“Go...” she could barely spit out the word, her voice hoarse, her throat painfully dry. Vickie didn't respond, just carefully led her forward, down the dimly lit tunnel.
No door shut behind them, like she expected, just the continued sound of thunder and the intense flashes overwhelming the dull light extending down the distant tunnel.
They walked slowly forward, hand and hand, into the unknown.
Chapter 22
Something soft, fluffy, brushed against Trent’s cheek, bringing him fully awake. A nearly unbroken canopy of colorful branches spread before him, a misty teal sky hidden just beyond. He sat up in surprise, mind confused, his last memory being of falling asleep in Sasha’s embrace. But now he found himself in an unknown forest, on an alien world, surrounded by leafy foliage of varying rainbow hues. Again, something soft brushed his cheek and he turned, finding a young, black-haired girl that looked like a porcelain doll standing at his side. Her presence was familiar, she being someone of great importance to him. But he couldn't be certain, her face masked by light blurring tears.
As he stared at the young girl, her name on the tip of his tongue, black miasma appeared around her, seeming born of her intense sorrow. It seeped in waves from her very being to engulf the forest around her. Everything the milky darkness touched lost all color, turning itself, into a black “nothingness” that slowly devoured its surroundings. Trent wanted to reach out to the child, hug her close, try to smother the darkness and overwhelm her sorrow with his warmth, let her know it would be ok, that he was here for her. But when he tried to move forward, the forest engulfed him, its vines, branches, and roots threatening to encase his body.
He fought frantically, ripping away the foliage as it tried to tie him down, two more rising for every one he removed. Soon, his legs were trapped by the slithering roots, while branches bound his chest, compressing it with such force that his breathing became strained. He persevered, desperately trying to escape before his body was completely entombed in the forest’s prison.
“Tidelia...Sasha...” the words echoed in his mind, clearing away the fog of ignorance. He now knew where he was and what he had to do.
This was a dream; Sasha’s dream.
“Help me, please, and...and I will save her...I promise!” Trent begged, a vine slithering about his neck. But his pleas wouldn't reach the black-haired girl, who was now completely enveloped in darkness. What can I do? How can I escape? How can I save her? As the questions ran through his mind, a thought broke free of the rest.
He grasped for his bond. “Sasha...please,” he concentrated, forcing their bond open, grasping for her mind, her very essence.
The roots, vines, and branches pinning him to the forest floor released. He rushed to his feet, diving into the dark miasma, the “nothingness”, to grasp the young girl. The darkness receded at his touch.
“Go...before it is too late,” the girl pointed down a path that wasn't previously present, the same path he had encountered once before; the path leading to Sasha's greatest horror.
He moved without question, sprinting down the path which he knew would lead to his love. Fresh growth began impeding his every step, appearing from nowhere and everywhere, trying to stop him from reaching Sasha. Roots exploded from the ground, wrapping around his knees, growing faster and faster. But he fought through, calling forth the fire of his love to burn them away with its blazing passion. A faceless boy appeared on the path ahead, spouting gibberish as he attacked, aiming for Trent's exposed eyes. But Trent didn't slow, throwing the boy aside with his own momentum, into the undulating mass of forest that now followed close behind him. Another faceless boy appeared, then another, and another. But he just kept running, fighting through their ranks, ignoring their deadweight clinging to his burning limbs.
A clearing arose before him, hundreds of the faceless boys standing in wait, all protecting the small metal building; the building containing his love, just beyond. He fought through, screaming his primal rage, ignoring the pain as the boys attacked relentlessly, punching and kicking with every step.
“Sasha!” he screamed, swinging his arms wildly to knock the faceless boys from his path as he waded through their ever increasing numbers, fighting with every breath to reach the door, to reach his love.
He crashed through the doorway without hesitation and witnessed a sight from his nightmares.
