Heart Song (2 page)

“Relena,” Head Guard Lawrence
said
,
red in the face. His features were scrunched as he panted. His obvious love for spice cakes and ale were the biggest contribution to it, no doubt. “You’ve done it now.” He panted a few more times then removed a red cloth from under his cuirass and wiped his brow, replacing it when he was through. “Take her.”

Two guards emerged from the back of the group. They slowly stepped closer to me. My lips curled up in
amusement at seeing the caution that widened their eyes and each one’s hand stationed just above the hilts of their swords.

“Thank you very much, Marren,” Head Guard Lawrence said.

“My pleasure.”
The thickness of flattery in his voice made me look over my shoulder just in time to see him bowing his head.

I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath, “Arrogant bastard.”

Marren loosened his grip on my arm as the two guards approached, ready to take me into custody. I took the last chance to make my escape. This time I didn’t stop or look back until I was in the shelter of the woods and deep enough they wouldn’t dare follow.

***

I waited until night swept across the land and before the moon rose to make my way back towards Hafton. During my stint in the sheltering woods of my freedom, I had convinced myself that I could survive living off the land. Depending on myself for survival, and no one else, heavily appealed to me. I couldn’t help but also prove that solitude also meant never getting hurt by anyone again. But I had to go back home to grab my things. I hoped Tarn wouldn’t be there. 

Using the shadows to cloak my appearance, I slipped through town, easily unnoticed. Tucked away in a secluded corner was a rundown inn. In its prime it was the busiest and most beautiful inn around. Now, it was the last remaining all wood structure in town. In fact, it’s the only one in this part of the world, according to some very well-traveled tenants. Business for us practically shut down years ago. If you ask Tarn, it was because of me. He blames me for so many things. But this was my home, offering a leaky roof, creaking floors, and broken down beds. It was all I ever knew.

I made my approach slowly and as quietly as I could. I searched the shadows beyond the house for evidence of Balai or worse, Cyrs. Seeming clear, I stepped onto the first of the three stairs to the small covered porch that also leaked. It groaned loudly against my weight. The sound echoed back through the city as if to point out my very existence and dare anyone to come and find me. I held my breath, sure that I was caught. But after a few moments of silence, and then quiet chirping of the crickets, I continued up.  I reached for the door handle feeling the excitement of my pending permanent freedom looming just out of reach.

“I heard you’ve gotten yourself into trouble again.” Tarn’s deep voice shattered the silence—and my excitement
—
in one breath. He sat on the floor of the porch in the darkest corner. I didn’t check the porch to see if anyone was hiding there.

“It wasn’t my fault. Danst slipped something into my bag and then told the guards—”

“It makes no difference!” Tarn’s voice rose to that degrading volume and tone that demonstrated how far beneath him he thought I was. “You ran. That makes you guilty.”

“Father, if you would give me the chance to explain...”

“No more chances! You’ve made your bed. Now sleep in it!”

“But you know what the Cyrs will do to me. Please, just let me grab some of my things and I’ll leave, for good. I will never bother you again.”

“You will. You have always been nothing but a bother.” His voice grew deep and very low. “Take her. I want her out of my sight forever.”

I jumped when both of my wrists were pulled behind me and bound tightly with rope, the fibers biting into my skin. They quickly placed a gag in my mouth. I didn’t have time to struggle before they were already shoving me down the stairs. I nearly lost my footing in the process. I was escorted to a cart that was brought to the front of the inn from a darkened alley nearby. The cart was covered with a thin layer of straw that looked as though it had weathered and started to rot. I was shoved on, falling face first into the decaying covering. I tried to roll to my side for fresh air, but it didn’t work. The thickness of the sweet, musty stench was too powerful, overriding the fresh air. I gagged painfully, trying not to heave with the gag on and make my situation worse. Though dying, even chocking on my own vomit, was a mercy compared to what the gypsies were known to do to girls. I didn’t want to think of that. I had to think of a way out. I would find a way...somehow.

“Just so you don’t get any ideas...” one of the men said as he approached the side of the cart. I looked up just in time to see the hilt of his sword come down on my forehead.

***

I came to just as a fight was brewing. I heard the growls of some large, ravenous animal along with screams belonging to the men that took me. They came from outside of wherever I was. I sat up suddenly. My hands, no longer bound behind my back, stung like they’d been burned. The place where the gag had been felt chapped. I stood inside the darkened shelter fearing that I would be the next to be eaten.

“Relax, you are safe.” The voice of a man I didn’t know came to me calmly and gently.

“Who are you?” I asked with a level of fear I tried unsuccessfully to keep out. I felt around me and discovered I had been lying on a bench inside a carriage. There w
ere no windows that I could see,
or feel, and no telling who else was
in there. Fighting my way out wasn’t an option.

“My name is not important right now,” the man spoke. Though this time, there seemed to be an edge to it. It didn’t help to calm my nerves. 

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Nothing
like
what the gypsies would have
done
,” he replied with an insulted
tinge
. 

“What’s going on?” I pressed, not accustomed to being vulnerable. Not knowing my situation would never do.
Know your surroundings.
That’s the first thing I learned when I met Danst.

“You should lie back down before you make yourself worse. That bump on your head is pretty big.”

I had forgotten about the hit on the head and was so caught up in my sudden, strange and new
surroundings,
I didn’t process the pain until it was mentioned. I lifted my hand to the spot on my forehead and felt the tender bump
that was
the size of a goose egg.

There was a knock on the side of the carriage that brought with it the sudden realization that everything around had grown incredibly quiet. The silence thickened the air, making it palpable. The man inside with me knocked back twice in return. The carriage jolted forward, forcing my heart to jump into my throat and me back into the seat.

