Chapter Three
A low rumbling tremor thundered into his slumbering awareness, pulling him from the soft inky depths of the unnatural sleep. Torin struggled against the suffocating darkness, thrashing through the numbing confusion swaddling his mind like a woolen fleece. The shrieks of his clan shook through the stillness. He forced his eyes open, sucking in great gulps of air as he sought the unseen foe.
Damn the Cailleach. She had kept her word and had not allowed him to embrace death. She had paralyzed his body and trapped his essence in an accursed realm of stillness. Torin rolled to a crouching position and patted a hand against his thigh. Where the hell was his blade?
The cries of his clan reached a horrific pitch. Their panic surrounded him, crescendoed into a wailing beast summoning him to action. Enough of this damnable curse! The Cailleach would toy with him no more. His hand froze where the familiar leather sheath should’ve encased his upper leg. His gaze moved to the cold, still body levitating in the foggy void before him. Torin’s hissing breath stirred the swirling vapors. By all the powers, he’d never dreamed he’d someday face the stiffened form of his own corpse.
Torin edged away from the inert body just as a deeper-pitched roar shattered the air around him. Lifting his head to the sound, Torin held his breath as he searched through the void for the source. He knew that moan disturbing the peace of this darkness. ’Twas a wicked beast he’d battled many times. Arach threatened his clan.
“Return me, Cailleach. Arach has breached the threshold and moves toward m’land.” Torin straightened from the defensive crouch and stretched to his full height. The soft black loam of the void swirled around his knees, completely obliterating his lower legs from sight. No footprints. He left no mark in the smoking blanket of soil rolling across the ground. She’d completely severed his spirit from his body when she’d spelled him into the darkness. Damnaigh the spirit woman! “Return me to my body, Cailleach. Return my soul so I might defend my people against the demon.”
“No. ’Tis not time. I warned ye there would be a cleansing.” The harshness of her voice sliced through the emptiness like a frigid cutting breeze.
Frustration overcame the sense of uneasiness already pounding in his chest. He had to protect his clan from Arach’s destruction. By the time the beast grew bored with torturing his people, they’d long for the blessed escape of death. “My people will suffer much before they die. We have served ye well for eons, mighty Cailleach. I canna believe ye’d condemn them to such a cruel end. Return me so I might close the portal before the beast breaches the last of the stones.”
A heavy sigh whispered through the stillness, stirring the barest movement of air into the inky darkness. “Your clan must pay for the path it chose long ago. I can stomach them no longer. But you, my chieftain, you I will not destroy. I have decided to set ye upon another path, a path of hope that joins with another gifted one of my choosing. The two of ye shall redeem the bloodline of the guardians. The clan of the mystics will be reborn. The world shall change much before I allow ye to walk upon it again, my fine chieftain. The stagnant reality ye left long ago shall benefit from this cleansing. Return to your slumber, mighty Torin, for ye willna see your land again until the proper time.”
She dared threaten to destroy his clan and in the same breath, avow to join him with another? The crone dared breed him like a favored stallion? “I need no other to survive this existence nor will my clan need to be rebuilt if ye allow me to stop Arach’s destruction. I have walked the path of foolish matchmaking once before. I willna walk it again.” Torin straightened taller and lifted his chin. The Cailleach would heed his words this time. “I canna believe my clan has erred so much as to deserve the punishment of one such as Arach. Return me now so I might save my people. They’ve served ye well, old woman. Dinna condemn them to such a cruel fate.” Torin’s jaw cracked with his clenched teeth. Surely, the Cailleach just tested him. Surely, she’d never condemn every member of his clan to such a horrible fate.
“No. The time of your clan is over, my chieftain, but I havena forgotten what few good things they did. The truest ones who didna stray from my path shan’t go tortured or unrewarded. I shall gather the best of your people to my breast and shelter them in the next realm. There will I keep them ’til the time comes for me to summon the choicest of my followers to walk the land again. Return to your dreams until I call ye. The next time ye wake from my spell, I swear to ye, I will set ye firmly upon the path of your true destiny.”
“No,” Torin growled. His head sagged forward against his chest as the Cailleach’s spell settled across his back like a weighted cloak. He flexed his arms and strained against the constricting pressure folding around his body. The crushing force methodically closed down his senses as he fell to his knees.
“No!” he roared, teetering off balance. Helpless frustration hammered through him as he crashed to his side. A scream of refusal caught in his throat as the spell increased in strength. He strained forward, forcing heavy eyelids open against the power of the dark cloud closing in around him. He spread his hands through the powdery softness of the cool dank loam swallowing him into its depths. A numbing coldness brushed across his awareness. He shuddered at the familiar tingle stinging across his flesh. His outstretched hands passed through the soil, not marring the smoothness of the ground. Rolling to his back, he reached out for the cold stiff form of his body lying stretched across the bleak darkness, arms crossed over the chest. If he could connect with his flesh, perhaps he could conquer the darkness. He battled to keep his eyes wide, thrashing as the pull of the magic sealed around his awareness. Blinding whiteness forced his eyes shut and a deafening roar closed his mind.
