Trapped

by E J Pay

  After months of doing everything Abraxas has asked of me, he is ready for me to lengthen my reach. He wants to let me out of my room.

  “Understanding, of course, that Gileaus will remain with us while you are out,” he says. “Do as you are told and he will continue to remain unharmed. Don’t do as you are told and he will be hurt.” Abraxas has learned the value of keeping promises, even to prisoners. I know I can trust what he says, no matter how evil, because he always does as he promises to do. I do not like being trapped by him, but I have no other choice. Until I can find a way to free Gileaus, Namaah and me, I cannot deny him.

  “I’ll be hosting a large party of guests at my home in a week,” he continues. “You will be in attendance as my cousin. You will receive instructions as the evening moves on.” I listen closely, hoping for some inkling of what he has in mind, what he has planned for his future and mine. “Namaah will help you get ready for the evening. I expect this to be a success, Pearl.”

  I nod, “Yes, sir.” The chains that still bind my wrists make a clinking sound on my bed. Abraxas pauses, considering me. He steps closer to the bed, taking my hand in his, running his finger over the shackle on my wrist.

  “I think we can remove these now,” he says. “You’ve proven that as long as I have Gileaus, you are not a risk to me.” He addresses a guard before leaving, ordering him to undo the cuffs I have been wearing for months.

  When the shackles are removed, my skin is rough and red from the wear of the chains against my skin. It is strange to move about without the extra weight of my restraints inhibiting my movements. I feel weightless, like I am floating.

  An image flashes through my body. Almost like a memory. It’s more of a feeling than anything else: I am floating, weightless, in a sea of blue. The humid air around me is exchanged for water and my body is no longer mine, but the body of a girl who lives many years in the future. The memory is vague but powerful. My heart yearns for the freedom of that life, moving through water. My heart breaks for the memory and I cry out. The guards in the room shift in their sandals, gripping the clubs, swords, and daggers they carry at their sides. They fear me, but there is nothing to fear from the creature before them. I am not bent on destruction. I am seeing someone else’s life and it brings me pain. I lay back on the pillows, turn my face to them, and I cry.

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  As promised, Namaah comes to me at the end of the week, arms laden with fresh robes, perfumes, soaps, and oils. We spend our time quietly, with her bathing and cleaning me as she always does. She takes extra time with my hair, weaving braids and curls like the statues of Greek goddesses I am so familiar with. When I am ready, she places oils behind my ears and on my wrists. Oils that will keep me safe from any who would do harm to me. Perfume is placed on my robes. Braided gold bracelets cover my ankles and wrists, hiding the wounds that are still healing from my months of captivity. At last, I am ready - a powerful tool hidden behind a beautiful façade.

  A fortress guard is outside my door, ready to escort me to the dinner. I haven’t left my room in months. It is surreal to move about, unshackled. My legs are wobbly and weak. I did have some room to stand on the bed and to move to my chamber pot, but my movements have been so restricted, that using my muscles again will take practice. The guard offers his arm to me as we make our way through the building.

  When we reach the entrance to the prison where I have been kept, another guard opens the door wide. He looks at my own guard with pity. He has heard the rumors and knows what I am capable of. He is glad he is not in the post of his fellow officer. My guard stiffens as he passes by his comrade and we head into the courtyard where a small cart waits to take us to the main house. I inhale a deep breath and relish the feeling of cool, fresh air in my lungs. I hum lightly and whisper my greetings to the air around me.

  Good child, it says to me, we have missed you and worried for you. We have been in touch with our sisters from within the fortress. Tell us, are you alright.

  I am, I whisper back. Though I am not where I would wish to be, I am better than I was.

  If there is any way we can help you, we are ready to do it. We know much about the comings and goings of this place.

  I thank you, I tell the good air in response, For tonight, just being able to be out in the open with you and feel you heal my lungs is enough.

  Pleasure rushes over me as the air sends a breeze through my hair. Air plays a vital role in the lives of humans. It, too, wants to be appreciated and cared for. It is happy when it serves well.

