| |
When I woke up, I found that I was surprisingly unharmed but extremely uncomfortable. A post was fixed straight into the ground and shoved against my back, my arms twisted behind my hips and fastened to the wooden surface with a roughed length of rope that had been knotted painfully tight around my wrists almost to the point of cutting off any sensation I had left in the tingling surface of my fingers. Except for one, a set of cuffs similar to Alec’s was fastened below the knots of the rope, effectively rendering my magic useless as well. As the rest of my senses began to gradually fade in, I took stock of my surroundings, that being the bloodstained grass on the front royal lawn.
I was tied to a fricking post on the front lawn!
“Well, you’re awake now aren’t you? Happy to see all of your handiwork?” Travain sneered as he gestured around to the masses of rubble strewn around the city. His black uniform still as pristine as the sword as his side, completely untouched by the blood stained dirt and destruction. In a show of solidarity, the black uniformed Huntsmen surrounded him en mass, their hands laid protectively on their weapons like I would be able to murder the prince just by looking at him—I wish I had that power. Then the future leader of Althea would be impaled on a bed of glistening spikes that had rose up from the ground like stalactites from a cave
“Hmm, got nothing to say little witch? Or should I call you little wannabe soldier?”
My eyes widened in surprise, but I keep my head tilted forwards so that the loose strains of my dark hair would hide my face. I had almost forgotten that, the want to become a huntsmen had disappeared once I had learned the inner workings of the royal family and just what the business of being a hunstmen would mean. There was no way I could image my father in this life. This was a dream that had turned to a nightmare.
“Sill nothing? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. My lovely fiancée Milasy was more than happy to tell me all about your shortcomings, your frequent inability to preform basic seamstress duties, lack of speech, and otherwise general uselessness. It still makes me wonder just what my poor deceased father saw in you besides a passing resemblance to that stupid old traitor that was your father. Like father, like daughter, I suppose.” He jabbed two fingers beneath my chin and force my head to rise, looking him eye to eye.
By the time he finished speaking, my hands were shaking with the effort not to fry the bonds despite any consequences that might fall to me. I had spent my life not rising to the taunts and teases of others, and I would certainly not rise to the ones of a petty murderous bully such as him. No, I had a better plan in mind. A much more satisfying one. I smiled, a slow spreading of my lips that was more like a baring of teeth than a true expression. “If so, then the reverse saying must be true. Like mother, like son. Although it does seem to be that you are missing one vital important part of your mother’s main occupation.”
A stinging pain bloomed across my cheek as my head snapped to the side, propelled with the force of his palm slamming into the side of my head with bone snapping force. The bitter tang of blood bloomed in my mouth, leaking from my now split lips as I sagged lightly against the bonds holding me captive. Another smile came to my lips, this one filled with perverse joy and stained with red as I watched the prince almost blaze with the force of his anger, his skin flushed red and his chest heaving with the force of his breaths. “You lowly bitch! You’re not worthy to even clean the soles of my boots! How dare you insult the illustrious name of my mother! Say one more word about that subject and you will not even make it to your scheduled execution by the morning, I will have you drawn and quartered to be fed to the hogs as their morning meal!”
I shrugged my shoulders. The feeling of not having to be quiet anymore was rather freeing actually, to not be scared of the consequences of if something errant fell from my lips and the wrong ears heard. If I was to die, then I would do with no regrets left running through my thoughts. “That’s fine with me, I don’t want to be a spectacle anyway. Much too messy in my opinion.”
“Then you will really dread this. You won’t be going to the executioner’s blade tomorrow. No, you’ll be replacing your friends as the prey for my huntsmen tomorrow at midmorning.” With a sweep of his fluttering black cape, the prince was gone along with his soldiers of darkness. I waited till the footsteps had faded into the distance before I allowed my head to drop to my chest. A single tear snaked its way down my cheek, the only outward sign of my current distress. I wonder if Alec made it to the others, if they all made it out okay. As long as they did, at least my sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain. It was ironic actually, myself being a victim of the huntsmen I had so wanted to join at one time.
“Hoo?”
I heard the soft trilled question right before the near silent swish of soft feathers sliding against one another just over my head. Stryker, in all his majestic glory, swooped to a landing on the ground before me. A small puff of red dust and ash raised against his talons as he landed softly on the ground, his usual vial still clipped to his legs while I could see the creamy expanse of paper rolled up inside the smooth clear vial. With a quick bob of his head in greeting, he looked at me with a rather curious expression, his golden eyes rounded and raven dark black pupils wide with the meager light and his dark ear tuffs raising and lowering as he slightly bobbed his head from side to side, attempting to focus his gaze on my bonds. A quick chirp issued itself from his feathery throat as he tottered forward on his talons, the long looping stride so curious and unique to only an owl was quite comical as he covered the distance separating us quickly. His talons dug into the heavy material of my ruined skirt as he attempted to climb up and investigate my bonds, the tugging and pulling increased as he climbed higher, having to resort to using his beak for leverage as he continued upwards. I suppose he didn’t trust himself not to hit me with his wide wings if he flew directly up to my body, but I now understood what the trees felt like when a sharp nailed squirrel climbed them, the jabbing sensation of claws pricking you over and over was certainly unpleasant.
