Energy sizzled and cracked around him filling the room with the smoky smell of scorched wood from the more than two century old Irish Bog Oak high back chair he sat in. He was as still as the chair except the slightest movement detected when he spoke. The fire reflecting their dancing flames from the hearth in his open but rolled back emerald green eyes. Seeing nothing in this time or space his vision was elsewhere straining to concentrate and maneuver through time and the thousands of miles. Power had a price and he was sure to pay it for using so much at once, yet he continued knowing that there was no turning back now. He simply must know.
Garrick pushed his mind further, sharpening his sight. He could sense her, just outside his current reach. He was getting close. Subconsciously he tightened his grip on the edge of the ornately carved armrests. The intricate ivy pattern pressing into his flesh leaving impressions along his veins, his nails dug in as he started whispering to no one...
Taispeain di dom. Taispeain di dom!
His head became set as he looked closer, deeper repeating again...
Taispeain di dom. Taispeain di dom!
The darkness in his vision wasn't fading but for a second he could see the scene in front of him. As it slowly faded back to black...
Taispeain di dom. TAISPEAIN DI DOM!
The scene lit again long enough to see a farmhouse that appeared to be a long ago run down plantation. No crops would grow in this putrid unfertile ground, not even weeds. Just a lone oak withered and baron of all leaves stood to the left of this pile of boards that someone called home. Darkness returned. Once more Garrick tightened his grip and gathered everything in him. He didn't come this far to lose it now. He chanted once more throwing his soul into it knowing that it might be too much but needing to know.
TAISPEAIN DI DOM... TAISPEAIN DI DOM... TAISPEAIN DI DOM!
Lightening lit the sky a third time long enough for him to see the flickering of a candle in the upper window of the farmhouse. He strained his vision closer to peer through the opening at what was inside. At first he thought something was wrong with his vision for the woman standing and pacing was the same woman in the bed.
Pushing further while a small speckle of blood hit his tunic lightening lit the sky and filled the room with light enough so he could see the subtle differences between the two. It was not the same woman in the different times but two women in the same time. The one pacing had her long hair braided and pulled together at the bottom with a small black ribbon. She wore a look of worry so severe and kept wringing her hands together watching the one in bed. As she lay there he could see wild unkempt hair spread across what appeared to be a makeshift bed of hay with a large burlap material covering it.
As the thunder grew outside so did the intensity of the storm brewing. A large lightening bold forked its way across the sky lighting every corner that was before just a shadow. The woman in bed sat up screaming and he noticed her swollen belly and knew. He understood now, the babe was coming. They day he was looking for.
Patiently he waited and watched the scene unfold in his vision. With each bolt of electricity she seemed to progress further and further. The pacing sister was now gathering towels and a basin of water. It was almost time. The lightening coming quicker now as was the writhing woman's breathing. She lay panting while her sister knelt at the foot of the bed and started to prepare. The lightning no longer stopped just different bolts streaming towards the earth. The thunder shook the house trying to level it with each resounding boom.
As the thunder became one long rolling cadence and the sky lit up from horizon to horizon like noon on a summer's day the kneeling sister giving encouragement as the other pulls herself up and is pushing the life out of her. He knew it wouldn't take long; the babe was ready to take its rightful place in the world. Three pushes and hail christened the childs entrance as the last lightning struck the baron tree setting it ablaze.
After having so much surrounding light for so long he struggled to see by the faint glow of the bedside lamp the candle in the window long ago blown out by the wind. He saw the babe come into the world as her mother crumpled to the bed with a pool of blood emanating from her passage that brought the child.
"NO" he yelled and ripped the posts off the oak. The vision gone and the only scene before him the one of his fireplace dimly lit with the last few embers of the logs he put on more for comfort and concentration rather than the heat. Only then did he recognize the smell of copper and look down to see a river of blood flowing from his nose. It was okay though because now he knew where and when.