A teenage Sasha lay naked on the bed, Roberto tying her arms and legs to its corners while teenage boys stood smiling, laughing gaily, touching and taking scans of her exposed flesh. Trent's mind snapped, everything turning a pure white, only flashes of bloody faces and smashed scanners appearing within. Then a blade pierced his flesh and he collapsed, many feet kicking his sides. His mind screamed out in pain. But he knew they couldn't actually hurt him, this a dream, a memory. With a primal roar, he exploded to his feet, lashing out at each of his attackers, until they fled in terror before him, all who remained being he, Roberto, and Sasha.
Roberto threw his head back, his golden locks flowing like a majestic river over his wide shoulders, his handsome features contorted in rage. A laser arc suddenly appeared in his outstretched hand and he fired. Pain exploded through Trent's chest as a hole was burnt straight through. But it didn't matter.
He wiped away the pain and the wound vanished. “You!” he shouted, sprinting the distance between them, ignoring Roberto pleas for mercy as he cowered in fear. Trent's strength was ungodly as he picked the taller man up by the neck, staring into his petrified eyes.
“You don't belong here...vanish and never return!” he commanded, unable to stop trembling. Roberto's body contorted, limbs twisting and snapping, his face melting, then collapsing in on itself. Trent looked away as the memory of Roberto exploded into a million tiny pieces with a blinding flash, before vanishing completely. The room went silent. A shivering Sasha laying upon the bed, arms and legs bound. Trent moved quickly to her side, untying the knots to free her limbs.
“Sasha...I love you,” he embraced her, his unexpected declaration causing her eyes to shoot open, calling her free of despair. She gazed around the room in dazed wonder. Trent carefully wrapped a sheet about her naked flesh, before stepping away. Then, for reasons he could not begin to comprehend, he started removing the wispy white top and pants he wore even in Sasha's dreams. She looked on in wonder, blushing in embarrassment as she realized what he was doing, but unable to look away, her teenage fascination taking hold of her mind. Except, something else flashed in her emerald eyes, a twinkle that said even though she did not consciously recognize him, something inside her was screaming she should. He smiled as he reached out his hand, offering to help her to her feet. She obliged, still cautious, a tension showing that she would flee at the first sign he would try to harm her, but appearing captivated by this strange man that had saved her from her plight. He placed a scanner in the palm of her hand. She stared at him in wonder.
“The only scans that should ever be taken...are of me by you...” he lay on the bed. Her jaw dropped, eyes twinkling in confusion. Without question, she complied, a wide smirk covering her teenage lips as she scanned every millimeter of his flesh.
“Why do I feel like I know you?” she asked as she moved closer, walking a finger across his bare chest.
“Because we are connected...you and I,” Trent responded, trembling, trying to keep himself under control. She froze as a cacophony voices, the boys voices, started growing from just outside the small building. He frowned. Why couldn't it ever be easy?
“Go...I will take your place,” she nodded understanding, gathering her clothes and started for the door. But she stopped midway, spinning while crinkling her eyebrows. She ran back to his side, kissing him, then throwing his own clothes over his manhood.
“I do not believe they will fall for that...my prince,” she said mockingly, her eyes twinkling with a familiar playfulness as she helped him dress. He smiled, kissing her deeply, passionately. When he pulled away, she could no longer hold his gaze, h
er cheeks burning red. He chuckled, finding the teenage Sasha’s dazed innocence refreshing, before grasping her outstretched hand and leading her into the waiting forest.
He gasped, unable to hold his breath any longer as the pressure on his chest became too great. The scent of roses engulfed his rapid breaths, locks of silky black hair tickling his nose. But the pressure intensified and he could only gasp, fighting desperately against that which bound his chest. But this time it took little effort to pull himself free, sliding Sasha's hands to his hips, where her death grip would cause the least amount of pain.
The vivid images of Tidelia still flowed through his mind, along with the desperate battle he’d fought to save Sasha from her own memories, from the man named Roberto. But why was I sent free while she was not? He wondering if the memory decide to reject him fully, while allowing the original to replay, being too deeply engrained in her psyche for him to possibly change it. No, his mind told, he somehow knowing she was free and now dreaming a pleasant dream, one no longer tainted by that most abhorrent of memory.
