Autumn (45 page)

             
She was screaming with no sound. Her throat was constricted. The contents of the heavy bag lie all over the forest floor. Apples and peaches and carrots and potatoes. She struggled in horror, staring wildly at the shiny red apples as they rolled away. Her legs kicked out uselessly and her hands and nails clawed at the person behind her. She tried to turn, she tried to breathe. Grey and black overcoming her. Laughter. There were two of them and they were laughing, jeering at her.

             
“Thought you were so clever, didn’t you?” one of them said, his voice guttural, deep, and fully without conscience. “Teach you for meddling!”

             
More laughter, more tight fingers on her throat, someone grasping her dress, the sound of ripping material. Horror and unspeakable pain. Under her nails, skin and blood. And then the screaming. Was it her? Was that really her voice raised in unholy fear? Were those her nails raking the face of her unknown attacker as she fought to save herself?
             

             
“You should have left it alone! You’ll regret it now!” the man with the guttural voice laughed ominously and it chilled Arabel’s blood. She knew she was now helpless in the matter of her own demise.

             
There was no one to save her. She had failed.

             
Arabel could not tell where she was. 

             
She awakened, fuzzy headed from the recurring nightmare, and for a moment just lay there, catching her breath, waiting until her heart slowed its frantic pace. The reality of her imprisonment came flooding back to her and Arabel stifled an involuntary cry. She remembered all that had happened now with crystal-clear intensity.

             
After what had seemed to be an interminable amount of time running through the woods in the hail storm, Arabel’s captors had brought her to her current location. They’d retied her bonds and then left her blindfolded so she could not view where she was being kept. How long she’d been sitting here, Arabel had no idea, but it seemed as if a great many hours had passed.

             
Strangely, Arabel had slept and was glad of it, even if it had been the old recurring nightmare. She was indoors, that much Arabel could ascertain, and it was warm enough that she’d been moderately comfortable, and she was sitting on a hard wooden floor. But that was all she could surmise. There were few sounds to identify anything by and Arabel felt she was quite secluded.

             
Her feet had been retied so she was fully bound once more and this time, Arabel ruefully acknowledged, there did not appear to be any friendly rodents to help chew through her bonds. Without being able to see, Arabel felt quite incapacitated. She was certain they’d either administered further drugs to her body or had renewed their vicious spells of incoherence upon her as she was again unable to seek magical protection for herself and having serious difficulty in keeping her thoughts intelligible.

             
Arabel wondered that the protective ring from Mireille and the red stones from Baltis could be rendered ineffectual by the spell she’d been placed under. What powerful magic was this that it could demolish her protective defences as if they’d not been put into place at all?

             
Arabel wondered if there was an energy void around her, such as when she’d tried to contact her grandmother previously and had been unable to read her location. Being held within an energy void was the only thing Arabel could fathom which would render her so defenceless. Unfortunately, Arabel was not well versed in the nature of energy voids and was limited by her lack of knowledge as to how to dismantle or escape from the confines of one.

             
The brief sleep had rejuvenated Arabel, however, and she felt less panicked than she had earlier. She decided to practice leaving her body astrally, to see if she could manage it and perhaps survey her location. Unfortunately, all of Arabel’s prior astral travelling had been done spontaneously; she’d never had any real control over where, when or how she left her body. Nevertheless, it was the only option Arabel felt she had, so she relaxed her mind as best as she could and laid down flat upon the floor to still her body as well.

             
Arabel lay motionless and absorbed herself in the task of breathing. She paid attention solely to the rise and fall of her chest, engrossing herself fully in the sensation of the air moving into and out of her lungs. Arabel felt a slight tingling in her legs. She could sense the intensity of her inner energy field as she concentrated upon it. But she did not leave her body.

             
There was no roaring i
n her ears, no rapid, twisting-
turning within her solar plexus. Disappointed, Arabel continued to attempt the astral travel but her astral body refused to cooperate. Arabel eventually stopped trying and she simply lay on the floor, quietly breathing, listening for any recognizable sounds outside of her confinement. Arabel refused to give in to the enticing remnants of the drug as it continued to whisper sorrow and futile resignation to her mind in waves of seductive darkness.

             
There was shouting now, and movement outside of her door.

             
Arabel tensed and sat up immediately, tucking her legs under herself as she braced for whatever was to come. She had not forgotten the fateful promise Saul Porchetto had made to her, and she knew he would come to claim her for his evil deeds as soon as he had the available opportunity. Arabel shivered.

             
Anyone but him, she thought to herself.

             
A loud groaning sound was emitted by the door as it was pulled open. Arabel could see light appear through her blindfold but could not discern the shape or distinction of anything. There was a shuffling noise and it appeared that someone else was thrown into the room alongside Arabel as there was a loud clatter of chains against the floor and heavy breathing. Arabel stiffened.

             
The door slammed shut and the light dissipated. Arabel waited. The footsteps receded outside of the door.

             
A soft, low sigh had Arabel straining her ears to listen. Finally she could stand it no more and she spoke to the unknown entity imprisoned with her.

             
“Who’s there?” Arabel asked.

