“It has to hurt to heal, you know,” she said briskly.
I nodded. The sting eased as the soothing aroma of lavender filled the room. Through the dusty windows, I heard the commotion of the courtyard. Above the wagons, golden banners swayed, and rings of smoke rose from the butchers’ carts. Shadows danced along the bricks below the watchful eyes of the guards. A shiver ran down my spine.
The harder I looked, the more the facade seemed to dim. Between the golden banners, worn ridges and dilapidated bricks threatened to fall from the walls. I smiled, recognizing the technique. I had a few posters hung strategically in my room as well. When the damage wasn’t visible, it was easy to ignore. I just didn’t understand why, here of all places, the walls would be broken.
“Is it always so busy out there?” I asked.
“Oh yes, especially this time of year.”
I smiled, forgetting my earlier unease. “Summer’s a great time to celebrate.”
She stopped for a moment and re-dressed my arm. “It’s not quite summer yet, my dear. This spectacle is for the rebels and their pitiful refusal to accept the inevitable. They’ll be parading around like fools all month.”
I jumped up and walked to the window, holding the rag in place. I watched the women twirl, coins glittering at their hips, and thought back to the deliberate destruction of Deakon and Pipes’ stage. The hand that held the cooling rag to my arm slipped.
“The rebels?” I whispered. “Whose side are they on?”
“You must’ve hit your head in that forest,” she said, chuckling, waving me back to the chair. “The rebels are against King Berkos, of course. Some of these peasants still hold out for the past. They’re convinced the queen will be freed. But I know better. I hope you do too.” She began mixing a bowl of crushed apples and colored oils. “I won’t deny things were different under King Helio and Queen Elin, but times have changed. Like my papa always said, you can either jump on the cart or get trampled under its wheels. No, when they let King Berkos in, they should have known what was coming. The signs were there. Had been for years.”
She reached for her vials and mixed the blue and green oils with something smelling of vinegar. The mixture dripped off her fingers. “You can’t blame someone for acting the only way he knows. I never blamed King Berkos for taking over. You don’t turn your back on a snake. No, my dear, he’s been good to his supporters, provided safety and trade opportunities. I won’t turn my nose up at that, and certainly not my back on him. Everything has to change at some point, even the good.” She waved her hand towards the celebration out the window. “All of that’s foolish. You can’t eat dreams.”
“Why do they do celebrate, then?”
“In remembrance of the queen, so they say. But some things are better left forgotten, or unspoken. Now, let me work on your hair,” she said. “It’s not right, someone as young and beautiful as you walking around like this. What does your mother think?”
I shrugged. Auntie Quinn covered her mouth. “Oh no,” she said. “She’s not—”
“No, no, nothing like that. We just haven’t been talking lately.”
“Well, perhaps if you talked more, you wouldn’t be dressed like this in public.”
“Ouch,” I protested as she rubbed the dirt and dust from my head.
“Sorry dear, there’s quite a few branches tangled here. This mixture will strip the mud. Just a moment more. Now, where did you say they assaulted you?” The steadiness left her hands when she yanked out the branches. The longer she worked on my hair, the more strained her demeanor became.
“I wasn’t assaulted,” I replied cautiously. “I was just lost in the woods.”
“The dark woods, you say? That’s a dangerous place for a girl to be out wandering. Don’t you think?” It was rhetorical and accusatory at the same time. “I’d take better care about where you go and who you meet.”
“Thanks for your concern, but I made it through fine,” I said, pulling a leaf out of my hair and brushing her hands away. “I’m better now. Thank you.” I stood, confused at the stifled anger in her voice. No longer comfortable with my back to her, I turned to face her. “I must be going. Can you help me with new clothes?”
“Will you pay for them, or should I just hand them over?” Her voice was too sweet, the saccharine that dripped accusations. Whatever kindness she had shown had disappeared.
“Of course,” I said, fumbling for the wooden box and dropping the money on the counter. “I don’t expect charity.”
