Aurora Abroad

by Aron Lewes

  Charmaine immediately stopped his whining. Whether out of fear or reassurance, Aurora did not know.

  “YOU WITCH!” Meg hollered. “YOU STINKING, EVIL WITCH!”

  “Oh, hush.” Medea pointed her wand at Meg. A needle and thread appeared from out of nowhere and proceeded to sew her mouth shut. Meg squealed and writhed in agony as the needle plunged through her lips. “I came here to talk to Aurora. I don’t need anyone interfering with that. Now, where were we?”

  Aurora watched in horror as Meg’s lips were sewn together. “Why are you doing this!?”

  “Doing what, my dear?”

  “Why are you doing ANY of this?” Aurora shouted. “I’ve never done anything to you!”

  Medea pressed her lips together and chuckled. “Maybe I’m just an implausibly evil person? Do I need a reason? I’m the sort of person who would cut off your friend’s hand for the fun of it, simply because it amuses me.” She pointed her wand in Lyric’s direction.

  Aurora gasped. “No, don’t!”

  “Oh? Would you rather I just concentrate on you? Yes, that’s probably what I should do. I came here to rip you apart, and I might as well get on with it.”

  Aurora looked over her shoulder at Lyric, who was being restrained by one of the wraiths. Then she turned back to Medea. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it. I just don’t want you to hurt my friends anymore.”

  “My dear, you are in no position to negotiate. If I kill you, why should I stop there? I can do whatever I want.”

  “Aurora...” Lyric whispered to her. “Just go. You know what I’m talking about. Just go.”

  “Go?” Medea repeated with a chuckle. “What in the world does he mean?”

  Aurora reached into her pocket and found the wayspinner. That had to be what Lyric was referring to. She started to inch toward him, hoping she could take him with her when the time came. Turning to Meg, she whispered, “I’m so sorry...”

  Meg nodded, giving Aurora the encouragement she needed. Meg was, after all, the one who gave her the wayspinner. If ever there was a good time to use it, that time was now.

  Sensing Aurora’s attempt to flee, Medea raised her hand again. Flames sputtered from the end of her wand, cascading toward Aurora with incredible speed. With only seconds to spare, Aurora found the dial and tried to reach for Lyric. She could have sworn she touched him just as the light engulfed her.

  But she was wrong.

  Chapter Six

  I

  WHEN AURORA OPENED her eyes, she felt an incredible amount of sorrow weighing on her heart. She could feel her insides clenching, combusting. Her head was filled with so much sadness, she wasn’t sure what troubled her the most.

  The wooden bird. Aurora dipped into her pocket and pulled it out. She hadn’t paid much attention to in the last few days; now it had special significance. As she held it in the palm of her hand, she started to cry.

  When Molly gave her the wooden bird on her birthday, Aurora didn’t realize it would be the last time she would ever see her. Molly was so strong, so intelligent—she always put others before herself. Now she was dead. And no matter how many tears spilled down Aurora’s cheeks, it didn’t make that fact any less painful.

  And then there was Meg. Aurora would never forget the expression of agony on her face. Meg was the toughest woman Aurora had ever known, and even she could not stand up to Medea. Aurora knew she would have been dead if not for the gift that Meg gave her.

  Aurora laid the wooden bird on the ground and pulled out the wayspinner. After it whisked her away from the conflict on the balcony, she landed—quite hard—on solid ground. And she landed on top of the wayspinner. Now it was broken. No doubt about it. The wayspinner, her gift from Meg, was bent in half.

  She wondered what would become of Meg, alone on the balcony with Medea and Charmaine.

  A few seconds later, Aurora realized she was the one who was alone.

  “LYRIC!” Aurora shouted. “Lyrrrrric!”

  There was no response, aside from the fluttering of a few birds as they soared out of a nearby tree. Aurora remembered reaching for him as she turned the wayspinner, but she must have failed, because he was nowhere to be found.

  “Lyric! Lyriiic!”

