Scars Of Defiance

by Angell, Lorena

  Scars of Defiance

  Scars of Defiance Series: book one

  by Lorena Angell

  Copyright 2013 Lorena Angell

  Amazon Edition

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  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Lorena Angell.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The names, characters, places and incidents are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  3rd Edition 03/09/2013

  Edited by:

  Thomas Hall, Ph.D.

  For more titles by Lorena Angell

  http://lorenaangell.blogspot.com

  Chapter 1

  Through her long dark lashes, Sierra watched the two men — one who had repeatedly beaten her nearly to death, and the other who had consistently nursed her back to life — as they discussed her current frail condition.

  “I don’t care if she has to be wheeled in on a gurney,” Reginald Rawlings declared angrily to Dr. John Roth. “She will marry my son in four days. Why isn’t she responding to the medications?”

  “She seems to have lost the will to live, sir,” Roth replied. “Perhaps the wedding should be delayed.”

  “She only needs to live long enough to become Victor’s wife — although I would prefer that she produce an heir. But her royal name alone will give me the support I need.” Rawlings glanced at his watch and adjusted his too-tight silk tie. “I have to make an appearance at the engagement celebration and try to explain her absence,” he said through gritted teeth, glaring at Sierra as he turned and walked toward the door. “Keep me informed of her progress.”

  The door to the palace infirmary slammed shut behind him, and Sierra let out the air she had been holding in her lungs. Dr. Roth hurried over to her side and threw the blankets off her.

  “Now, Princess Sierra. Quickly, there isn’t much time.” He rushed into the nearby supply closet.

  “Dr. Roth, please don’t call me princess.” Sierra swung her slim bruised legs over the edge of the bed and pulled off her hospital gown. Dr. Roth came out of the closet with a pile of clothing and helped her dress — three layers of shirts, two pairs of pants, two pairs of wool socks, and rugged brown hiking boots. Then he guided her arms into a green military jacket and tucked her long, dark-blonde hair up into a soldier’s hat. He added a fake mustache to her top lip for the finishing touch.

  “I don’t know why Rawlings was so late with his visit tonight,” he said. “The plane is supposed to leave in ten minutes, and they damn well better wait for you.”

  “Thank you for everything, Dr. Roth,” Sierra said, placing her hand on his arm and looking into his eyes. “Without you, I’d be dead.”

  “Well, you’re not out of the palace just yet, so you might want to save your thanks until after you’ve crossed the border. Do you remember everything I told you?” She nodded. “The cab driver will have another coat and hat for you in the vehicle. Be safe, Sierra, and good luck.”

  She slipped out of the infirmary and walked quickly down the empty corridor to the door Dr. Roth had pointed out to her as an unmarked exit that led to an outside service door. Once outside the building, she hurried across the parking lot to the rear service entrance gate. Miraculously, she didn’t run into any employees or guards along the way. As Dr. Roth promised, a yellow cab was waiting for her just beyond the gate to take her to the airport. She opened the back passenger door and climbed inside.

  “Good evening, Ms. Montgomery,” the driver said with an unrecognizable accent. “Buckle up, please. The roads are pretty nasty, and we’re in a hurry.” His ball cap was on backwards, covering his military-style haircut.

  She had no doubt the roads would be wickedly slick tonight. The raging snowstorm had started earlier in the day and had cast a dark cloud over her hopes for escape. Sierra looked to her left and found her coat and wool hat on the seat. She took off the military hat and mustache and stuffed her hair up into the wool cap. Then she pulled the earflaps down and tied the strings securely under her chin. She removed the military jacket and wiggled into the thick down coat.

  The cab driver said nothing else to her, and for most of the hectic ride she stared out the window. The dim glow of the streetlights did little to illuminate the roads. A massive weather system had moved in, and the snowflakes fell so fast and thick that they blanketed the incandescent lights. As the cab turned up a narrow street, the wintry white world plunged into darkness, lit only by the faint beams from the snow-covered headlights.

  Sierra wondered where the road led, what she would find at its end. Sitting quietly in the back seat and asking nothing of her unknown driver was so out of character for her that she almost laughed at the thought. She knew he must be from the underground, a volunteer from the insurgents, and yet she wasn’t at all worried, at least not like she had been a couple of months ago when they tried to assassinate her.

  They rounded a corner and she began to recognize airplane hangars. They had reached the airport, entering through a back door of sorts. The vehicle pulled up near a waiting cargo plane that was preparing for take-off.

  “Here you are, Ms. Montgomery. Good luck.” The driver winked at her in the rearview mirror.

  She said nothing, only slipped quietly from the cab and walked quickly through the snow to her escape. She approached the idling plane sitting on the tarmac with uncertainty and dread shooting through her body and settling in the pit of her stomach like an anvil. The airplane looked as if it had been towed in from the airplane graveyard and given a bogus stamp of approval. Several mismatching panels had been bolted on, and thick rust covered the seams and screws.

