Angie Arms - Flames series 04

by The Strongest Flames

  The door to the small shack opened and Oscar stepped in.

  “Get out,” Emma tried to say in a calm voice. The thin man hesitated, looking confused, and took two steps closer to the two women on the floor. “Get out!” Emma yelled, when Karen thrashed harder, and her teeth sank into Emma’s arm she held around the frail woman’s chest.

  Oscar quickly backed away, slamming the door behind him.

  “Shhh, its okay,” Emma soothed, panting with her effort to hold the woman down.

  Emma FitzRou grew up in the mountains around Wooler and Helthpool. Her father Gabe and Uncle Lucas were supporters against the reign of Richard. They did not accept King Henry’s support of his son, not that they supported John taking the crown either. Both men openly opposed the crown, trying to gain support for their rebellion. Many generations lived out their lives, hidden in the forest, waiting and hoping for the crown to fall. Her father, Uncle Lucas, and several other supporters did what they could to sabotage the lives of the nobles who did support Richard.

  Emma knew she was not raised in the traditional role. Her mother died a year after she was born, leaving her dad and Uncle to raise her. She grew up running the hills freely with her bow and arrows she could use with accuracy, and as easily as most could walk. She learned her skills at an early age, the two men were proud of her skill, so she strove to be the best, and she found no one, as of yet, could out target her. Her ability to protect herself before anyone or anything could get close to her, gave her the freedom to adventure alone. She didn’t take part in the attacks and thievery, but spent her days exploring and enjoying the life of freedom.

  It was during one of these outings she found Karen. The horror the woman barely survived left her deeply scarred. Emma did not know her before, but the woman she knew now was far from sane. Emma found her among the dead women and children at Helthpool, close to death herself. When she finally healed, she would not leave the small hut the men built the year before for Emma. She was comfortable enough within the thin walls of the building, but no one could enter without her becoming agitated, to the point she dug at her skin with her fingernails until she bled, as she paced back and forth. If the intruder was a man, she more often fell into a shrieking fit, such as the one she was having.

  Ray and Emma were close to the same age, and grew up together. Ray had a strange sense of humor, though hilarious at times, at other times she just wanted to punch his teeth down his throat, like now. She knew he did not mean any malice, only wanted to scare her, but he never experienced Karen’s fits. The poor woman was terrified, and Emma knew from experience, she would injure herself terribly if not held until she calmed. Emma was the only one who could calm her, once spending nearly a day in the throes of her fear until Emma returned.

  Emma could not imagine the horror Karen lived through. The room Emma walked into as she searched for the living was covered in blood, the floors and the walls, even the ceiling, and Karen was there to see it happening, to fear her own death in such a violent manner. The woman was left for dead, Emma did not doubt the man who did it thought she was dead, or he would not leave that room with the job unfinished. Uncle Lucas knew those who resided at Helthpool, and knew they openly supported Prince John, so it was no surprise to him when Emma asked for help to move the dying woman to safety. He however, became as sick as she, when he entered the room, because nothing could prepare him for the violence and whore that showed on the women’s faces even in their death.

  “It’s okay,” Emma soothed, relaxing her hold on Karen, and falling back onto the rough boards of her hut’s floor, panting.

  Karen sat in the floor, her head bowed, rocking back and forth and shaking her head, but the volatile time was past, and she would not injure herself. Slowly Emma sat back up, and pulled her legs from around Karen, and stood. She moved to the stove and stirred the stew one of the other women put together for them that morning.

  “Dinner is ready Karen,” Emma said in a gentle voice, going to the cupboard and pulling out two bowls, and going back to the stove. “It smells delicious.”

  Like a frightened animal Karen looked at her, then about herself, as if someone might be hiding in the corners. After a few minutes she climbed to her feet and moved to the stove, taking the bowl from Emma, and moving to the table.

  “It’s good Emma,” the woman said, after taking her first bite.

  “Then you’ll have to visit Maureen and tell her,” Emma said with gentleness, so the fearful woman wouldn’t feel pressured.

  Terrified brown eyes looked up at Emma and a tear escaped her eye.

