TFL Ch. 24

Recap: Why didn't I listen to Eric or Jack? The gentle kiss upon my forehead replays in my thoughts until I fall asleep, hoping to gain strength for what will come.

____________________________________________________________

The luscious green valley below Lisle Castle is speckled with vivid yellows and whites as the daises, asters, and dandelions spring up every year during spring. The scene is familiar as if what I look at is merely a memory. A blue jay shouts at the sparrows in his space and in turn they merrily flit away. I look at Gwen and she exclaims, "Nothing could ruin a day like today! Nothing!" As the words leave her lips, the forest rumbles like thunder. The leaves shiver, the branches sway, and though the sun shines brightly, it shines almost spitefully to show us the face of the approaching conflict.

"CHARGE!" a shout from the forest sounds. Out from behind every tree, men of brute strength emerge and begin to ransack the village a few furlongs from us. Gwen runs toward the village. "GWEN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I shout, my feet moving sluggishly beneath me.

"The Children!" she yells over her shoulder. Shaking my head, I unsheathe Castra and follow the princess. Around every corner, another raider appears, their perverted grins sickening my stomach. I slash and thrust and jab my scimitar, killing assailant after assailant, yet the army of marauders grows with each one I kill. They take torches and set house after house ablaze, baking those inside alive. I lose sight of Gwen in the smoke. "GWEN!" I shout between my sputtering coughs. I stumble over the half-dead bodies strewn across the ground. "GWEN!" The flames grow hotter, driven like a crazed demon by the wind. The noxious smell of burning flesh and the stinging of the smoke further sicken my stomach.

"Looking for something, lovely?" I turn to find Wesson holding a knife to Gwen's throat.

"GWEN!" I scream. Her blue eyes are wide in terror, her lips trembling. "Let her go! Take me instead!"

Wesson only laughs, the deepness of his laugh demonic. "Oh, but it's so much fun to watch your face first." With those last words, he slowly draws the knife across, crimson droplets emerging.

"NO!" I sit up, gasping for air. Confusedly, I look around for the burning village, for the corpses, for Wesson and Gwen, but none of them are around. It was a dream, a nightmare, but nothing more. Heckles draw my attention toward the fire. A mangy elderly man stirs a pot that hangs precariously on a stick above the fire.

"Ya, have a good sleep, darling? Hehehe, I suppose not. Terribly hard to sleep in a cart with your hands tied behind your back, eh?"

His words cause my attention to shift to my body. It ached in places that I did not know could even ache. Everywhere-my head, my arms, my back, my legs-they all moaned in nearly unbearable pain and stiffness. "Well, Miss Amelia, the cap'n ordered thet when ya waken, I'm to give ya some grub." The elderly man says with a lisp caused by his lack of teeth. "Now, ya just open up yer mouth and we'll get this over with." He kneels down and the gut-wrenching stench of his breath makes me gag. Its smell was a grotesque mixture of rotting onions, garlic, and vomit. I wince and sputter as he laughs, his foul breath blanketing my face. "What's the matter, darlin'? Too much of a princess to be near Ol' Gulliver?" He leaned in, closely observing my features. "Well, I hate to tell ya, but right now, yer not as perty as ya think ye are. With what Wesson did to ya, Devlin's girl looks like Heaven's angel. Hehehe. "

I glare at him, holding my breath so as not to breathe in the noxious fumes from his mouth. Does he really think I am going to let him spoon-feed me? Blood rises to my cheeks at the humiliating thought. To be treated like an infant, and less, by these perverted men was too much for me. My stomach flips as I envision what they will do to me.

Gulliver shoves the grimy spoon into the wooden bowl filled with what looked like filthy bathwater and mud mixed together. I purse my lips. The ache in my face intensifies and I wince. Gulliver growls, "Oh now yer turning yer nose at my food, huh?" He grabs my jaw and yanks it down. "Ye'll eat what ye get!" Shoving the spoon to the back of my throat, he dumps the vile-tasting liquid into my mouth. I spit the vile thing out, sending it out all over his wrinkled, bearded face. He stumbled backward, then fell flat on his back. "Wench!" he shouted, raising his hand to slap me.

"That's enough, Gull. " Wesson calls out from atop his chestnut stallion, one of the finest I have ever seen, even in the royal stables. The stallion prances closer and snorts contemptuously at me. Apparently, Wesson's arrogant nature has rubbed off on the horse. Wesson jumps off the horse with one swift movement and squats down next to me. "Seems mighty un-lady-like for you to develop the habit of spitting, Amelia."

"Maybe if you treat me like a lady, I'll act like one." I retort.

"Ha. As if. Lee, you know you were never cut out for palace life."

His use of my nickname causes me to flinch. "How do you know me? I have never met you."

"Oh, but I met you. When you were nothing more than a street urchin, I watched you and your friends. I scouted you out as the most talented thieves on the street. You even impressed me with your failure and how you escaped. But then that king and his prissy boy ruined my plan to take you and Jack into my group. Oh well, I won in the long run."

I scoff. "What are you talking about? Jack and I would never have become raiders. We're better than that!"

"Well, tell me why, Amelia, Jack agreed that if you could pickpocket, you and he would join us?"

"Are you saying you told him to make me pickpocket?" I shook my head in disbelief, my hair falling awkwardly in my face. There is no way Jack would have agreed to be a Melitan raider. We only stole to survive. We weren't rogues, just orphans trying to live.

Wesson pulls my hair behind my ear and leans in. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"You're a liar!"

He laughs at my hurt. "Why did he never make you pickpocket before? Why then?"

I tremble. All that he is saying makes sense, but Jack wouldn't... Would he?

Wesson continues, "You think that because the king brought you into his palace and trained you, because he gave you that fancy sword, because you spent time with his children that you're better than us. But you're not. You come from the same scum I did. I was a street urchin, begging and stealing bread. I was the pickpocket. I was pitied and brought into a noble's house just like you were. But I fell. And so will you. Sooner or later, you will break, you will fall back into the slime pit you came from and you will be mine." He rose to his feet and got back onto his horse. Turning the horse about, he calls out, "Gull, don't worry about feeding her. Maybe a hungry stomach will remove her pride." Looking back at me, Wesson says, "You will break."

I say nothing as he rides off nor when Gulliver makes perverted slurs. My heart is too heavy for my lips to move. Was it true? Would I turn just like he had? No! Yet, what would cause me to not turn out like he had? Or could? As the hours pass by, my stomach growls, but its noise is drowned out by the sobbing of my heart caused by guilt, pain, and fear.

***********************************************************************************

Don't forget to vote and comment!

Goals- 4.1 K reads(total)

- 10 votes (on this chapter)

- 5 comments (on this chapter)

Dedicated to Diamonbridge for commenting first! Thank you for your support!

Question of the chapter: What is your opinion of Wesson?

I would really love to hear what you think of him? Does he make you angry? Do you like him as a bad boy?

Have a splendiferous day.