Once he had achieved a level sight on top of my shoulders, he began to coo and rub his cheeks against mine, seeking to comfort me in what way he could. Sweet little thing, I appreciated the effort since he was trying so hard to cheer me up, but I think someone with hands might have been my slightly preferable choice to a little winged warrior like my little friend. He scaled back down to the ropes around my wrists and began to nibble along the edges, his sharp beak severing many of the strands while I twisted my wrists in a circular motion. Still, the blasted things would not come free without further aid from something like a knife, they were just too thick for him to bite through. A puzzled frown crossed his feathery face and I could almost hear his thought process as he tried to figure out just how to free me.
“Look Mama! The witch has got her owl!”
I saw a mother go by, her son dragging her by the hand as he continued to point and insist that anyone who had anything to do with an owl must be a witch due to the old rumor that said that owls were attracted to anything magical. I don’t think that Stryker took kindly to that remark. He dropped down to the grown beside my leg, his fluffy breast feathers puffed up quite visibly and wings spread wide, the feathers around his bill retracting until the full extension of his savagely hooked beak was visible as he sharply clacked it twice and hissed. He looked up to me in question to see if I wanted him to chase the child, but I shook my head. It wasn’t worth it. Not now. Let the boy believe what he wanted. He would probably be dead soon if the two brothers had their way. I think it depressed Stryker, he sank down into the curve of my leg, muttered little mutinous squawks under his breath like an angry child himself.
A light mist had begun to fall before long as the grey clouded heavens released their burden, only serving to further enhance my already sullen mood as the grey drizzle drenched everything in sight. Despite his aversion to water, Stryker continued to sit by my side, his little feathery body huddled up against my leg in seeking shelter. The poor thing was becoming more of a wet feathery bundle than a proper bird, his feathers sticking to his slight bony frame till he looked half his size, his body shivering with the cold rain as it soaked him to the skin.
“Stryker, why don’t you go on home to wherever you live? It doesn’t do either of us any good if we both get sick from the rain?”
The deep V of his facial feathers deepened further into an even harsher scowl, an expression that sent those already straight ear tufts even taller till they looked like miniature spears attached to the side of his face. Of course! He was probably so wet now that he couldn’t fly at all. Soft, soundless feathers were nice when it was dry, but now that he was wet, the poor thing was just pathetically stuck to the ground like I was. I shimmied a little bit and managed to create a little cave like indention between my skirt and my bare leg. Stryker gratefully cuddled in close with a small peep, goosebumps immediately rising on my ankle where he just had to press his icy cold beak against my skin.
“You know, you are just a little bit cold and I thought that you didn’t like to snuggle.”
There was a few more muttered peeps that sounded suspiciously like he was plotting my murder but he refused to move. I guess warmth and semi-dryness won out over his aversion to cuddles.
I suddenly remembered that I could see a message in his vial for me. “Hey buddy, did you have something for me?”
Two quick peeps and then he was shuffling around again. I heard more muttering, the click of the vial being opened and then even more grumbles as a feathered head poked out from beneath my skirt, looked around with the roll of paper held between his beak, and sighed. Giving the rain one more hate filled glance, Stryker started to climb back up my skirt and shirt like it was a mountain, using his talons and slightly flapping his wings for balance as he came up higher and higher. Each time he released his talons from my clothing, he left a finger sized hole where his nails had pierced right through the fabric, but thankfully he avoided my skin. I don’t know how exactly, but the only thing I felt so far was the smallest pinch as he circled around the tighter bodice of my top. Once he reached level with my face, he wriggled forward and spread the slightly soggy paper out against my shoulder, rotated it with his beaked, and picked up the center while making sure to keep his head twisted low enough that the paper remained spread flat across his breast feathers.
Dear Kyri,
This message is not written on the enchanted paper so it will melt in the rain in order to prevent anyone from overseeing our communication. Do not worry, I along with the others have made it out alive. Some minor injuries were occurred but no serious wounds were all prevented. We have regrouped, the camp no longer being in the same place as you will remember, and a new plan is underway. Thorn was very objective at this time that we should stay in place in case you managed to escape soon after we left and that his rear was hurting from a wayward strike from a Bloodwrath’s vines which would also prevent him from performing any duties pertaining to moving. Sandra tied him to one of the wagons in order to keep my cousin from further revealing our location with his excessively loud cries. I had suggested that she might want to use a combat hold to lower him into unconsciousness, but she refused my question, saying that we would have need of his swordmanship skills later. Please do not fret as we will be coming for you as soon as things fall into place. I have no doubt that now after things have been revealed as they were, we stand a much better chance at stopping this madness before it continues to spread.
