Maeve woke from a restless sleep. Something had jostled her brain, pulling her from her vivid dreamscape. She considered trying to sleep for a couple more hours, since it was only just noon. She’d slept for 5 hours she suspected. Sinbad had told her to take as long as she needed. But almost as instantly as that thought entered her mind, she dismissed it. She wasn’t going to feel any more rested even if she lay here for another 10 hours.
So with resolution, she got up from her bunk, and went over to her dresser. Reaching into the bowl on the dresser, she splashed some cool water on her face, hoping to slow her racing mind at the same time. She tried to focus on something current, she reached out to her brothers mind, hoping that a brief chat would distract her.
What she found there however, was a tangled mess of thoughts that she couldn’t sort out. Dressing quickly, she tried to make Dermott aware of her presence.
**Sister!!** She heard his alarmed voice in her mind. **Come quickly, there has been an accident. Sinbad is injured!!** He showed her the scene that had just unfolded on the Nomad, but from his bird’s eye view. Dermott had been roosting in the crow’s nest when Sinbad had let go of the rope he was climbing and fell to the boards below.
Maeve gasped out loud at the image. Forgetting the ties on her vest, and ignoring her boots, she flew from her cabin and headed towards the hatchway. As she breezed past Sinbad’s cabin, she caught sight of the flurry of activity in there. Rongar, Doubar and Firouz were crowded around Sinbad’s bed. Maeve backpedaled and wheeled into the room.
“What happened!” she demanded breathlessly.
Firouz was busy pressing cold clothes to Sinbad’s sweat beaded brow, and Doubar was too worried about his brother to even notice the sorceress’ presence. Rongar turned to her, his eyes filled with concern. He motioned to her that the Captain had fallen from the riggings. Maeve already knew that.
“How did this happen?” she asked of no one in particular. Doubar turned to her as she pushed past them all to look at her Captain herself. Moving around Firouz, she gasped at the sight of Sinbad. He was so pale, and he had sustained a nasty gash on the back of his head it seemed. He was still bleeding profusely. “Heavens no…” she whispered, clasping her hands over her mouth in shock. Any head injury could easily become deadly, you didn’t have to be Firouz to know that.
She felt sick to her stomach. How could he have fallen? He never fell or lost his footing! He was their Captain! He was Sinbad for god sake!! Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to him. She felt Doubar’s thick hands grasp her arms. He turned her to face him, turned her away from Sinbad. They looked at one another for a moment, unshed tears in their eyes, before they fell into each others embrace. They stood silently together, both praying to their own gods that Sinbad would awaken.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXX CHAPTER 6 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The afternoon on the Nomad passed silently. The tension on board was thick and all eyes would stray to the Captain’s door as they passed by. The entire crew knew about the Captain’s near fatal fall, and it frightened them all. Many sat in groups together, whispering about demons and making the sign against the evil eye. Everyone had their own theory about why the Captain had fallen. No one believed he could have simply made a “visual judgment error” as Firouz insisted.
Luckily, their fears for Sinbad’s health were unnecessary. As their illustrious Captain had shown them time and again, nothing could keep him down for long. It was barely 5 hours later, when Sinbad began to rouse from his unconscious state.
Firouz, Doubar, Rongar and Maeve were all in his cabin at the time. None of them had been able to leave their Captain without knowing he would be alright.
Sinbad was aware of them before they became aware of his return to consciousness. Firouz was by his side, flipping through a large leather bound book that Sinbad recognized as his medical guide. Doubar and Maeve sat at his desk looking dejected. Maeve was resting her head on Doubar’s broad shoulder. Inwardly, Sinbad smiled at their subtle intimacy. It pleased him that Doubar and Maeve were close, and he pretended not to know why. Rongar stood by the door, as if protecting them all from any intrusion.
Sinbad tried to crack a joke to lighten the mood, but his throat was dry and all that came out was a strangled noise. It was enough to bring everyone to his bedside. He pushed back their hands and brushed off their questions, pointing to the pitcher of water on the desk. Rongar was way ahead of him, and was already pressing a cup of cold water into his hand. Sinbad nodded his thanks and guzzled the glass down.
“That’s much better,” he stated, “Thank you my friend,” he nodded to Rongar.
