by B. T. Narro
“Right, I guess,” she said to the ceiling.
“I’m going to touch your ankle now,” I warned her.
“Hurry up.”
I touched my wand to her skin, forming a ring around it. When the SE was tightly packed, I connected the ring around her ankle to the ring on the leg of the bed. By the time I was done, I was panting and more eager for sleep than ever.
I knew what awaited me in my dreams, though—my darkness was going to kill me, and it was going to be gruesome thanks to all the SE I’d used today. But I was too tired to be worried.
Lisanda sat up to investigate the binding as I walked over to my bed. “That’s all Sartious Energy?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied coldly, figuring she was going to complain.
“How can you possibly do that at your age?” To my surprise, her tone seemed to hold pure curiosity.
She must’ve known at least a little about magic to ask such a question. Spells like what I’d just done were extremely difficult, probably impossible for most people no matter how much training they had.
Mages who could create Sartious rings usually had been practicing for more than ten years. But in my case, my darkness made me quite skilled, which reminded me that I should warn her about what was about to happen during the night. My nightmares were quite aggressive, causing me to thrash violently. I’d heard it was a startling sight.
“There’s something you should know.” I paused to think how to word it. When I’d told her about her father’s broken promise, I’d wanted her to believe me, to sympathize even, yet she hadn’t. But this time, I wanted her to call me delusional again. This time, she would see firsthand how wrong she was.
I pulled off my shirt.
She turned away. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t sleep with a shirt on, otherwise it’ll get bloody.”
She kept her head in the other direction. “Bloody? What are you talking about?”
“Remember the cure I told you about, the one your father promised me but didn’t deliver?”
She exhaled loudly as she lay back down. There was no other response. She still didn’t believe me.
“Well,” I continued, “look at me.”
She pulled her hair away from her face but didn’t turn. It was clear she was curious.
“Come on,” I said, creating light through my wand to make sure my cuts and bruises could be seen clearly.
She flipped around, then gasped.
I spoke before she could say anything. “When I fall asleep, a darkness attacks me, and this is the result.”
She shook her head. “Why don’t you just wear gloves or something?”
“These injuries don’t come from my hands,” I explained. “I’ve bound my hands to the bed, woken up with them still bound, yet I had fresh wounds. My father and sister have seen it happen.” I hesitated, unsure if I should give her the details. “It’s not pretty,” I said.
If she wanted more, she could ask.
Her eyes tightened with doubt. “You’re either lying or insane.” She turned back. “I’m going to sleep.”
Fine, you’ll see, I wanted to say. Instead, I relaxed on the bed and let overdue sleep finally come.
I woke unsure how long I’d slept. It felt like somewhere between an hour and two. I hadn’t dreamed yet, but I could feel one coming. My darkness was waiting for me the moment I fell back asleep. It was the same as right before a muscle spasm, when you felt some numbness, maybe a twitch, and then suddenly you realized it was going to happen and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
I drifted back into sleep, but anxiety kept pulling me out. Eventually, I was back in the bathing room, but there was a shower there now. I wasn’t sure how the inn now had access to the aqueduct and had built a shower, but I didn’t care. I loved showers, for they usually were very relaxing, but not this time. I had a feeling of urgency.
A curtain enclosed the shower. It wavered violently, then stopped, then shook again. I peeked out to find an open window. No one else was in the room, so I walked over and closed it.
An eerie feeling gave me a shiver. I didn’t want to get back in the shower, but I still had soap all over my body. I needed to rinse. I told myself I would just do it quickly.
Inside the shower, once again the curtain shook like a gust of wind had come into the room. I felt no breeze, and I checked the window. It wasn’t open. There were no other windows.
My heart fluttered with fear. I couldn’t figure out why the curtain was shaking. Quickly as I could, I rinsed off the rest of the soap and jumped out.
I dried myself with a towel, a nervous feeling in my stomach.
I heard the curtain shaking again. This was the most violent shake by far. There was no wind, and I was too far to have accidentally touched the cloth. Someone or something was causing it to move, I was certain now.
I rushed to put on my clothes, but a sound from the shower caused me to freeze. When I saw what it was, horror clamped down on my legs, holding them in place.
A claw was pushing the curtain toward me from within the shower—from the very place I’d stood moments ago. The claw started at the deepest end, moving its way toward the opening on the other side. Slowly it went, causing a scraping sound of sharp nails catching on cloth.
When the claw reached the opening, it turned sideways, reaching its black fingers around the curtain to grab hold of it.
With an unhurried pull, it peeled back the curtain to reveal itself. My darkness. It was here in its usual shape—a black cloud of limbs and a faceless head.
I ran to the door, but there was no knob. I kicked it hard. No use. My darkness came toward me. This time it wielded nothing.
Its claws were enough to get the job done. We both were aware of that.
My eyes tore around the room. I found the window again and ran toward it. My darkness appeared in front of me and swiped my stomach. It never missed. There was the burning pain of my skin shredding. Another quick swipe, this time across my chest. It felt like my heart had been ripped in half.
