The Misplaced Mystic

Chapter 6: Of Blows to the Head and Great Escapes

Author's Note: I know I've posted this at the same time as the previous chapter, but I've just got back off a holiday in France at the moment so I was really absorbed in writing and haven't had an opportunity to upload earlier.

When I came to, I was lying on a soft squishy bed wearing something long and flowing. For a moment, I wondered if I'd gone home. I hadn't known such luxury since I'd left the twenty-first century.

I must've hit my head pretty hard, for it pounded. Each one of my heartbeats was amplified tenfold as it ricocheted round my head. I heard voices over the noise of my own life.

"…I thought he was with you."

"No."

My ears pricked up at the sound of Inigo's voice. I murmured. Nobody seemed to hear me.

"In that case – ugh…" The other voice was Westley.

"Help him." Said Inigo.

"Why does Westley need helping?" Asked a voice, soft, gentle, kind, feminine. Buttercup.

"Because he has no strength."

"I knew it! I knew you were bluffing! I knew you were – bluffing."

"Shall I dispatch him for you?"

"Thank you, but no. Whatever happens to us I want him to live a long life alone with his cowardice."

Inigo was all that filled my fuzzy brain. I groaned.

"She's awake," he noted. Footsteps. A creak. I felt someone sit down on the mattress next to me.

My eyes fluttered open. Everything moved into focus slowly.

I turned my head to look around and shockwaves of pain radiated from my head, spreading out across my body. I moaned as the world blurred and spun.

"Will she be okay?"

"She'll be fine. The wound to her head will heal. I just hope she's… the same." It was strange for Westley to be showing such concern for someone other than Buttercup.

Despite everything, Inigo chuckled. "She just fell. It's just so Isabel."

I wasn't sure I wanted to be known as the clumsy mystic. "What you tryin'a say?" I grumbled, reverting to my Yorkshire accent subconsciously.

He chuckled again. I felt him take my hand and my pulse quickened, as it always did when he touched me.

I forced my head to behave, strained myself to bear the pain. After a moment of excruciating struggle, my eyes refocused and I could see clearly.

The sight of Inigo's chocolate brown eyes staring into mine was perhaps the happiest, most relieving sight of my life. I felt my breath escape my lungs in an awed sigh.

"You're okay," I said, mustering the strength in my arm to reach up and gently touch his cheek. He smiled warmly. That was a good sign. "Incredible. Even more amazing, so am I."

He and Westley chortled. "You took quite a tumble, so I've heard," the latter remarked.

"Inigo was hurt," I said simply, as if that explained everything. "You couldn't have expected me to dawdle about."

They laughed again, but I wasn't jesting.

"You don't hate me?" I whispered to Inigo when Westley was distracted by Buttercup fussing over him.

Inigo's expression was somewhere between surprise and shock. "Why on earth would I hate you?"

"What you said –"

"Oh, you silly girl," he leant over me and stroked my hair out of my eyes. "I didn't mean any of it."

"Then why did you say it?"

"The same reason you tried to stop me. I didn't want you to be hurt, just like you didn't want me to get hurt."

"But why –"

"I'll explain some other time. Now isn't really the time or the place." His eyes flew to Prince Humperdinck tied in his chair.

"Okay." I agreed.

Seconds later –

"Inigo!" A great boom from the courtyard. Fezzik had arrived with his troupe of horses. My head swam. Did he really have to be so loud?

"Inigo, where are you?" Fezzik called again.

"Shut up!" I screamed back, clutching my ears.

Inigo and Westley were laughing at me again.

Fezzik paused for a second. "Sorry," he said eventually, but he wasn't any quieter. I hissed to myself, trying to regain control.

Inigo rose from the bed and went to the window, accompanied by Westley and Buttercup. I made a slight noise of protest, but it went unnoticed. I heard a slight squeak as they opened the window.

"Oh, there you are," I heard Fezzik say, softer now. I half-wanted to get up and go over there to see, since the pain in my skull was dulling, but I realized that there was a good chance of being carried by Inigo if I stayed put, so I laid still. "Inigo, I saw the Prince's stables, and there they were, five white horses, and I thought, there are five of us, if we ever find the lady. Hello, lady! So I took them with me, in case we ever bumped into each other. I guess we just did."

"Fezzik, you did something right," Inigo murmured, his voice incredulous.

"Don't worry," Fezzik joked. "I won't let it go to my head."

I watched as Westley and Inigo assisted Buttercup out of the window, sighing with envy at her graceful beauty as she floated down into Fezzik's waiting arms.

"Come on, Isabel," Inigo said, walking back over to the bed. "Let's get you up."

For once, I had done something right.

"I'll be fine once I wake up properly," I assured him, but sounded more hopeful than certain. He nodded, obviously not believing me.

He wrapped one arm around my waist, the other around my back and gently lifted me to my feet. My knees buckled from under me, and I can't be sure that that was completely due to the blow to my head.

He was patient, and didn't let me fall to the ground. "Try and walk," he instructed, and of course I did, for I'd do anything he asked me to, even if I was reluctant to be out of his arms.