“Little Brother,” Doubar claimed Sinbad’s attention, “What the blazes happened to you up there?” he asked.
“I fell?” It was both a statement and a question. Sinbad reached up and fingered the bandaging on his head. He forced his mind to bring him back to the events of hours ago. He didn’t really remember falling. He’d never fallen before. The crew around him exchanged worried glances.
“You fell from the rigging,” Doubar continued. “Right down in front of me and Rongar. We weren’t expecting it, I mean, you seemed so full of beans this morning, none of us suspected you might be ill.”
“I’m not ill Doubar,” Sinbad stated. And he wasn’t. Minus the injury on his head, he felt fine.
“Then what happened?” Maeve asked.
“I think,” he paused, “I think I had a vision.”
Maeve stared at him, dumbfounded.
“You mean you saw your dream again?” Doubar asked concerned.
“No, well, yes, I saw the dream, but I saw more than what I had dreamed even. That makes it a vision doesn’t it Maeve?” He asked her for clarification. He’d never really taken an interest in magic to learn those kinds of details. But she was too shocked by the possibility to answer him.
“What else did you see?” Firouz asked. They all sat down, it seemed like they might not want to hear this standing.
“Well I saw the fight, that I saw before. It looks like some kind of raid on a small village. I see the men fighting each other, and the girl, or me, is watching. Then I saw another scene. We’re locked in a cellar I believe, there is smoke and fire coming through the floorboards overhead. There are 2 older boys with her now. They’re her brothers.” Sinbad paused for a moment to review what he had told them, making sure it was accurate. He looked up and noticed the crew exchanging looks around him. They thought he was losing his mind. He looked at Maeve, he couldn’t read her expression, but he knew she was listening intently. Perhaps more so than the rest of the crew he noted.
He continued, “There is a baby as well. They’re all trapped underground in the cellar. Then one of the older boys picks her up, and puts her in the air vent that leads above ground. And then…” he stopped speaking. It hadn’t really been him in that cellar, but he had felt all of her emotions as it happened to her, and he choked on them now. How could he finish. Her brothers had died in that cellar. Let me die… her words floated around him now as he stared off into space.
Firouz exchanged a worried glance at Doubar. They had known Sinbad the longest and this certainly wasn’t like him.
“It isn’t just a dream. We have to find her before its too late,” Sinbad stated resolutely. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his crew how real it all was to him, how much it hurt him. He had to save this girl, and somehow he felt that saving her, would save him as well; for he had lived through those horrific moments with her, with the mind of a child, and it had changed him forever. He had to stop it from happening to her.
“How are we going to do that?” Doubar asked.
“Change course and set sail towards Basra,” he said, “I want to speak to Cairpra.” He was convinced that if anyone could help them, it would be Dim Dim’s wife.
“Aye aye Captain,” Doubar replied while exiting the cabin to follow his brother’s orders. The heavy clunking of his boots reflected the heavy feeling in his heart. He was worried about Sinbad.
Firouz began fretting over Sinbad’s condition again and pushed him back down onto the bunk. He reapplied a cool compress to his forehead and was not deterred by Sinbad’s repeated reprimands. For lack of anything constructive to be doing, Rongar and Maeve left the cabin as well to continue with their own duties.
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Maeve walked slowly back to her cabin and shut the door. She ran over every word Sinbad had spoken in her mind. Was it possible? But how? She pulled a book off her shelf and began to earnestly search through the pages looking for something to help Sinbad. She knew now what was happening to their Captain. And she cursed herself internally for not realizing it sooner. It was that damn bracelet of his, she thought, it was the bracelet that was making the connection.
**Sister** She felt Dermott tugging at her mind. She ignored him. **Sister,” he said more insistently, **what is it that you are hiding from me, and from him right now. What do you know about Sinbad’s dreams?**
**It is not a dream** she told Dermott, at least not his own she thought to herself. **Do not worry yourself over these matters my pet. It will sort itself out in due time.** She hoped he would drop it. And knowing his sister as well as he did… he let her be.
Maeve brought her full attention back to her books, knowing that she would find something in here that would help. *Ahhh… that’s perfect* she thought, as the pages fell open to reveal a particular spell. She began gathering the supplies she would need from her shelves, she hoped she had enough.
