PINELIGHTforkindle (15 page)

As he examined my condition, his lips tightened and he gripped his cold black gloves into a fist. I immediately felt uneasy with his sudden change of gestures. My thoughts were interrupted when he swiftly turned and made his way to the crew. He continued to rub his hands together, clenching and unclenching his fists, as he neared the captain.

“Tell me,” he said as he paced back and forth around the men. “Who among you is responsible for the injuries placed upon this young lady?”

He glanced away from the captain long enough to elegantly point in my direction. He had asked as if he were genuinely concerned about my care while in their possession. The masked man stepped forward to place himself directly in front of the captain and rested one of his gloved hands on the man’s quivering shoulder.

“Do not make me inquire again,” he said sternly.

The captain shouted, “Hayes…It was my quartermaster, Hayes, that is responsible.”

The masked man quickly drew his attention to the man I had feared the entire voyage. My captor had been standing behind two smaller members of the crew; he did not stand as proud as he once did before. The black frock coat of the mystery man seemed to float past the other members of the crew to the accused. From beneath the sculpted mask, he commanded the man to step forward.

The entire crew, including the captain, became painfully still while they watched Hayes push his way to the front. Although the majority of the mystery man’s face was covered, I could make out an expression of anger from the skin surrounding the edges of the porcelain mask. The mask leaned forward so that it almost touched the face of the man who had once dominated me with such ease.

“Is this indeed the truth?”

Hayes timidly nodded while staring into the mask.

“Are you also the man who cut her locks of hair?”

I caught a tremble as the man responded with a hesitant “aye.”

In one rapid motion, the masked man’s sword was no longer by his side, but in his hand. “May you never make that mistake again!”

The coattail of my defender swayed as he thrust the end of his sword into the chest of the man called Hayes. He defeated him as he forced the sword through his entire body. I gasped for air as I watched him fall to his knees in agony. The man behind the mask pulled the sword from his victim in time for him to fall face-forward into the ground. Blood spilled from the man’s body and soaked into the sand, until he was completely encircled by a red flowing river. I’d never seen so much blood. A sick feeling came over me as I realized I had just witnessed the death of a man.

 The rope that wrapped around my wrists and the other girls’ twitched and tightened as the girls pulled away in fear. The cave became silent again, and all I could hear was the slow pounding in my ears. The nausea turned to a dizzy spell, and I could feel the blood slowing down in my veins. My consciousness was fading into a spotted abyss.

Before my knees had time to buckle, the masked man flew to my side and scooped my body into his arms. In only moments, I was untied from the other girls and gliding through the air. The terror I had felt was pushed away when my head fell against his shoulder.

 There was an aura about him that was terrifying and somehow captivating. While my body was pressed to his, I could only feel the beauty. My head continued to spin lightly while I took in his seductive aroma. His cool skin exuded a warm, spicy essence, which was both velvety and narcotic. While I filled my nose with this scent, I could feel the life come back to my body. I felt him pause in front of the captain.

“Leave, now…and take the body with you,” he said. No one questioned him.

 I felt a light breeze brush against my face when he began to carry me away from the scene and into the dark corner he had entered. Once in the corner, he stopped again.

“See to the other girls.” This time he whispered to someone who had been waiting in the dark. I peeked over my shoulder, but I could only see a blurry shadow scurrying in the dark. He took a few more steps, turned, and then leaned into the wall until a door creaked open. A puff of stale air encircled us as he carried me into a slender hallway.

The air was much easier to breathe than the air from the cave, but there was still a faint smell of smoke radiating from the torches hanging on the walls. The hallway was dim, but the torches gave off enough light to see the detail in the man’s mask. I lifted my head from his shoulder and stared, daunted by our closeness. He noticed my alertness, and a small grin formed over his enticing lips.

“Who are you?” I questioned very carefully.

He hesitated. “I am who you imagine me to be.”

“But what is your name?…I want to know who you are,” I said with an unintentional puzzled expression.

He chuckled at my anxious reply. “My actions should show you who I am, not my name.” He paused for a moment, allowing the echo of his words to fade into silence. “A name is simply a label that cannot describe, nor explain, who I am. You must understand, Clara…I am no more a name than a name is me.”

His answer frustrated me.

“I would like to walk now,” I said with an uncompromising tone.

Without a word, he smoothly placed me on my feet and grabbed my wrist. I did not wish to pull away. Even though his face was covered, I could sense that he was bothered by my reaction. I listened to the flame of the torches dance in the air as we passed them one by one. We finally came to a split in the hallway that led into three corridors that were as dark as a moonless night.

