Unwilling (Book One of the Compelled Trilogy 1)

by Kristen Pike

  When they finally stopped Kastor opened up another door, this one creaking louder than the first door he had opened and dumped Rowan on the ground. Her tailbone bruising as she struck the ground, hard.

  Kastor withdrew a knife from his heavy boot and Rowan flinched away from it, but he only cut the bonds that held her, the ropes falling to the ground soundlessly like dead snakes. Rowan rubbed her wrists, the skin tender, dried blood flaking off the ropes as she picked them up and cast them away from her. Kastor slammed the door on her and she heard the click of a lock and wondered how he had managed to get a cage down here. He didn’t seem smart enough to build a cage with a lock himself. Kastor walked off, leaving Rowan to brood in the silence that washed over her in his absence.

  When Rowan turned, her eye adjusting to the dim light cast off by the lantern Kastor had left behind, she gasped to find herself face to face with a sheep. It bah’d at her, then ambled off to chew some grain in a trough on the far left side of the cage. Rowan blinked rapidly, eyeing the food and water laid out for the animal.

  I’m not that desperate, Rowan tried to convince herself, but who was she kidding? She abandoned her pride and crawled over to the water, cupping her hands in the cool liquid and slurped it up. She guzzled it until her stomach hurt and after a minute, she threw it all back up again, her stomach rejecting the liquid after days of emptiness. Her throat burned with acid and she drank the water more slowly after that, pacing herself.

  The sheep bah’d again and moved away from her, going to lie down in some straw in another corner of the caged room. Rowan tried the grain, but it was too hard to chew and she spit it back out disappointed. She sat crossed legged on the dirt floor and pondered if the dirt was here naturally, or if Kastor had brought it in for the animal. He didn’t seem like a nice enough man to think about an animal’s comfort and figured that the cave floor must naturally be made of dirt in this part of the rock cave.

  Rowan felt exhausted suddenly. She moved slowly toward the sheep, who’s deep and even breathing suggested it was asleep. The air was painfully cold down here and she curled up gingerly by the sheep trying to soak up some of its warmth. It lifted its head and looked at her sleepily as she curled by its side, but didn’t move, and eventually laid its head back down. Rowan bowed in on herself, hugging her arms to her chest as she lay in the straw. She quickly succumbed to sleep.

  ҉ ҉ ҉

  Rowan bolted upright, panic rising in her chest as a banging sound penetrated her slumber. It was dark and she could barely make out shadows in the bleak darkness. She forgot completely where she was as she scrambled to her feet, trying to run. She tripped on something and stumbled into the ground, dirt filling her mouth. Cold liquid sloshed over her, soaking through her clothes and drenching her skin.

  She spit out the dirt as something soft brushed against her face and just like that, her memories came crashing back. The mountain, and the hole in the ground, and the sheep; the sheep who was now brushing itself against Rowan trying to reach its water, which she had spilt all over the floor in her mad dash to escape. It bah’d angrily at her and she scrambled away, hugging her knees to her chest as her back rested against the metal bars of her cage.

  They were cold against her skin even through her shirt, painfully so. Rowan grew furious and slammed her body back into them, the sound echoing throughout the damp room. She threw herself backwards again and again until her back felt bruised and still she continued. She screamed, grabbing her hair at the sides of her head, a hollow wail rising from her parched throat. When she had no more left in her she slumped over, her cheek pressed to the cool ground.

  Rowan breathed dirt in and out of her nose, it suffocated her, she choked on it, and she prayed to all the Gods that she had ever heard of to let her die already. As if in answer, a light shone behind her and she turned her face to it, blinking in the harsh light, her eyes unused to it. She brought her hand to her face, trying to shield out some of the bright light.

  She could make out the hand that held the lantern first, it was small and pale, so unlike the hand of her abductor that Rowan was taken aback. There are more people down here? How many, and do they all know I’m here? Could I persuade one of them to let me go? If she could speak, she would use her “gift” and force them to let her go, but her tongue was too large in her mouth and when she tried to speak the words that came out were an intelligible mess.