Alec
I had to stifle a laugh when I read the part about Thorn’s antics, of course Mr. Top soldier of whatever kingdom they are from had his butt handed to him by a Bloodwrath. I could just hear him now complaining about it, and see Sandra getting fed up with it and tying him to a wagon. They really were a pair fit for each other. I wonder if Alec really meant what he said? That he was coming for me, no matter what? That was a nice dream if it was true.
“Gotta sip, little girl?”
Stryker squawked and flew straight up in the air at the sudden appearance of the raspy voice, feathers raining down on top of my head as he somehow achieved a frantically flapping motion of flight as he soared off into the dreary night sky. His V-shaped form dipped a few times so low that I thought he would crash into the ground, but he kept going till I couldn’t see him any longer.
I turned towards the speaker to see an ancient old man, his face more wrinkled than the most creased pair of leather shoes that I had ever seen and was nearly the same color. He wobbled over to sit on the ground next to my feet, a partially cracked bottle of whisky held in his hand that was slowly leaking its contents into the grimy skin of his hand. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a long swallow, emptying the last remains of the brownish liquid down his throat. With a swipe of his arm across his lips, he turned his face upwards and peered at me through a haze of liquor. “Shame really, you shouldn’t have had to face the same fate that your father did. He didn’t deserve to be branded a traitor, not when he tried to save us all.”
I snapped to attention. “How do you know my father?”
He looked at his hand and—mega ew!—ran his tongue along the dirty edge of his palm. “You share those same eyes, they smolder like hot coals.”
My eyes? I never knew that. Something Alec said about my eyes sounded vaguely familiar, but I pushed the thought away. “But what about my father! How did you know him? What was he trying to save us from?”
“This!” He spread his arms wide to encompass all of the surrounding area and the destruction that it held. The remains of the kingdom lying in ruins. “Old Mikoff was a trusty one. He was the best commander I’ve ever had the pleasure of serving under, beating the fancy little pants off this new little twerp who thinks he so entitled just because he’s prince. He wouldn’t last one minute in a real battle.” He paused to spit a wad of saliva on the ground – again, double ew! – “His real father would be disgusted at the way he’s turned out. Probably would blame himself for ever marrying that fancy little witch he found himself all tangled up in.”
“What do you mean? The queen was truly as evil as her son?”
He laughed, a dry raspy sound that sounded like it had brewed in a desert for a hundred years. “I ain’t surprised. Maribelle did a great job of hiding it, but if you were around long enough then you knew, especially to us huntsmen. That woman may have had a pretty shell, but she was evil incarnate. She was always brewing up some kind of spell with that special book of hers. Filled with dark magic and all this stuff. That’s what led to her death, you know. There can’t be magic without a downside. I’ll never forget the sight, her swirling around in a black tornado while that pompous little jerk of an excuse for a king tried to fight her. I was surprised that Nikos had the actually guts since he was the one who wanted her to kill his brother in the first place. Who knows, maybe he actually thought that she would love him instead of his brother. That dream went up in smoke though when she gave birth to that little bastard and tried to pass it off as Nikos’s. I’ve never seen him hit a woman, but that day I thought for sure his was. He didn’t have to treat both boys so badly though. Although one definitely got the worse treatment since they made him the butler, not much station over his old man, the gardener.”
I knew from firsthand experience just how cruel that the elites could be to ones that were not their own, but that was still no reason for either of them to just freak out and try to kill all humanity.
The old man reared back on his heels. “Yep, that was a sight when Nikos slayed that old witch, he paid the price for it too. Made us all swear to silence about just what had been done, but Mikoff wouldn’t let it rest. Not as long as Nikos was still fooling around with the remnants of his wife’s dirty doings. Seems like the young ones have took up that mantle, most likely from their mother.” He paused to look me directly in the eye. “You and your little werewolf friend should have finished off the two of them when you had the chance.”
“How did you know that?”
“The soldiers gossip worse than the maids around here. You would be surprised to find out that it pays to have a quiet ear, you learn so much more. It’s also a plus that no one pays attention to an old drunken comrade.” He scoffed once more before lumbering to his feet, nearly tipping over onto his head as he made a mock bow to me. “I wish you well, Lady Kyri, queen of the day.”
Before I could even say a word, he was gone. Vanished into the gloomy gray mist that continued to shower down onto the ground. For just a moment, I thought I could place his voice among some of those that had frequented the dungeon. Plus, what did he mean with that queen of the day remark? Stryker returned to land on my shoulder, now soaked more than ever before but he had returned still.
I wouldn’t let this beat me. I would escape, and I had an idea.
“Stryker, think you can take a message for me?”
He hooted once, a sheen of excitement brightly glowing in his golden eyes in the weak light as he shuffled closer on my shoulder and tilted his head so I could whisper directly in that shallow indention of his ear.