  “You don’t have to,” Emma rushed to assure her. She moved to the table and sat down with her bowl in hand, not feeling the least bit hungry, though she was famished only a short time ago.

  Emma watched Karen eat and felt herself grow impatient. She wanted to go to the river before it grew dark, but was not sure she should leave Karen so soon after her scare. Emma found herself tapping her foot and drumming her fingers on the table top, before finally jumping to her feet.

  “Will you be alright? I have to go out for a few minutes.”

  Those terrified eyes looked at her, before a sad expression crossed the pale woman’s face. Karen was with her long enough to know she liked to be outside. Though Karen was too frightened to stick her head out a window, Emma spent every waking moment outside running the woods, playing in the river, or helping the others in the small encampment with their outdoor chores. There was enough in Karen’s head left that she understood this about Emma, and did not try to stand in her way. Slowly Karen nodded. By the time Emma gathered her sack and stepped to the door, a tear was running down Karen’s cheek.

  “You’ll be okay. Put the bar over the door and windows, and I will be back by the time the sun sets.”

  Quickly Emma left and the door was barely closed behind her, before she heard the giant oak bar slide into place. It would take determination for anyone to be able to get to Karen inside the hut. Emma was a few paces from the structure when she felt the spring in her step, the chirping birds lifted her spirits, and she began to whistle her own tune.

  By the time the last streaks of the sun were leaving the sky, Emma was standing outside her own door, knocking the code she and Karen invented so Karen would know to lift the bar and allow her to enter. How simple life was before she found Karen. She was able to sleep through the night, she could go where she wanted, when she wanted, and she didn’t have to let anyone know. Now, as she pushed the door inward, she felt life would never be the same for her. Her childhood was passed, and she found herself responsible for another human being. Many women her age already had a herd of children clinging to their skirts, so she should be thankful it was only an insane woman she cared for. Truthfully, she didn’t have a great deal of responsibility where Karen was concerned. Maureen saw to their meals, Ray saw that she had wood, and repairs were taken care of around her house. Her responsibility was that she kept the others away from Karen. As long as Karen remained locked away securely in the cabin, all was well, and she could function close to what a normal adult could.

  Emma entered the dim cabin. She liked being out in the moonlight, especially on a night like tonight, when the moon was full and the forest floor was well lit. Many feared the dark hours, the time when devils and witches roamed about. Emma was once weary, but she knew they lurked during the day as well, so no longer feared the night. Ray however, did. It was a deep rooted fear learned at an early age with a superstitious mother who believed in all the old ways, down to the cross made from a Rowan tree that always hung above the door to their home, to ward off evil spirits. If Ray didn’t scare Karen so badly earlier, she could be outside in the night air now, not cooped up in the gloomy cabin with a crazy woman staring at her. Emma went to her pallet and unrolling it, pulled one of the extra blankets and pillows off the bed, and lay down.

  “Are you going to bed now?” Karen asked the obvious.

  “Yes, I’m tired,” Emma said, fighting a ba
ttle to keep the irritation from her voice. She even managed a yawn, making it loud enough for her to hear, because it was too dim for her to see.

  “All right.”

  Emma heard Karen sitting by the hearth for what seemed an eternity, before finally seeking her bed. It was much longer still before Emma heard her deep even breaths that told her she was asleep. It was not that Emma hadn’t tried to go to sleep, it was that sleep was something that was always hard for her to find, unless she was exhausted. Except for the scare Karen gave her earlier, her day was pretty dull because she looked forward to tonight. She had Ray to torment, that was her plan all day, and now she really had to pay him back.

  She eased from her place on the floor and tiptoed to the door. Quietly she lifted the board barring the door, opening it only enough to allow her to slip through, and she was free. She skipped across her little clearing and into the woods. The small village was not far, she was to the outskirts within twenty minutes, and to Ray’s little cabin nestled in the woods at the other end, in another five. It was a quaint little house. He built it himself, honing the trees himself, smoothing the wood so the floors glowed as brightly as the man’s pride. She eased around the corner, and up to the window that opened into his room.