Her eyes widened, and she slid the gold into a pouch in her apron as if it would disappear. “Right over here,” she said, glancing behind me out the window before leading me to the corner filled with gowns.
“Thank you,” I murmured, already losing myself in the soft velvets. I didn’t notice her leave, but heard the clinking at the counter as she counted her gold.
I caressed the rich fabrics, appreciating the embroidery along the bodices. Auntie Quinn, no matter what I thought about her, certainly had a talent for tailoring and draping. Getting lost in the fabric was easy. The smooth finishes of the dresses brushed against me, and I wanted to throw one on. My fingers lingered before I lowered my hand and let go of that thought. I didn’t have a ball to go to anymore. In fact, even as I shopped, draping the lavish gowns over my arms and watching my reflection change, I knew this wouldn’t work.
I scanned the rest of the room, reluctantly leaving opulence for practicality. Unless I found a quicker way home, I knew what journey lay ahead. Auntie Quinn’s eyes narrowed in on me.
I hurried around the store, looking at every table. The shop was bigger than I had thought. Tables wound around the room, creating niches and corners for clothes and accessories. Auntie Quinn sold it all, from men’s tunics and hose to traveling attire, peasant smocks, work aprons, and gorgeous gowns. When my eyes tired of fabric, they found sparkling jewels, bags, and hats. I grabbed a leather travel bag from the edge of a table and continued my search.
At last, I found it. In the back corner, partially hidden beneath the wool coats, the costume came together. Something in my mind clicked, and as I grabbed the green cloth, I knew my fate had been sealed.
The leggings fit snugly, and when I tucked my white shirt beneath the dark green tunic and looked at my reflection, my lingering doubts subsided. The costume was a literal translation. I looked like the hero. I finished the look with a pair of leather boots and stuffed a woolen cloak, pointy hat, the papers, and my empty money box into the travel bag.
The bells above the door jingled, and I felt a burst of air. Auntie Quinn stood in the shadows, clutching the gold to her chest. She nodded at the men blocking the door and then looked at me.
“Auntie Quinn?” I asked, watching my only escape disappear behind a pair of towering guards.
“Nothing personal, my dear, but I knew you weren’t who you said the moment you walked in. Money’s money, and if I can get yours and theirs, eh, I can clean up the mess later.” She smiled as the gold coins clattered together. “Boys, just watch the jewelry. And make sure King Berkos hears of my loyalty.”
They smiled as she retreated into the back storerooms. We were alone. My heart sunk when one of them slid the locking mechanism on the door and it clicked into place.
I grabbed a dagger from a display case on one of the tables and held it up, wishing it didn’t shake. Cupping it with my other hand steadied it, but too late. The men had seen it, and their laughter decimated what little bravery I had. They unsheathed their swords. I finally knew a sound that was worse than nails on a chalkboard—the steely grate of certain death.
The floorboards creaked under their weight. I threw the bag over my shoulder and grabbed a couple bottles of perfume before I pushed the table over, jumping to the side as the remaining bottles shattered. The momentary commotion worked to my advantage. I catapulted over the table and landed beyond the slick ground. One of the men dove for me, narrowly missing my legs, and slid across the oily puddle. The other approached mo
re cautiously, tip-toeing around the fallen items, cracking his knuckles. Each pop sounded like a small explosion. The first assailant regained his footing, and I found myself caught between the two of them. The air tightened as they closed in on me.
The bottles of perfume in my palm gave me a new idea. I threw one on the ground in front of me and skidded into the rose petal oil, slipping under the man’s legs. As I stopped on the other side and glanced back, I saw him, bent over, looking between his legs. The other man stumbled over him.
Jumping to my feet, I ran to the door and pulled against the metal lock. It didn’t budge. The wooden door seemed cemented in place. My desperate attempts at escape amplified.
“Let me out! Help!” I screamed, pulling on the decorative steel rings and banging the rectangular window at the top of the door.
A cackle grew behind me.
When I turned around, evil intent radiated from their manic grins. They came closer, giving me a better look at them. None of the clothes in this shop would have fit them. They stood taller than the average man, with much thicker arms. Brute strength was in their favor.
