Page 26 of The Last Knight (The Cursed Kingdom #5)

Chapter Eighteen

T he darkness consumed, ate through flesh and bone, the pain so unbearable, screams erupted from Gunther’s throat over and over until he was unable to make any sounds.

When he struggled to get to his knees, to look for Aubrey, it felt as if his muscles were being shredded. Every part of his body quaked with the exertion, but he had to beg for help, he needed to be released.

He would never willingly go into an eternity of cruelty, causing death and destruction to the world. The darkness promised that and more, feeding from his fear, his desperation, growing stronger and easily overcoming him.

Finally, he managed to kneel on the ground and began the fight to raise his arms, giving Sterling a wider target.

He met his friend’s tortured eyes and had to blink back tears at the raw emotion on the prince’s face.

With monumental effort, Gunther met Aubrey’s gaze, holding it as the dagger flew through the air, behind it a beautiful trail of light and promise.

There was no pain as the blade plunged deep into him, piercing past skin, sinew and bone. Instantly there was relief as everything turned to black.

The last thing he heard were the shrieks emanating from the darkness and Gunther knew he’d won.

He’d always enjoyed the rustling sound leaves made when the wind rifled them. It was like a melody; one he’d never heard in the alter realm. For centuries, he’d not felt the warmth of the sun on his face or heard the melodic sounds of bird’s song.

In the distance the sounds of rushing water added to the imaginary world around him as he floated in and out, his body seeming to fade and reform.

Unable to open his eyes, Gunther accepted that he was in the in-between, a place where the dead traveled through, memories of the past resurfacing.

He was thankful that the earthly sensations were the forefront of his experience.

If only he could see the beauty of the world where he once lived and not just hear it. But he was grateful for whatever the moment gave.

The sensations continued, the sounds and scents of daylight, followed by those of night. The chirps of crickets, the frogs’ croaks mixing with the melody of babbling water.

Once again, the sun’s warmth caressed his face, and Gunther took a shaky breath, wanting more of it, wishing to see it.

A beautiful bird’s singing soothed his battered soul as he prayed for forgiveness and was sorrowful for those he’d hurt in his long, long lifetime.

His prayers were more fervent, asking for transport to a good and peaceful place.

The silence was shattered by a shrieking sound, something like a repetitive wail.

“Over here!” a voice sounded nearby. It was followed by the sounds of footsteps.

It was time, he supposed. But it felt so strangely real. As if whoever hurried toward him was earthly. Strange, he’d never imagined it that way.

Hard as he tried, his eyes would not open, nor could he move.

Something pressed against the side of his neck.

“He has a pulse.” The masculine voice was deep.

The sound of heavy breathing, followed by something cold and wet pressed against the opposite side of his face.

“Please move your dog back,” the same voice said.

Moments later something rigid was placed around his head and he was jostled, then the sensation of being lifted came.

Repetitive beeping sounds brought Gunther out of a haze…somewhat. At least he could finally open his eyes, but only to slits.

The room he was in was much too bright. It was stark, the walls an ugly light gray. On his left the rhythmic beep, beep, beep continued. He tried to look to see what caused the noise, but he didn’t have the energy to turn his head.

He closed his eyes, allowing sleep to come.

The next time he woke, the continuous beeping penetrated first, followed by the sounds of a disembodied voice from somewhere. “Doctor Patel to ICU. Doctor Patel to ICU.”

Moments later, voices sounded, and two faces appeared looking down at him. One was an olive-skinned woman, her black hair pulled away from her face.

“Can you hear me?” she asked, peering down at him and holding something against his chest. “Nod if you can hear and understand me.”

Gunther tried to speak, but there was something in his throat. He nodded.

“I am Doctor Patel. You are at St. John’s Hospital in Livingston. In the Intensive Care Unit.” She waited for him to nod.

Although he had very little idea what the woman said, other than being in a hospital, he nodded.

“You were badly beaten, stabbed and dumped in a nearby nature walk area. At the moment, you suffer from a broken right collar bone, bruised ribs, and a stab wound on the left side of your chest. Miraculously, the blade, which remained imbedded only nicked your left ventricle.” She stopped speaking and studied the beeping machine.

What did all of it mean? Was he alive? If so, how was it possible?