  Ray built his house with obvious plans for a family in the future. It was complete with two bedrooms downstairs, along with a substantial kitchen and living area, with a loft that was three quarters the size of the downstairs. She clinched the handful of pebbles in her hands, easing up on her tiptoes, she was ready to fling them toward his bed, when the noise made her freeze in place.

  Ray wasn’t asleep, and he wasn’t alone. She could hear him whispering to her, and then hear her sighs. Which woman was it? Her hand fell heavily back to her side, and she let the pebbles slide from her grasp. Ray was supposed to be her go-to plan. She had no thoughts for a husband. Not currently, but when she was older, and tired of running the forest alone, then she thought she would ask Ray to marry her, and then they might even have children. But Ray wasn’t waiting on her. She heard talk, but hadn’t thought much about it. Who Ray spent his time with had been no concern of hers. Until now. He was doing more than just spending time with her. What they were doing would make children. What would she do if she had no Ray? Grow old and alone in her little cabin with a crazy woman. Alone with only Karen, she would probably go crazy herself. She wouldn’t always have her dad and Maureen looking out for her. One day she would have to cut her own wood, cook her own food. Why would Ray wait on her? She couldn’t cook, she wouldn’t be able to feed their children. She didn’t know how to mend clothes, they would have to run about in rags if they were so lucky. There was nothing about her that would make Ray want to wait on her. Nothing.

  She trudged back to the cabin, her mind in a daze. Such a daze she did not realize the door was standing wide open, until she walked through it. She stood halfway across the threshold, when her brain told her something wasn’t right about what was happening around her. She looked around herself, back at the door, and that’s when it sank in. She closed the door, there was no doubt in her mind she closed it. She spun back around, and her eyes landed on the little bed. The little bed was empty, as well as the rest of the one room cabin.

  Turning, Emma fled back out the door into the clearing. She listened intently, but not a sound came to her. Not even the ordinary sounds of the night animals. Where would she go? Would she be sane enough to know to go anywhere, or would she be out in the woods lost, in a panic. Fear filled Emma. The terror Karen must be experiencing would be overwhelming to her, and when Karen became that terrified, she tried to hurt herself. Why would she leave the cabin? Karen never left the cabin.

  She wanted to get her father, he would know what to do in a situation like this, but the men were gone. She could go wake Maureen, but she was as superstitious about the night as Ray’s mother. So she did the only thing she knew to do, and moved back and forth through the forest, stopping frequently to listen, growing more anxious by the minute. The moon marched its way across the sky and she found herself praying, pleading to find Karen. She negotiated her entire future with God as she gripped a tree, her heart beating nearly from her chest, her breaths shallow, as she tried to get control of herself.

  Emma moved farther and farther from home, an unsettling thought began to fill her mind, to mingle with the fear already there. She wasn’t far from Helthpool, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Karen knew her way back there. Surely the woman wouldn’t go that far. Why would she go back to a place full of nightmares? Dawn couldn’t be far away when she neared the walls.

  The moonlight sent eerily dancing shadows against the crumbled walls. Ghosts of the past? Fear raced up her spine, skittered through her nerve endings, and seized her heart within her chest, to make her feel faint. She wanted to run. There were too many ghosts here. She felt foolish now for scoffing at Ray’s mother and Maureen, because the spirits were here with her. Was Karen here? Emma wanted to flee back to the safety of her home, her sturdy walls, and the strong oak board that barred the door against the evil that lurked here tonight.

  She moved closer, stepped carefully across the debris of the shattered gate. Few would dare trespass here, all heard the stories, the horrors that transpired. Emma prided herself in being a strong woman, and brave. Her father and uncle commented on it often, with the hint of pride in their voices. She could scamper up the tallest of trees, jump into the darkest pools, brave the blackest nights, but tonight she knew fear. She could feel her hands shake and she clasped her hands together in front of her. The moon was not a blessing, its brightness made the shadows deeper, more menacing. It seemed a lifetime ago Emma first saw the carnage here, the broken walls, and the bodies. It was only the beginning.

