~Chapter Five~
Rain hammered upon the canvas above their heads, the sound deafening. They gathered rocks and built a small fire, placing the rocks around it to keep the flames from scattering. The thick canvas shielded it from the moisture and wind. Jerec and Deimos lay huddled on their bedrolls near the fire, Deimos’ hood pulled down sheilding his sensitive eyes from the bright flames. Mordock sat awake, his gaze resting upon the sleeping woman, his thoughts running away from him. He had cared for her wounds as she drifted off into unconsciousness while Jerec and Deimos set up camp, readying for the storm. She now lay on his bedroll close to the fire, a wool blanket covering her body, her features relaxed and looking to be more at peace.
A shapeshifter? That word continued to plague his thoughts every second that passed by. But how? He had always thought that he was the only one; never had he seen another like him before except his mother. And here she was, as clear as day in front of him.
And what’s this you are feeling, Mordock? Could it be possessiveness? Ah yes, it is, isn’t it? The voice chuckled.
Mordock growled inwardly. Deep down, he knew it was the truth even if he didn’t admit it. He was beginning to feel something for the woman, not just because of what she was, but she had spunk, and a fiery temper to boot, which he didn’t care for, but she did look enchanting when angry. He smiled to himself.
So it’s not just possessiveness. Could it be that you have already fallen in love?
"Silence," he hissed.
All right, but later I’ll be able to tell you I told you so.
Mordock grit his teeth. He had to find some way to get rid of that voice. It would drive him insane, or perhaps he already was. Ever since he could remember it was always with him. Though strangely, he didn’t feel alone. He felt as if someone or something was looking out for him.
Aislinn stirred, shifting beneath the cover, her dark eyebrows drawing together and her head turning away from him toward the fire. The light from the flames danced upon her flesh. A small sound escaped from her slightly parted lips, a tiny whimper. Mordock frowned. He knew right off that a nightmare was disturbing her slumber. He knew them well for he has had the same one everytime he closed his eyes.
For a moment, he hesitated, wondering if he should wake her, but knowing she needed her rest. She deserved it for helping them like she did, putting her own life in peril. He rose to his feet, crouched down so his head wouldn’t hit the top of their small shelter from the storm and crept silently to her. He quietly proceeded toward her before lowering himself to the ground at her side. Her head turned to face him, her features tense as tears rolled down her cheeks from her closed eyes. This softened his heart, breaking down some of the barriers. He knew he would protect her with his life. Gently as so not to disturb her, he brushed the wisps of ebony hair from her temple, smoothing it back from her delicate face then grazed the back of his knuckles lightly against her cheek. Her face relaxed beneath his touch, a look of tranquillity spread across her dainty features.
She is beautiful is she not?
Mordocks eyes hardened as his hand stilled. He pulled his hand back and returned to his seat.
Well aren’t we touchy. I was only stating the obvious.
"When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it. Now be silent," Mordock growled.
"Who are you talking to?"
Lifting his gaze toward the direction of the voice, he saw Jerec looking at him oddly, his dark brow raised in confusion as he sat up on his bedroll.
With a sigh, Mordock shook his head, "No one, Jerec. Go back to sleep."
Jerec observed him for a moment before giving in and turning his back to his brother, lying down on his side.
Mordock rubbed his temples before lying down as well upon a thick woolen blanket, covering his eyes with is forearm. He listened to the rain pattering above, trying to clear his thoughts before he drifted off to sleep where he again had the same dream he had each night.
*****
He stood transfixed, staring into nothingness on a narrow bridge. Below him was a river, but the river was crimson. Blood. It flowed rapidly below him, splashing up around him like waves, but he paid it no mind. In front of him on the other end of the bridge was a large cloaked figure. It’s entire being was covered in shadows that seemed to dance about it’s form, tentacles wiping every which way, sucking in the light, feeding off it.
The figure raised its hand, palm up. It still was nothing but a shadow. It beckoned him, called him. Its fingers curled, motioning him forward before straightening. Mordock obeyed, stepping forward upon the dark bridge. The air around him was heavy. His lungs hurt, strangling for air, but still, he pressed onward. The figure lifted its head. There was no face, but two orbs shone brightly, the red eyes penetrating him. They shone like rubies caught beneath the sunlight; only, there was no sunlight. Only darkness. Darkness was all he knew, all he would know. The bloody river raged, growing fiercer the more he grew near. Emerald eyes stared blankly, hypnotized by those of the shadowy figure.
There was a loud roar, the river beginning to rise before soon; it was at his feet, covering them. Still, it rose, the blood rushing past his knees. The figure lowered its hand and laughed sardonically before stepping back, fading away into the shadows. He was left in darkness, the river rising. He couldn’t breath. He was drowning.
*****
Mordock awoke with a start, sweat rolling down his forehead as he stared through the darkness, looking at the top of the canvas, oblivious to the soft patter of light rain, proof that the worse of the storm had passed. A night never passed by without having that dream. It was always the same. The river of blood, shadows which ate all living light, and the cloaked figure. The figure. He never did see a face in his dreams. Only those glowing red eyes that seemed to burn through his soul.
No use berating yourself about something you will never find out.
With a sigh, Mordock nodded his head, speaking silently so not to wake anyone, "I know."
Still, he could not help but think of the dream, wishing he knew what it meant.