“Where are we going?” I asked, this time my voice cracked clearly. I silently groaned and rolled my eyes. This would never do at all.
Never reveal your weakness
was the second thing I learned.

“Somewhere safe.
Now go back to sleep.”

“Safe?
For who?
How do I know I can trust you?”

“You really need to learn to trust people who are trying to help you. You’re going to make yourself worse. Now, lie down, get some rest, and sleep off that bump.” At least his voice remained calm, and level despite a few hints at other emotions throughout my persistence. I wasn’t sure if they were annoyance or anger.

“I’m afraid I cannot. Not until I get some answers.” It was a compromise I felt was nothing short of reasonable.

There was no response. I decided to remain sitting up, scooting to a corner of the carriage, and tucking my legs under me. I ran through the events of the day and my recent past to figure out who could’ve wanted to rescue me when the rest of the world seemed content enough to shun me.

“Wake up, Relena.” A
voice reached out to me. I opened my eyes to the darkened carriage, and for a moment, panicked. “It's okay. You are safe. Remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” I whispered.

“I have to put this on your head. It's a blindfold...just until we get inside. The light may cause your eyes to hurt.”

“Okay,” I agreed, only partially accepting the excuse and feeling like I really had no choice.

The cool soft cloth was placed over my eyes. I felt it tied tightly against my head and then a cloak was placed over my shoulders. It was warm, soft, and smelled of lavender. It helped to make me feel more comfortable in my strange company. I felt a hand grab a hold of mine and help me up from the seat. The feel of the smooth skin surprised me. Its warmth soaked into mine, radiating up my arm, causing my breath to catch. Waves of unwanted emotions trickled through me, sending my heart into an erratic race. While I tried to force my heart to calm down, I felt the carriage shift, making it race faster.

“There is a step right in front of you. Carefully step down.” The voice came from in front of me. It was the man that insisted I was safe. Meaning someone else was holding my hand.

I forced the fear to remain at bay while I followed the directions of my strange rescuers. Taking the first step down carefully,
I
then stepped on the ground with the next. I heard the person behind me stepping out of the carriage. A hand was placed on my back with gentle pressure, escorting me further.  My heart pounded in my chest, refusing to obey rationale, as I worked even harder to gain control over myself. Did I dare risk trusting someone else again? Especially someone I didn't know? Fear was taking its hold on me. I clenched my fists to keep my hands from shaking and clenched my jaw to keep my lip from quivering. My fear may be threatening my resolve, but my pride was too strong to let me go.

The walk was silent except for the crunch of the dirt and tiny rocks that crumbled under our feet. The cold air felt like ice when it blew into my cloak. Little pricks of something wet fell on my face.
Snow?
Icy rain?
Either way, I couldn't be sure. Every now and then I could hear the rustle of leaves blowing through some trees nearby. For the most part, my surroundings seemed far too quiet.
Something that unsettled me.
  

I tried to calm myself further by focusing on taking deliberate slow and long breaths. I jumped slightly when a hand slipped under my arm to stop me from walking. The same hand that held mine only moments earlier and forced my body into the chaotic stupor it was still in. Again, I was feeling strange emotions encompass me.

“There are six steps going up, right here,” the same man as before said.

I took them one at a time, counting as I went. They were smooth and slick to my booted feet. I thought of stone. The confusing notions I was picturing in my head only furthered my unease as I tried to gain some perspective of my surroundings. Nothing made sense.

“Stepping through the door here...” I was pulled forward towards the voice.

The hand released my arm. Steps led away from me. Slowly the feelings that swirled within me ebbed. I felt as though I could pay attention to my surroundings and gauge what was going to happen to me next. I held my breath, listening to anything that would indicate a clue or warning. The warmth of the room washed over me, thawing the chill from my body.
Though I heard no fire crackling or popping.

I jumped again as I felt the hood of my cloak get removed from my head, falling along the back of my shoulders and reprimanded myself mentally for my lack of control. As the blindfold was removed, I slowly opened my eyes. Blinking away the blur, I found myself standing in the foyer of a small palace. Everything was made from white stone, polished and gleaming.
Beautiful.

I tried to regain my composure and put on an air of nonchalance until I could decide exactly what these people wanted with me and why they went so far as to rescue me from the Cyrs, and yet bringing me to their home blindfolded. It appeared to me that neither of us
were
entirely sure of the other.

In front of me was a set of double doors that had two armored guard statues on either side, also polished to a shine, so pristine the light shattered into tiny beams when it kissed the metal. The doors, a warm cherry color and arched at the top, were sealed under a balcony that a set of stairs to the left of me curved up to. The wooden balusters looked as though they were intricately carved to look like tiny trees that grew from the stone itself. The same railing joined two stone pillars on the balcony in front of me and along the edge on my right. Below it, another set of doors, in the same cherry tone, were opened into a room that had the smell of a fire coming from it. Shocked by the silence the small palace emitted, I focused on the fire to hear the slightest pop. It came as a whisper, making me believe it was close to being out.

Sconces of black wrought iron were lit, illuminating the wall and surrounding area in an orb of soft orange glow. I stepped gingerly into the corridor, taking in a set of arched doors to the left that sealed its secrets beyond. They seemed both harmless and yet foreboding. I peered further into the opened room on the right to see it was a dining area.
A large fireplace, the source of the heat and smell, took up the center of the wall. It was then that I realized it wasn't the palace that was quieting all the sounds, but me. My heartbeat pulsed through my ears, numbing them to the point that all sound seemed softer or nonexistent. Contrary to my previous thoughts, the fire popped and cracked. It was far from going out.