  It would have been comforting to hear him answer her, but there was no response. For the first time in over a week, Lyric wasn’t with her. Until he was gone, Aurora didn’t realize how much she would miss him, or how much she valued his companionship. Sure, he could be annoying at times, but it was always a comfort to have him around. His sarcasm could make her forget the worst situations, but now there was no one to fulfill that role. She was truly alone.

  “Lyric...”

  Aurora stroked the wooden bird with her finger, and tears started leaking from her eyes. In her mind, she reprimanded herself for her weakness. Aurora never cried. As far as she was concerned, crying was useless. It never solved anything, and it never washed away the pain.

  Aurora pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. As irritating as he was, she would have given anything to hear him tease her. She wondered if she’d ever see him again, or if he’d even care to see her. She realized, with some embarrassment, that she’d never really had a friend before. All her life, she’d been a sheltered girl, completely contented to have Meg, Molly and Mary as companions. For all she knew, they could all be dead—and Lyric as well. Because of her, Lyric had been exposed to more danger than he’d ever faced in his life. If he was alive, Aurora would not blame him if he never wanted to see her again.

  “Uuggg...” Aurora groaned to herself. “I wish you were here...”

  When she closed her eyes, she could picture Lyric’s face. If she had another wish, she would have wished for him to appear beside her. She wondered if he would let her cry on his shoulder, if only for a moment.

  “Why am I thinking about you so much?” she whispered to herself. “All we ever did was argue. Why do you mean so much to me?”

  Aurora picked up the wooden bird and laid it on her knee. She stared at it for several seconds, and her thoughts shifted back to Molly. The fact that she was dead seemed impossible. It seemed unreal, inconceivable. If only Meg was mistaken!

  For the first time in her life, Aurora had someone to hate. Medea. She had to get revenge on Medea.

  Aurora sat in sorrowful solitude for what seemed like hours. It was almost as if her entire body was paralyzed by sadness. The tears stopped, but the grief remained. She just wanted to lie down on the ground and forget about everything: forget about death, forget about Medea, forget about Lyric—

  Forget about the pair of yellow eyes glaring at her from the brush.

  II

  SHE DIDN’T WANT TO make any sudden movements because she didn’t want to attract the creature’s attention if it hadn’t noticed her yet. But her forethought was for naught. It had already spotted her, and she was the prey. The creature moved toward her, out of the brush and into the clearing. It looked like a wolf, but at the same time, it was unlike any other wolf she’d ever seen. Seven feet tall and mangy, it pointed its claws at Aurora, silently taunting her before it advanced.

  Aurora leapt to her feet and ran as fast as she could. She could hear its heavy breathing, its deep growling. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw a glimpse of white fangs gnashing at her heels. It was pursuing her on all fours, gaining ground with each stride. Aurora started to feel that this was it—this was the end of her life. She was going to die here.

  She wondered what death would be like. Would it be white lights and welcoming arms? Would she see Molly? Or was death nothing more than pitch-black nothingness? With a heavy heart, she wondered if the last thing she would ever experience was the pain of a wolf’s jaws sinking into her flesh, tearing her apart.

  As if matters weren’t bad enough, she saw a familiar black figure rushing in her direction. It was one of Medea’s cloaked wraiths. Brandishing a long, serrated saber, the wraith was hurtling toward her with impressive
speed. Aurora leapt out of the way before she collided with it. She dove to the ground, covered her head, and tried to prepare herself for whatever death that was going to befall her. Fangs or sword: either fate was terribly depressing.

  But nothing happened—at least, not to her. When she peered over her shoulder, she saw claw and steel colliding. The wolf and wraith were battling each other! Aurora rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating.

  She wasn’t.

  The wolf lunged for the wraith, snarling and baring its teeth. The wraith swept to the side and hoisted his sword; the wolf narrowly dodged the blow. It swiped at the wraith with its massive paw, and its claws might have hit their mark. From her vantage point, Aurora couldn’t be sure.

