Child of the Loch (Child of the Loch Series) (5 page)

My own memories though invaded the danger that gushed through me. I’d spent countless hours in fencing and self-defense classes, preparing me for this moment. I would fight and I had the skill to win.

When nothing happened it was a slight disappointment. I was geared up for a fight, but there were no more sounds except for our breaths and my memories. I reached out into the wood. There was no assailant or animal to be seen or sensed. We walked silently on and watched every angle cautiously guarding our steps.

The days passed. We stopped at streams to drink and bathe in the cool waters. The fears faded away and my father took the opportunity to teach me about the forest and the land. I was rearing to learn. Every now and then, we would stop to see the new plants, animals and beautiful offerings of the Loch.

James was not as impressed with my studies as I was. He impatiently reminded us of our mission and his eagerness to marry me. James never said anything else except to complain or to speak of his great feats. I was losing respect for him and I hated that his mind was closed to me. His secrets held safely behind a wall worthy of Kong himself. My distrust and revulsion grew but I would marry James because I would make no other choice. My word was given and I never would break it.

The weeks passed quickly with the forest unending. In the times of sparse light, I could concentrate better. I would feel the tingle of another brain touch mine. It was too far away for me to glean any thoughts.

It was an extra brain… not human, not animal, and very otherworldly. It had an odd buzz about it, something strange and familiar. There were no bad intentions and in its curiosity it watched us…no, hunted us, from the shadows.

The walk through the forest was tedious and our packs had become dead weight, digging into our backs and shoulders. James took the lightest of my packs from me but did not put forth any more effort to help me or my father, though I knew his strong back could carry more.

My father’s hard work in manual labor had kept him strong, but even he was burdened by the weight of the supplies. He did not complain at all and refused my help when I struggled to take a small pack from him. James hated our struggles. I read on his face and in his mind, that a weakness, any weakness was not befitting “his” woman.

His annoyance was only heightened with the woody sounds of the animals. How could James hate this wonderland or our struggles? We were traveling a magnificent path.

Our path marked by beautiful trees on either side of it and sapphire rivers with sweet, cool water that wound around us, refreshing us to our tired cores. This was the path that would lead to the throne room and had wind that danced throughout the trees blowing spicy fragrances.

While he scowled, I almost cried over the sheer loveliness of it all and the variances of the vast forest. It was light and airy in a moment and at the next it was dark and dangerous.

This path was wonderful. In that breath, I knew that I could never understand him. I was doomed to walk the course of a loveless life. I had my duty; I prayed that would be enough to satisfy me. That was how it was day by day. I despaired over my choice.

Before camp on our 21st night, we got to the murkiest and deepest parts of the forest. My father lit flashlights from his packs. I felt anger billowing from the wood. It seeped into my skin, making it hot and sore. I heard howls, grunts and growls. My heart nearly stopped but even in the darkest of dark I would not change my mind. I busied myself trying to keep control of the fear that gripped me and it subsided as quickly as it came. I felt protected and secure for no reason at all.

Camp was made there in the dark of the dark, each of us on guard for what lay ahead. The night passed and in the daylight, we traveled down the muddy pathways. The unusual animal sounds continued in the far distance, but the serene feeling cradled me. I was unafraid. It was as though someone had cleared the path for us so that our trek would at the very least be without animal attacks.

With no one else to blame I decided, it had to be the unseen owner of the brain that followed us intermittently. I knew without a doubt it was only there to help us when I caught the flash of a thought. Something gently ran its clawed fingers through my hair. I felt its gentle fingers caress my soft skin.

“Beautiful,” the brain murmured.

I jumped making a loud squeal of surprise and fright. My father and James were by my side in a moment poised to defend me, but it was too late. It was gone. James growled deep in his throat like a large cat, challenging the unseen stalker. I saw for the first time that his straight, white teeth were pointed as were his ears.

Frightened by his sound, I stepped closer to my father. James’s widened eyes followed me and he inhaled deeply as if he were a blood hound trying to find a scent. Then he gently touched my neck, I was bleeding. The claws had run across my neck, drawing blood and making three perfect stripes. It didn’t hurt. I was more surprised than anything else.

James tore his shirt sleeve and tenderly placed it on the wound, though it had already healed there was blood left behind. I thought that I had seen the end of James’s strange animalistic display, but James kissed me ferociously on the lips and howled like the wolf man. His kiss left me gagging and wishing for anything to remove the taste.

There was something evil in James and that kiss said it all. It was the bit of evidence I needed. My insignificant feelings of dread had turned into an all out blaring alarm system. I turned from James and grabbed my father’s hand. I kept silent as the calming sensation washed over me again.

My father, still holding my hand, explained without words that James was part Ogre, but unlike the images of Shrek or
Grendel
that came to my mind. Ogres were reclusive forest people, who guarded the forest lands of the Loch and lived in large houses built among the trees.

They were taller than most of the
Lochoa
and covered in soft, baby fine hair. Their great hands had bear-like retractable claws and their ears and teeth were pointed. Besides their few different features, they were completely human.

Ogres were a people with a duality and grace. Despite reputation as the fiercest warriors in the land, they were the most beautiful and gentle of all the peoples of the Loch and great allies of the
Lochoan
people. Many even had supernatural powers of their own. The magical and sweet Wood Nymphs, though unallied with any of the clans, had intermarried with them for many generations and so their offspring often possessed a bit of magic.

According to my father, James was simply alerting our stalker, which both men assumed was an Ogre, that I was James’s “mate.” He would defend me, even unto death. Instead of being flattered, I was insulted and bile left an acrid taste in my mouth.

