Seventeen – 03

[This post is from David O’Credne Miller’s point of view.]

David jerked upright and every bone and muscle in his body screamed in protest.  His throat was dry, but he knew that he’d must have said something upon waking because Bryant and a strange woman were staring at him—that much he could see through watering eyes.

Bryant managed to catch him as he started to fall backward again toward his pillows.  The room was unfamiliar, but he was in a bed, and that, at least seemed a welcome relief.  An actual bed had been a luxury that he’d missed over the past few months.

It has been months, right?

Disorientation and time loss was, in fact, a vicious beast.

“Easy,” Bryant said.  “Easy, easy.  It’s okay.  You’re safe here.”

“Are we?”  It felt safe, anyway, but he was never sure anymore.  Despite knowing in his gut that they were supposed to be here, that they were supposed to find something here, that didn’t always mean safety.  They’d learned that the hard way once or twice since leaving home.

“You are,” the woman assured him.  He squinted at her as Bryant settled him against the pillows again, brow furrowing.  She seemed familiar somehow, like someone he should remember.

Is she someone I know, or someone I come to know?  Have I seen her before?

“Your uncle is looking forward to actually meeting you,” she continued softly.

“My uncle?” he echoed softly, thoughts scattering for a moment.  Then it hit him.

Phelan.  This is where Phelan lives.

It had taken his entire life, but he’d finally found a Taleisin—and hopefully that Taleisin would be able to help him untangle the web of visions and tales and legends that were all bound up together inside his head.

At least, he hoped so.

But that’s not why—

Is it?

No.  No, there’s more here than just that.

I just know it.

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This entry was posted in Ambrose Cycle, Book 8, Chapter 17, Story and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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