  Aurora tried to stand, but her legs were like stones. She couldn’t move. Until now, she never knew what it was like to be petrified with fear. As her two enemies clashed, all she could do was watch.

  The wraith thrust his sword at the wolf, and the blow must have landed, because the wolf let out a whimper. With an ear-piercing howl, it turned and retreated for the woods. Aurora was almost relieved to see her would-be predator lose the battle, but as she turned her attention to the figure in black, her relief was replaced by a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach.

  Aurora scrambled to her feet and started to flee, but she slipped on the mud-slick foliage and fell back to the ground. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the wraith moving toward her at an eerily slow pace. As if on cue, a clap of thunder shook the sky. The dark clouds opened up, and rain came pouring down. It was as if the heavens were waiting for the perfect moment to unleash an ominous symphony.

  “Please,” she begged him. “Please don’t... please don’t kill me.”

  Aurora expected him to turn his sword on her. The last thing she would see was a flash of white metal, and that would be it. That’s what she was expecting, but—

  He sheathed it.

  “Get up,” a raspy voice commanded from beneath the pitch-black hood.

  Aurora didn’t need to be told twice. If he wasn’t going to kill her right away, she decided to make the most of every moment. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to kill her? Maybe Medea wanted to do the job herself?

  “Follow me.”

  “Um...”

  As he started to drift away from her, he held out a skeletal hand. “Follow me,” he repeated.

  She started to take a step in the opposite direction. If he wasn’t going to force her, why should she comply?

  He must have read her mind. “If you won’t come willingly, I will MAKE you come.”

  Aurora did as she was told. She was soaked, cold, and lonely. At the moment, following the wraith was her only option. “Um, where are we going?” She realized she was in no position to ask questions, but it didn’t hurt to try.

  “Away from here.”

  “That doesn’t explain much.”

  “It’s dangerous here. Cerberii could return at any moment.”

  “Cerberii?”

  “The wolf.”

  “Oh... right.” When the wraith started moving faster, she lengthened her stride in order to keep up with him. “So, am I a prisoner?”

  He didn’t respond, so she assumed the answer was yes. Aurora wondered what would happen if she made a run for it. He would probably give chase, and her attempt at fleeing would likely fail. With a heavy heart, she decided to stay at his side. She didn’t want to give him any reason to resort to roughness.

  “Are you taking me to my aunt?”

  It was another unanswered question.

  “You can tell me that, can’t you? There’s no harm in that. Are you taking me to Medea?”

  His answer was gruff, but surprising. “No.”

  “You’re not?!”

  “No.”

  “You don’t work for her?”

  “No more questions. Look.” He reached for Aurora, stopping just short of her wrist. Before he touched her, he retracted his scab-laden fingers and pointed to a huge black castle with tall, soaring spires. Aurora couldn’t believe she failed to notice such a huge structure until he pointed it out to her. She was so preoccupied with her imminent mortality, it was impossible to think of anything else. “We’re here.”

  “Um. Okay. And where is here, exactly? I know you told me not to ask any more questions, but...”

  “My castle,” he replied. “Come.”

  She followed him to the bronze front door, which was covered in a tangle of thorns. As he reached for the door, the snarled thorns slithered away from the door handle, and the door opened with a mighty groan. When Aurora stepped inside, a pool of water formed at her feet. She was soaking wet. It couldn’t be helped.

  It was hard to see anything, but Aurora’s gaze was drawn to a chandelier on the ceiling, which swung like a pendulum across the dimly-lit room. The wraith waved an arm, and the chandelier’s violet candles suddenly came to life, illuminating a foyer that might have been lavish at one time. Now it was covered in cobwebs, and the white walls were a dusky gray. For several seconds, Aurora stared at a portrait of an old, mustachioed gentleman. It was so lifelike, she could have sworn he was devouring her with his eyes.

  “If you’re not taking me to Medea, why am I here?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Am I free to leave?”