  It couldn’t be too dangerous could it? The pilot and co-pilot must have been satisfied enough with its condition to agree to fly the bucket of bolts. Several other people boarded the plane after inspecting it too, so maybe Sierra was being too cautious or pessimistic. But the safety of the plane wasn’t the only thing bothering her. This awful blizzard had her worried, along with visibility problems and the build-up of ice on the wings. Even if the airplane could get off the ground, would it be able to maintain altitude?

  Sierra was torn. This dilapidated plane symbolized her potential freedom from the dominating presence of the Rawlings family in her life, but it also epitomized where she felt her life was headed right now — death. Maybe the two were the same.

  She took her place in line as the fierce wind blew snow in her face. She had taken time prior to her escape to inflate a bunch of plastic baggies and stuff them into the lining of her coat to fill out her petite frame and add to her disguise. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to recognize her. She definitely looked like a different person now, certainly not royalty. The baggies were also acting as an insulation barrier against the bitter cold wind, an unexpected plus.

  A woman, probably in her late fifties, helped strap a parachute on Sierra’s back. She spoke loudly because of the roaring engines, but not quite loud enough for Sierra to hear everything she said. She knew she was missing valuable instructions.

  One of the last defectors to board the plane, Sierra sat on the bench stretching down the pilot’s side of the fuselage. She leaned forward and glanced down the bench at the other t
wenty or so passengers, all daring to make a clandestine escape from Rendier. No one looked at her. All eyes were on the floor. Several fellow defectors breathed rapidly with clouds of frozen breath lingering in front of them. Were they as worried about the plane as she was? Were they also running from Reginald Rawlings? Were they all fleeing from a life of oppression and despair in their home country?

  She sat back and stared straight ahead at the boxes and crates that filled the other half of the plane. Straps, cords, and netting stretched this way and that, holding the cargo in place. She really hoped the crew had done a good job of securing the cargo because if the load shifted, her legs might be smashed, and if she survived this escape attempt, she’d need them to run with.

  There was nothing left of her life in Rendier. Her father, Donald Montgomery, had been her last living relative. The entire Montgomery royal family except for Sierra and her parents had been wiped out twenty-five years ago by Reginald’s father, Alexandar Rawlings, a ruthless and amoral dictator who destroyed everything in his path to establish the Rawlings dynasty. When the Montgomery family was overthrown and Alexandar came to power, Sierra’s mother and father went into hiding and stayed out of sight until Sierra turned seven. That’s when Alexandar Rawlings died and was succeeded by his son Reginald, who made promises to right the wrongs of his father and return Rendier to its former state of freedom and prosperity. Reginald spent months trying to persuade Donald Montgomery and his family to come out of hiding, to return to public life, assuring them that he would see to their safety, and at last they agreed.

  Reginald immediately invited Donald to join his board of advisors as a show of good faith. Then shortly after that, Sierra’s mother died. Sierra didn’t remember much about her, only that she seemed sad. Every time she asked her father about her mother, he sank into depression, so she decided to try to forget the past and move forward.

  The door to the airplane slammed shut, causing Sierra’s head to bounce against the wall. Her back hurt as she sat on the hard bench inside the rumbling old plane. Even though her thick down coat cushioned her back against the metal wall, her back ached and stung from the last set of lashings she had received from Reginald just days ago. After failing time and again to escape from her impending marriage to Reginald’s son, Victor, she had finally given up. She had refused to eat for several days in an attempt to end it all, but that hadn’t worked either. Reginald thought a good lashing would pull her out of her rebellious state.

  Little did he know, Sierra would learn the very next day about this secret flight across the border. She became determined to be on that plane, but now that she was sitting onboard, her heart raced like thundering hooves at a race-track.

  The engines revved louder, and the plane began to shake. They started to roll forward. A man stood in the doorway of the cockpit and yelled instructions in a high-pitched voice.

  “Your chute opens with the cord on your left shoulder. When you jump, count to five, and then pull your chute. If it fails, pull the backup chute with the cord under your arm. Remember to roll when you hit the ice to prevent it from breaking. If you go through the ice, release your pack using these clasps and swim like hell.”

  Sierra closed her eyes and tried not to think about what was to come as the plane accelerated down the runway. The stiff wind pushed against the plane, resisting its attempt to go airborne as if the wind itself was operating under the control of Reginald Rawlings, like everything else in Rendier. The nose of the plane angled upward, and the tires left the ground. The dip and sway made Sierra sick to her stomach.

  She forced her mind to focus on memories instead of her impending death. She recalled the unforgettable moment when her father dropped the bombshell that Reginald’s son had chosen her to be his bride. It came as such a shock to hear that Victor was even interested in her. She knew his friend Riley Stone had a crush on her and continually pestered her to go out with him. She refused, naturally. But Victor?

  At age twelve, Sierra was enrolled in a school for privileged kids. Up until that point she had traveled the country with her father on business and was home-schooled by tutors and nannies. But when she turned twelve, her father decided she needed formal schooling and regular interaction with other kids her own age. That’s when she met Riley.