My options for fighting vanished. I had to outrun them. It was my only chance, and a slim one at best. My hope for escape was the window on the opposite side of the shop.
I juggled the remaining perfume bottle and saw their steps falter. A plan burst into my mind. I lobbed the bottle high in the air between them, smiling as one fumbled and tried to catch it. The other tripped over his feet and slipped in the residual oils.
They grunted as I ran around them, jumping over the fallen table, and dove through the window. Shards of glass sliced into my forearm as I broke through and landed in the middle of the pathway.
The crowd outside stopped. Their momentary confusion quickly turned to whispers as everyone backed away from the broken window and huddled together. Their eyes darted between me and the men now peeking through the shattered window. I heard Auntie Quinn scream, and I bolted through the marketplace before someone caught me.
“Stop her!” I heard from behind me.
I knocked over carts, tossing apples, bread, and trinkets into the road, anything to slow their pursuit. My chest burned before I even made it out of the main square and around the corner. I scanned the wall for a back gate and my heart sunk. The walls were solid. There wasn’t any way to escape. My only chance lay with the two men hammering away on the stage. The screams behind me grew.
“Pipes, Deakon, help!” I yelled, alerting them as they nailed the wooden planks back into position.
Pipes took one look at me and dropped his board. A look of panic spread across his face as he waved me to the back of the stage.
“Hurry, quick,” he said. “I’m guessing they found out about you?”
“Ha,” I replied. “Like you said, this place isn’t safe for me. Or you, either,” I added.
“We know.”
“You can come with me,” I said.
He shook his head sadly. “We all have a part to play, and ours is here.”
“But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! I’m no hero!”
“We have faith you’ll figure it out. But you won’t find it here.” He led me to the back of the stage and pointed up the scaffolding. “You’ll have to climb out.”
“You want me to climb up there?” My voice cracked as I stared up the tangled web of planks leading up to the sheer edges of the walls.
“It’s the only way out,” he said.
“Hurry up, before they come,” Deakon grunted. “They won’t stay back there for long. Your only hope and ours is if you get out of here unseen.”
I stared at him.
“We’re in enough danger as it is. Go!” he yelled, and then ran down the street with his juggling knives in hand. “You’re early for the show. I’ll show you some stuff while you wait,” he said, slowing the mob.
I shook my head and placed my hands on the planks. It was my only choice. I was beginning to hate that. It seemed as if all my actions were spurred by the only available options. When would I get to truly decide?
“Thank you,” I said as I pulled myself up to the next plank. “I’ll see you again.”
“I hope so my lady. I truly hope so.” He gave me a quick salute and cartwheeled down the street towards Deakon.
I looked up the wavering length of boards and crossed my fingers, hoping the scaffolding would hold.
Chapter Eight
With each plank I climbed, my heart screamed in fear. I wasn’t afraid of climbing; I did that weekly at the gym at home. But the possibility of falling almost paralyzed me. On the rock walls at home, the handholds and footholds were secure. The only times I fell were from miscalculations, and that was rare. And my harness always held me secure.
Here though, I had already seen the deliberate destruction of the stage, and the haphazard way the boards had been re-secured. Falling didn’t seem that farfetched a possibility. I didn’t want to find out what would happen if I died. Even if it transported me home, it would hurt, and my pain tolerance wasn’t that good. And besides, what if it didn’t? Getting home by winning the game still seemed the easiest and least painful option.
My palms slipped on the metal beams, but I didn’t stop. I paced my climb to the rhythm of the theme song, audible through Deakon and Pipes’ impromptu show and the muffled outcries of the crowd. My fear subsided until I reached the top of the scaffolding and balanced against the worn bricks of the outer wall. I squinted towards the sky. Still another fifteen feet to go to reach the top of the wall. The first bit of the climb was partially hidden by the stage, but this last part was exposed. I had to climb quickly or risk giving my friends away.
Deakon and Pipes held back the restless crowd. Their juggling knives and axes flashed in the air. As hypnotic as their routine was, I didn’t know how long it would hold off the mob.