“My duke...where are you...” Sasha mumbled, her sleepy words answering his unspoken question.
“I'm here, my love,” he responded, louder than intend. The pressure of Sasha's embrace eased as her eyes shot open.
“Trent!” she shouted, voice cracking, staring at him in disbelief, an intense blush spreading across her already flushed cheeks. “You know I was only a teenager!” Sasha scolded unexpectedly, swatting his chest. Trent didn't understand at first, but quickly remembered what he'd done and his bizarre scheme of taking her place. How he stripped before her, before the teenage her.
“Well...you didn't act like one. Are you sure I was the first man you scanned naked?” Trent, feeling mischievous, decided to play along, ignoring the shock spreading across Sasha's gorgeous face.
“Of course! And now my memory of that moment involves you and-,” her blush deepened. He leaned in, interrupting her with a kiss.
“Is that a bad thing, my love?” he asked, kissing her again and again. She giggled, an impish look appearing in her eyes.
“Actually, my duke...” she crawled up his chest as she purred, forcing her lips over his. He was about to lose himself in her touch, when she pulled away.
“So we leave tomorrow?” her question surprised him.
“Yes, in the morning...but...” a finger stopped his stuttered words.
“I heard everything, my duke,” she stared into his eyes.
Recognition took him. The old habit of running when cornered resurfaced, but vanished when all he saw only love in her eyes. “And yes...you do belong to me...forever. But I also belong to you...to mold as you see fit.” The playful twinkle in her eyes told him that her words hid an additional meaning.
“Well...how about...” he spun her on her back and let himself fall into the passion and lust that engulfed their bond, and their minds.
*********
A droplet of ice cold water splashed off the nape of her neck, followed by another, and another. But she barely felt their icy touch, her mind and body having gone numb long before her and Vickie had arrived at the resting area for the dammed; a place to recover before they continued onto the next horrible challenge.
They had come upon the dark chamber built of chiseled grey stones after their dreadful march through the tunnel, where Tiana relived the horrors of the bridge of death and the floating rings; over and over again. The memories became worse, vivid, after they arrived, her mind falling deeper and deeper into the pits of despair. She knew she needed to rest, to recover, as Vickie had done. But it was impossible. She being unable to close her eyes no matter how much sleep called for her to enter its sweet embrace. So she sat in silence, pulling her knees tightly against her chest, knowing well the nightmares that would greet her when her eyes closed. The face of the dear, poor dead child would become crystal clear, since it haunted her, even in waking.
She coughed as she took another breath, finding the damp, musty air, with a constant stench of death and human waste, barely palpable, and made all the worse by the cold stone which provided scant comfort. A spoonful of food, or what past for food here, its origins suspect, touched her lips. She tried to resist, its taste putrid, but Vickie forced it into her mouth and she swallowed. Vickie then covered her lips with her own, forcing water down her throat, and only pulling away when she knew Tiana had drank her fill. Normally, such a thing would make her uncomfortable, no matter the reasons. But she found she cared little. Her mind numb from the consent despair, and even though the attention helped her calm, the dank environment drained it away the moment Vickie's touch cleared.
A strong stench of unwashed flesh burned her nostrils as a man shuffled past, made all the worse by the damp air. She'd realized that most who made it this far would give in and try to live a meager existence until death took them. She wondered how many of the silent bundles of blankets and robes that surrounded her were actually those who long since passed away.
“Is she better?” an ancient man asked, limping across the floor, his long, bone white hair covering his hunched back and melding seamlessly into his spotty white beard.
“A little...but this type of injury will take time to heal and this is not the place,” Vickie responded. Tiana peered at the strong woman from under her brows, her tender words sounding out of place in the dank dungeon.
Vickie's normally beautifully kept braid of brunette hair was split mid way up her back, covered in dirt, filth, and grime unimaginable. Her features, which normally showed of a sharp grace and splendor, were scratched and dirty, many bruises growing on her tender cheeks. Her skimpy dress was torn and no longer concealed her modesty, its tatters shifting with her every movement. But her spirit still burned strong; a majestic spirit that blazed through the darkness and felt of a sun amongst candles.
