of what would happen. Would it bite me, would it sing, dance? But, it only responded to my touch by remaining still as, well, a stone. The glassy surface was as smooth as it looked and I gasped at its perfectness.
As I palmed the stone, I looked out across the water toward the bank on the other side. Four black hooves were planted in the yellow sand accompanied by a black horse and a rider in a hooded black cloak that matched the horse perfectly.
My brain kicked into overdrive frantically piecing together the previously unsolved puzzle, like someone had flicked on the light switch in my head.
Black cloaks blowing behind their riders, hoof beats, me running, they were going to catch me, blue door that appears as if from nowhere, I ran to it, I jumped through it!
Shut the front duck! Danger. Danger. Danger. Nuclear attack sirens!
Once again, I spun on my heel as a blood curdling, horror movie worthy scream escaped through my lips that I did not know I had authorized.
From behind, the sounds of hooves splashing quickly across the river rang in my ears as I clumsily tried to scale back up the small slope toward the forest. I had almost crested the rise when my boot snagged on an errant root and I feel face first onto the ground, mouth full of moss and everything.
I tried to right myself again, spitting moss as I struggled, but the rider was already upon me. I felt more than heard his boots hit the ground entirely too close to my location. I rolled onto my back ready to use my legs like a rabies riddled kick boxer. I glanced up frantically at the tall dark figure in a black hooded cloak.
The rider broke his silence with one word. “Please.”
His voice was velvety and smooth, like milk chocolate. I stopped struggling immediately from pure shock value.
I took him in starting at his toes. He wore black leather boots with two large silver buckles at the tops that stopped about mid-calf with slim black trousers disappearing into them. A belt composed of thin, silver disks hung low on his hips weighted down on the left side from a sheath holding a sword with an ornately carved hilt, inlaid with emeralds. His black shirt was loose fitting with slightly billowed sleeves, but the fabric was thin enough to hint at the well carved muscle that lay beneath as it rippled in the breeze. His black cloak appeared thick, yet snapped like silk as the air around him stirred. His pale skin was flawless as it stretched up his neck.
In comparison to his uh, period piece garb, I looked strange in my dark blue chenille (fake, that is) sweater with three quarter length sleeves, dark silver skinny jeans, and faux suede boots.
His face was still mostly shrouded in his overlarge hood, but I could tell he was watching me from beneath it. He reached up slowly and pulled down the hood while squatting on my right side. I watched his movements cautiously and he put out his hands in a universal gesture that indicated he meant me no harm.
Hair black as coal blew softly around his face, falling in loose waves to just below his chin. The sheen could make a shampoo model jealous and I had a sneaking suspicion that Biosilk and Nexxus were not in his vocabulary.
But, none of that had anything on his face. You could roll his face in diamonds and it would not be an improvement but, a crime against nature because nature had been so, so good to him.
His jaw was well defined and strong, but didn’t overpower his face. Full lips above a slight cleft in his chin begged to be kissed, but I knew he’d never have to beg that from any red-blooded woman. His nose was straight and perfectly symmetrical between high cheekbones with slight hollows beneath them. Not in an emaciated way but, in a holy-llama-mama-he-was-carved-of-stone way. And his eyes, oh buddy, I knew I was in trouble. His eyes were the same color as the river cutting through the forest. Pale green, but with flecks of deeper shades of green strewn in a starburst pattern giving them a depth that flat colors could not claim. Thick black lashes fringed his eyes and I decided on my best day with ten tubes of mascara I would still be jealous of those bad boys.
He was looking at me as if I were something fragile and precious. His eyes were beautiful, sure but, more than that, there was a humble kindness to them. And in the middle of a forest I was unfamiliar with and a man I’d never met my heart told me I was safe.
My mind, however, said, “UH UH.” So, I kicked at him.
He held his ground with a concerned expression. I’m pretty sure he was concerned my ele
vator did not go all the way to the top.
“Please, do not fear me. I will not harm you.” He said carefully with that soul-burning voice of his and in a British accent no less. I just stared at him, dumbfounded and I realized belatedly, with my mouth hanging open. “May I help you up?” he asked as he cautiously extended his left hand toward me and rose slowly.
My mind worked over my situation and decided that if he’d wanted to hurt me, he could have done already. Especially taking into account that he was armed with a sword and I was arm with, well, not a damn thing. I looked at his hand for a few moments as if it were a UFO before finally extending my own left hand.
As I reached out he drew in a sharp breath jerking his hand back, eyes locked on my wrist. I looked from him to my wrist and back again…and another memory flooded my mind.
Crap baskets! That thing was glowing last night!
I didn’t intend to reveal to him that little fact or at least that I thought it was a fact. Let him help me up, sure. Let him in on the fact that maybe my elevator may actually not reach the top, not so much. His reaction to my wrist in the absence of it glowing was absolutely strange, but hey, one thing at a time.
“It’s just a birthmark. You have a sword, I have a birthmark. Which one of us should fear the other do you think?” I asked him bluntly.
He stared at me for a moment longer before cracking a grin and chuckling lightly.
“The lady makes a valid point.” He said between chuckles and extended his hand again.
I reached for him and noticed his eyes dart back to the mark on my wrist quickly once more.
Geez, you’d think I taped a tiny snake to my wrist.
His green eyes studied me intently as he pulled me to my feet. Under his scrutiny, I could feel blood rushing to my face with speed of a breaking damn. One of many pitfalls that come with the curse of fair skin. My heart stuttered and sped, then repeated the sequence.
He let go and backed away a few steps, never tearing his gaze from my own. He stood there with his lips slightly parted, arms stiffly at his sides.
I stood there and willed myself not to climb him and cover his mouth with my own. I’d never been especially moved by good looking guys, never one to salivate over mere looks. For me, real attraction came with emergence of a guy’s sparkling personality or great sense of humor. But then, I’d never even seen a guy as good looking as this one…not even in the pages of a magazine. He was blessed with the kind of genetics that would evoke attraction from the most prudish of females.
He cleared his throat and looked around at nothing in particular before he spoke again. “I’m so sorry, milady. I did not introduce myself. I am Liam of Shirebrook.” He said with an expectant look on his face.
I studied him for a moment, trying not to freak out over the fact that I was definitely not in Kansas anymore and may well have landed in Oz or someplace just as unlikely. I had always been pretty cool under stress though, realizing that no amount of freaking out produces a solution. So I steeled myself and just looked him in the eye and responded. “Well, my name is not ‘milady’ it’s Dani Deveroe, so call me Dani. And…I’m from Gatlinburg.”
“I fear I am unfamiliar with…Gatlinburg.” He looked confused, like maybe he was expecting a different response or reaction than I delivered. He blinked at me slowly while warring emotions passed over his face, glanced toward my wrist once more, then, he composed himself and reached for my hand.
He caught me completely off guard when he took my hand, his eyes staring straight into my soul. I felt like he could see my every thought and that made me blush to the soles of my feet. He lifted my hand and traced a light circle on the back of it with the middle finger of his free hand, not once breaking eye contact.
“Dani. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He spoke the words softly and I couldn’t recall the name of the boy who had broken my heart in that moment.