The Dreaming: Dark Star (Book 5)

9.2. Captivate (Imorah)

Imorah woke up to a sound she'd never heard before. It reminded her of the sound of the highest waterfalls in the lower reaches, beating against the rocks they fell upon. This sound was harsher and louder though, and seemed to be moving.

She hesitantly opened her eyes. Where am I? she thought. She was lying in a bed in a... cave. She suddenly wondered if she'd somehow been brought back to The Shelter, some part of it she's never seen before. But then she saw light streaming in at the far end. There were plants out there—and the other side of the ravine. She was not in The Shelter.

The noise was growing softer.

She tried to sit up, but her head hurt when she moved. She reached up to touch her head and saw blood on her hand. She turned her hand; it was scraped raw. There was something sticky on it. Something foreign.

She took a sniff—it was smelly—and crinkled her nose.

She noticed then that the awful sound had moved away.

"You're awake?" a man said behind her.

Imorah looked—it was the man she'd met the first night aboveground. She shrank back from the man. "Where am I? What did you do with me?" she asked, with a tremble in her voice.

The man stood up, and Imorah cowered in response, "Please don't hurt me."

"Hurt you—ha!—I have saved you," the man responded with a laugh. He knelt down in front of her and pulled the blankets down and examining her arm where there was a deep scrape that stung.

His hands were heavy on her and she felt very uncomfortable, and tried to reef her arm away from him. "Leave me alone!" she said, as his fingers dug deeper. "That hurts—stop it!"

His tone turned cold, "I'll leave you alone as it pleases me, but I warn you not to command a man in his own home." Then he let go of her arm.

Imorah grabbed her arm and rubbed the tender spot where he'd gripped her elbow. "That hurt," she said.

"My apologies," he responded.

Imorah wasn't sure she understood. He spoke Standard, but it was a strange dialect. He used words she didn't use—like 'as it pleases me.' But she easily read his energy—he was an open book to her—and she knew he wanted something from her.

He squatted down on the ground just a few feet from her, but more facing the mouth of the cave. Again, his tone had changed. He was smiling, and his eyes sparkled.

He had no intention of harming her, she guessed. In fact, he seemed very friendly.

Under him was a blue cushion that looked well used, and Imorah realised it was his regular seat.

She looked at the blankets she was hiding under—thick black wool—and realised this must be his bed. Imorah brought the blanket up to her chin, hiding her bare arms. She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, but the man was covered from head to toe. He wore a scarf over his head. She wondered why he wore so much clothes when it was so hot.

"Where am I?" she asked again.

He smiled from the side of his mouth, "I've told you—you're in my home." He turned to look at her. He had dark hair and a reddish coloured beard, and strange, yellow eyes that were surrounded by deep wrinkles. He was much older than her. Maybe thirty or forty. She'd never seen someone old like him before. He wasn't that old, but his face was wrinkled like he was very old. Maybe the sun had damaged him.

The way he stared at Imorah made her uncomfortable. She really just wanted to get up and leave, but in fact she felt her body ached. "What happened to me?" she asked.