  The sound to her right made her heart lurch. What is it, her mind whispered in a near frantic rhythm. She turned and stared into the black shadow for what seemed an eternity. Nothing moved, not even the ghosts surrounding her. She turned and moved deeper into the place, where her nightmares resided. Was it her imagination, or did the wind increase. It pushed her hair across her shoulders, into her face. It crept through the cracks of the walls, and howled through the windows and doorways. The place was alive. As surely as Emma knew her name, she knew this place lived and breathed. She did not know how she knew, but Karen was here, Emma’s blue-green eyes flew to the tower. It loomed out of the blackness, its gray walls reaching for the moonlight, and Emma wanted to vomit. Karen is there. Karen is there. Her mind told her, and her feet obeyed. She moved all the way to the doorway, the wood long ago splintered and never replaced. She paused, just inside. The rain reached to the first steps she could see, and there were no remnants of the blood that once flowed to the bottom of the steps, from the top of the tower. She heard something. It sounded almost like a popping sound, perhaps a grating. She shook her head, once, twice but still her feet refused to obey what her soul told her, which was to run. Up the steps, into the darkness. She was in the shadows, and she could feel hands reaching for her, women and children. She heard their cries, not with her ears, but from somewhere within her, she heard their pleas, their screams for mercy. “Dear Lord, see me from this place. Dear Lord, see me from this place,” she whispered over and over, as she hurried her steps upward.

  At the top she stepped quickly from the shadows, her heart hammered, as if she ran far, her mind panicked and threatened to rebel at any moment, and send her over into madness. She looked around the tower room. No one came here to steal the furniture. No one dared. The bodies mercifully were buried, but no one ventured here since. Emma did not know if it was her imagination, or if she could still smell the iron scent of blood, but now there was rankness to it. Her mind told her the smell would not still be in this room, after all that time, but in her mind it was.

  There it was, the sound. She had ignored the sound for a moment as her senses came back to her, after her terrifying trip up the steps. Her eyes raked through the shadows, some deep dark crevices, oth
ers lighter, as the moon filtered through the small windows high on the walls. The sound seemed to echo at first, driving into her brain, and panic felt close at hand. A movement, slight, from deep shadow to light. She focused on the object that moved back into the light, then out. The rhythmic sound mimicked as the object moved.

  A foot, a bare foot. Emma stepped backward, gripping the corner of the stairway, to keep from tumbling backward into the dark abyss. She turned and took a step down, shaking her head. Tears came to her eyes, and a sound escaped her throat like a frightened animal. She turned and stepped back out of the darkness and moved forward, gripping her hands in front of her. She stepped into the shadow and stared at the swaying foot. It was such a rhythmic gentle movement, just like a lullaby, keeping time with the wind. She looked upward, seeing the familiar white gown of Karen’s, further up to the narrow waist and chest, up to the frail neck, the rope wrapped tightly around it. Karen’s head tilted to the side, and even in the dark shadows, she could see her eyes were open, staring, but unseeing.

  A sob escaped Emma. She wanted to run and never come back to this place, but she couldn’t leave Karen. She reached out and touched the foot, it was warm and she shrieked when it twitched. She’s alive. She’s alive. Franticly she looked about her. She’s alive. Emma had to get her down. She rushed one way, then another, trying to see the rope, where it was tied. Karen must have tied it somewhere she could reach. She’s alive. Panic threatened to take hold. It was too dark, and she couldn’t see where the rope was stretching from.

  She turned and ran in another direction, and suddenly she found the rope as she ran into it with such force it struck her across the forehead, and her feet flew forward and up, and she crashed down onto the floor. She quickly rolled to her hands and knees and looked to the side, she saw the rope tied tightly to the table leg. She crawled quickly to it. She’s alive. Her fingers fumbled with the knot. She’s alive. The thought seemed to slow her, but she recognized the frantic state her mind churned in. She worked one knot loose and nearly cried, seeing it wrapped into two more knots. She worked another knot loose, but the rope still did not release, and her fingers fumbled with it again. As the last knot loosened, the rope jerked between her fingers, and the rope made a hissing sound as Karen’s weight pulled it through the rafters, and the woman hit the floor before Emma could get back to her.