CHAPTER 19
TRAPPED
They set off as soon as they could. Krit was impatient to reach their destination and his restiveness seemed to spread through the rest of the group. Everyone, that is, except Natal, who remained quiet and reserved as ever.
Kiethara, meanwhile, was in the worst state she had ever been in. The gruesome jewel had done some job on her. Out of all the blows she had ever taken, being drained of her magic was the one that knocked her off her feet, crippling her in the worst of ways.
She could no longer call herself a guardian.
A rustle in front of her brought her back to the present. Natal was digging around in the sack next to him and, after a minute, he pulled out something wrapped in cloth. For a moment her heart stopped: certainly it wasn’t another horrible weapon to sap her of something else! She couldn’t imagine what it could take from her now.
The cloth slipped off, revealing an object that was…golden, and sort of round. What hit her hardest was the smell. Kiethara couldn’t remember smelling anything so invigorating. Natal ripped it in half with apparent ease before he brought one of the halves to his mouth to take a bite.
So it was food?
Her stomach didn’t react at all, not a growl or a turn. It did not appear to be anything she had eaten before. She had never seen something like that growing from a tree, or off a bush. It looked like a rock.
Natal noticed her staring. He looked down at the object—with what appeared to be guilt—and then turned to look out the back of the wagon. She turned as well.
The scenery hadn’t changed much.
Perhaps the grass was a little less green, the land was a bit flatter. Zacakar was on his horse, riding behind them, gazing out to the left with a bored expression. The sun was bright, the wind was chilly, and the clouds were few.
Natal turned his head back towards her, looking at her directly for the first time. She looked back warily. He then ripped a small part off of the untouched half and held it out towards her.
She looked at it suspiciously. Why was he giving her this? She couldn’t take it anyway, for her limbs were tied up. Was he really that stupid?
Natal finally realized her dilemma and let out a quiet, frustrated sigh. He pressed a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet, and then he pressed the golden brown piece unto her own. It was surprisingly soft, and now the smell was right under her nose…She opened her mouth to inhale the aroma and he pushed it in.
The taste!
It tasted nothing like the vegetation she ate in the forest, not even close. It was much better than her usual cuisine, all of which dulled in comparison. The substance was almost salty and, as she chewed it, it seemed to melt in her mouth. Her throat burned slightly as she swallowed, but as soon as it hit her stomach it snarled viciously and craved for more.
“What is that?” she mouthed at Natal.
“You’ve never had bread before?” he whispered back in a shocked voice. She shook her head, confused.
Natal gave her a loaded glance that seemed to question her sanity. He ripped off another tiny piece, checked to make sure no one was looking, and pushed it past her lips again. She chewed it eagerly, once again divulging in its intoxicating flavor.
He allowed her two more pieces before he slid back and ate the rest of it himself. Kiethara averted her eyes, trying to hide the desire to leap from her seat and snatch it from him like a mad woman. He had done her a great favor, asking for nothing in return. The least she could do was not pester him—or attack him—but that was easier said than done. The hunger she was feeling was all-consuming, devouring, but she fought it, telling herself that Krit would most likely kill the two of them if he discovered what had just transpired.
So, she returned to her numb state. It took her a good amount of time to teach herself how to ignore her renewed hunger, but the challenge kept her mind off other things. Like how the forest lay, unprotected…no, she couldn’t think of that. Not if she needed to focus on staying alive.
She abruptly snapped out of her reverie when the wagon stopped.
To no one’s surprise, Krit immediately began to bark out orders. Natal unsheathed his dagger and cut the ropes that bound her ankles together. She groaned and stretched her legs out, ignoring Natal when he flinched away.
Krit appeared at the back of the wagon with an alarming grin of anticipation. In his hand was a piece of cloth.
Krit said something to Natal she could not understand. Natal took the cloth and, before she could scoot away, he tied it over her eyes. He tied it well; the entire world was blocked from view.
She had been vulnerable before, but this was an entirely different feeling.
Kiethara let out a hoarse cry, thrusting one of her legs out. She made contact with something and it gave way with a groan. Good, she had hit one of them. Most likely, though, it was Natal, and she felt a slight pang of guilt. He had just fed her. But then again, he was part of this group whether he wanted to be or not, and she loathed them all.
Someone grabbed her around the waist and yanked her to the right. For a brief moment, the floor beneath her disappeared and she was thrashing in the air. Whoever had her by the waist didn’t give in his hold, however, and he carried her off. After a few seconds that more so resembled hours, he let her down.
But he didn’t let go of her. She twisted her torso to the left and to the right, kicking her leg behind her as a frightened horse would. She found no purchase.
She was trapped.
Trapped in this powerless state, trapped in this unfamiliar world! There was no chance of escape, no hope of a savior. She was a savior; she was a guardian! She screamed aloud in frustration.
“Stop that, forest-girl,” Krit chided her, his lips purring the words directly into her ear. She should have known it was him holding her like this.
“Let. Me. Go.” She said each word slowly, emphasizing her meaning with a cool, decided pause between each word.