  When Rowans eye had adjusted, she let her hand fall lifelessly into the dirt. It took to much energy to hold it up. Energy she didn’t currently have. The person holding the lantern placed it down on a table outside her cage, illuminating the area around her.

  Rowan squinted; sure her eye was playing a trick on her. The girl couldn’t have been more than 13. She had soft-looking red hair that fell like fire in thick waves to her flat chest. She was small, delicate. Her skin was pale, but she was clean and when she stepped closer Rowan thought she smelt like spices, sage and rosemary, perhaps.

  The girl wore simple brown clothes that were baggy on her slight frame. Her pants were held up with a thin rope that dangled down to her knee. She was beautiful, or rather would be, once she came into herself.

  “I’m not supposed to be down here.” She stated with a slight smile. Her voice was soft and she sounded certain of herself, as if she knew the rules and did not care that she was breaking them. She sat on the floor, her legs crossed. Rowan noticed she didn’t wear shoes and her feet were almost black, caked with dirt. “Are you hurt terribly?” She asked. She scooted a little closer, but stayed out of reach of the bars as though she thought Rowan were a crazed criminal, bound to strangle her at any moment. Rowan shook her head; she wouldn’t reveal her weaknesses to the people that held her prisoner, even if this one did seem innocent. “Are you hungry?” She tried again.

  Rowan thought a minute, and nodded.

  “You don’t talk much do you?” She asked. Rowan didn’t say anything, obviously, only stared at her. “Alright hold on a minute, I’ll be right back.” The girl sprang up in that way youthful people did and Rowan never felt as old as she did right then. Rowan was shocked to find that her birthday had come and gone a few weeks ago, unnoticed, and unremarkable. She was 18 now.

  The girl had taken the lantern with her, the light swaying off the walls as she left and Rowan found she wanted the girl to come back, and immediately rejected the thought. Even if she was a small child, she was as still as much Rowan’s jailor as Kastor was.

  Rowan breathed in the silence. Her body ached and she felt stupid for her previous actions. She should be trying to regain her strength, not do everything she could to deplete it further. Rowan was exhausted. Everything in her wanted to curl up and go to sleep but she resisted, knowing that the child would likely be coming back soon.

  So Rowan sat there, in the darkness, listening to water drip somewhere in the room. She wondered if perhaps there was an opening in the walls around her she could use to make an escape, even if that meant digging through rock with her bare hands.

  The girl bounded back into the room. She was out of breath as if she had ran a great distance and carried in her hands a crude tin cup, and a plate piled high with food.

  It smelt delicious and Rowan’s mouth watered, betraying her starvation. Her traitorous stomach chose that time to gurgle and Rowan mentally cursed her wretched body.

  “I brought you some food!” The girl said cheerfully. She slid the plate along the dirt floor; it was just short enough to pass under the bars without touching them. “I’m Cecily, by the way, my father named me for my grandmother who passed before I was born. Not that you asked my name, I just thought you should know.” She shook her head, a frown crossing her face, but then her smile returned, her white teeth glaringly bright in the dim space. “Uncle says I’m always telling people things I shouldn’t and I should learn to keep my trap shut.” She leaned close to the bars and whispered, “But you can keep a secret can’t you?” She asked seriously, her eyes growing large and round, as though her
telling Rowan her name was a prized possession that she did not share with just anyone. Rowan nodded, not sure what else to do.

  “CECILIY!” A voice boomed somewhere in the distance. Rowan recoiled, knowing that voice to be Kastor’s, hoping he didn’t come here to find Cecily.

  “Well, I’ve got to go! Uncle will be furious if he finds me here, but I’ll try to come back soon.” She smiled and took a few steps away, but turned back to Rowan. “I can just tell were going to be great friends.” Cecily pranced away, taking the light with her.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Rowan slept next to the sheep again. She did not have any blankets and the straw was rough against her skin, but once she fell asleep, it wasn’t so bad. It was the getting to sleep that made her lose her mind. She just could not seem to shut down, stop the thoughts that consumed her, plagued her; Cecily, and her unexpected arrival into her life, Kastor and his name marring her flesh, Elias and if he was safe, if he was hurting someone, if he had gone mad like mother, if she would even be able to help him find himself again, whenever she found him – if she managed to escape this prison first- and she thought of Jace, Jace and his green green eyes, Jace and his warm embrace, Jace and his comforting words, his stories. Jace and his beautiful heart, asking her not to go, pleading her with his eyes to stay with him, and leaving him anyway. She knew Jace was out there somewhere, looking for her, she knew he would never find her, not down here in this cold pit, she knew she didn’t want him to waste his life searching for her. All these thoughts, these torturous, useless thoughts not allowing her body drift off into unconsciousness.

