“I replaced your father. I am Eliot Rath, the new captain of the guard, and once Lord Raburn is king, I will be one of the most powerful men in the land. Don’t toy with me, or you will find yourself in a very, very sorry position. Understood?”
Something about his coldness chilled her. It was calculated and seemingly heartless. Shivers snaked up her spine.
Taking chains from his saddlebag, he came to her, his mouth twisted in a smile.
Her heart sank as a cold feeling turned in her stomach.
“Never thought you’d see these, did you?”
He clamped the neck ring with a cold click around her throat.
Annabeth moved to strike him with a kick; she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Suddenly, she found her leg caught and spun, landing painfully face-first on the ground. His knee sank into her back, expelling the air from her lungs.
In a moment all her air was gone, and she couldn’t breathe in. His mouth hovered by her ear.
“You should have let Ransom capture you,” he whispered.
What did he just say? Ransom? Capture?
The question made her thoughts feel fuzzy. She tried to breath in; it wouldn’t come. Dark dots danced in front of her eyes; everything started turning black.
He jerked Annabeth to her feet, clamping chains on her wrists, but she was too dizzy to even think of resisting. He mounted and pulled Annabeth into the saddle in front of him, jailing her between his arms.
“Shouldn’t we have her ride alone, Captain?”
“I am not risking her getting any ideas. This way I’ll know exactly what she is up to.”
They spurred their horses into a gallop and headed towards Anondorf Castle.
Chapter 15
With great care, the three forged their way downstream and onto the opposite bank. They galloped across an open field and entered a tall dark wood.
Christina shivered against Ransom, and suddenly half a dozen men with drawn bows were around them.
“Halt! Who goes there?”
“Brankin!” shouted Ransom in recognition.
“Ransom, is that you?”
The man moved closer. “Why I’ll be, it is you. Is that Annabeth?” he asked, nodding towards Christina.
“No, Brankin. I would like you to meet Prince Alfred and Lady Christina.”
“So, you couldn’t find her? Eh. She was too elusive even for the great soldier, bounty hunter, tracker, Ransom.”
“No, I found her. She’ll be here later with the famous minstrel, Song Lark.”
“You are a bounty hunter?” asked Alf, suddenly ill at ease.
“Among other things,” answered Ransom calmly, with a smile.
“Well, come on, you are wasting time and your father will be delighted to see you, Prince Alfred,” said Brankin
“What? My father?” asked the Prince, baffled.
“Yes, your father. When he found out there was trouble here he came back in disguise and asked King Harold for his help. His men just finished fighting a war, and he doesn’t want to send them into another.”
Coming through the forest, they arrived at a bustling camp filled with a ready army. Swords were being sharpened, arrows fitted with feathers and notched into bows, and armor polished to shining perfection. They came to the largest tent surrounded by guards. Dismounting, all were given immediate entrance.
Ransom watched as the father and son reunited. A lump rising in his throat, he glanced at his king who motioned him into the adjoining tent.
“You have anticipated my next request, but failed my first.”
“Annabeth will be here by tonight, your majesty. We were being followed and decided to split up.”
“Well, that is good, because we need her.”
Ransom’s brow wrinkled. “What? I am sorry, sire?”
“We need to know everything she knows about Anondorf, and then we will have to turn her over to Eliot.”
“I don’t understand, your majesty.”
“Eliot has managed to make himself Raburn’s new captain of the guard. Unfortunately, he has not been able to get into the castle to let us know what the fortress is like, and I am unwilling to send in my forces without knowing the layout. From what I have heard, the place is a death trap.”
“You aren’t thinking of letting him turn her in.”
“I don’t see that I have much of a choice. None of his men will defect. They are terrified of the man and I can’t blame them, but I am not about to send my men into the lion’s jaws without the layout of the place.”
“Sire, I was there. I can tell you what it was like. Song Lark was there; he will tell you, and Annabeth—she knows every corner of the place. You don’t need to turn her in to get the information. Eliot doesn’t have to do anything, just get out.”
“You really think that you can tell us everything we need to know?”
“A good deal of it.”
“Start mapping it out,” he said, pushing quill and parchment towards Ransom. “I’ll see what kind of a message I can get to Eliot. His spy should be reporting back any time now to let me know what is going on.”
Nearly an hour later, Ransom pushed away the parchment and quill. It was in the deepest detail he could remember. Wearing the monk’s hood hadn’t helped him much; hopefully Song Lark and Annabeth would know more.
Suddenly, Ransom became restless. Something was wrong, desperately wrong. He looked at the sky. It was as blue and perfect as any heart could wish.
Pacing in front of the tent, he stamped his foot impatiently. They should arrive there at any time.
Readying a fresh horse, he decided to search for them.
“Hello, Ransom,” offered a voice near at hand as he tightened the saddle strap. “Where are you off to?”
“Just around.”
“Well, you don’t have to bother looking for Annabeth anymore.”
“What?”
The man smiled. “Eliot has her. Do you know where the king is?”