  “No,” he answered curtly. He started to ascend the spiral staircase and motioned for her to follow. “Come. Follow me.”

  “No.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to.”

  “It’s for your own good.” He continued to drift eerily up the stairs as he spoke to her. “I will get you some dry clothes.”

  “Really? Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  Aurora started up the staircase. He could have been leading her to her doom, but for some reason, she doubted it. It wasn’t as if she was a good judge of character: she wasn’t. Her experiences with Prince Charmaine were proof of that. However, strange as it was, she could sense no ill will from the wraith.

  “So, what’s your name, anyway?”

  He said nothing. At the top of the stairs, she turned left, following him down a gloomy hallway.

  “Do you have a name?”

  No response.

  “You don’t call yourself anything? Like Steve? Or Brian, or...” The more she stared at the wraith, the more she realized there was no way his name could be Brian. It wouldn’t sound right.

  Still no response.

  “Um... okay.” He shoved open a door for her, and she cautiously stepped through. She couldn’t see anything until the wraith waved his hand, lighting several more purple candles with his magic. Aurora found herself standing in the middle of a large bedchamber. It was actually quite tidy, complete with a four-poster bed, a sizable wardrobe, and—

  “A dress,” Aurora said aloud. “There’s a dress on the bed. Were you expecting someone?” She went over to the dress, which was spread across the bed, and lifted the lacy cuff. Emerald green in color, it was far more modest than the attire provided by the pirate captain.

  “I was.” He finally answered her question. “I was... expecting...”

  “Expecting who?”

  “Expecting a woman.”

  Aurora’s eyebrow shot up. It was hard to imagine the wraith anticipating the arrival of a lover. That couldn’t be what he meant, could it? “Well, it’s really pretty. And you’ve really worked hard at maintaining this room, so she must be someone special.”

  “She is everyone, and she is no one,” the wraith said, leaving Aurora more perplexed than before.

  “Um... okay.” Aurora held up the dress. She couldn’t wait to change clothes. Anything had to be better than the drenched, gaudy, bosom-hugging abomination from Captain Blackbeard. “There isn’t a bathtub around here by any chance, is there? I can’t even explain to you how heavenly it would be to have a bath right now. Am I pushing my luck?”

  “No.” The wraith bowed his hooded head in the direction
of a narrow door. “In the adjoining room.”

  “There’s a bath in there?”

  He nodded.

  “And your name is...?” She thought she’d try the question one more time. It couldn’t hurt.

  “Noxor.”

  “Noxor. You’re Noxor?”

  “Yes.”

  That had to be better than calling him “black-hooded figure.”

  Or Brian.

  “So, when you said the woman you were expecting was everyone and no one, what exactly does that mean?”

  “It means... any woman would suffice.” He started to retreat from the room, drifting through the doorway as he spoke.

  “And you’re not trying to kill me? You’re not working for Medea?”

  “I’ll explain everything tomorrow. No more questions.” He turned away from her and headed off.

  “Whoa, wait!”

  He stopped, but only for a second.

  “Just ONE more question, okay? Just one more...” Aurora beseeched him. She looked down at her mud-covered slippers and sighed. “Why am I here? Why are you keeping me here?”

  “Because...” Noxor’s head seemed to sink between his shoulders. When his hood started to slip, he pulled it up as quickly as he could, allowing her not even the briefest glimpse of his face. “Because I need you to fall in love with me.”

  III

  AURORA WAS SO EXHAUSTED, she didn’t give much thought to Noxor’s words. After her bath, she stripped down to her petticoat and sunk into bed, falling asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  When she woke up the next morning, Aurora was extraordinarily depressed. She had a dream about Lyric, but she couldn’t remember any of the dream’s details. In a way, she was glad she didn’t remember. The dream might’ve been far more embarrassing than waking up and realizing how much she missed him.

  It took her a moment to recall her other reason for being depressed: her main reason for being depressed.