Hours later, Maeve finished her conjuring. She was exhausted both from her spell and the lack of sleep the night before. She had never put so much into a single spell. She prayed it would work. As she settled into her bunk for the night, she closed her eyes and reviewed the spell she had used. It had to work. Tonight Sinbad would sleep soundly under her Protection Spell. Tonight, she hoped it would protect him, from her. She closed her eyes, and let sleep claim her.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX CHAPTER 7 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
*******Flashes*********
Maeve, a very young Maeve, was awakened by the sound of metal clanging, and men shouting. It was supposed to be the dead of night. She drew herself from bed and crept to the window of her loft to investigate. What she beheld would scar her young mind forever.
She could see all the way into the village from her window. Their home was set back from the others and on a higher elevation; it backed onto the old forest, putting more distance between Maeve and the slaughter taking place. The land around the village had become a scene of blood and carnage. Bones broke and skulls cracked under the heavy blows dealt by the men wearing armor. They were under attack. Maeve watched wide eyed, and horror struck, she was glued to the window. The full moon illuminated the night so fully that it rivaled the sun. It allowed Maeve to see all the way to the harbour, where two large and intimidating ships she had never laid eyes on before, where docked. She did not utter a sound, was incapable of sound. She watched silently as men she knew, neighbours and friends, joined the fray against the mad men. So much blood.
She heard noise below her as her mother ran to barricade their doors and windows. She heard her own name being called, but she couldn’t bring herself to tear her eyes from the scene unfolding less than half a mile away. Looking into the distance she saw her father wielding an axe against a man on a horse. He felled the man easily and hoped on the back of the horse, riding it into the centre of a brawl. He hacked and slashed violently and every time his axe fell, a man went with it. He was an experienced warrior, who had seen many raids in his time, but there were so many of them, and Maeve feared for her father’s life. Suddenly she saw Bran at their father’s side, fighting with him, fighting for their families, and fighting to survive. “Nooooo,” She whispered in fear, shaking her head as reality began breaking through the haze her mind had created to protect itself. It struck her hard, the realization that the horror she was witnessing was happening to them. Her mind reeled in shock and she vomited.
She felt fingers tugging at her arms, prying her away from the window. Unshed tears blurred her vision and she kicked and screamed as she was dragged back towards the ladder. She broke free and ran to the window again, unwilling to look away. Sobbing uncontrollably she watched as her brother and father were overwhelmed. Her Father, Cian, was knocked from the horse’s back, and out of Maeve’s view. It was the last time she would ever see him again. From her window, she saw Bran’s head rolling down the sloping path. For Maeve, time stood still. Her body stopped working, her mind stopped thinking, her vision blurred, and she felt as though she was leaving her body. Was she dying? She wanted to. She remained sedated, calm, untouchable; she watched, but was not moved by what she saw anymore. She was in shock.
Maeve was brought back to her immediate surroundings when she felt two pairs of hands pulling at her now. It was her mother and Drostan, pulling her again towards the ladder. This time she did not struggle against them. She heard whimpering and realized it was coming from her own mouth. She listened to it as though she were a stranger, watching herself, not connected to this body that housed such pain. Her soul was crying for the deaths of her beloved brother and father.
Drostan hoisted Maeve to his shoulder and descended the ladder with her. At 15 years old, Drostan had already acquired much of their fathers mass and bulk and Maeve’s thin 8 year old frame was a light load for him. Once on the floor of their cottage, he handed Maeve to their mother. Maeve clung to her desperately. She was barely conscious of what was happening around her, but she heard the cellar door in the floor being opened and was faintly aware of being carried down the stairs. Her mother placed her on an old blanket beside her 13 year old brother Kegan. In his grasp was the toddler, Dermott. Kegan’s eyes were wild with fear; the sounds of the battle outside were fierce. The smell of blood was overpowering. He looked at Maeve’s frightened face and knew it mirrored his own. Dermott wailed for his mother, his 2 year old mind not aware of the gravity of their situation, but well aware of the emotions floating on the air. Deora kissed each of her children on the head, and hurried back up the cellar stairs.
