Flower of Scotland 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

had flown in to the north.
    And Loki returned to Odin, and told a tale of how the fisherfolk had thought them selves above even Odin himself, and how he, Loki, had tricked them. But he did not tell of the deaths of the womenfolk, and although Odin knew there was a lie in the tale, he could not separate the bigger lie from the smaller one, and in time the affairs of Asgard took precedence over the affairs of men.
    Far away in Midgard, Ragna made a new home, there where his daughter swam and sang. And great was the sorrow of the people, for without the womenfolk they grew old and died, and none followed them.
    And it came to pass that King Ragna became an old, bent, man, and he was the last of his people. And with his dying breath he called down a curse on the sons of Loki…that they would come when one of Myrna’s blood called, that they would be father and protector of Myrna’s children, that they would be cursed to serve the very line that Loki had tried to erase.
    And high in his halls, great Odin heard, and now he knew of Loki’s perfidy. So he sent to Myrna a song, a lay that would entice the sons of Loki. And even as King Ragna’s eyes were closing for the last time, he heard the song, and saw, on the beach, a seal turn into a man, a man called to be the first, first of the sea-husbands.
    　
    ~-oO0Oo-~
　
Lucidity
    You wake up.
    The walls are tight and cramped around you causing you to crouch, knees bent and curved. The air is hot and dry, rasping at the back of your throat and burning your sinuses.
    Your eyes are gummy with sleep but you can’t raise your arms to rub the sleep away. It is only then that you realise that you are handcuffed, the cold metal rubbing new welts into your wrists as you struggle.
    You scream and the sound echoes back at you, again, and again until it finally fades and the silence returns, heavy and threatening.
    As your eyes begin to adjust to the dark you notice two slits just below eye level - windows to the room outside. But beyond the slits all is dark and the room is silent. You moan and are comforted by the sound, any sound, anything that will tell you that you are still alive.
    A sharp cramp hits the muscles of your calves, a deep heat that burns inside threatening to engulf your legs in fire. You try to straighten, if only a millimetre, but the top of your head comes up tight against cold metal, and as you struggle your prison begins to move and sway in time with your movements.
    You, spin, encased inside the steel, and the motion causes your stomach to roll in turmoil. You choke back on the vomit and taste its greasy cold thickness on your tongue.
    There is sound in the room outside your prison, the drawing of metal against metal. Through the slits you are vaguely aware of an orange glow, a heat that is moving ever closer. Blackness comes and takes you away.
    And still your prison spins.
    John woke, sweat smearing across his face, his chest and his feet. He lay curled on the left edge of the bed, and as he rolled over the needles and pins exploded in his left arm. He sat up in bed, panting heavily.
    "Jesus Christ," he whispered softly.
    That made it four nights in a row, each time a little more of the dream being revealed, and each time a little more trauma on awakening. He reached over and switched on the bedside light before picking up his notebook.
    "I am getting closer," he wrote.
    It started with the book two weeks before. He was in the library when an out of place book caught his eye.
    "Lucid dreaming - unlock your innermost secrets."
    He read it all in one sitting - there was something about the techniques mentioned that appealed to him. That first night he lay and stared at the ceiling, repeating the author’s phrase - I will remember, I will remember. A flashing light from beyond the curtains distracted him. At the same instant a vibration started in his legs, a pleasant, almost warm buzz that spread quickly up his body. When it reached his head his brain seemed to