Eye Of The Storm

Chapter 6

A/N

Almost late, but not quite. I was a bit distracted with the election to be quite honest, though I'm not sure who isn't watching it with great anticipation. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that it doesn't come too late. Enjoy!

 Connor slept for three days. It was a deep, restful sleep, his body exhausted after his extreme use of magic. For three days he dreamed of Villi, of wide open fields and the wind, oh the blessed wind! It blew around his face, bringing whispers of life, of adventure. It sung to him, a melody so beautiful and perfect he forgot all else.

But then came nightmares. A barren wasteland, devoid of all life and wind. The sun hung low behind a wall of smoke and ash. Around him the world burned. Fire raged, eating everything. Horses screamed and men died all around and he realized he was on a battlefield, Riders fighting and dying all around. And Ashen was there, storm clouds brewing, Silvest raging. But the stallion was cut down by an unseen foe, Ashen falling soon after. The ground shook, not violently, but like a ocean wave, rolling. He lost his balance and fell, but he didn't hit the ground. He kept falling, plunging through nothing.

He startled awake, his heart pounding in his chest. He opened his eyes, then closed them as light pierced through. He groaned and tried to rub his eyes, only to realize his hands were bound in front of him. And he was on a horse. Being cradled by a strange man. He jerked suddenly and caught the man off guard. They both fell off the cantering horse and landed heavily. Connor, having been trained to fall off of horses, managed to soften his fall. He sat up quickly and took in his surroundings, then turned when he heard the sound of hoofbeats. At least twenty men rode around him on horses that could only be half-Basque. The three captains were there too, circling around him.

"I see you're awake now, Connor. We were beginning to worry about your health."

"If you were worried about my health then you wouldn't have taken me."

"Yes I suppose it seems that way, but we do need you alive and well, so there is no need to fight or flee from us."

"Yeah? 'Cause that's not going to happen."

"And what are you going to do about it? You're outnumbered twenty to one, bound, and magicless. You cannot fight us and you cannot escape."

Connor glared at Macryn, then on impulse glanced to the man who had fallen off the horse with him. He now stood just behind Connor, his hand on the boy's shoulder as if to keep him from running. But running wasn't what Connor wanted to do.

He spun around before the man could do anything and clubbed the man with his bound hands. The man fell to the ground, unconscious, and Connor quickly grabbed the man's sword and sliced through his bindings. Then he turned, sensing movement, and blocked a blow to the head. He swiftly disarmed the man and bashed his head with the handle of the sword. He felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through his body, and he felt invincible.

That was when he was tackled from behind and his sword was knocked out of his hand. At least two men pinned him down. He was roughly pulled to his feet and turned to face the evil trio, who sat on their horses while their men did all the work.

Mark sighed and nodded to Mindorn, who reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a vial of a greenish-brown liquid.

"I really wish you didn't make us do this Connor, but as you're injuring our men you leave us no choice. You can decide if you are going to drink this willingly or we can make you, its up to you."

"Drink it yourself, maybe it'll make you more pleasant to be around."

"Don't make us do this, Connor. Your life is about to get very complicated, and you're not doing yourself any favors."