  I send my gratitude into the air and allow it to hug me as my guards help me into the cart. Two more guards await us when we sit. I am being tested tonight, but I am not yet trusted. Abraxas will not risk losing me.

  The ride to the main house takes some time. My eyes move through the dim light of evening, taking in my surroundings. The hills are rolling and dotted with the wispy trees that make up the Grecian landscape. There are few buildings here besides the fortress. I turn to stare at the great building as I leave it behind for an evening. It is two stories tall from the outside. I cannot tell how many levels lie beneath the surface of the earth that houses it. A spiked fence surrounds the whitewashed structure. The fence is made of tall wooden posts, sharpened on the tops and guarded by a dozen men or more. Torches illuminate just the opening gate to the courtyard. All else is encased in shadow.

  The fortress is concealed in a valley, surrounded by a copse of trees. Once we have traveled a mile, I can see no evidence of the compound’s existence except for the road we are traveling on now. There are no workers in fields, no farms, no orchards and I wonder how much land Abraxas owns to be able to support his life and still have a hidden fortress.

  My guards are quiet as we travel and that is just as well. I want my senses alert to the world around me, not distracted by the conversation of humans. We ride in the quiet, my guards eyeing me, me watching the countryside, until I finally see the signs of outlying buildings and farms. We pass through rich fields laden with fruit and then an orchard filled with the most beautiful olive trees I have ever seen. I wonder if the olive business is what brought Abraxas to the home of Grandfather in the first place. These trees are of the same variety as Grandfather’s, but a better quality than what we grew in Argos. Knowing the frequency Abraxas came to visit Grandfather, I know we are within a hundred miles of my childhood home. I feel the tugging of my heart pulling east.

  We pass through smaller farms and begin to see the frequency of buildings consistent with a large estate. Homes for servants and tenant farmers dot the land. They are clean and well maintained. Field hands returning home look up as our cart passes. Many begin to raise their hands in greeting, but turn away when their eyes see the guards. They are eager to be warm and welcoming to one another, but they know when to keep to themselves. Some of the younger men, risk a second glance when the cart passes. One sends me a smile. I give him a small smile back. It feels good to have new human interaction.

  The cart slows and we enter a wide path lined with olive trees. The fruit is perfect, the best example of what Abraxas’ estate creates. The lane opens to a tall, clay, whitewashed wall bathed in light. Torches line the outer wall of Abraxas’ home. There is nothing hidden here. Except for me.

  The cart passes through the gate and into the courtyard. The soft plodding of the horses’ hooves turns to a crunch as we roll into the courtyard. Small pebbles fly outward from the wheels of the cart. We pull up to the house, my guard leaps from the cart and again offers his arm to me. I reach for it and place my hand on him for support as I jump down from the wagon. The remaining guards alight from the cart and follow us through the large doors of the grand estate.

  I am not the first guest to arrive at the home. I am probably the last. Laughing and talking voices reach the foyer. My guard leads me toward them. We are arriving just as the group is heading into the great dining room.

  “Ah, Pearl,” Abraxas calls when he sees me entering the room. “I am so gla
d you finally made it.” He moves through his guests like a purple snake sneaking through the dried white and gold grass of the hillside. He reaches me, embraces me, and kisses my cheek. I shiver at his touch. His eyes meet mine and he pulls away. He holds my gaze for a moment and I hold his, a quiet assurance that I will behave. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announces to the room, “this is my dear cousin, Pearl, who will be staying with me for a time. Do show her how lovely you all are, won’t you?” Happy mutters echo throughout the dining chamber as his guests greet me. Before he leaves my side, Abraxas, squeezes my hand, depositing a small piece of paper within. I grasp the proffered item and hide it within the bands of gold than encircle my wrists.

  Abraxas leads us through his gathered company and takes me to a chair beside a grey-haired man in older robes.

