Secret Worlds (296 page)

***

I waited until night swept across the land and before the moon rose to make my way back toward Hafton. During my stint in the sheltering woods of my freedom, I convinced myself I could survive off the land. To depend on myself, and no one else, appealed to me. Solitude also meant never getting hurt by anyone again. Before any of that could happen, I needed to go back home to grab my things. I hoped Tarn wouldn’t be there.

Using the shadows to cloak my appearance, I slipped through town unnoticed. Tucked away in a secluded corner sat a rundown inn. In its prime, the inn was the busiest and most beautiful around. Now, the building stood as the last remaining all wood structure in town. In fact, it was the only one in this part of the world, according to some well-traveled tenants. Business all but shut down years ago. If you asked Tarn, that was because of me. He blamed me for so many things. Nevertheless, the inn had been my home, offering a leaky roof, creaking floors, and broken down beds. The only home I’d ever known.

I made my approach as slow and as quiet as I could. I searched the shadows beyond the house for evidence of Balai or worse, Cyrs. Still in the clear, I stepped on the first of the three stairs to the small covered porch which also leaked. The wood groaned loudly against my weight. The sound echoed back through the city as if to point out my existence and dare anyone to come and find me. I held my breath, sure I had been caught. After a few moments of silence, and then the quiet chirping of the crickets, I continued up. I reached for the door handle feeling the excitement of my pending permanent freedom looming right out of reach.

“I heard you’ve gotten yourself into trouble again.” Tarn’s deep voice shattered the silence—and my excitement—in one breath. He sat on the floor of the porch in the darkest corner. I didn’t check the porch for anyone hiding there.

“It’s not my fault. Danst slipped something into my bag and told the guards—”

“That makes no difference!” Tarn’s voice rose to the degrading volume and tone that demonstrated how far beneath him he saw me. “You ran. That makes you guilty.”

“Father, if you would give me the chance to explain…”

“No more chances! You’ve made your bed. Now sleep in it!”

“You know what the Cyrs will do to me. Please, let me grab some of my things, and I’ll leave for good. I will never bother you again.”

“You will. You’ve always been nothing but a bother.” His voice grew deep and low. “Take her. I want her out of my sight forever.”

I jumped as both of my wrists were pulled behind me and bound tight with rope, the fibers bit into my skin. They placed a gag in my mouth. I didn’t get the chance to struggle before they shoved me down the stairs. I almost lost my footing in the process. My captors escorted me to a cart brought to the front of the inn from a darkened alley nearby. The wooden base held a thin layer of weathered straw that started to rot. They shoved me on, falling face first into the decaying covering. I tried to roll to my side for fresh air, but to no avail. The thickness of the sweet, musty stench proved too powerful, overriding the fresh air. I choked painfully, trying not to heave with the gag on and make my situation worse. Though dying, even drowning on my own vomit, would be a mercy compared to what the gypsies do to girls. I didn’t want to think of that. I had to think of a way out. I would find a way…somehow.

“So you don’t get any ideas…” one of the men said as he approached the side of the cart. I glanced up in time to see the hilt of his sword come down on my forehead.

***

I came to as a fight ensued. The growls of some large, ravenous animal mixed with the screams belonging to my captors. They came from outside of wherever I sat. I shot up from the seat. My hands, no longer bound behind my back, stinging like they’d been burned. The place where the gag rubbed my skin felt chapped. I stood inside the darkened shelter fearing I would be the next to be eaten.

“Relax, you are safe.” The voice of a man I didn’t recognize came to me, calm and gentle.

“Who are you?” I asked with a level of fear I tried unsuccessfully to keep out. I slid my hand around me and discovered I lay on a bench inside a carriage. There were no windows that I could see—or feel—and no telling who else was with me. Fighting my way out wasn’t an option.

“My name is not important at the moment,” the man said. Though this time, there seemed to be an edge to his voice, which didn’t help to calm my nerves.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing like what the gypsies would have done,” he replied with an insulted tinge.

“What’s going on?” I pressed, not accustomed to being vulnerable. Not knowing my situation would never do.
Know your surroundings.
That’s the first thing I learned when I met Danst.