             
“Why, ‘tis me, missy,” the voice replied, faintly.

             
“Who are you?”

             
“Missy, ‘tis Jonty Governs,” the thief replied.

             
“Jonty! However did they capture you?” Arabel was incredulous. The thief had been caught as well!

             
“They hit me over the head a good one, lemme tell you, knocked me right out flat.”

             
“Do you know where we are? Or who is responsible for taking us?”

             
The thief let out a long sigh. “No, miss, I reckon they must be the Dorojenja, but where we’re at, that I dunno.”

             
“Are you in chains?”

             
“Yes. But I ain’t blindfolded as you be, missy, that’s hows I knew t’was you.”

             
“And you still didn’t recognize your captors?” Arabel questioned.

             
“They put a hood over me head and brought me here. I can see now, missy, but I’m all wrapped up in chains. You’ve just got bindings but I’m trussed up like a thief!”

             
“You
are
a thief,” Arabel couldn’t resist mentioning.

             
Arabel could sense Jonty smirking and it brought a welcome smile to her face. No longer alone, Arabel kept company easily with the thief, and for a moment or two, felt quite companionable. But then the realization of the utter precariousness of their situation infected Arabel once more and she felt her heart race with anxiety.

             
“We’ve got to escape,” she spoke urgently, whispering, unsure if their room was being monitored.

             
“Aye, that we do, missy, but how exactly are you proposin’ to do that?”

             
“I’m not sure,” Arabel admitted. “But we must try!”

             
The thief grunted and Arabel took it as agreement.

             
“Can you remove my blindfold?” she asked him.

             
“Dunno, but I can give it a try,” the thief consented.

             
Arabel heard him shuffling over toward her, the chains jangled loudly on the floor.

             
“Can you muffle that noise at all?” she requested.

             
Jonty laughed. “Hold still,” he said.

             
Arabel felt the thief’s nimble fingers at the back of her head as he untied the soiled bandanna. With a relief she’d not known would be so magnificent, Arabel was finally able to see again!

             
“Thank you!” she enthused to Jonty, turning toward him now.

             
Arabel was shocked and dismayed to see that the thief had been badly beaten. Jonty’s left eye was almost completely shut; it was purpling and swollen and he was grimy and his right eye was barely better than the left.

             
“Who did this to you?” Arabel exclaimed.

             
Jonty shrugged, and then winced, as if the movement had aggravated his injuries.

             
“I’ve all my digits still, so ‘tis a small blessing,” he said amicably.

             
“You didn’t see your attackers?” Arabel persisted.

             
Jonty shook his head. “No miss, it’s like I was under some spell. I couldn’t defend meself, nor run even. It was like the evil spell they put on me before, you remember what I told you?”

             
Arabel nodded. “Yes, you were possessed. I know.”

             
Jonty’s swollen eyes met Arabel’s bright blues with a chagrined sort of expression.

             
“They’ll wanna ransom you off, no doubt,” he said. “But no one will pay for me.”

             
“That’s not true!” Arabel defended immediately. “Your mother will care, the Gypsies will care!”

             
Jonty shook his head, wincing again at the movement. “Some says I got what’s coming to me, missy. Me mum will be the only one grieving after I’ve gone.”

             
“You’re not going anywhere,” Arabel said sharply. “Except out of this prison. With me.”

             
Jonty’s purpling eye held a brief instant of humour.

             
“You be a mighty bossy one, missy,” he said.

             
Footsteps sounded outside of the door and the resistant groaning was heard again as the door swung open.

             
A tall, thin man with wavy brown hair and a muted expression stood before Arabel and Jonty. The man’s expression was truculent, almost bored. His dark eyes surveyed the prisoners with disdain.

             
“Nicky!” Jonty cried out. “What’s gotten into you, man?”

             
Arabel wondered if this was the elusive Nick Chauncer, Jonty’s former friend and helpmate.

             
The thin man laid his cool eyes
up
on Jonty.

             
“You deserve worse than this, you useless fool,” he pronounced cruelly, delivering a swift kick to Jonty’s already battered body.

             
The thin man’s voice was calm and cold and guttural. With a sinking heart, Arabel realized she’d now met both men who’d haunted her for the past while - the two originators of the pervasive grey energy: Saul Porchetto with his evil laugh and Nick Chauncer with his guttural intonations.

             
The two men from her dream. The dream that was always a nightmare.

             
Nick Chauncer turned on his heel abruptly and left the room. Apparently he had satisfied his curiosity in regard to the prisoners. The door groaned and slammed shut behind him with a decisive finality.

             
“What vile things have you done to him?” Arabel questioned Jonty. “He most certainly despises you!” The strong waves of animosity that lingered within the room surprised Arabel with their intensity.

             
Jonty let out a long suffering sigh. “Don’t rightly know, miss, what got stuck up in his craw.” The thief rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Not like I stole his woman or nothin’, just took a couple a horses and some coin. And not even from him personally!”

             
Arabel was stymied. What were the reasons that the Dorojenja were so interested in both her and Jonty? What was so alluring about the two of them?