The cellar door banged closed and was locked from above. From below, Drostan also locked it and then stacked crates and barrels of preserves until they created a wall to protect them. Through the cracks in the floor boards, they could see their mother up above, dragging behind her a large rug to conceal the cellar door. Drostan came to sit by his siblings. He felt that he should be helping his Father and two older brothers in this fight, but he was still just a boy and he was frightened by the massacre happening outside the house. Their mother had insisted that her four youngest children be barricaded in the cellar where they would be safe from the unforgiving blades, until these marauders passed.
The cries from outside became muted as their barriers were put in place, but there was still the air shaft running from the cellar to the back of the house, and from that lone entry way, the cries of their townspeople filled their ears.
Suddenly they heard the front door burst open as the raiders made their way further into town. The great door splintered and cracked, barely hanging on by its hinges. The beast of a man stood still for a moment, listening to the creaking of the old house, trying to discern where its inhabitants were hiding. He chuckled and smiled to himself; these Celts were an ignorant lot. Too proud to leave their homes, he knew he would find them eventually. He tapped on the walls as he walked, listening for any change in sound. Two doors down they had already found an entire family hidden between the walls of their home… a nice trick, but it didn’t save them in the end.
Another man entered the house from the back door. Seeing one another, they both gave the other the sign to be quiet. Both began to search.
Maeve clutched onto Kegan and Dermott for strength, the small group huddled together for protection. Drostan had armed himself with a pick axe and was determined that if anyone opened the trap door, they would not make it down the steps alive; and even if they did, they wouldn’t be walking back up the steps ever again. Each of them wondered where their mother had hidden, and prayed she was safe. Their hopes were dashed however when her scream pierced their hearts. She had moved up to Maeve’s loft to hide, and the men had found her easily.
Her screams filled the house, as she fought off her attackers. The sounds drove the children locked below into a frenzy. Dermott cried out in terror, unable to contain his emotions. Maeve and Kegan tried desperately to soothe him while Drostan tightened his grip on the pick. For the first time in her life, Maeve was thankful to have him as her brother.
Their mother could be heard sobbing for several minutes, as the men raped her. Then abruptly, the sounds stopped altogether, and all that could be heard was the sound of the soldiers coming down the thick wooden ladder again. The silence was more sickening than the screaming or sobbing. Maeve’s heart filled with dread, and she knew her mother was dead. Looking to her brothers, she could see that they knew it as well.
Dermott was still whimpering in Kegan’s arms, and out of desperation and fear of being heard, Kegan tried to clamp Dermott’s mouth shut with his hand. Dermott, in response, let out a wail of protest at the treatment, and could not be soothed. Immediately the quartet heard the large rug that covered the cellar door being roughly kicked aside. Dust and debris fell through the cracks of the cellar landing on their upturned faces. The men picked the lock easily and pulled on the heavy door, but it didn’t budge. It was still locked from the inside.
“Get an axe!” they heard the instruction; and one of the men left, his heavy boots pounding across the floor over their heads.
Drostan’s heart was pounding wildly in his chest, he re-gripped the axe for the hundredth time. He knew they were coming for them and like hell if he was gonna let those bastards touch his younger siblings. Never before had Drostan felt so close to his family, his desire to protect them overpowered his rational brain that told him he was no match for these men. Looking at Maeve’s terrified face, he suddenly wished he could apologize to her for everything he had ever done to hurt her. He wouldn’t change her for the world. When he glanced at Kegan, he was overwhelmed by the knowledge that his brother was truly the best friend he could have had. His gaze finally fell to Dermott, and Drostan wished they would both survive today, so that they could grow to know one another. The pounding of boots overhead brought his attention back to the raiders.
The second man returned, and began swinging wildly at the floorboards. The children knew it would only be a matter of minutes before the old boards would give away completely. Maeve sobbed in fear, clutching to Kegan’s shirt. Kegan pushed Dermott into Maeve’s small hands and went to arm himself with a rusty old pitchfork. Looking at Drostan, the duo stood on either side of the barricaded steps, trembling, knowing it might be the last stand of the ‘Terrible Two’. In moments the men would be through the wooden door; after that they would make short work of Drostan’s blockade; and then of the children themselves…
Suddenly a third man entered the home, this one spoke with authority, “Ya done in here or what? We’re moving out, let’s go!”