  “This is Tassos,” Abraxas introduces the old man. “Tassos, my cousin, Pearl.” The old man bows to me and extends his hand to the open seat beside him.

  “I am glad to meet you, Pearl,” he says. “I would be pleased to have you as my company this evening.” His voice is ragged and old, quavering with each syllable. He has a gentle shake to his body, one of the many markers of old age. I take the seat next to him and my guard stands behind me. Tassos is occupied in getting his robes arranged in his lap and is searching the table for the food. I take the opportunity to open the note Abraxas gave me.

  Tassos is to see snakes on the table

  The message is clear and I start my work. I don’t know what Tassos has done, who he is, or why Abraxas wants him to see things, but I have a job to do. I have lives to save.

  The wine is being poured in goblets all around the table. I look at my plate and send tendrils of black toward Tassos. The tendrils make their way to Tassos’ ears and slither into his mind. I send images of snakes to his vision. He sees them slithering down the table toward him.

  “Ahhhh!!!!” Tassos screams as he jumps up from the table. “The snakes! Abraxas, the snakes!” He points at the table, screaming as he runs into the servers behind him. General pandemonium breaks out as the women and several men scream and scramble from the imagined snakes. I remain in my seat.

  “Tassos!” Abraxas yells as he runs to the side of his guest. “What do you mean? What snakes?”

  Tassos is pointing wildly, his hair a disheveled mess around his head. “What do you mean, ‘What snakes?!’” he yells at his host. “They are covering the table! Have you lost your sight, man?!” The group grows quiet.

  “Tassos,” Abraxas places his hand on his guest’s shoulder, “Tassos. There are no snakes on the table.”

  Tassos jerks his head around the room. The men that never left their seats are looking at him with widened eyes, the women whisper to one another.

  “The snakes!” he yells again, pointing to the table. “Do none of you see the snakes?!” He is shaking wildly now, from his head to his sandals. His eyes are darting around the room. He grows silent and turns his face to Abraxas.

  “Come, friend,” Abraxas says. “Let me show you to a room where you may lie down. Your day has been long and your mind fatigued. You must rest.”

  Tassos is shaking and mumbling to himself, glancing furtively to the snake-covered table as his host leads him from the room. The remaining guests return to their seats, talking in low tones to one another. All around me I hear bits and pieces of their conversation. “He is growing old and senile.” “What does this mean for the vote next week?” “He must have been poisoned.” “The wine hasn’t reached him yet.” “He is too old to keep leading.” “He cannot continue in this manner.”

  So, Tassos is a political rival. I see. Abraxas has no mercy for his political opponents. With me here, he doesn’t have to do anything as reckless as he did to Spiro. He can control the people quietly and obtain his desires through me. I sit quietly throughout the rest of the meal. I eat the food without noticing its flavor. My mind is running through the events of the evening and what they reveal about my captor. He wants power. He is using me to get it. It is less a loss of life than the attack on Spiro’s estate. I may hate the man, but if this kind of subversive behavior will win him his elections with less life lost, I will continue to do it. That is, until I can find a way to freedom from his power.

  Chapter 32

  Abraxas won the election. It was a local election and Tassos was his greatest opponent. Abraxas played the part of the grateful student until Tassos went mad. I stayed in the home for the week, guards in the halls outside my door. Tassos continued to see snakes.

  The election was a success and I performed my part well. Abraxas rewards me with an afternoon lunch, outside, with Gileaus. We are heavily guarded. Gileaus’ wounds have healed completely and he is being fed and clothed well. Abraxas has been spending time with him in quiet meetings.

  “He is offering me a place at his side, Athena,” Gileaus tells me as we finish our meal. “He wants me to join him in the political arena.”

  “After what he did to your family?” I ask. One of the guards near us shifts his feet and glares at me. I will be punished if I am not careful with my words.

  “My father was going to lose his place in the political world anyway, Athena,” Gileaus says to me. He is playing with a blade of grass as he stares out over the rolling hills beyond the fortress walls.