  Sometime in the night, or was it day now? Rowan had drifted into an uneasy sleep, tossing and turning in the itchy straw, nightmares tormenting her, her unconscious mind was as restless, as cruel in her sleep as it was when she was awake. Her back was sore when she woke up. Just the thin shirt she was wearing felt like all the weight of the world pressed on her tender back. Her tongue felt better though, not as swollen inside her mouth. Rowan lay there a while after she woke, shivering in the damp air. The sheep had moved away from her sometime in the night-day? Rowan wished she could see the sun, the blue sky, a bird, trees- and it eyed her cautiously now. Rowan reached her hand out slowly toward it and it bah’d at her, but didn’t move.

  The sheep’s coat was a dirty white, thick and curly. She could feel its warmth circling around it and felt envious that she could not be a sheep, with a portable fur downed coat. “You need a name.” Rowan told it, then shook her head. Speaking to sheep now are we?

  Rowan moved away from the sheep, her body crying out in pain. If she could see her body, she was sure she would be covered in bruises; blue and purple, some yellow and green, covering her body and intertwining like a map of pain, each one telling a different story she didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to remember. Rowan probably looked a mess. Her hair matted and caked in dirt, her bloody stainedclothes filthy over her filthy body. If Jace did happen to find me right now, would he even be able to recognize me?

  Her shoulders felt knotted and she rolled them, wincing in pain. Her left arm itched horribly where her burn was, the skin agitated as it tried to heal. Bitter anger rose like bile in her throat as she looked down at the brutal disfigurement. Full of pity for herself Rowan slowly made her way toward the cell door. Her hand pushed along the ground searching for the plate of food and the water she had left there the previous night.

  Rowan had only managed a few measly bites before she had felt full, her stomach shrinking drastically in the time it had taken to travel here. She wondered again how long it had been since she had been abducted. Rowan knew the longer she was here, the less likely it was that anyone would ever come for her.

  Her hand struck something cold and she felt around it, groping in the near darkness for the bread and meat saved from last night. She ate slowly, relishing the food. Even though it was hard and cold, it had good flavor, and Rowan wondered if Cecily had made it. She drank the chilled water slowly, washing her breakfast down. She felt full after just six bites.

  Rowan lay on the ground, stretching her hands above her head and gasping at a sharp pain in her ribs. She felt around the damaged area; a right lower rib stuck out slightly more than the others did and she thought it was probably broken and would take a while to heal. Rowan groaned as she touched the area surrounding it. It felt swollen to her but she was not a doctor, and that could just be how ribs felt.

  Rowan scratched her head, dirt sticking under her fingernails. She felt disgusted and if the offer presented itself right now, she might just consider selling her soul if she could only bathe. She imagined a tub with steaming water, soap making bubbles on the surface. Maybe she would perfume the water with some rose petals, or orange peels as she often had as a child, and when she stepped from the bath her skin would be pink and glowing with cleanliness. Rowan smiled but it quickly faded, she was more likely to die first, than take a bath. She kicked her leg sideways at the cage bars, only hitting air, and yelped in rage and agony.

  How did I wind up here; locked in a rusty cage with a damned sheep? How have I been reduced to this sniveling mess of a girl? She had withstood brutal beatings from the person who was supposed to love her most. The two people she HAD loved the most had abandoned her, one permanently, the other without a second look back. She had endured months of living on the hard ground in search of her brother. She had fallen in love and then she had been ripped away from him and Gods only knew if she would ever see Jace again. And this was where it will all end, in a smelly hole in the ground, with people I don’t know and who want to see me dead.

