Chapter 18

Dawn rose, and Ransom sat at the edge of the woods, staring at Anondorf. Song Lark was sound asleep. He would have to wait for the right time. He couldn’t seem too eager.

He was Ransom, the bounty hunter who had tracked his prey back to Anondorf Castle and wanted to see the elusive and fabled Annabeth for himself.

It was near midmorning when he decided it was time to make his appearance and request entrance at Anondorf Castle.

“Who goes there, and what do you want?” asked an unpleasant voice from the top of the castle.

“I am a bounty hunter looking for work. I heard this is the place to come.”

There was a murmur at the top of the castle walls, and one of the guards disappeared.

Several minutes later, the drawbridge was lowered and the gate opened. Ransom rode through.

In the middle of the courtyard he was halted; a stable boy took his horse. Dismounting, he casually followed the guard.

He was shown into a large chamber that resembled something after the manner of a throne room in its grandeur. Eliot stood beside Lord Raburn’s chair, looking slightly surprised. Ransom ignored him.

Ransom bowed low. “My lord,” he said reverently.

“So I hear you are a bounty hunter.”

“That I am. The best one in every country that I have been in.”

Lord Raburn laughed shallowly. “Is that so?”

“I was on Annabeth’s trail, and when I found out it led here, I thought I would see if it was true that she was caught.”

“Really?”

“Truly, my lord. I was less than a day behind her, and catching up rather quickly. It appeared as if she was traveling in a party of three or four.”

“It is true, she was. Unfortunately, according to my captain, their trail disappeared into thin air, but they did catch the worst of the culprits.”

“So, it is true you have her.”

“Yes, it is true.”

“Would it be possible to see her?”

”I don’t see why not. Eliot, bring her up here. I think she needs a break from the dungeon. Being down there too long can be hard on the soul.”

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THE CELL DOOR CREAKED open. A key unlocked the chain that bound her to the wall, jerking her body to one side.

Annabeth gasped at the pain as it washed cruelly over her in a fresh deep pang, causing the pain to soar and pound into her brain.

“Not yet,” she whispered hoarsely, the fresh pain breaking words from her that she did not wish to say. “Not the rack; not yet.”

“You have a visitor. Ransom, a bounty hunter, has come to see you.”

At the word Ransom her mind jerked away from the pain into full consciousness.

“What?” she asked, her eyes clearing from the blur of pain.

Eliot looked at her and, placing his hand on the wall, leaned close in the low flickering light of the torches, searching her eyes.

“You know him, don’t you?” he whispered quietly.

“No, I don’t,” she said, trying to twist away. Annabeth was shocked to find herself so disabled. Her limbs felt hollow, but rippled with inexhaustible pain. Any command given to move only brought torture and a frozen feeling to her body.

“Raburn always said you were a poor liar.”

“I never had the chance to lie to him,” she answered, seeking for a weapon in her words, only to make a confession. Her eyes glanced painfully up into Eliot’s.

“I don’t wish to see anyone.” The very thought of stepping outside of her cell was exhausting.

“Come on,” he said with an unexpected gentleness, pulling her arm tightly against her body with a sling. “This way you won’t hurt too badly.”

Annabeth was unsure exactly how she arrived at the tall set of double doors that led into Raburn’s hearing room, but she was standing there. A gray numbness gnawed at her while unconsciousness stood ready to sweep her unsteady feet out from under her and carry her away into the comfort of oblivion and darkness.

Eliot turned her and lifted her chin to look into his eyes.

“Whatever you do, do not betray him.”

The words and meaning seemed blurred. Annabeth just wanted to sink into nothingness—to never be.

With a powerful stroke of his hands, he opened the doors and led her in. Annabeth kept her eyes on the floor.

“So this is the famous Annabeth,” said a cold but familiar voice.

Little had Annabeth ever known a voice to carry so much power. She wanted to cry. To have him standing there in that room, to have Ransom see her like this, was breaking her heart to pieces.

“Annabeth, you have a visitor. Aren’t you going to greet him?”

“No,” she whispered hoarsely, without raising her head.

“Eliot, make Annabeth show her manners.”

Annabeth could feel him moving towards her. She wondered what cruelty he would think of. Then, Ransom was by her side.