Numbness paralyzed Ransom’s heart, but he kept moving like nothing had happened, just like he had trained himself. “He was in his tent just a little while ago,” his voice said evenly.
“Thank you! We’ll have to catch up later, aye?”
He nodded and mounted. “I’ll see you around.”
Turning his horse’s head, he turned back from where the messenger had come. Ransom dug his heels into the horse’s sides, spurring him into a gallop. There was no time to lose. His heart was aching, aching unbearably for Annabeth.
Arriving at the river, he stormed up the bank, hoping he would somehow find or catch them in time to stop what was going to happen next. He found the trail, then galloped out of the riverbank and followed it.
“Ransom, is that you?” asked a husky voice.
“Song Lark?” he asked, his heart flashing up in his throat.
In a moment he had located the wounded man.
“What happened to you? Where is Annabeth?”
“They’ve got her,” he whispered hoarsely. “They couldn’t find me—not that they looked, they were too happy to have her. You’ve got to get help. Thirty of them took her—at least.”
“Thirty?” Ransom winced.
“You’ve got no chance against them. You have to get help.”
All this while, Ransom had been tending to Song Lark’s wounded shoulder; he had extracted the arrow head and was binding the wound with Song Lark’s shirt.
“We’ll see about that,” he muttered under his breath. “Drink this. Now, how strong do you feel? Can you ride?”
“Yes.”
“Good, ‘cause I am going to need your help.”
In a few minutes they had mounted double in on the horse. Ransom followed the trail and read the small battle scene for himself.
“She didn’t stand a chance. Why didn’t I just follow orders?” he muttered under his breath. Turning his horse, they galloped towards Anondorf.
Chapter 16
Captain Eliot and his compan
y rode like the wind, blazing a clear, straight-as-an-arrow path towards Anondorf Castle.
It was in the light of the moon that they stopped on the crest of a hill, to view the cold monstrosity. They pulled up and looked at it in all of its glory.
“Welcome home,” laughed one of the men, his voice coarse and harsh.
Annabeth’s jaw tightened. All afternoon she had been praying; for what she didn’t know, but something—anything different than what was happening to her now.
Unexpectedly, the new captain of the guard was whispering in her ear.
Turning away, she ignored him.
He grabbed her arm, pressuring her to listen.
“Fight me,” he repeated his barely whispered words.
For a moment she froze, wondering what he could possibly mean by that. Was this the deliverance she had been praying for or a trap?
He leaned away from her, letting his laugh cackle. It sounded evil in the moonlight. Anger surged through her veins. Moving her elbow to one side, she used it as a weapon, jabbing him in the ribs. He started to buckle. She turned, digging her elbow high into his chest. He seemed to bend half over in the saddle, trying to catch his breath.
Annabeth moved to try and take control, but one of his arms arrested her movements. His other hand was holding a cloth over her mouth and nose, bending her head back against his shoulder.
She tried to fight it, but he had her immobile and surprised.
“Sorry, but it is the only way I could think to make it easy on you,” he seemed to whisper in her ear as a fog whirled around her brain. Annabeth wished he would stop whispering in her ear; it was confusing. Who was he really, and why...?
She never got to finish that question, as unconsciousness, gray, dark, and unknown, spiraled around her like a dream you cannot awake from.
THE DARK FEELING WAS leaving her. Her head ached; a dizzy feeling went round and round in her brain.
The cold stone stole away Annabeth’s core heat. The chill seeped towards her bones like icy needles. But it wasn’t the chill that made her heart freeze in horror, wanting the gray to take her back into its restless folds. It was the dark, cold presence of Lord Raburn.
She could feel him before she regained consciousness; it was a suffocating feeling that pressed the life out of her.
Hesitant, she opened her eyes, her body aching from the cold. There was no light, save for the moon, who showed his innocent round face through the windows.
Annabeth pushed herself slowly upright with her bound hands, sitting in a pool of moonlight. She did not rise to her feet; he was there hiding in the darkness. Turning slightly to her right, she saw his outline in the shadows. Bowing her head, Annabeth waited, trying to make the dizzy feeling pass away. She needed all of her wits about her. She had seen enough of his torture sessions in the great hall and dungeon to know how they went.
Slowly.
Deliberately, he walked towards her. His steps echoed in the room until he was standing before her.
“Hello, Annabeth.”
The words ran a chill down her spine. She didn’t move.
“Aren’t you going to greet the man who has been a second father to you? You’ve been gone far too long. I’ve missed you.”
Annabeth still did not move.
He took a step to the side, blocking the moonlight from reaching her.
“I am disappointed in you, Annabeth. You want to know why?”
Mentally, Annabeth registered that answer as a no, but refused to answer out loud. She would need to save her strength for the real battle.
“Do you care at all, Annabeth, that you have disappointed me?”
Her desire to fight back got the best of her. “What is there to disappoint?”
For a long minute, there was complete silence. The chilling silence let Annabeth reprimand her quick tongue with a vengeance.
“I’ll forget I heard that, under the pretense that spending so much time in the wilderness has made you forget the manners that I have struggled to teach you.”