“You should lie back down before you make yourself worse. The bump on your head is pretty big.”

I forgot about the hit on the head, so caught up in my sudden, strange and new surroundings, I didn’t process the pain until it was mentioned. I lifted my hand to the spot on my forehead. A tender bump the size of a goose egg returned my touch.

A knock on the side of the carriage brought the realization that everything fell quiet. The silence thickened the air, making it palpable. The man with me knocked back twice in return. The carriage jolted forward, forcing my heart to jump into my throat and me back into the seat.

“Where are we going?” I asked, this time my voice cracked clearly. I silently groaned and rolled my eyes. This would never do at all.
Never reveal your weakness
was the second thing I learned.

“Somewhere safe. Now go back to sleep.”

“Safe? For who? How do I know I can trust you?”

“You really need to learn to trust people who are trying to help you. You’re going to make yourself worse. Now, lie down, get some rest, and sleep off that bump.” At least his voice remained calm and level, despite a few hints at other emotions throughout my persistence. I couldn’t be sure if they were annoyance or anger.

“I’m afraid I cannot. Not until I get some answers.” A compromise nothing short of reasonable.

No response.

I decided to remain sitting up, scooting to a corner of the carriage, and tucking my legs underneath me. I ran through the events of the day and my recent past to figure out who would’ve wanted to rescue me when the rest of the world seemed content enough to shun me.

“Wake up, Relena,” a voice reached out to me.

I opened my eyes to the darkened carriage and, for a moment, panicked.

“It’s okay. You are safe. Remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” I whispered.

“I have to put this on your head. It’s a blindfold…just until we get inside. The light may hurt your eyes.”

“Okay,” I agreed, only partially accepting the excuse. I really had no choice.

The cool, soft cloth covered my eyes and was tied at the back of my head. Next, a cloak encompassed my shoulders. The lavender scent that filled each breath helped put me more at ease in my strange company. A gentle hand took ahold of mine, helping me up from the seat. The smoothness of the skin surprised me as warmth soaked into my hand, radiating up my arm, causing my breath to catch. Waves of unwanted emotions trickled through me, sending my heart into an erratic race. While I tried to force my heart to calm down, the carriage shifted, making it race faster.

“There is a step right in front of you. Carefully step down.” The voice came from outside of the carriage. The same man who insisted I was safe. Which meant someone else held my hand.

Forcing the fear to remain at bay, I followed the directions of my strange rescuers. I took the first step down then reached the ground with the next. My hand was released, ending the intense emotions until gentle pressure on the small of my back escorted me farther. My heart pounded in my chest, refusing to obey rationale, as I worked even harder to gain control over myself. Did I dare risk trusting someone else? Especially someone I didn’t know? I clenched my fists at my sides to keep them from shaking and clamped my jaw to keep my lips from quivering. My fear may threaten my resolve, but my pride was too strong to let it show.

The walk away from the carriage was silent except for the crunch of the dirt and tiny rocks crumbling under our feet. The cold air felt like ice when it blew into my cloak. Little pricks of moisture stabbed at my face. Snow? Icy rain? Either way, I couldn’t be sure and it didn’t matter. Every now and then I could hear the rustle of leaves blowing through some trees nearby. For the most part, my surroundings seemed far too quiet. Something that unsettled me.

I tried to calm myself further by focusing on taking deliberate slow breaths. I jumped slightly when a hand slipped under my arm to stop me from walking. The same hand that held mine only moments earlier and forced my body into the chaotic stupor it remained in. Again, strange emotions encompassed me.

“There are six steps going up, right here,” the same man as before said.

I took them one at a time, counting as I went. They were smooth and slick to my booted feet and made me think of stone. The confusing notions pictured in my mind furthered my unease as I tried to gain some perspective of my surroundings. Nothing made sense.

“Step through the door here…” I was pulled forward toward the voice.

The hand released my arm. Steps shuffled away from me. Slowly the feelings swirling within me ebbed, allowing me the ability to pay attention to my surroundings and gauge what may happen next. I held my breath, listening to anything that would indicate a clue or warning. The warmth of the room washed over me, thawing the chill wrapped around my body.