I had only felt the emotions coming off James. He was too far off for me to hear his thoughts, but I did not think my father was right about anything. My thoughts were confirmed when there were no answering sounds to challenge James, just a warning echoing in my brain. 

“Halfling Princess, I smell the McDonnell and the magic in your blood. I am sorry for the blood offense but I had to be sure that you were as thought. You are a Queen of Loch and I do travel with you only to pay homage and protect you as my father, the King of Ogres, demands. Worry not, you are safe, I protect you with my life but beware of the Half Ogre he’s not what he seems.”

I didn’t mention the warning and we walked on quickly. We had no more trouble from the people of the forest, except for the questions raging in my mind.

The wooded lands ended with a meadow of beautiful orange wheat that never seemed to end. James was not with us. We called to him for only a moment before he was there as though he had materialized out of thin air.

He was out of breath and was still erecting the great wall between us. James was hiding something. I could not read him, but I knew something evil had happened in the woods.

Someone reached out to me from the forest and I was grabbed with a deep sadness. I had an urgency to re-enter the wood. This was more than communication. I felt his pain. I placed my hand on the splitting pain on my head, expecting to find blood, but there was nothing.

Before I could think, I was leaving my father and James behind for the forest. I heard their yells of disapproval but I had to see who had warned me. He was calling for my help, of that I was sure.

I nearly tripped over him, because he lay on the ground covered in blood. Beside him just out of his reach was a long wooden bow. His ruby hair was matted against his head. Someone or something had cracked his skull with a rock. It lay there shining with his green tinged blood.

I shined the flash light into his face. He had large eyes, a straight nose with a tiny bump, thin, Cupid’s bow lips and high cheekbones. He was beautiful even with both eyes swollen shut and blood coming from his nose. His skin was golden brown and he was very strong from the hard work of life outdoors.

Baby-fine ruby hair that was nearly invisible covered his well-muscled chest, arms, and legs. He was clad only in buckskin pants that covered from his waist down to his ankles and moccasins. His clothing was accessorized with a belt that held a long, four-bladed knife connected to what I could only describe as a bag that contained compartments of sweet smelling herbs. Long arrows were slung over his broad, bruised shoulder.

I pushed his long, red hair away from his face to assess the damage. I pulled open one blackened eye to find that it was the color of chocolate with flecks of caramel. With that first touch, I felt him and saw his life among the trees. He was an ally and the gentle person who had warned me. He was gifted with the Scent, which meant from a drop of blood he could smell the person’s intentions and their gifts.

Blood spewed from the bulky knot on his head. Alarmed, I pressed the piece of cloth that James had given me against it. The man stirred, thrashing for his life. He was going to hurt us both so I sent calming images of the river and the wind, things that were important to him. I felt him relax completely, his head in my lap. For some strange reason I was connected to this being and I would not see him die.

I began willing the wound to heal. I didn’t have any medical supplies not even the first-aid kit from our packs. He was going to die without help just as his attacker intended. The wound began to heal and close as my blood from the cloth mingled with his and my tears landed in the injury. Apparently, I could also heal others not just myself.

I didn’t know if it was my blood, my tears or my will that helped him the most, but the man sat up and peered at me through one swollen eye. It opened fully and the bruise receded as he stared. Placing his clawed finger to his lips, he motioned for me to be quiet. I turned off my flashlight and didn’t move. I could hear James and my father calling for me.

I jumped when the Prince placed his hand over my heart, but didn’t fight him as my instinct took over. His mind tentatively connected to mine, “Listen with all your senses Grand Queen for he is not what he seems.”

Surprised by our connection, I placed my hand to his heart instinctively. We shared a rare moment. The Prince with his Scent could not only smell the gifts of another but enhance and absorb them as well. He had already smelled my blood and placing his hand over my heart, he could touch its source. I knew that while we were together and touching one another, I could focus my gift of sight and I could heal deeper wounds.

We extended my mind to James’s, whose thoughts were nervous and erratic. I had not been able to read James on my own, but with this man’s help I could. He was drawing closer so I stepped away from the Prince. James’s irritation radiated from every pore as he came closer.

I thought it wise to step away from the Prince. James would be irritated enough without finding another man’s large hand half splaying across my breasts. A stick broke under the pressure of my foot and the Prince disappeared into the trees as though he’d been a dream.

“Didn’t you hear us calling? Why didn’t you answer? I was worried for you. Ogres are dirty, ruthless and cruel. Did he hurt you any?”

He sniffed the air about me and then resumed his interrogation. The more he questioned and lied about Ogre kind, the angrier he got. I felt the heat of his rotten breath as he stepped closer to me menacingly. When I did not have time to answer quickly enough, he grabbed my arm hard I felt a bruise forming and dissipating.

The contact took me deeper and further into his mind than I had been with the Prince. James had attacked the Prince from behind and beaten him. I saw the joy that he took in hitting him again and again. He loved how the blood oozed from the wound and was even tempted to lick at it a little.

Even more gut wrenching, James was a rival for the throne. He was from a clan of distant relatives, the
McCuens
, who had feuded with the
McDonnells
for many generations. They were the leaders who would enslave the people of the Loch and use the
Lochoan
armies to crush everyone else, perhaps even the “Outlander” lands I called home for most of my life.

James was full of cruelty, a credit to his clan. I felt his hatred for me and the McDonnell name. It was as though the pain he was inflicting on me had opened the dark recesses and corners of his mind that he hid so well with the beautiful lies he had rehearsed until they were his second nature.