“You do not scare me,” Krit purred. She felt his lips press against the skin right under her ear. She shuddered, but for some reason she could not move her feet to kick him again. They were frozen on the ground. “No, you don’t scare me at all. You might scare the others, but see, I have a weapon, yes. This lovely jewel”—she heard a chain click somewhere near her—“that takes away every frightening feature about you. You seem…almost innocent now. So tempting. But that is not why we are here. I want the honor of showing you your first kingdom.”
The blindfold slipped away.
Kiethara gasped, louder than she had when she had first seen the valley.
They were on the top of a hill. The hill, it seemed, overlooked the kingdom. A thick, stone wall surrounded what seemed to be a small village. She could barely make out the closely packed houses, the multicolored tents, dirt paths, and the throngs of people that were crammed between the stone walls. Even from where they were positioned you could hear the hustle of the kingdom below; a shout, the crack of a whip, the cry of an animal. The kingdom of Nikkoi stretched far, reaching the top of the next hill and then dipping behind it. It was…amazing.
But Kiethara was disappointed.
What was this supposed to be? A mass of dead, badly deformed matter that polluted the natural beauty surrounding it? Inside the crude stone walls she couldn’t spot a speck of green! There were no grand cottages that she had imagined, no majestic qualities. The whole thing was rather gray.
“Impressed?” Krit purred in her ear.
She snorted.
“This is what you call impressive? This…this settlement of mud and stone? This ugly monument to the degraded civilization you live in? Hah! I’ve seen better.”
She could practically hear his jaw drop open, feel the annoyance and frustration simmer inside him. His teeth snapped back together as he yanked her head back, using her waist long hair.
“What could you mean by that? Are you telling me you have already seen a kingdom, forest-girl?”
“No, but I’ve seen more beautiful and
stunning scenes in the forest, by far. And this,” she said, nodding towards Nikkoi, “is no kingdom.”
“You dare insult my home?” he hissed.
“You dare take me from mine?” she challenged.
His only answer was a frustrated silence. Kiethara smiled.
“That is what you think, eh?” he asked after a minute. “Fine, do so. It’s your home now, too.”
His words sent ice through her as she realized how true they really were. She choked back the sudden wave of panic and sorrow that threatened to expose her for how weak she was. His words just might be true; she might never see any other view but this one again.
This is why she hated the sensation of hope—it led to this gut-wrenching, twisted, painful feeling of loss and disappointment.
“Come now, we must be off,” Krit commanded, pulling her back towards the covered wagon.
“Tie her up,” Krit said offhandedly. Natal complied.
With that, the nightmare marched on again. She could only see a limited amount through a small opening in the cover at the back of the wagon, but she could tell they were almost at Nikkoi. She could hear it: shouts, bells, metallic clanks, and hundreds of other noises hat mingled into a strange melody. None of the sounds she heard were as beautiful as the music in her mother’s locket. There were also many smells; most were unfamiliar, but some, like the smells of animals, were familiar.
What really shocked her was how...thick and disgusting the air was. It went through her throat roughly, igniting a coughing fit that burned. It smelled strongly of smoke. It was nothing like the pure, clean air of the forest.
After a few minutes the wagon slowed and everything was suddenly cast into shadow. Voices in the same alien tongue shouted out and Krit shouted back. There was a strong creaking sound, and then the wagon moved forward. Rolling forward slowly, a massive wooden door came into view, the only exit through the stone walls.
Krit barked out something else from the front. Natal responded, sounding reluctant. Krit’s response was sharp.
Natal got to his knees and reached towards the pile in the corner. He took out two rags and a bottle.
One of the rags went over her eyes again—she had been expecting that.
Then there was a clink of glass, accompanied with an atrocious smell. Suddenly, she knew what was going to happen, but it was too late. The rag was pressed over her nose and mouth, and everything faded away…
Kiethara awoke slowly. As consciousness crept back onto her, some parts of her body came to life faster than others did. Especially her throat and, as soon as she felt it, she wished she was still knocked out.
It felt as though someone had used knifes to carve out the inside of it. Every breath she took, no matter how shallow, caused the flesh to itch and burn. She needed water and she needed it now.
Opening her eyes proved more of a challenge than she would have figured. Once she accomplished that, it took just as long for them to adjust.
She was lying on a cold, stone floor. The room she was in seemed to be all stone, lit by a single torch. Across from her there was a staircase, which led to a wooden door. There was a bucket in the far corner, which smelled horrible, but besides from that, the room was bare.
Kiethara coughed—groaning as the flames erupted in her throat—and pulled herself up. She leaned her head against the wall, trying to overcome the swaying in her head. It frightened her how much that small movement cost her.
For the first time in days, she was finally alone.
The thought gave her a small bit of relief. She didn’t have to fight as hard; she didn’t have to hide any expression or hold back any tears. Tears that were flowing down her cheeks now.
It was a couple of long moments before she could get them to stop. It was really pointless to cry, for it got her nowhere and did nothing. She only wished she could cup her hands and collect her tears, so at least she would have something to drink.