I fell to a knee, terrified to look at my darkness but unwilling to look down at my torso. I didn’t want to see the damage done to my body—a mistake I used to make frequently. I turned and tried to crawl, but we both knew it was about to be over.
The final blow was the worst. I saw myself on the ground with my darkness raising its claw over me. It surged its claw through my back. Feeling immense pain, I heard the sound of my spine breaking, my stomach coming apart, and even felt the ground beneath me shattering.
There was a quick scream, was it me? No. It was a woman’s scream. I looked over to the bed next to me. Lisanda wasn’t there, but on the floor with her bed between us. She was peering over it with dark, gaping eyes.
I checked my wounds. There were small cuts around my stomach and chest that were sure to bruise later. They were in the shape of the claw I’d seen in my dream, four stabs in an arch above one stab below them, just like four fingers and a thumb.
There wasn’t a lot of blood, and I’d managed to keep it off the bedsheets. All in all, it wasn’t too bad. I took a slow breath of relief—it was over.
I stood and walked to my belongings on the floor. Along with the crackers Goreng had given me, the rest of Lisanda’s money, and my bandana, I had a small cloth I made a point to keep cleaner than my underwear, for I used it to wipe blood from my wounds.
“Was that you screaming?” I asked.
Still, Lisanda was behind the bed, her leg awkwardly in the air from her ankle being attached. She nodded. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I understand.”
“That was…you, you were…there were these bursts of green light coming from you, and you twisted and…it looked like you were in a lot of pain.”
I was glad she’d seen it. Perhaps now she’d believe me.
“I tried to warn you. This happens every night. This is what I wanted cured—what your father promised he would cure.” I lay back down.
>
She slowly climbed back onto her bed, her eyes never leaving me.
“What’s your plan with me, again?” she asked.
“Trade you for the cure.”
“Then, why don’t you just do that now? Take me back to the palace.” Her voice was plain, as if she honestly believed that’s all I needed to do.
I knew better.
“The moment I show myself with you, they’ll take you and detain me, if not kill me. I need to hide you somewhere safe and set up the trade so I don’t risk losing you without getting the cure. Preferably, I can find a messenger to help arrange everything while I remain hidden with you.”
“Who would be stupid enough to help you do that?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet,” I muttered.
“It seems like there’s a lot you haven’t figured out.” Her tone was laced with the usual contempt. She rested on her back.
“I could say the same about you, fleeing on your wedding day.”
She sat up quickly, glaring at me. “That’s not true.”
“Don’t worry, I understand.” I sat up as well to shrug at her. “I’ve heard him sing. You don’t have to explain.” I had a teasing cadence.
I couldn’t tell how she took my jape. Her face was too indifferent. “Are you going to…” She paused to rub her eyes. “Is your darkness going to attack again tonight?”
“No. It only happens once a night.”
She nodded. She had a strange look on her face. Her eyes were still big but without arching eyebrows. They didn’t hold fear, but something else. My first thought was that she pitied me.
No, I told myself, that couldn’t be it. I figured she was just sad about being here.
Banging on the door startled both of us. It wasn’t our bedroom door, I quickly realized, but the main door to the inn downstairs.
I heard the innkeeper talking to himself as he came out of a room. “What in bloody Bastial hell is going on?”
The pounding continued.
“We’re closed!” the innkeeper shouted, now walking down the stairs to the first floor. “It’s the middle of the night,” he muttered to himself.
“We’re guards of King Danvell Takary. Open this door!”
Chapter 11: Run
I grabbed my bandana and ran to Lisanda. She started to scream just as I shoved the cloth into her mouth. She grabbed my arms before I could tie it around her head. Why didn’t I bind her hands? Dammit.
We struggled, and soon she pushed me far enough to get a hand up and yank the bandana out. Before she could scream, I took my wand and pushed a mixture of Bastial and Sartious Energy through it to create a jet of fire.
“Cooperate or get burned.” I pushed the short pillar of fire toward her face. She tried to lean away but couldn’t get far enough with her leg bound to the bed.
I edged it closer, making sure the heat was close enough to hurt but still too far to burn. I knew what that kind of heat felt like so close to my face. It caused an irrepressible urge to get away. But she’d already pushed herself as far from me as she could. Even if she figured deep down that I wouldn’t touch her with it, she couldn’t remain calm enough to think logically.
“Fine,” she said, shutting her eyes. “Put it out.”
I let the fire fizzle and tied the bandana around her head. Because I figured we would be running, I shattered the Sartious ring around the bed leg, formed one around my own wrist, shattered the ring around her ankle, and formed another around her wrist. I created another bar of Sartious Energy to connect our wrists with about a foot between us, listening to the conversation downstairs while I thought of what to do next.
“I have guests here,” the innkeeper complained. “Go away.”
“You can either open this door or we’ll break it down,” a deep male voice answered.
“What are you doing here?” the innkeeper asked.
“We’re looking for Lisanda Takary. She’s been kidnapped. This is your last chance to open the door.”
“I think I’d know if a princess was staying here. There’s no reason for you to come in and startle my guests.”
