It's been a while since I posted, so here's a snippet from something I've been working on lately between day jobs and life in general.
The floor rocked below him, and Clancy woke up with a groan, feeling around the bed to try and pull his blankets up because he was cold, and felt awful. There were no blankets within reach, but he did encounter a hand, and curled his own fingers around it for a moment, struggling to think clearly over the haze in his head. What had happened? Had there been an accident? He assumed it was Eamon's hand he was holding, which was a relief because if Eamon was trying to heal him, then Eamon had at least escaped uninjured.
"Can you let go? I'm going to need my hand again in a moment."
That voice, however, was decidedly not Eamon's, and Clancy battled to open his eyes, staring blearily up at the wooden ceiling, even as the floor rolled beneath him again. He didn't think Merriston was so prone to earthquakes—and this was entirely unlike any earthquake he'd ever encountered, actually. Too smooth, too continuous. In fact, the only experience like this that he'd ever had was when his cousin had forced him onto a small rowboat on the lake back home. The boat had capsized, which had been mildly terrifying, but it had earned Clancy a few swim lessons in order to—
"Can you hear me? I need you to let go of my hand now."
Clancy deliberately squeezed even tighter. "I don't think you're Eamon."
There was a pause. "No, I'm not."
Clancy sighed, and turned his head to consider the young man at the side of the bed. Couldn't be older than twenty at the most, which made him only a little bit younger than Clancy, presumably. Black hair that would have fallen in his eyes had he not been wearing a bandana, and calm, serious brown eyes that watched Clancy speculatively. Clancy looked back for a few minutes, then sat up, pressing his free hand to his head with another groan. "What did you do? My head feels like its full of cotton."
The other man hesitated visibly. "We needed to make sure you would come along quietly."
"Come along where quietly," Clancy replied, and looked around properly. His vision was clearing now, and he could feel the stone at the base of his throat start clearing his head as well. It was getting easier to think, and the first thing he noticed was a small port window in the wood panelled room. The floor pitched and rolled again, and Clancy narrowed his eyes. The room was small; just large enough to hold a thin bunk, and a small desk and chair. The desk was built into the wall, and the chair was bolted to the floor. There were maps on the walls, but maps completely unlike those he'd ever seen very often. He knew maps that focused on lands; roads and towns and the like. These maps seemed entirely comprised of water, with lines and circles drawn on them.
Clancy scowled. "Where am I?" The young man looked around, shrugged, and tried to pull his hand free. Clancy latched on even more determinedly. "I'm not letting go until you tell me where I am. And where is Eamon?"
The young man sighed. "Well, about that, you see. We had to leave the rest of your party behind, and I'm sorry about that, but there was only enough men to get you back to the boat. We—I need your help."
So there you go! Clancy and his mysterious kidnapper! :D
Happy Friday!
