The Alchemy by Gilbert Morris

Author:Gilbert Morris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2010-11-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter thirteen

The darkness that surrounded Bayard seemed to be almost pal-pable— soft, thick, and warm as a blanket. But at other times he felt a coldness like the frozen northlands where snow enveloped everything. These two extremes covered him, and he cried out at times, for one seemed as painful as the other.

The voices he heard seemed to come from far away. He strained and tried to make them out but failed. They were the voices of strangers, and he felt frightened that there was nothing familiar in his world of blinding whiteness and stygian darkness. One of the voices came more often than the other, and in time he came to look for it and to try to make sense out of the words. He was not able to do this, but the voice had a soothing tone, and that comforted him.

The sense of touch was within this world, wherever it was. Besides the burning heat or bitter chill, he felt hands touching him, and he came to look forward to it. They were strong hands, he knew, but they were gentle at the same time. There was the feel of sheets, some sort of cloth, a breeze that touched him lightly, but there was no sense of the passage of time. He might have been in the terrible place for as long as it took to build the pyramids—or it might have been only a day or less.

Finally the heat and the cold seemed to modify, and he groaned with pleasure as the pain left him. The words began to have meaning, but there was still something about them that he could barely under-stand. He longed to know who spoke and who touched him.

Finally reason and order and sense came, almost as if someone threw a switch. One moment he was deep in the warm darkness, knowing that the hands were touching him and the voice was speak-ing, and the next instant he realized that he was lying flat on his back, a sheet was covering him, and something wet was touching his face and the upper part of his body. He opened his eyes then, and directly over him was a face—one he had never seen before. His thoughts swarmed and confusion stirred him, and then he felt fear.

Where have I been? Who is this? Bayard blinked and stared at a young woman with jet-black hair and eyes that seemed black at first, but as he studied them, he noted that they were a dark blue. Her face was oval, she had broad, full lips, and her expression was friendly but focused. His eyes dropped, and he saw that she had a cloth in her hand and was sponging his chest. He watched as she put the cloth into a basin, wrung it out with one quick motion, then began to wash him again.

“Where is this place?”

His words came from his throat hoarsely and creaked almost like a hinge that had frozen in place. They startled the young woman, whose eyes widened.

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