It was easier than I'd anticipated. Being upright had done me a world of good. I walked across the room in my usual way, albeit somewhat stiffly. I managed not to trip over any invisible obstacles, and made it to the window in one piece. I noticed something soft and silky brushing against my calves as I walked. I looked down at my body. To my extreme surprise, I was dressed in a ruby-coloured silk gown trimmed with black lace. It was so long it brushed the ground, the sleeves came well past my wrists, and it was daringly low-cut, making me feel self-conscious, for I was not particularly well-endowed in the chest area. The gown clung to my stomach and hips well enough, but it was a little too long in the limb. It obviously belonged to Buttercup, whose frame was a little thinner than mine and an inch or two taller.

I glared at Inigo and Westley accusingly. "Who the hell changed me?!"

The pair of them laughed. "It was Buttercup," Inigo said. "She kicked us all out of the room first, don't worry."

I sighed in relief, but then I glowered again. "If I find out you're lying –"

" – I know, I know, you'll castrate me." He grinned ruefully, helping me to the window ledge.

"This is prettier," I admitted. "But rather impractical for riding, don't you think?" I eyed the horses, picking the second tallest stallion to be mine.

"That's as maybe," he agreed. "But you're right, it is prettier."

Elated, I leapt from the window. Fezzik caught me, a silly grin on his face. I grinned back at the loveable giant as he set me down on the ground, the pain in my head forgotten.

I took the reigns of my horse. He truly was a magnificent stallion, with excellent conformation. That wasn't the reason I'd chosen him, though. His eyes were a warm brown. They looked kind and friendly. I patted his neck. He was the snowiest white I'd ever seen. I decided to call him Jack Frost, Jack for short.

Soon, Inigo and Westley were on the ground beside us.

"Riding is no trouble for you?" Inigo asked.

"I've been riding for the past nine years," I said. It was true. I did ride often and I had a passion for all things equestrian. I was saving up money for a horse of my own after I'd left university. "So no, it's no problem."

He reached out to help me mount, but I'd already jumped upon Jack's back. The horse was surprisingly comfortable to sit on, even though I rarely rode bareback. I took the reigns in my hands and waited for the others.

Moments later, we were off. Westley ran lead file, with Buttercup on his heels. Next in line came Inigo, then I, and Fezzik brought up the rear, as his weight considerably hindered even the strongest, biggest horse. I was very grateful of the extra few inches in my borrowed gown, without them, it would surely have split at the seams from the awkward riding position.

We raced on. I let all my worries fly away with the wind that rushed past me. I always went into a sort of meditative state when I was riding. The medieval suburbia of Florin's outskirts fell away from us fast, and soon we were out in open country.

I became more accustomed to Jack, his gaits and his speeds. He was the perfect horse for me: fast, intelligent, pretty, smooth and bombproof, that is, he didn't spook at every little thing like Buttercup's horse did.

It felt like we had only been riding a few minutes, but soon dawn was staining the horizon a violent colour of orange. We sped up in the new light; the improved visibility meant we didn't have to stay at a slow canter for safety. By the time the sky had painted itself a watercolour of pastels, we had begun to race each other.

Fezzik had the obvious disadvantage, and Inigo's wound was bothering him, so they weren't moving at their horses' top speeds. I was tiring and my head's ache was beginning to intensify again, so I too slowed to a smoother canter to prevent antagonizing it, so the main competition was between Westley and Buttercup. Westley had the lead strength-wise, but Buttercup had been riding since she was a little girl while Westley was relatively new to the sport. They galloped ahead, neck and neck, while the three of us dragged behind in canter, watching while our horses pulled impatiently at their bits, wanting to run too.

I don't know how many miles we covered before Westley drew us collectively to a halt, but it must have been almost midday, for the sun beat down mercilessly on us, making our skin greasy with sweat and the horses pant as they strived onward.

I'd been worrying about Inigo for a while now, for I could tell the uneven movements of his horse was aggravating his wound. He'd been trying for the last twenty minutes to keep an agonized grimace off his face, to little avail. While the pain in my head stabbed at regular intervals and occasionally blurred my vision (fortunately Jack was automatically following the other members of his herd and so steering was unnecessary), I was sure it was nothing compared to what my friend was going through.

We finally came to a stop in a lush green field on top of a hill. It was the perfect vantage point; we could see for miles if anything was chasing us and we had the safety of some rocky mountains, so impassable that only Fezzik could survive climbing them with us clinging on to him, behind us to run to if we needed to flee.

Sure enough, as soon as it was safe to do so Inigo slid from his horse, landing bent over, his face contorted in pain. I was at his side in an instant, leaving Jack to graze.

I assisted my friend to lie down in the grass. Westley came over to tend to his wound, knowing the rudiments of emergency medicine from his time as a cabin boy. Buttercup helpfully ripped superfluous pieces of fabric from her multi-layered wedding gown for use as bandages, and soon the flow of blood from Inigo's abdomen was stemmed by a girly dressing consisting mostly of lace and cotton. His eyes closed. Westley told us he would sleep lots to escape the pain, and that it would help him, so we left him undisturbed.