“No need. I can do it myself. A cruel hand like yours could break a girl needlessly,” he said, taking her chin and lifting it to meet his face.

Annabeth closed her eyes. She did not want to see him.

Ransom laid a cool hand on her neck that burned from the tense pull of the chains. He leaned close, whispering, “Look at me.”

His hand pressured her neck. The pain caused her eyes to open in wounded surprise.

Raburn laughed from behind them. “You have a way with the girl.”

Ransom’s hand dropped to his side; he turned slightly to face Lord Raburn. “I like girls who know their mind. I find they need a special touch,” he said, brushing the back of his hand over her cheek.

Annabeth let her eyes sink daggers into him. What is he thinking?

Ransom walked casually around Annabeth in circles, taking in every inch of her frame.

“Are you taken with her?” asked Lord Raburn, sounding rather amused from his throne-like chair.

“I must admit,” he let out rather reluctantly, “I am. She is such a helpless looking little thing, I can hardly believe she eluded me.”

Raburn laughed. “She is a crafty little thing.”

“Yes, I am afraid so.” Ransom stopped his circling and stared at Annabeth for a long time, and then he whirled around. “But she is beside the point. I came here to see if you had any other work that you could offer me. I have a good reputation in the kingdom of Falway and am ready to prove myself here.”

Raburn looked at him piercingly.

Ransom lowered his eyes and looked up at him sideways, a sly charm easing from him. “I’ve heard rumors that the prince has been quite a disobedient problem, and stands in need of a firm correction.”

“You would be correct, Ransom.”

“If he is indeed the other part of the group that was riding with Annabeth, they have reached Falway. There is no better man than myself to track him down and bring him back to you unharmed.”

“Unharmed, you say?”

“Yes, my lord.” He let a long pause drift in the conversation. “Unless some unfortunate accident happened to take place, my lord.”

“You are a keen man, Ransom.”

“I could easily make it look like the prince was killed by some stray Falway noble who murdered him in cold blood. I would drag the body back here and you could lift it up as an outrageous insult to your people.”

“A war might start between your country and mine.”

“I couldn’t care less. My loyalty is to my satisfaction and whoever serves it.”

“Then consider yourself commissioned. Your pay will be excellent, I promise.”

“Thank you, my lord. I shall fulfill my duty with all diligence.” Turning to leave, he stopped beside Annabeth. Reaching out, Ransom touched her chin, turning her to face him. Annabeth pulled away, feeling wounded and betrayed.

Gently he repeated the action, more firmly; preventing her head from lurching away.

Slowly, painfully, she opened her eyes and looked at him, tears coming into them. Suddenly, Annabeth didn’t care if she cried.

Where is the Ransom I know? What in the world is going on?

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UNEXPECTEDLY, LORD Raburn spoke. “You know, Ransom, letting her live with the knowledge she failed would be the worst torture she could ever face.”

“I’ve no doubt about that. She is the kind that would feel it keenly all of her days.” Ransom looked into her eyes, now welling with tears. He wanted to reach out and harbor her in his arms, to make all the pain she was suffering fall away from her body.

“Then, if you want her, you may have her when you return; she will be a bonus to your reward.”

Ransom nodded. “That suits me perfectly, my lord.”

“It suits us both.”

“Consider it done, then. I’ll be back in a week to claim my prize,” said Ransom, stroking her cheek.

She turned away; he let her slip past his hand.

“Annabeth,” he said almost under his breath.

Unexpectedly, she turned to him. “When you return, there will be nothing of me left. I suggest you choose your next step wisely. Men who live by the sword die by the sword.”

Ransom looked into her eyes, letting questions race through his, hoping she could read them. “Are you ready to meet what fate he has for you?” he nodded towards Lord Raburn.

Annabeth swallowed; she was resigned. “I have been ready for the last few months. The time has come.”

“We’ll see about that,” he said, and he walked past her.

Suddenly, Eliot’s chest collided into his. Eliot’s hands gripped his vest.

“Don’t you ever dare overstep your bounds with me again. He gave me the order.”

“Keep your hands off me,” said Ransom. Grabbing Eliot’s fist, he pushed it away. As he did so, he felt a piece of paper pressed into his hand.

Bristling, they passed each other, rubbing angry shoulders.