I knew why the innkeeper was hesitant to let them in, and it wasn’t just about his guests. Important tasks like recovering Lisanda usually came with a reward, and any damage done while trying to complete such a task never led to punishment. This turned guards into hasty, remorseless brutes.
They were going to tear this inn to pieces.
Lisanda was muttering something through her gag while I dragged her around the room and snatched the sheets from both our beds.
I tied our sheets together, then went to the window one more time to judge its distance. The sheets weren’t long enough to make it to the street but probably close enough.
A crash, definitely the door downstairs being broken. The innkeeper yelled and started back up the stairs. He stopped to shout back at them, “Don’t break anything!” He finished climbing the stairs.
I could hear him walk to our door and knock. “Come out. The guards are here.”
He walked to the next room and said the same. Meanwhile, I could hear tables being flipped and glass breaking downstairs.
There was a jerk to my arm so hard it pulled me from my feet. Lisanda was pulling me toward the door until I realized it and pulled back from my knees. She fell backward.
The Sartious bar connecting us was as stiff as wood, making the tugging contest clumsy. When I pulled her, I needed to throw my bound wrist behind me, but that put me in a position of no leverage. She pulled back right away, ending up with no leverage herself.
Rapidly we went back and forth, both of us on the ground, neither of us really moving more than our arms. It was like two children fighting over a toy.
When she tried to use her free hand to untie the bandana, I’d had enough. As much as I’d wanted to save it, she needed the dream dust. I found my pants nearby and pulled the pouch from my pocket. She got the bandana untied right as I blew the remaining white powder in her face.
She coughed while I turned and held my breath. After I felt her go limp, I turned back to catch her just before she hit the ground face first. Then I retied the bandana.
“Dammit,” I muttered in frustration, picking her up and pushing myself to my feet.
My original plan had been to somehow climb down from the window using the bedsheets, dragging Lisanda along the way if she resisted. Now I was thinking that probably wouldn’t have worked very well. I should’ve just used the dream dust right away, then I could’ve been out the window already. The guards were coming up the stairs.
With the Sartious rings no longer needed, I turned the hard energy into a light green dust cloud to free my hand from Lisanda’s. I tossed her onto the bed near the window.
I was squeezing into my wet clothing when I heard the doorknob wiggle.
“Open this door,” a guard demanded, pounding on it now, “or I’ll break it down.”
“Haven’t you done enough?” It was the innkeeper’s voice. He was right beside the guard outside. “Give me a moment to fetch the key.”
I rushed to tie the end of a bedsheet around Lisanda’s waist. Then I carried her to the window.
“There’s no time,” the guard replied to the innkeeper. “Move back.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. There’s no reason to break down this door!”
There was some sort of tussle between them. I heard bodies bouncing against walls. Some guests must’ve come out of their room nearby because I heard two new voices.
“Stop!” a woman ordered.
“Stand back, Margaret!” An older man seemed to be talking to the woman.
“You will not stand in our way,” the guard said. I heard the distinct sound of knuckles slamming into flesh.
“Stop!” The woman was on the verge of tears.
By then I had tied the other end of the sheets to the bed leg and pushed the bed as close to the window as possible. I was far from confident that my plan would work perfectly. T
he sheets could rip, the bed leg could break, Lisanda could slam against the side of the inn, or any number of other bad things could happen.
But I didn’t have any time left. Guards were kicking my door now.
I grabbed some slack of the rope made of sheets, leaned back on the bed, and propped my feet against the wall. I shifted one foot toward the Princess where I had her lying across the windowsill. After a few nudges, she rolled over the edge. The sudden weight was startling, mostly because I knew her life was in my hands, but I managed to hold her without too much difficulty.
I knew a guard would bust through the door any second. I felt Lisanda’s body brushing against the side of the inn as I lowered her as quickly as I could without losing my grip. Soon, I ran out of slack. I slowly let myself up from the bed, worried it would flip or break from Lisanda’s weight when I got up. It creaked but seemed to hold.
The door flew open. Two guards stomped into the room. I noticed the innkeeper’s slumped body against the wall in the hallway and a woman tending to him.
“Is that him?” one guard asked.
“What are you doing?” the other asked me, nearly at the same time as the first guard’s question. Both had their hands on the hilts of their swords.
“It is him!” the first one answered himself. “He’s trying to run.”
They came at me. I swung myself over the window, barely grabbing the rope of bedsheets in my panic. With a quick look down, I noticed Lisanda’s limp body hanging a few feet from the ground. I looked back up. A guard and his sword peeked out the window. He swiped at me but missed. He started to cut the bedsheet! Even with Lisanda tied to it! What in the Bastial hell was he thinking?
While holding on with one hand, I pulled my wand from my belt. I cast a small fireball about the size of my fist. I didn’t have the concentration in that moment for anything bigger. It struck the guard in the chest. He slammed his head against the open window and retreated back inside with a shout.
“What happened?” the other guard asked.
I heard them starting to run away from the window. “He’s got the Princess! They’re going out the window!” They were coming around to get me.