  He seemed nice enough and friendly toward her at first. But by the time he was fifteen, he had become Victor’s best friend, and his attitude changed completely. Riley and Victor ruled the school because no one dared stand up against Reginald Rawlings’s son.

  Victor had such an over-inflated ego that it was hard for Sierra to be around him. It didn’t help matters that his incredible good looks and charisma had girls falling at his feet left and right. She had to shake her head in amazement at the idiotic attempts of other girls to win his attention. Of course, it wasn’t just Victor they wanted. Riley was equally handsome, with a toned, muscled body that he was happy to show off whenever he could. Being Victor’s best friend gave him access to all the top-of-the-line exercise equipment and personal trainers.

  Together, Victor and Riley were a lethal combination. They could have any girl they wanted, and they usually did. It was Riley who sought to date Sierra, not Victor. In their junior and senior years, Riley stepped up his efforts to win Sierra over. He would follow her and stalk her around the clock, and arrange to have her sit next to him in class. She couldn’t stand it. Riley was a big fake. Sierra didn’t want a guy who couldn’t act normal. It confused Riley that she didn’t fall for his charms like the other girls — or maybe it intrigued him, because he kept trying.

  Then, one day during the summer after graduation, Sierra’s father took her for a drive. She remembered the moment well since it was only four months ago. On the drive, he asked her if she wanted to marry Victor Rawlings. Of course her answer was a resounding No. Then the confusion set in. Why in the world did Victor want her to be his bride? It was so unexpected and unexplained, but no more so than when her father suddenly died after he told Reginald that Sierra didn’t want to marry Victor.

  His death, ruled as a heart attack, seemed so sudden and unexplainable. He hadn’t had any health problems before that, and then out of the blue he died. Sierra immediately suspected foul play. She had been overtaken with grief at the time and wasn’t able to think straight enough to investigate further. Involving the law wasn’t an option. Reginald Rawlings was the law.

  She thought it was no minor coincidence that her dad’s death had occurred immediately after she rejected Victor’s marriage proposal. She should have suspected forces beyond her control aimed at placing her in the palace with the spoiled son of the dictator.

  Even though Sierra had just turned eighteen, Reginald insisted — no, demanded — that she come live in the palace “for her own protection.” She had been selected to be the bride of the future ruler of Rendier, and as such it was entirely possible that her life could be in danger now. The fact that she had declined the proposal didn’t seem to matter.

  It had been four months now since her father died and she had been taken to the palace. Four months since Reginald Rawlings basically admitted to her that he had murdered her father, and four months of attempted escapes and brutal beatings when she failed. Hopefully, she had been beaten for the last time. If this escape attempt worked, she would never have to see this country again. She wouldn’t have to marry Victor, and she could live her own life.

  Sierra had gained the friendship of an important ally within the palace, Dr. Roth. He tended to her injuries after every beating Reginald issued. At first, she felt he was trying to keep a safe distance from the situation, but as time went on, she saw his compassion for her plight.

  It went against the Hippocratic Oath for him to look the other way and ignore the crimes and suffering inflicted on Sierra. He became determined to help her escape, to flee the country and her horrible captive life. So he allied himself with the dangerous insurgent underground in an effort to secure safe transportation for her across the border.
Why they agreed to help, she didn’t know, especially when they had tried and failed to kill her. The only thing she could figure was that Dr. Roth had some pull in the decision to help her cross the border.

  On that fateful day four months ago, as Reginald confessed his evil deed to her, she learned that she had been chosen to become Victor’s bride not because he cared for her but because she was the last living female of the Montgomery monarchy, the only surviving legitimate heir to the throne of Rendier. Reginald hadn’t even known that she existed until she and her parents emerged from hiding. Then he put two and two together, realized that his son and Sierra were about the same age, and conceived of his foul plot. He employed Donald Montgomery only so he could keep a close eye on Sierra while she grew to adulthood. She realized now that even if Victor hadn’t asked her to marry him, Reginald would have arranged it. Her father had stood in Reginald’s way, and he had been eliminated. She had to wonder if her poor mother had tried to interfere too.

  The plane bounced and swayed as it pushed forward through the storm, climbing unsteadily through the clouds and blinding snow. The right side of the plane dipped as they cornered north toward Baylend, the only country bordering Rendier. The small country of Rendier descended from the main continent as a southern peninsula extending into the ocean. The two countries were separated by the Trejo Mountain Range, which formed an impassable border over thirty miles wide separating freedom from tyranny. The only road cutting through the mountains was closely guarded with a gated border, which eliminated the option of fleeing the country by vehicle. Hiking through the mountains had its own perils. If one survived the harsh wilderness and wild animals, one would still need to have advanced mountain-climbing skills to navigate up and over the treacherous peaks. The mountain range was like a brick wall that rendered passage from one country to the other all but impossible.

  The coastal waters around Rendier were also heavily patrolled by Rawlings’s naval forces, so escape by boat was out of the question as well, which left flying the only option. Dr. Roth helped Sierra secure a spot on the secret plane which the insurgents used periodically to ferry defectors across the border, but for a hefty fee.