Her warm gaze returned to him. “We performed emergency surgery to your heart and left lung, you lost a lot of blood, and your vitals plummeted, so we put you in a medically induced coma. I will keep you here in the ICU until I am satisfied that your vitals are stable. Let’s see if you can breathe on your own. ”

How long had he been there?

A young woman who was injecting something into a clear tube, gave him a soft smile. “We don’t know your name. Whoever attacked you took your wallet.”

She patted Gunther’s arm. “Doctor Patel is going to remove your breathing tube now. Do your best to relax.”

The procedure was very uncomfortable. Gunther gagged several times and when he coughed, his ribs protested vehemently. He was left panting and hurting despite the nurse’s reassurance that she’d given him medication for pain; he winced with each breath.

“Very good,” Doctor Patel said, once again pressing across his chest the opposite end of an instrument that she’d placed into her ears. “Just a bit of a rumble, but that’s to be expected.”

The corners of her pretty brown eyes crinkled when she smiled. She spoke to the nurse. “Give him a bit of water.”

A thin cylinder was placed between his lips, and he sucked in cool water. The liquid was like an elixir to his parched throat. “More,” he croaked.

When he’d drank the second half cup of water, the doctor shook her head. “That’s enough for now.”

“Can you tell us your name and what happened?” The doctor asked. “The police are interested in coming to talk to you once you are better able to speak.”

“Gun…ther.” He coughed and winced. “Janssen.” Again he coughed and closed his eyes as pain assaulted him.

“Don’t say more,” Doctor Patel said, squeezing his lower arm. “You can tell us more once it’s easier to speak.”

The doctor rattled off what he perceived to be instructions to the nurse, looking to him every so often. “Only a bit of water every fifteen minutes. Try to see if he can drink broth in a pair of hours, no more than a cup.”

“I will be back to check on you Mr. Janssen,” the nurse said, and then both women walked out, leaving him alone with the infernal beeping.

A strange fog overtook Gunther, and no matter how hard he fought, sleep crept into the edges of his mind. He needed to think, to know where exactly he was and why.

Livingston didn’t sound like a familiar place, but the women’s accents had resembled the same Scottish lilt as Aubrey’s.

He struggled to consider what he’d do next, but sleep overtook him.

“Here we are,” the nurse, who’d introduced herself as Anna said, pushing a button that lifted the upper half of the bed and therefore caused him to sit. Gunther’s head bobbed as he struggled to wake.

“You are very sensitive to the medication; I’ll have to tell Doctor Patel we must use a smaller dosage. You have been asleep for almost four hours.”

“How long have I been here?” Gunther’s words slurred as he fought to keep his eyes open.

Anna tapped on a black object she pulled from her pocket. “Four nights. Yes, that’s right, tomorrow will be five days. You were in a coma for three days.”

“Where is this place?” he croaked out stifling a cough.

“Livingston is in Scotland. By your accent I can tell you are not from here. German perhaps?”

Gunter shook his head. “Netherlands.” In actuality, he was from nowhere. After centuries in the other realm, he felt disconnected from this world.

“Oh goodness. Were you traveling when you were assaulted?” Anna asked in a no-nonsense tone. Obviously, he was not the first person to come there without identification and in a bad way.

The nurse pushed a wheeled metal table across the bed just over his lap. “Broth and a few water crackers. Hopefully your stomach can handle it. If you have any problem, push this button.” She motioned to a red button on a rectangular object.

“I may as well turn on the telly so you can catch up on things.” She pressed a different button, and a picture appeared in an instrument mounted on the wall. He’d seen these before but had never been anywhere long enough to ascertain what it did.

The nurse left, closing the door behind.

What had occurred? Had the darkness followed him? He searched the room for any signs of mists or shadows but saw nothing of interest.

When he reached for his spoon, his shoulder area protested. Ah yes, he’s broken something. So, he used his left hand and lifted a cracker to his mouth and chewed slowly.

Four days in the human realm. How was it possible? he repeated over and over mentally as he watched what looked to be two people advising others about what happened in the world.

Once again, his eyelids grew heavy, and he glared at the tubing that was connected to his left arm.

This wasn’t the time to lay around. He had to find out what had happened.

Just then the door opened, and a woman walked in. “Mr. Janssen, I am Detective Sergeant Willerton. I have some questions to ask.”