Our horses foraged on the luscious grass serenely. Intermittently, they would look up from their feeding at something in the trees, their ears cocked forwards, and we would start, wondering if we were being watched, but it would always turn out to be a squirrel or a rabbit peering curiously at our strange ensemble. I liked to watch the capers of the cute animals, and I found the horses' peaceful eating very relaxing to observe. Their contentment was infectious, and I was soon lulled into a sense that everything was going to be all right. Inigo's breathing was deep and even, the way all humans breathe when they are asleep, and Westley's strength had returned to its usual brilliance. Buttercup was euphorically delighted at being permanently reunited with her long lost love, and Fezzik, like me, had found solace in the beauty of the nature that surrounded us. As far as we were concerned, all was well.

I fiddled with blades of the damp grass, plaiting it into long strands thick enough to circle Fezzik's wrist. He watched my quick fingers with fascination.

"How on earth do you do that so fast?" He asked incredulously.

I laughed. "Years and years of plaiting horses' manes," I replied. "I'll show you, if you like."

I budged up to the giant, and showed him patiently how to weave the grass. He was frustrated at first because his large fingers kept fumbling with the blades and messing them up, but he eventually got the hang of it. We fell into silence, listening to the hum of the wilderness around us and becoming absorbed in our mundane childish task.

Soon we had plaited strands long enough to encompass the horses' necks. I tied mine around Jack, the green contrasting with his snowy fur. Then I started on his mane, plaiting it and then tying the plaits up into little buns to help keep his neck cool. I braided some parts of his tail too.

I went round everybody's horses doing the same, although I gave Buttercup's mare a trellis plait to complement Buttercup's flowing golden locks.

That done, I sat back to admire my handiwork.

The horses seemed pleased with their new looks.

Dusk was falling now, and the sky tinted itself shades of orange and red. I lay back in the grass, staring at the clouds as they changed colour slowly before my eyes. The others too settled down. Westley sat up, keeping watch, as although he thought it unlikely anyone would come for us, he wanted to be sure. Twilight came and went, and the navy-black darkness of deep night crept across the sky like an ink stain. The stars glinted like minute diamonds, a million miles away, and the moon was full and pale yellow, almost cream, and I gazed at it, thanking the forces that be (and even Jocelyn) for my happy life here, and even more fervently, I thanked them for the fact that I had survived. While I wasn't any more fragile than the next person, I was not particularly robust either, unlike the majority of my companions.

I watched the rise and fall of Inigo's chest as he breathed, studied the innocent, peaceful, almost childlike expression on his perfect face. The hilt of the six-fingered sword glinted in its scabbard, a reminder of Inigo's father and his now-restful soul. My thoughts strayed to the body of Count Rugen in the banquet hall. Surely it would have been discovered now. Had Prince Humperdinck ratted us out? Had he sent a cavalry after us? I shuddered. If I kept thinking morbidly like that, I would never sleep.

Such an eventful day had exhausted everyone else, but for me the distressing events had done nothing but aggravate my insomnia. Knowing for sure now that I wouldn't be sleeping that night, I offered to take over from Westley on the night watch.

He gladly obliged and curled up next to Buttercup in the soft grass. I smiled at the cute couple, and continued the watch.

Then, it was dawn – and someone was poking me. I opened my eyes, having not realized I had even slept.

The poker was Fezzik. "Westley will not be happy with you if he sees you sleeping on the job," he warned, genuine concern in his voice.

I laughed. "I work for Westley, now, do I?" I joked. "But you're right, I should have stayed awake."

"I don't mind," Fezzik quickly said. "It's so rare that you sleep, Isabel. You're not a vampire, are you?" He looked at Inigo's abdomen anxiously.

I was in hysterics. "A vampire? Me?! Don't be silly! I'm not gonna seduce Inigo and suck his blood," I assured him, still laughing so hard my sides hurt.

Fezzik looked suitably reassured.

It was a pretty safe bet that I wouldn't sleep again today, so I asked Fezzik if he wanted to go fetch wood for a fire. The morning was chillier than the day before and I was sure the delicate Buttercup and recuperating Inigo would be grateful of the heat. I, too, was not exactly boiling in my flimsy silk gown.

The giant and I walked pleasantly into the trees, me picking up likely-looking sticks off the ground, Fezzik simply shaking trees until they deposited all their twigs onto the wood floor. We wandered deeper into the woods where the trees were thicker and the sunlight had a hard time penetrating the leafy canopy. I wasn't worried, for I was never far from Fezzik's amiable whistling and the thuds and cracks of the trees he preyed upon. I had gathered as many sticks as I could carry and was heading back to Fezzik when suddenly I saw something that frightened me so much I dropped my armful of wood all over the ground.

There was a pair of evil scarlet eyes staring maliciously into mine from between two saplings.

Author's Note: Aren't you just overjoyed! Two chapters at once! I've written one-and-a-half chapters of a kind of sequel thing but I won't upload it if people think that it needs to be ended here…what are your views?