Barbarian

Chapter IX: Witness [✔]

“I need to see her. Don’t try to stop me.” I recognize the voice that drifts into my head and I nuzzle my head deeper into the furs below me. Why do my dreams have to torture me this way? Thinking of Garrick while awake is bad enough, now I have to hear his voice while I sleep as well?

“Ach, very well. She’ll most likely awaken in a few minutes. I’ll be attending to the other patient in case you need me,” a stranger’s voice says.

“Good, good. You can leave now,” the first voice says before a door slams closed.

My eyes flitter open and I can faintly make out a shadow leaning against a wooden post near the entrance of the room. I furrow my brow. This isn’t where I fell asleep. Where was the throne? The small window? Callen?

“Where am I?” My limbs are stiff and I can only guess the amount of time that I have been lost to the world.

“In the druid’s hut. You’ve been sleeping here for the past day or so.” The familiar voice finally seeps into my mind. My eyes shoot wide open and the ache in my neck intensifies as I try to turn my head towards the direction of the voice. 

I groan and blink until the dull throbbing leaves and my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room. My heartbeat pounds in my head. My breath is labored in my ears. “Garrick?” My voice comes out as a whisper. I don’t dare speak louder lest this dream disappears. “Is that you?”

The figure in the corner chuckles softly, “Who else would threaten an eighty year old druid just to be at your side when you awake?”

“Dalla, Ailis, Tyrone, my da, my mama-” 

The figure bursts out laughing, “I guess they would.”

“Please come closer,” I beg.

As the figure uncrosses his arms and steps out of the shadow slowly, I can make out some of his features: his head is covered in thick, brown hair that flows past his shoulders in waves. His warm eyes are bark-brown and he sports an inkling of a beard.

It’s Garrick.

“B-but...” I can’t find any words. I can’t gather my own thoughts. I can only gaze at his shockingly beaten face wide eyed and mouth agape. 

One eye is blackened and slowly turning yellow on the edges. A nasty cut runs down the side of his jaw and brown lines criss-cross over it: sutures. black and purple bruises framing it. The side of his lip is cut up and black and purple bruises cover the entire left side of his cheek. 

I try to lift myself up to my elbows to get a better look and make sure that I’m not simply seeing things, but my arms are rigid after an entire day of sleep and almost give out from under me

“Careful! You probably shouldn’t do that” Garrick warns, supporting my head as I slowly return it to the pillow. 

“What happened to you?” I gasp.

As if suddenly remembering, he rubs his jaw, wincing at the pain, “It’s nothing, Maeve. The Rogues were just a little... passionate about finding out where you went.”