Child of the Loch (Child of the Loch Series) (4 page)

Lastly, it also, appeared that my gift of telepathy or “sight” as it was known as in the Loch would make me both targeted and adored. Every bit of teasing, everything I’d been taught and new things learned bred me for this. My family gave me all the tools I needed without me even knowing I would. Determination burned a fire down my spine; I was going to be the best Queen the Loch had ever seen and restore my father’s honor and love the people as he did.

I stopped for a moment my purpose still fueling me, but I was taking time to think of everything. My skin crawled with the true knowledge of my father’s gift. He didn’t even dare give it a name. Why was it so dangerous or appalling that he did not dare mention it to us before?

There were too many questions and too little time for answers. We could not dwell on my future in the Loch or his concealed talents. If I did not take the throne, there would be no future for the McDonnell line or the
Lochoan
people. All the answers to all my questions lay there in the mystifying land of the Loch; I would go to the source of this.

I spent the rest of my birthday weighing my options. I had already given my word but we had not left yet. I tried to deceive myself into thinking that I could get out of the arranged marriage and move to another place. However I knew after a sleepless night that I had made my decision. I would push forward into my future for honor if nothing else. A word given is a word to be kept, that’s one thing that I know for sure that my parents have instilled in me.

The next day was Sunday, usually a day of rest and the last day of my vacation. I called work and gave notice but only left a message. The urgency of our mission demanded that we leave for the Loch immediately. It was decided that my mother would stay behind and tie up the loose ends of our life among what my father called the “Outlanders.” We would not be back in this world for a very long time, if ever. There was a troublesome sense of doubt that told me the journey and the transition would not be easy. It would be better for us all that my mother stayed behind. We decided that we could spare her the stress of our precarious future in some small way.

On top of the grief of leaving my mother, I was also leaving behind my best friend. I could hardly bare it but Hank would stay with my mother. He would be her companion and protector while we traversed to the mythical land of the Loch. At least, I would have my father. He would accompany James and me into the Loch.

It soothed my soul to a degree to have my father along for this adventure. Not only did I need his support, I needed his expertise. My father knew the life of a
Lochoan
royal and defender of the clans. I had to learn in days what took him the first half of his life to learn. No pressure, none at all.

The plans were made. I was really going to rule the Loch and I was committed to marry a man that I only knew through a strange sixth sense. The blood pumped in my ears as I packed a few items in my large pack that I used to go camping. I felt like I was about to have a heart attack or stroke.

The day started when my father and I both hugged my tiny mother. While they said their “good-byes” as most couples do with kisses and tears, I hugged the overgrown Hank. As an experiment, I touched my forehead to his. My gifts were becoming more and more apparent in these days following my birthday.

We were connected for a brief moment. The loyal Hank vowed to protect my mother and would miss me dearly. With extra large tears rolling down my orange-hued cheeks, our expedition to the Loch began.

My father, who knew the way better than anyone, went first and guided us through the thick woods behind my house. Our bundles were light at first but we were laden with everything needed for a lengthy and strenuous trip. We packed everything imaginable with the intent of as much comfort that could be afforded as well as preparing ourselves for any hardships along the way.

I was dressed in jeans, tucked in to heavy work boots, and a thick flannel shirt of my father’s. My hair was plaited into a messy braid so that the branches would not be tangled in my thick, curly locks. I would need all the comfort and fortification I could muster for the trek ahead.

True fall only days away came early with a chill in the air and the overcast sky turned mid-day into midnight. Fat, cold droplets of rain came from the gloomy anvil clouds, streaking through the multi-colored leaves wetting everything they touched including all of us.

My beloved forest sang with life and mud. So much mud, that we were ankle deep where ever we stepped. The trees were leafless further in and the sloshing, dead leaves mingled with the earth making bricks of hard, shoe sucking clay. We could not stop for fear of sinking into the bowels of the earth.

We trudged deeper and deeper into the woods with no sign of animal kind. Even so, we were on the guard for wolves and snakes. The temperature had not been cold enough to stop our slithery friends from making an appearance and I, for one, hate snakes and reptiles of any kind, for that matter.

For a while we heard the distant howls and snuffs of animals. I sent out silent prayer to the Lord of Light for them to stay away from us and not stop us from completing our mission. My appeals must have been heard, because the animals kept their distance. It was so strange that my companions and I wondered out loud why we had not seen any life in the forest. There were not even birds. They had stopped their incessant songs and could not be seen.

All the whooshing of the leaves and the thumping of descending branches halted at a distinct clearing. Only the rustling of the falling leaves and the rush of an unseen stream bore witness to the entrance to the Loch and her world. The thick brush unveiled the mouth of a cave. It was large enough to fit a small house inside. I could see the winding tunnels within it. 

The cave hummed with magic and I felt it traveling through my rigid body. The magic created a stinging sensation similar to prickles of a sleeping foot. It was irksome but not truly painful.

There were no bats or insects in the earthy cave which though tall was not nearly as deep as I thought. The stalactite hung from the cream ceiling like dripping candle wax. Murky water in deep puddles was staggered across the floor.

We explored deeper and deeper until we were walled in. It was the dead end of smooth wall marbled in fire branded oranges and dank coal. We could go no further.

Confused I questioned myself, shooting my thought out into the universe. Why were we in this cavern? It led to nowhere. The heavens answered my pleas. I felt, rather than saw the flash of red before us. It hemorrhaged through from somewhere outside the scope of my vision. My father's face distorted in concentration. He raised his hands wide, lava hot flames shot from his palms. Runes in an ancient tongue glowed on the wall before me. He spoke strange words and the partition opened into another cavern.