A muffled noise came from upstairs, making her freeze. It got louder alarmingly fast; she quickly whipped away the wet streaks on her cheeks as the door burst open.
Rahell strutted down the stairs, carrying a metal tray. He seemed to be a little annoyed.
“Here you go, princess,” he sneered as he tossed the tray at her feet. On it was a chunk of what Natal had given her before. He had called it bread?
“Feeding you,” Rahell continued to glare at her as he mumbled. “What’s next, a bath and a bed? Bah!”
“Water,” she croaked.
“Yes, of course, take your water,” he muttered. He threw down a canteen at her feet, before stomping back up the stairs and disappeared.
Kiethara grabbed the canteen with a gasp. In one of Aaron’s numerous chats, he had described to her the leather pouch traveler’s used to carry their water. She gulped down the contents of the container with gusto, ignoring the searing burn of her throat. She lowered the canteen, breathing heavily. The water did wonders; she felt she could think clearly for the first time in days.
Kiethara then picked up the bread. It was cool and hard, like a stone. People really ate this? She wondered about how they made it taste so good. She tore at the bread with the same amount of gusto she had with the water. It wasn’t as good as what Natal had given her, but still delectable.
Being alone turned out to be very, very dull. She realized that after about an hour. More time passed than she cared to account for, very slowly, and she began to get frustrated. She couldn’t tell if it was night, if it was day, or if they had just decided to leave her here to die.
Then, after endless waiting, someone finally came.
It was Zacakar who came in this time. He grunted something at her in their unfamiliar tongue before cutting the ropes around her ankles. He tugged her up by the elbow and then led her towards the stairs. Her heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure yet if upstairs was where she wanted to go. Her legs dragged as they regained their strength, but she managed to make it up the stairs; he opened the wooden door for her and shoved her through the doorway.
It was a well-furnished room. There was a fire crackling in the wall across from her. The walls were not stone, but paneled with wood, and the furniture was neatly carved. A small area rug took up some of the musty floor, its colors and patterns matching those of the cushions on the chairs. It was dark besides the fire, with no windows. The fact gave her chills.
Four men were standing in the doorway. She recognized three—Krit, Natal, and Rahell—but the fourth she didn’t. He was a short man, plump, with the same tanned skin and a bald head. His robe far exceeded anything surrounding him in magnificence and numerous rings fit his fat, pudgy fingers. He stared at her with a hungry expression as Zacakar pushed her forward.
Krit and the man started talking; she gritted her teeth in frustration because she couldn’t understand what they were saying. They were walking towards her, circling as though they wanted to view her at every angle. She eyed the man warily.
“Who is he?” she croaked to Krit. The man looked up with a curious expression, but Krit just shook his head at him.
“A potential buyer. Just stand there and look pretty, eh?” he told her.
The man stopped circling her. He walked towards her, running his mouth off with unfamiliar words, and reached for the hem of her dirty white dress.
Kiethara brought her knee up with as much force as she could muster. It came into contact with the man’s protruding belly. He cried out in shock, doubling over in pain. Zacakar and Natal rushed forward to restrain her as Krit hurried forward to help the man.
The plump man starting screaming out alien words, and she could tell most of it was directed at her. Kiethara raised her chin high and stared him in the eye, portrayer her message clearly with her navy blue eyes: Do not touch me.
The man left the room.
Krit wasted not a moment in coming up to her and striking her across the face. His own expression was livid; his nostrils flaring and eyes bugging.
“What was tha
t?! He might have brought you, for a lot of money! You would have had a good life!” he screamed.
“No,” Kiethara told him softly. “My life is in the forest, in my home. Any life outside of there is wretched! Did you not see what he tried to do? I do not know him! I want to return to the home I come from and to the people I love. To the man I love. I will not be sold to another like a dog.”
Her words seemed to have a great effect on all of them. They were frozen, staring at her with wide eyes. What had they been thinking? That she had wanted to be sold to that man? That she never wanted to return home again? She lived for the forest, she lived for her power. She had to be a guardian, for she could be nothing else.
“You…you love a man? And he loves you?” Natal asked quietly.
“Yes, very much,” Kiethara whispered. “And the forest will fall without me. No more magic. Gandador will rule.”
Silence followed.
“It does not matter. We do not use magic,” Krit said dismissively.
“That fact doesn’t matter to Gandador. He will still come to destroy you, because you are useless.”
“Put her back downstairs,” Krit ordered loudly, pointing at the door. Zacakar rushed forward and shoved her towards the staircase.
Zacakar pointed at the far wall when they had reached the bottom and then turned to go back up. He didn’t even bother tying her up again. She went to the wall and slid down it, closing her eyes.
She fell asleep, to her surprise. However, after what she thought had been a very short time, she was jolted awake. Something, or someone, was nearby. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Then she finally heard it, soft footsteps descending down the stairs. The torch in the room had gone out, so she could not see a thing.
He padded closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body.
“Come,” Natal whispered. “I will get you out of here.”