Page 60 of Rory

So the spell of a thousand years had backlashed on him. Nothing, not even this, could kill him. He would think of a way to escape. He would return to his castle and stuff himself with crystal. He would tear apart the mortal realm just to amuse himself.

He would, as soon as he could catch his breath…

Bodach woke with a pounding head and the taste of ashes in his mouth. The sound of soil being shifted made him push himself upright and swipe at the dirt covering his face. For the second time he saw the dark, gloomy clouds overhead and then the weed-choked field of the old prison cemetery. He was having a nightmare, it seemed.

When he turned his head to the right he saw a group of his revenants digging the grave where they had just buried him.

He struggled to stand, but this time he didn’t spit out the dirt in his mouth. He had to make no noise this time, and carefully staggered away from the dead men toward the locked gate of the cemetery. He’d get to his car and drive off before they could grab him again. When he heard shuffling footsteps behind him he tried to run, only to fall on his face when his legs buckled. Why was he so weak? Why couldn’t he escape this ridiculous situation?

Your punishment will not be an eternity of suffering if you stop this and make amends to your victims, Chlíodhna’s voice murmured from the back of his mind.

When Bodach lifted his head to peer at where he had parked his car, he saw only the blurry illusion of the Mercedes, as if it had been painted with cheap watercolors. Beyond it, the forested hills around the graveyard also looked indistinct. He couldn’t see the sea anymore, or the curvature of the coastal road. It was as if the world had shrunken down to just the old prison cemetery.

No. No, this can’t be happening to me. I wasn’t here when the spell trap collapsed. I was inside the castle’s bailey, under a pile of rubble. I should still be there. I just have to wake up.

The revenants gathered around him, looking down at him with their dead eyes.

“You cannot do this to me,” Bodach told them as two of the dead men seized him by the arms. “I am your master. I restored you to life. Release me this instant.”

The revenants dragged him back to the grave, and tossed him into it. Bodach didn’t try to slow his fall this time. The silent horror of his situation filled his thoughts like poison. As he hit his head again he shouted up at them.

“Stop it. Stop this.”

Scoops of dirt fell on top of him from above as the dead men labored on.

“You cannot do this to me,” Bodach sobbed the words. “I am going to be King in Elphyne. I will rule over all universes. I will destroy you and this miserable realm.”

As he ranted and raved nothing changed. The mound of dirt the revenants threw into the grave eventually silenced him, and then he lost consciousness.

Bodach woke with a pounding head and the taste of ashes in his mouth, and screamed.

Rory opened his eyes to the sound of water splashing. Overhead a canopy of trees made lace of the sun’s light, and the comforting scent of the forest filled his head. The golden glow from the brilliant sphere above him, that he had not seen for nine centuries, made him squint. He didn’t wish to move again for a thousand years, and if he had been alone he might have slept that long. The sweet caress of the cold breeze on his skin made him sigh with delight. Then he recalled what had happened after he had used his power for the first time in his life and looked at his forearm.

His skin work had completely vanished from his flesh. Rory knew he still possessed dark druid blood in his veins, along with the ominous magic it contained. Now that he had been tested, however, he knew he would never abuse his power.

“You can’t nap through your first day of freedom,” a low, amused voice said.

He turned his head to see Harper sitting on a large rock an arm’s length away. She looked as if she had been rolling in the dirt, with snarls in her long red hair and a small cut on her chin. He had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful in his life, but behind her water poured over a cliff, and the sight of that made him go still.

“Home.” The earth trembled under him as he spoke the word, and he dropped his voice to a whisper. “My home.”

“Not the first one in the forest where you lived with your mom. We’re in the highlands where you and your brothers built Dun Talamh. Looks like the spell trap tossed you away from the castle when Tasgall broke the enchantment.” She rose and came over to him, holding out her hand. “There’s a village over there. Kind of pretty, too.”

Rory nearly pulled her down atop him, but instead stood. “Shall you help me with living in your world?” he murmured.

“This is not my world, Blue Eyes.” She twined her fingers with his. “Although it is now, I guess.”

He walked across the meadow with her, and followed an old path through the trees that thinned out until the forest ended and a familiar-looking village of simple cottages and barns came into view. On the green commons a number of the clan’s vassals had gathered with mortals he recognized as their kin from the twelfth century. They appeared to be talking, laughing and embracing as if reunited after a long separation.

“Where did we land?” he whispered.

“I don’t know the name of the location. That’s the village of happy people, far as I can tell.” She leaned against his side. “I think they’re related to the folks who work in the castle. Oh, look, there are more coming.”

“We’ve returned to my time.” Even as he muttered that his gut clenched. “’Tis the twelfth century again.”

“Seems like. Home sweet Middle Ages.” She nodded.

He pressed her hands between his. “We shall go to the druids. I shall beg them help you and the other ladies return to your time.”