I breathed, "Wow," and my father gave me the look that screamed, "I don’t want to talk about it."

The two men strode through confidently. I, however, warily stepped through the gate to the Loch. I was afraid it might close on me and a simple, “Open says me,” would not work to open it once more.

Just as the light had appeared, it disappeared. The door was closed and I touched the air to be sure. There was nothing there and no magic was left. I was in the Loch. I was in my new land.

I breathed in the air loving the deep floral scent. I squinted against the bright sunlight. It all hardly seemed real to me. I stared into a dewy leaf.

When my reflection stared back at me, I was finally convinced by my likeness that I truly was a “child of the Loch.”  Until that moment I kept flip flopping back and forth. Was my father crazy, better yet was I?

  I argued with myself the whole way. I can attribute my size to my dad. He is 6’7” and is still built like a
quarterback, lean and strong. My mom is just the opposite. She is tiny not quite 5’3” and round, like a cute little garden gnome.

I am truly a culmination of them both, I have naturally coral streaked black hair and my skin is a ghastly milk-white pallor with olive undertones, like a Latin zombie minus the brain eating tendencies. My amber eyes are large and almond-shaped framed by long striped black and corral lashes are just like my father’s. My lips are full and pink. Not to mention I have high cheekbones set on a heart-shaped face.

I am no beauty but I can see all the quirks of the union of my parents. Sometimes when I smile I am reminded of my mother or when I cast a sideways glance I can see my dad. I see them both in my face and everything I do.

The more I delved into the evidence at hand. I knew that I have a few other idiosyncrasies. They could not be explained away and must be attributed to the union of a
Lochoan
male and a Human female. At first glance, my blood is just your standard O-negative, a universal donor, but I am never ill and I heal quicker than most people, as in almost immediately.

A prime example of such a healing is when I broke my leg. I can’t remember just how old I was but within the next hours I was back outside riding my bike. It had healed on the way to the hospital. My dad was happier than a blue bird. However, my mom was freaked out and took me to the doctor. Apparently, ultra healing is a problem that demands attention.

My pediatrician was so intrigued that he ordered test after test. I can remember poke after
needly
poke. The needle marks healed instantly but the prickly pain was left behind. To this very day, I would rather eat mud than see another needle or another doctor.

Following the tests (most of which were inconclusive) that sadist ascertained that my blood has strange properties. It’s red alright but it’s a bit different. My father and I share an enzyme not found in most humans. The doctors claim no explanation for us as to what use it is.

Struggling for answers I let loose with a barrage of questions. I wanted to know everything about myself and my new kingdom. Starting with why I healed so quickly and looked so young for my age. My father explained that
Lochoans
age slowly and can pass that longevity to their life mates through the magic inherited in the people of the Loch. The soul bond, he calls it, is what bonds them to their mates and children.

Thanks to the “soul bond.” My parents are much older than I thought. They look to be in their early 40s but have lived a full lifetime or two.

Next I wanted to know about the door between worlds and why it was hidden. My father again obliged me with an answer and the story of Anoka McDonnell.

The door to the “Outlander” world was enchanted by a powerful magus when Anoka McDonnell, the first of our line, took the throne. The two worlds were one then. Magic and dragons were commonplace and everyone lived in peace.

Peace cannot last forever and war brewed between clans from both worlds. Anoka feared that the clans of the Loch would be slaughtered and their magic lost forever. She ordered the door closed, locking in the dragons and magic of the old world.

The “Outlanders” had long forgotten the tales of how two worlds would never be one again and the Loch would be safe from the outside world. Her magic would be guarded by
Lochoan
people alone.

After the shock of the enchanted door and its story, I took a closer look at my surroundings and was overwhelmed by the beauty of the land that the door obscured. The mouth of the cave opened into a forest, not unlike the one outside my window. The wood somehow seemed taller and more dangerous as though even the most benign looking bunny would eat us with sharp teeth.

The green trunked trees were white –leaved and in full bloom with pastel flowers of all colors. It was a perpetual summer in the Loch. I sneezed when the wind tousled my hair and
blew
flowers into its chalky depths. I felt the distant song of the neutral wood nymphs, the un-winged, humanoid
fae
that guarded the woods and helped it to grow strong; they both welcomed and warned us about this beautiful region. I was home. This was my land and I fell in love with the Loch then and there.

Unable to stop myself, I sent out a happy vibe of gratitude to the wood nymphs. I didn’t know I could do that. My father felt it too and his happy laughter was joined by the far away giggles of the nymphs as my glee washed through them.

The only one unaffected was James and he was exasperated by my display. He felt it but wouldn’t respond. James hated the beautiful woods as much as I loved it. I could feel him dripping with hatred.

Without warning James sniffed the air and drew his sword. My father drew his own sword with his right and with his left passed me a sword of my own to use. I didn’t recognize the weapon that was bejeweled with many stones and had strange words tattooed across the hilt, which became clearer and clearer.

“Defender of the Loch,” it said simply.

A new gift powered through me, a gift of magic not my family line. As I held the sword its history blew through me. Anoka, founder and first Queen of the Loch, smiled at me from the blade. She had enchanted the sword so that it adapted to whoever held it as long as the McDonnell blood was in their veins. Its name was
Gladius
. No one in the Loch could wield it but my father and me. Any others who tried to use it would be poisoned immediately, dying a quick but painful death.

I felt
Gladius
’ perfect weight and balance. It was an extension of my arm as I tested it with slashes in the wind. I surprised myself. I felt the thrill of battle, not knowing if the feeling were truly mine.