He stepped away, his step echoing in the bare hall. He was standing behind her. Annabeth waited for the crushing blow that would send her flying face first to the stone. She had seen him do it often enough. There were reasons she hadn’t gotten to her feet.
He laid his hand softly on her shoulder. If he had been a kind person, the touch would have been tender, but she knew he was just waiting.
“You know why I am disappointed in you, Annabeth?” The grip tightened on her shoulder.
Annabeth didn’t answer. He would answer his own question. Eventually.
The grip loosened. Now she lay in the greatest danger of all and she must answer his questions carefully, but above all, she must answer.
“You betrayed me. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be betrayed?”
“I might, since you have been doing it to me since I was a child.”
He laughed. “So you remember, do you?”
“You always got my secrets from me and then betrayed me in front of the entire hall. You taught me not to trust you.”
“Those are mere childish offenses; nothing more. I was only trying to get to your father. Nothing spurs a man to prove himself to you than one who has something to prove. It was a good tactic. But I don’t understand why you betrayed me to your father after all that I did for you.”
“I don’t owe you anything, and he deserved the truth,” Annabeth held her tongue from lashing out in further anger.
A moment later, she was flat on her back with the feeling of stone echoing through her head. Opening her blurry eyes, she saw him sheath the dagger in his boot. At least she had saved herself that pain.
He leaned his whole body’s weight on one of her shoulders. “Annabeth, you know, now that I have you, your life is useless to me.”
She closed her eyes, trying to make her head stop aching so she could comprehend everything he was saying.
A moment later, the prick of a dagger made everything clear. She nodded, opening her eyes. It was sheathed again.
“What are you waiting for?” she answered.
“I have your father in the dungeon. I broke him, and he told me everything you told him by the riverbank. Like a girl, you told him everything.”
“I am a girl,” she answered through gritted teeth.
He snorted through his nose.
“You are right; I had almost forgotten you are a girl. A gullible little girl who always wanted to believe the best in people.”
His words stung her like the venom they were. She wanted to fight him; instead she let her fingernails dig into her palms. She was helpless.
“You, Annabeth, aren’t worth a thing.”
“What are you waiting for?” she muttered, wishing her hands were free—that she was free.
“Where is the prince?” his voice hissed in a sneer.
Annabeth swallowed, her heart fading for a moment within her. Does that alone make my life valuable?
She looked him straight in the eye. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing she knew he was alive.
“Dead in your tower, I thought,” she answered.
“You never were a good liar, Annabeth,” he said softly. “Eliot. Take her downstairs and get her ready for the rack.”
“Yes, my lord,” said the man, stepping forward. “But it is late and you have not rested.”
Raburn’s temper burst into flames. “And I will not rest until the prince is found!”
“Yes, my lord.”
Raburn’s voice gentled again. “Take her to the rack, and make sure her father is present. I want him bound and gagged.”
Annabeth mentally winced. To see her father, and like this, after so many months...but this was a capture she could not have avoided. Unless she had gone with Ransom.
Oh, Ransom, where are you?
She didn’t have long to linger over the question as Eliot pulled her to her feet and started pulling her towards the dungeon. Suddenly, her body was shiverin
g with cold. It felt as if the stone floor had melted into her.
“You afraid?” asked Eliot, turning to her.
“No,” she answered through chattering teeth. “Just cold.”
His hand touched hers. He felt like a flame against her ice cold fingers.
With every step she took, something inside of her wanted to scream. To fight. To not move an inch. To make a scene for the first time in her life. To make Captain Eliot drag her kicking and screaming into the hell of Raburn’s making.
Instead, she walked, breathing slow, calm gasps of air. For months she had seen this as the dreadful ending; she had known it would come, and now it had. She would not give Raburn the gratification of her fear.
She could not lose control of herself.
She must not.
Tears sprang into her eyes. She blinked them back fiercely. People who lost it before they stepped into the dungeon broke at the slightest provocation. People who did not lasted.
Annabeth set her jaw with determination. She would last. She would prevail. She would not give up. For the sake of the crown, for Prince Alfred’s future, she mustn’t give an inch.
She must last.
Her heart quivered in her chest; she screwed her mouth tightly and blinked back the threatening tears. In that blink, a face flashed before her eyes, and it wasn’t that of his highness.
There was no hope. Her cause was dead, but he—he would keep her cause safe.
At the top of the stairs they halted, and Annabeth gathered herself. This was it. Fighting this hollow fate would only make it worse; she numbed her mind to the horror of it. She mustn’t think about it. Slowly, she moved her mind into a place of existence. Annabeth shoved aside the rancid smell of decay, the bleak stone walls dripping with water, the sputtering torches; they all became a mere blur.
Suddenly, though, it was in front of her. Images flashed through her mind. She had seen victims tortured, and they had kept her in silence until now. Their memories had bound her mouth tightly with secrets.
But now it was waiting for her. She stopped dead in her tracks. Taking one gasp of horror, she looked up at Eliot. Something in her wanted to break down—to plead for her life as she had seen so many others do. His eyes were cold and prepared.
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