“So......I gather you will depart soon?” the old man asked as he sat stiffly on the floor cross-legged, his bony knees peeking out from under his robe, showing that little actual muscle remained on his deathly pale skin.
“Yes, as soon as we finish eating,” Vickie responded, staring the man in the eye, attempting to avoid the sight of his malnourished body.
“Very good, ladies like you do not belong here...” he paused, looking to a bundle of blankets at their side, “well, no one belongs here. But you still have fight, unlike these poor souls,” the old man ran a hand over the bundle, revealing a sleeping child.
Tiana held back a scream. “Is she there...is it her?” she asked as she started to crawl forward, but hands held her back.
“No, Tiana. This girl was here when we arrived.” The answer made her heart sink once more. She slumped back against the cold, damp wall.
“She has been here many days. But sickness has taken her. I fear, before long, she will die...” the old man told, voice one of pain, but also of one accustomed to death. “Many have come like you. Recently another couple. A tall, regal man, with a spotty memory, claiming to be a prince...I believe...”
Vickie froze. “Georigi?” she asked, a glimmer of hope appearing deep within Tiana's mind as she heard Vickie's desperate word.
“Hmm...that may have been his name. So many have past, their names never stick for long. But I do remember the lady he escorted...a Wezta..or Wemra...” he stumbled with the name, it being stuck on the tip of his tongue.
“Wedra?” Tiana whispered, remembering the name of Sir Wontin's lost daughter.
“Yes! That's it. She was so full of energy, unlike any that had passed through in many a period. Saying she needed to return to her brother, even trying to rally the petties. It was a sight I haven't seen in ages. Ah...I miss the days of fiery court sessions...” the man explained, seeming to fall into memories as he began muttering to himself. Tiana almost smiled, noticing Vickie's eyes were burning with a scarlet flame.
“If you do not mind me asking, an old man has his curiosities too, you see. How did two lovely ladies as yourselves end up down in this star god forsa
ken place?” the question brought Vickie back to the present, her eyes shedding some of its blaze.
“We were searching for someone and our lady’s husband didn't take to kindly to what was going on within his duchy,” Vickie said, her words lacking emotion.
The old man's eyes lit. “The Alutia Duchy...correct? I've heard rumors...”
“Yes, but Duke Zehman Hulk'Zif has been resisting quite aggressively the loss of a large portion of his holdings. His supporters still control the Don'Zif Earldom...well, now it’s known as the Don’Alutia Mark...but not for long,” Vickie sneered.
“Ah...hope...I doubt I will live to see such a day,” melancholy filled the air as the man seemed to fall back on times when others said such things.
“Not much longer, I assure you. They are both here and they would search under every stone to find us,” the man paused, then glanced at Tiana, then back to Vickie with a wide, toothy grin.
“Well...hmmm....I guess I will believe you. I promised I never would after the service man of two years earlier claimed the same thing. But you ladies look different,” he fiddled his fingers in thought. “Tell your mistress that if she does free us that a Sir Rehman will forever be in her service.” The man stood, bones cracking, and bowed stiffly.
“Father of Duke Zehman?” Vickie asked, voice trembling.
“That bastard is no son of mine...” he spit to the side. “He may have come from my loins, but I wish everyday that I had strangled him in his crib...or better yet...spaced the little bastard. He is no son of mine!” Sir Rehman's mouth frothed with rage. Tiana knew he wasn't lying, Vickie appearing to think the same.
“I will let the Grand Duchess Sasha and Grand Duke Trent know. But you may have to renounce your house and family, like I was required to do...Great-Uncle,” Sir Rehman’s eyebrows rose as he wiped the froth from his lips, staring at Vickie. “My mother was Lady Utickie, Daughter of Lady Yuzikie...your sister, Great-Uncle,” Vickie's voice seemed made of iron.
The Noble Petty, Complete Edition (Alutia Rising Series, Book 2) Page 68