“They’s some in the cellar Captain,” the first man informed his commander as their work on the cellar door suddenly ceased.
The Captain looked around the home. Spying the body of a middle-aged woman hanging from the loft, he looked at the mangled floor and spat, “Children ain’t no use to us, ya already killed the one that’s worth something!” He said as he backhanded the man that had spoken. “We’re movin’ out now!” He repeated forcefully, “Forget ‘em down there! Burn ‘em! Burn ‘em all!!” With that he grabbed the oil lamp from the wall and smashed it into the butchered floorboards. The oil spread quickly bringing the fire with it as it moved. The men left the cottage behind their leader.
The children listened to the exchange with rising hope. They had almost cheered when the men could be heard retreating. But their momentary relief at the raider’s departure was choked away by the smoke that began pouring into the small cellar. Drostan broke through his own blockade and opened the lock on the door. Heaving with his back and shoulders, he tried to lift the heavy wood, but it wouldn’t budge. Kegan stumbled up the stairs to help. Together they pushed and strained, and were eventually joined by Maeve, but it was to no avail. The hacking of the raiders axe must have damaged it to the point where it was jammed.
The flames began to lick their way through the floorboards and somehow spontaneously jumped to the few spots of oil that had seeped onto the cellar floor. The fire began to spread. Maeve screamed and grabbed Dermott into her embrace while Drostan grabbed a large sheet and began swatting at the flames with Kegan’s help. Above them, they heard the flames claim more and more of the old structure. Wood fell from the rafters, and roof singles came crashing to the floor of their home. They were going to die here Maeve realized.
She felt the numbness seeping into her limbs again as she watched Drostan and Kegan valiantly fighting off the flames. In the end, she knew they would fail, and they knew it too. They were trapped. Dermott wailed in her arms as her grip on him became one of steel. She felt as though she was floating again. She breathed deeply of the smoke; she would rather suffocate than burn to death she decided. Her mind began to desert her as it became enchanted by the flames that danced around her. Flickering, moving, coming and going. The flame was alive. It danced in front of her, beckoned her, taunted and teased her. As she stared into its seductive depths, she became aware of the fact that Drostan was carrying her again.
Drostan, put me down, she wanted to say, but she found she had no words left to speak. He put her down anyway, stood her in front of him and bent down till he was level with her. He was shouting at her, telling her something, she couldn’t make it out. She blinked, she was tired. She closed her eyes as she stood in front of him, as much to shut out his face as to try to regain her senses. When she opened her eyes she saw Kegan’s frightened face. Why was he scared, she wondered. Her mind was at ease, there was nothing left to worry about. She watched the flames dancing over Drostan’s shoulder and smiled.
Suddenly Drostan hoisted her up 3 feet off the ground and shoved her into a tight dirty hole. What was going on? There was Dermott, in front of her, bawling. Dermott. She focused on him. He was covered in dirt and soot. From behind her she felt Drostan and Kegan shoving her. They were screaming and crying. Go. Go? They wanted her to go. She was in the air shaft to the cellar. That’s where they put her. It ran straight to the surface in the back of the house.
Her dream world shattered again as her soul, almost free, was ripped from the heavens and thrown back into cold reality. They wanted her to crawl up the air chute with Dermott to live, while they burned down here. She sobbed uncontrollably, she knew they were too big to crawl out too, she barely fit herself. She had no room to turn around, to tell them she loved them, to bid them farewell. On her backside she felt them shoving her farther into the hole, as far as they could reach. Behind her they wept in fear at their own fates. She wanted to stay here with them. Let me die too. Her young mind ripped open and bled, she could not cope with this. “GO!” She heard them urging her, begging and pleading with her. She told them with her heart that she loved them, and forced her unwilling body forward, pushing Dermott along in front of her. Try as she might, she could not shut the pain out from her heart; and for as long as she lived, she would never forget the screams that reached her ears.
--- shall i post more? or r u guys happy with it as is? hint hint.. review
Posted on Sep 26, 2007, 1:25 AM from IP address 76.65.29.5