  Rowans eyes darkened. She breathed heavily, fighting the tears that threatened to spill out from behind her lids and dampen the dirt. She did not want to die at the hands of the monsters that held her, probably slowly and with excruciating pain. I want some choice! I don’t want to die down here in this pit, my future controlled by K… Rowan trailed off, unable to even think Kastor’s name for the pain it caused her.

  Rowan floundered around in the dark for the tin cup Cecily had brought her water in the night before. The metal was soft enough to bend, but still solid enough to pierce through, if she struck hard enough. With a little effort, Rowan was able to fashion the cup into a makeshift dagger, the tip was sharp and she sliced her hand open trying to bend the metal. She could feel her warm blood dripping down her palm but she did not feel the pain of it, so feverish she was in her work.

  When she finished she felt the weapon proudly. It was sharp and would do what she wanted it to easily. Rowan felt triumphant, but also sad, so sad, for contemplating what she was. This didn’t make her any better than her father, maybe cowardice ran in the family. Rowan looked down at the knife bitterly, resolve settling over her, she wouldn’t go out of this world like that. If she were to go, it would be kicking and screaming and fighting for every breath she took. She would not be her father.

  Just then she heard some shuffling and saw a pinprick of light coming toward her. The person holding it stumbled slightly, the lantern swaying, the flame almost doused in their attempt to right themselves. Rowan quickly scrambled to hide the crude dagger beneath the straw, wincing in pain as she did so. She backed as far away from the cage door as possible, trying to hide herself in a corner lest it was Kastor coming for her.

  “Rowan?” A voice called out, trying to keep their voice low and Rowans eyebrows slammed down over eyes in disbelief. She clamored forward, her fore head cramming against the cage as he came into view, the old man hobbling toward her like a vision, an impossible, miraculous, vision. Rowan was sure she was never so happy to see anyone in her entire life, a goofy grin breaking out over her face.

  “Jacob!” Rowan exclaimed, never thinking in a hundred lifetimes that the old man would have been the one to rescue her. She heard chattering at her feet and looked down to see Moon Shine, Jacob’s pet ferret skittering about her legs. She smiled, joy rushing through her to see the animals bushy tail and bright eyes.

  A
million questions ran through Rowans mind. How is he here? How did he find me? Has he been following me all this time? Did I really see him in that inn? “Why did you come here?” Was what spilled out of her mouth instead, her smile fading and replaced by a frown. If he is caught down here, Kastor will kill him.

  Jacob gave her a curious expression but didn’t answer. “You shouldn’t have come down here.” Rowan told him. Jacob bent to peer at the lock holding her captive, his face twisted in concentration, his eyes darting back and forth rapidly as he examined the cool metal of her prison. “Why are you following me?” Rowan tried again.

  Jacob shot a quick look at her, one filled with pain and mourning. “I… knew, your father.” Jacob responded, his voice strained and Rowan racked her brain for any mention her father might have told her of Jacob; but her father had seen hundreds of patients in his lifetime, and he hardly ever spoke of them with his children. Rowan decided to let the conversation drop so Jacob could concentrate on the lock.

  As always, Jacob carried a large dirty bag with him and he placed it on the ground now, beside him, turning to place the light he carried on the table that sat against the wall a few feet away from the cage. Jacob pushed things around inside his bag, muttering to himself. He turned his head to the side and Rowan spied what looked like bird feathers poking out from the back of his tangled hair.

  Jacob pulled a metal fork looking thing from his bag and he held it out to the light. Then he turned away from her, bending over the lock on the cage door. Rowan could see his hands moving, though she couldn’t tell what he was doing.

  He jiggled the fork inside the lock, his face screwed up in concentration. He cursed several times and the words sounded funny to Rowan in his sandpapery voice. He hit the cage door with his palm then continued moving the fork around, first fast, then slowly, spinning it in an ark until at last Rowan heard a faint click, and the cage door swung open. Rowan could have hugged him, her heart leaping in her chest, but Jacob stooped to grab his bag, returning the fork to it and hobbled off quickly, grabbing the lantern from the table. Rowan followed hastily, hoping the old man knew the way out of the maze like cave, cause for the life her, Rowan knew she would never be able to lead them out of the caves.