The Way Back (Champions of the Crystal Book 4)

Chapter 13.3

Sabrina stood once again in the dark, dusty room watching the stone wall open. But this time, Ford was with her in body, not just in her mind. He was standing beside her, his hand on her shoulder. There was no fear in him, and somehow it didn't occur to Sabrina to be afraid either.

She watched curiously as the wall parted to reveal the man with the lined face and burning eyes.
"I know you," she said to him.

He raised an eyebrow at her but didn't speak. "I know you," she repeated, frowning. "We danced together, once. You gave me a piece of the morningstone so that Mara couldn't play tricks on me. I...I held you in the night and took the knife from your hand, listening to you scream." Her voice faltered. "You chased me in the icy dark, where there was no air, and I had nowhere to go but away from you, so that you could not use me to control Mara and Tirqwin." She put a hand to her mouth, then burst out, "You told me Tirqwin was dead. And I tried to kill you. But I couldn't. Scotty shot you. You're dead!" She was shrieking now. "You're dead!"

She backed up a step, and Ford's arm came around her, reassuringly. "His name, Sabrina!" he urged. "What is his name?"

She didn't seem to hear him. The man shook his head with a grim smile, and Sabrina cried, "Come back to us! We can make you well, heal you, help you if you'll only let us! Why should you go on hurting yourself and us? Let us help you, Malvarak!"

She heard Ford's convulsive gasp and felt his grip tighten on her—and then everything was gone.

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Sabrina woke with an aching throat, a dull, throbbing headache, and stiff, painful arms. She was half sitting, half lying on top of something that was firm and oddly shaped but comfortingly warm, her fists clenched around fabric. As she tried to sit up and look around, she realized it wasn't a piece of furniture but a person.

She gave a little squeak of angry dismay and pushed herself off Ford's body, draped in a big, plush chair. Her legs trembled at suddenly being asked to support her, and her fingers screamed with unaccustomed stretching as they slowly unclenched. Taking deep, ragged breaths, she stared around at the small, plain room, which held only a small table and two other chairs. Then she looked back at Ford, who hadn't moved. He looked pale, his complexion tinged with a faint gray that worried her. "Ford?" she said, stepping back to the chair. "Ford?"

She patted his cheek; he turned away with a mumble, but appeared no closer to consciousness. Sabrina frowned, beginning to be alarmed.

Movement at the door made her whirl around, to find Llevandeer there, holding a large, steaming mug that smelled delicious. "It's best to let him sleep," he said gently. "Come and drink this; it will make you feel much better, I assure you. You have had a hard time of it, I'm afraid."

He sat down at one end of the table and set the mug near the other chair. Sabrina glanced at Ford again, then went to sit down and drink. The cocoa tasted wonderful; there was something in it she'd never tasted before. Her head stopped hurting almost immediately, and her throat was soothed. Her arms still hurt. She looked down at them and saw the yellow tinge of newly forming bruises. "What—"

"You fought so hard," Llevandeer sighed. "Both physically and mentally. He was so afraid to hurt you, he went more slowly than was wise. And then when it was over, you wept and would not let go of him."

Sabrina stretched out her fingers again and looked at Ford. There were still folds in his tunic where she had clung. "I didn't mean to," she murmured.

"I know." Llevandeer's smile was immensely kind. "Nothing that happened last night was within your conscious control, Lady Sabrina. Malvarak took very good care that you would not easily remember him."