Christian J Gilliland [Gilliland - The Black Knight Box Set

Chapter One

Crinnan I

22nd of Ramila 346 AG

09:30 Belhaasi Weald

His body trembled and thrashed as he slept. Every inch of him dripped with sweat, a result of the evident turmoil that the sleeping half-blood Elf was enduring. The sheets that covered him had become soaked with his perspiration and twisted around his body as he moved. His fists were clenched tight with fury; the veins in his arms, neck, and temples throbbed and bulged. As his head snapped from left to right, a deep groan that was rooted in fear and desperation burst from his throat.

"I will... find you " he spoke as if he were out of breath. His voice was nothing more than an animalistic sounding moan. The words he cried out echoed within his mind for what could have been an eternity for all he knew. In the state of being that he was in, he had lost all sense of time.

He heard it repeated over and over again, his voice reciting a promise to a face he could not completely make out. It was right in front of him, but it was a blur, a frustrating smudge that stuck to his mind.

Had it been real? Had it all been just a dream? He was quickly losing his grasp on what the words meant or to who he had said them.

For a brief moment, the images in his mind seemed to come into focus. He saw the faces of two individual beings break through his haziness. The blonde she-Elf and the Vampre with the thin mustache... He knew them, but he could not remember from where. They did not move and did not speak; they only stood before him and stared. They were more of an echo of a thought than an actual memory, and as quickly as their faces flashed through his mind, they were gone.

"I will find you" for the moment, he had calmed. It was only him and his promise left. It played in his mind, but like a ripple in water it grew further and further away. Eventually, it floated beyond reach. He was alone with nothing but a few meaningless words and a doorway that led to reality. Slowly, he reached out and pushed.

His pale face twisted in a sudden sharp pain that he did not understand. His previously sealed eyes shot open, and he pulled in a deep breath. His lungs filled, and he clawed at the bed beneath him. He raked his memory for any remnant of the dream that had seemed so real, but nothing came to him. Everything was a blur; his past, his present - he remembered none of it clearly. He violently took hold of the sheet that was twisted around him and finally released his breath. He moved his body into an upright position and looked around.

The brightness of the light that surrounded him caused his head to throb. He closed his eyes and gasped at the sudden and unexpected brightness. Slowly, he opened them again, and as he released a pained groan, he came to a realization. It was not the Brother's light, the shining light of the twin suns, that was assaulting his senses but something artificial. The electric lights above him seemed to force their way directly through his eyes and into his brain. He weakly raised his hands and clamped them on his temples, hoping that the pressure would relieve some of the pain.

For a brief moment, the images resurfaced, and he found himself in an almost trance-like state as his mind once again relived what he could have only described as a dream. It was fast, like a flash of lightning but he saw it all. He could make out the face that his promise had been meant for, the beautiful blonde she-Elf. He knew her, or he had known her. The entire concept of it all was slippery however and the harder he tried to hold onto it, the faster it faded away. The entirety of his dream, if that was what it had been, slipped through his fingers like sand. As quickly as he had remembered it, it had all left him.

At the time, the dream had felt important. It and everything else that bounced around his mind, however, was quickly overshadowed by the pain that he realized he was feeling. He tried again to keep his brown eyes open, but the intensity of the light proved to be too much for him. He finally relented and allowed his head to fall backward onto the pillow.

A cold shiver ran through his hot body, causing him to tremble with discomfort. He did not understand the heat; it felt like he was lying atop coals next to a blazing fire. The throbbing pain in his head that accompanied the burning sensation was unlike any he had ever felt. He tried to fight it; he continued to push his palms against his temples until it felt like he was about to cave in the sides of his head. The pressure was unfortunately no more than a distraction to his situation. Eventually, it all built up to a point where he felt that he could take the pain no longer. He clenched his fist, snorted like a bull, and finally screamed in agony as his body lurched in the bed.

For what could have been an entire minute he threw his tantrum. Somehow, it worked. His pain began to subside, and as his fit ended, he found himself able to breathe. As he rested, the burning faded away. He felt the throbbing in his temples ease and finally, he could hear his thoughts.

He cupped his hands over his sensitive eyes to shield his vision from the light around him. He found himself blinking rapidly and tried to draw moisture into them. They were dry and itchy, reddened he imagined. He felt as if they were about to crack from dehydration.

The room he had found himself in was completely white. He could tell it was old as the walls had yellowed a bit and there were chunks of plaster missing in places. White tile was beneath the bed, and a ceiling fan spun above him. Beeping monitors with flickering screens surrounded his bed, they looked old and like they were barely functioning.

As he surveyed his surroundings, he couldn't help but anxiously plant his fingers into his shoulder-length brown hair. He let out a frustrated whine for even though he was confused and tired, he could not shake the very sobering idea that something was amiss. In spite of it all, he still refused to lift his head from his pillow. While his pain had left him, the fatigue remained, and it was enough to keep him feeling lethargic.

"Fuck," his voice was airy, and gravely, it sounded like he was in a constant state of fury. With another moan, he weakly reached over and scratched an itch he felt on the dry skin of his left arm. As his fingernails scraped against the skin, however, they bumped into something foreign, something unexpected. Curiously, he grabbed the dampened white sheet and with more effort than he wanted to exert, he eventually untangled himself from it and tossed it aside.