I jumped again as the hood of my cloak fell from my head, settling along the back of my shoulders, and mentally reprimanded myself for my lack of control. As the blindfold pulled away from my eyes, allowing them to adjust by blinking away the blur, I found myself standing in the foyer of a small palace. Everything was made from white stone, polished and gleaming. Beautiful.

I tried to regain my composure and put on an air of nonchalance until I could decide exactly what these people wanted with me and why they went so far as to rescue me from the Cyrs, and yet brought me to their home blindfolded. It appeared to me neither of us was entirely sure of the other.

In front of me stood a set of double doors flanked by two suits of armor, also polished to a shine so pristine the light shattered into tiny beams when it kissed the metal. The doors, a warm cherry color and arched at the top, remained sealed under a balcony a set of stairs to the left of me curved up to. The wooden balusters were intricately carved into tiny trees that grew from the stone itself. The same railing joined two stone pillars on the balcony in front of me and along the edge on my right. Below it, another set of doors, in the same cherry tone, opened into a room with the scent of burning wood emitting from it. Shocked by the silence the small palace emitted, I focused on the heat for the slightest pop of a fire. It whispered, making me believe it was close to being out.

Sconces of black wrought iron illuminated the wall and surrounding area in an orb of soft orange glow. I stepped gingerly into the corridor, taking in a set of arched doors to the left that sealed its secrets beyond. They seemed both harmless and yet foreboding. I peered further into the opened room on the right noting the large fireplace—the source of the heat—taking up the center of the opposite wall. Contrary to my previous belief of it being nearly out, the fire popped and cracked, far from going out.

I realized it wasn’t the palace that quieted all sounds, but me. My heartbeat pulsed through my ears, numbing them to the point all sound seemed softer or nonexistent.

“Follow me. I’ll take you to your room,” the same man said, climbing up the stairs. He wore black hooded robes with the cowl pulled low over his head. Not a trace of him left uncovered could be recognized. I knew nothing of this man and couldn’t figure out how he could’ve known of me.

We made our way to the top of the stairs. A door sat to the left, in the corner. It was slightly opened, letting the aroma of flowers and soap fill the air. At the balcony, I glanced over and sucked in a deep breath, surprised I didn’t see the large wolf head painted on the floor of the entryway when I first came in. The details were so lifelike. The wave of the fur. The blends of the browns, greys, and whites made him seem real. His ears perked high on his head as though he listened intently for the slightest sound. Even his eyes seemed to follow me along as I moved.

To my side, windows overlooked a forest behind the palace. Tall trees of varying shades of green filled the horizon in waves against snow-dusted mountains that rose up in the distance. They were familiar, like a lost memory, but I couldn’t recall their name. Along the way, a few sealed doors sparked my curiosities. At the end of the balcony, another long hallway stretched out, ending with set of arched double doors. They appeared to grow larger as I moved closer to them.

My heart pounded nervously as I approached. The design on the door left me speechless, if not questioning the possibility of having gone completely mad. I stared as the wooden flowers bloomed from buds into beautiful rose-like blossoms. Even the vines they grew on seemed to move and twist right before my eyes, stretching along the edge of the door, bordering it in splendid wonder.

The man in front of me paused for just a moment, gripped the handles, and then pushed the doors open. Directly across from us sat another fireplace, roaring with life and filling the room with heat. It brushed my cheeks in a warm caress. The mantel and hearth were carved from the wall and held a strange and curious design. I moved closer to get a better peek of the images, finding wolves standing on their hind legs with their paws outstretched toward the mantle. Trees sprouted up from the background with their tops reaching out above the fire, daring the flames to lick them.

My attention moved from there to the large canopy bed to the left of the fireplace. The four posts were also carved like tree trunks growing from the stone, and the branches from each twisted together to form the top. Thin white sheers draped from the top, lightly dusting the floor with darker, thicker drapes curving down and tied together at the foot and head of the bed. A headboard, which sealed two of the posts, held the depiction of an extremely large tree moving with a life of its own. Each delicate leaf, branch, and blade of grass moved with an unseen and unfelt force as the leaves fell from the tree to the surface of the bed, disappearing before they touched. I stepped closer, pulled by the magnificence of the display.