The Currents of Magic

Chapter Forty-Nine

Cold... Darkness... Meyer tried to open his eyes but couldn't... couldn't think... couldn't sleep... But why... why couldn't he wake up?

Again the darkness faded around him, and his consciousness was swept away. He felt a faint beating...

Then nothing.

Only emptiness. He tried to open his eyes... Colors... He was awake... Or was he?

Again there was blackness. He felt metal on his raw skin...

Did he hear voices?

Meyer strained to fight the weight that suppressed his mind—that smothered his senses... But the oppressing force was too great... He slipped back into the unknown... The emptiness... The pulsing... ever beating...

The pattern continued, but it remained an endless nightmare—a mixture of consciousness and dreams—a strange reality on the edge of insanity...

But then Meyer was awake. He was in a cage; he was chained. There was a fire nearby, and figures were sitting around it.

Where was he?

The thought had barely formed in his mind when a man appeared in front of him. The man opened the cage and tilted Meyer's head back, pouring an icy liquid down his throat.

Again there was nothing; when Meyer regained consciousness he could not remember the incident and soon he had returned to his delirious state...

But even as Meyer was pulled through the blackness he could feel a steadying force... The beating: it was growing stronger. And Meyer knew he had to fight against the chaos—to cling to the beating...

When he finally saw the face again—a man approaching him—Meyer focused with all his energy. He exerted all his strength to memorize the man's face—to ingraining the figure in his memory...

The cage opened and Meyer's head was tilted backwards.

Everything was black.

There was nothing... nothing... nothing...

...except...

He could feel it—a thumping... pounding...

And when Meyer woke up, he remembered. He remembered the face. He was a captive. Even before the icy liquid poured down his throat, he knew what was coming. He tried not to swallow, but it was hopeless...

Still, as his captor walked away, Meyer managed to spit out a small mouthful of the vulgar liquid... The darkness closed in, but he felt the beating stronger than ever. He held onto it—kindling it—keeping his consciousness alive within him...

When later the man came to pour the liquid down his throat again, Meyer groped instinctively with an unfamiliar sense. For moment he felt a strange force—a flowing power—but then a cloud obscured his mind, suffocating his connection with the source...

He passed into the emptiness, but he clung to the pulsing, fighting to break free...

And suddenly he did.

It was evening, and men were bustling by him, casting long shadows as they carried large packs and armfuls of kindling. A few yards away a single man knelt over the embers of a fire, and past him, several more were tending to a half dozen horses.

Invigorated by the absence of darkness, Meyer prepared himself. He didn't know where he was or what he planned to do, but he would be ready.

When night came Meyer felt himself growing stronger. He knew the man was coming, and his mind fixated on the single thought, building within him a power of resolve that he was sure would not fail.