Now was the moment of truth. A layer of dust flaked off the wall as I ran my hands over the rough stones. Using the dust as chalk, I covered my palms and tightened my grip within the worn edges. The holes were not as big as I would’ve liked or as stable as I was used to, but I scampered up the side of the wall.
It took the last of my strength to pull myself over the top edge, and when I did, I melted onto the cold bricks on the other side. A wide hallway of sorts opened up, which I imagined the guards paced regularly.
The commotion of the crowd escalated below me, and I was certain they had broken through Deakon and Pipes’ performance. I wanted to peek over the edge, but I didn’t dare. Their malicious obscenities frightened me. How could they think I was the bad guy?
I sat up and propped my back against the bricks, remaining low enough to stay out of sight. The rise and fall of my chest mirrored the erratic beat of my heart. This place was driving me crazy. Red blood stained the sleeve of my new shirt. I no longer doubted the reality of this world. I could only be beaten, cut, and attacked so many times before I had to believe. I was stubborn, not stupid, and I needed to start playing smart. I had come too close to game over too many times
I plucked the remaining shards of glass out of my arm and opened the leather bag to see if I had any sort of bandage. Waves of disappointment rocked me. For one moment I had been rich and could have bought anything I wanted. But when I tipped over my leather bag, all I had to show for it was a dark green cloak, a leather belt, a jewel-encrusted dagger, and a few other limited supplies. So much for a shopping spree. My wounded pride spent everything in a flash.
I pulled out the dagger and thrust through the air. The hilt cooled my hands, the sun flashing off the blade. It wasn’t the beautiful jewelry from the gown table, but it would serve me better. Maybe it wasn’t all a loss. At least I’d gotten the basics I needed to start. I had the costume and a weapon, and I had to believe that I would run into another market soon. They were in several levels of the game. I just had to figure out how to find it.
I pulled my hair back and tightened my ponytail. Whether or not I ended up doing what De
akon and Pipes expected by helping the rebellion didn’t really matter. That was a side issue. I only cared about getting home, and that meant I had to win the game. No more fear, and no more letting someone get the better of me.
My stomach growled, startling a couple of birds perched along the outer edge of the tower walls, closest to the outside world. I covered my belly and swore. If I could have gone back and changed one thing I’d done in the market, I would have bought out the bakery cart before meeting Auntie Quinn. I looked at the one bird remaining on the edge, pondered, and then dismissed the idea of eating it. The memory of killing the puff bird still darkened my heart.
Instead of hunting, I hummed the theme song. Even though I sung off-key, the bird scooted closer, joining in harmony. Its iridescent feathers blinded me. I reached forward, drawn to its irrefutable beauty, and snatched my hand back as a new gleam caught my eyes. The feather tips were razor sharp and nearly sliced my hand.
I balled my fingers into a fist and bit my knuckles. Nothing here came without danger. I kept forgetting, and once again, I almost got hurt. I needed to keep moving. Deakon and Pipes bought me time, and I couldn’t waste that gift. Scrambling to my feet, I felt the dust and mortar from the worn bricks shift under me, and I tripped forward, landing halfway over the outer edge of the market’s wall. The songbird flew away, its melody fading to nothing.
“I’ll sing with you again.” I sighed, glancing back down at the edge of the wall. “What’s this?” I asked, finding a small hidden ledge and compartment between two of the bricks. Something glittered.
I straightened, threw all my items back in the bag, and leaned over the wall. I wasn’t leaving without this.
“Jackpot!” I mumbled, reaching further over the edge for the box of money stuck between the worn bricks. It didn’t budge. My stomach grumbled. I needed money, and this time I wouldn’t spend it until I found some food.
As I leaned towards the ledge, I felt my balance shift. The edge of one of the bricks crumbled beneath me, jolting me back to my senses. With a desperate grab, I dug my nails into the wooden sides of the box and ripped it from the wall as I fell.
Dreamscape: Saving Alex Page 7