  “But he was your father,” I don’t know why he needs the reminder. Is he seriously contemplating joining this man? “Are you honestly thinking of joining Abraxas?” This time several guards turn their glares on me. Gileaus doesn’t notice them. Or he chooses to ignore them. He is silent for a moment before answering.

  “It could be good for us,” he finally says. “For you and for me.” He turns his face to me. His eyes are tired, defeated. “We could marry and have the life we wanted. We could be free.”

  I search his eyes, hoping to see something hidden there. But nothing is hidden. His thoughts are clearly written on his face. He is weary. He is overwhelmed. He is hopeless. I reach my hand out and lace my fingers through his.

  “But what do you want?” I ask him. “We made plans to run away before all of this. To leave the political world your father lived in behind. To be on our own. We can find a way to anything, Gil. This doesn’t have to be our path.” He pulls his hand away and looks again over the fields.

  “I know we had plans, Athena, but our world has changed. I have changed.” I shake my head, thinking of all my love has been through. He was willing to leave his family for me. He was kidnapped for his father’s sake. He has been beaten and tortured to save me. What more can I ask him to do? I reach for his hand again.

  “Alright,” I say. “If this is what you really want, I will follow you.” Gileaus turns his face toward mine, searching for something.

  “Do you mean it, Athena? Do you really mean it?”

  “Do you doubt it?” I ask. “I love you, Gil. You were willing to give up your world for me. If you need this to bring you peace, how could I say no?” A small smile flickers across Gileaus’ face. He seems relieved but haunted at the same time. He has been through so much. I don’t know how to free him from these past months or give him back the dreams he used to have. I can only hope that on this road together, he will realize this is a dangerous choice and choose to run. If only we can.

  He reaches his face toward mine and brushes a gentle kiss across my lips. It is light and fleeting, the first time our lips have touched since being brought here. We have always been guarded or bruised or bleeding. I have missed the warmth of his kisses.

  He turns away again and stares silently across the hills. A short while later, our guards come to break us apart. Our reward time is over. I say a silent prayer that Gileaus will be able to open his eyes soon. How could we possibly live willingly in a world created for us by a monster? Abraxas is manipulating our every move and decision. How do I convince Gileaus that this is what is happening? How do I free us both?

  ∞ ∞ ∞

  With Gileaus’ decision to join with Abraxas com
es more freedom. He is allowed a room nearer to my own and we are allowed time together daily. We are still never alone, however, so our conversations are limited to what can safely be said in front of a guard. I try to send him notes through Namaah, but they are returned unopened. He tells me he has nothing to hide from anyone. He doesn’t want to sneak around if he doesn’t have to. It’s safer that way.

  I continue to create hallucinations for Abraxas’ political opponents. It is happening so frequently, however, that some are beginning to suspect him.

  “I must have some political success without you,” he tells me one evening as I eat. “I must travel again next month. I must go without you.” He paces the floor, running his fingers through his hair. I watch him pace, wondering at his distress. He has traveled without me before. I am no longer bound and haven’t been for some time. He cannot worry that I will betray him at this point. He stops pacing and turns to face me, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “There are still things you can do to serve me while I am away,” he says. He still doesn’t understand that I don’t serve him, I survive him. “You may not like what I ask of you, Pearl, but continue to serve well and you will continue to be rewarded. Fail me and see the results.” I shake my head.

  “Why do you threaten me?” I ask. “For months I have done all you have asked of me. Why do you worry now? What is it that you ask?” He continues to stare at me and I continue to hold his gaze. His eyes flick toward Namaah who is clearing away the dishes from my table. She knows his plans. She is a quiet observer of everything that happens here. Abraxas raises the corner of his mouth in a crooked smile. He feels confident that his secrets are safe and that he is the master puppeteer.

  “You will do as you are instructed,” he says again. “I will deliver messages to you through Namaah. She cannot divulge anything in them because she cannot read and she cannot talk.”