Without releasing his grip on my wrist, he grabbed the nearest torch with his free hand and directed us into the opening on the right. The flame of the torch crackled and waved excitedly as we walked further into the gloomy labyrinth. I walked behind him slowly, waiting for the courage to speak to him again. My curiosity finally seized control, leading me to take hold of the hand that held my wrist.

“Wait,” I said bravely.

No sooner had the word left my mouth, than he stopped frozen in his tracks. All my agitation melted when he turned to meet my gaze. I reminded myself to hold back my smile, while his gaze grew deeper and deeper. When I blinked, my thoughts flew back to the questions running through my mind.

“Where are you taking me?” I tried my best to sound only curious and not frightened.

He lowered his torch until I could see the flame flickering in his stare. “Somewhere safe,” he said with a low and intoxicating tone.

I wanted to hear more. I stepped closer into his gaze to ask the question I had been dying to ask.

“Why do you wear a mask?”

His head tilted, and his eyes wandered to the darkness. “I wear it for protection.”

“Protection?” I was surprised by his answer. “Protection from what?”

 He released his hand from my wrist to press his palm to his mask. He took a heavy breath as he allowed his fingers to slide along the edges of the porcelain.

“This mask protects my identity from this world and its perceptions. Do not let it frighten you, Clara.” He seemed to realize that I was confused by his answer. “You will understand in time.”

I remained silent, still lost in his words.

After walking through numerous tunnels—some tall, some short, some wide, some narrow—we finally came to a dead end.
Maybe he made a wrong turn,
I thought.
We were going down the tunnels awfully fast; it would be an easy mistake.
I stood there thinking to myself and watching him forcefully push the end of his fiery torch into the wall. I heard a scraping noise—the wall slowly slid forward.

When we stepped through the opening in the wall, I turned back to see a white stone column slide back into place. We were in a long corridor that was lined with dozens of columns and stained glass windows.
There must be tons of tunnels in this place,
I thought as I admired the designs in the columns and the colors in the glass windows. The man finally released his grip from my wrist as he began to walk toward an enormous arched doorway. I trailed behind without speaking a word.

I followed his flying coattail through the rounded doorway that led to a dining hall. We passed paintings and sculptures of all shapes and sizes as we entered the room, but all of my focus was directed to an elongated table that stood in the middle of the dining hall.

The table was filled with numerous juicy fruits and desserts. All my senses recognized the golden coconut macaroons, plum puffs sprinkled with sugar, roasted chestnuts soaked in honey, steaming rice pudding, and the alluring smell of spicy gingerbread. In between each cooked dessert were large piles of kiwi, strawberries, pineapples, bananas, oranges, and grapes. As I hypnotically walked to the table, I noticed that golden plates and bowls rested at each end of the table, holding the main course.

“I thought you might be hungry.” He darted to the end of the table and elegantly slid a tall chair from the table’s edge.

His gaze beckoned to me as I walked over to him and sat down on the oversized chair. I shivered from the touch of the cold chair rubbing against my skin. With little movement, he pulled his long jacket off and flung it over my shoulders. Underneath his jacket, he wore an embroidered vest-like shirt that had small black buttons down the front. His eyes stayed locked on me while I observed his unveiled clothing.

“Please, you need to eat.” His heels clicked while he strode to the opposite end of the table, where he took his seat.

He was still quiet as he placed a golden goblet to his lips. I looked down at the roasted turkey sitting before me. If it tasted half as good as it smelled, then I was in for a treat. I picked up the fork sitting next to the plate and stabbed a piece of the meat. It was delicious. After I finished the entire portion of turkey, I dove into the rice pudding and then the gingerbread. The food was perfect. The flavors blended flawlessly together, and with each bite a piece of sweetness lingered on my tongue. As I bit into a plum puff, I leaned back into the chair to enjoy one last burst of perfection. I glanced up to catch the masked man twirling his golden goblet while I finished my treat.

“Was everything to your satisfaction?” His voice was rich and sounded pleased.

“It was wonderful. Perfect, actually.” Both words failed to describe the sweet and tart tastes that still remained on my tongue. What I had just eaten was like nothing I had ever tasted, so undeniably splendid—superb. Yet, I noticed he hadn’t so much as looked at his food. “Are you not eating?”

“I’m afraid these foods have lost their taste—for me,” he said solemnly. “But I’m very pleased you were able to enjoy them.”

I quickly shot a hand over my mouth to release a much-needed yawn.
Funny how I suddenly feel so tired.

“I’m not sure how anyone could pass up a meal like this. Everything is so flavorful; I could eat this every day,” I said, rubbing my tired eyes.

“Forgive me, you are tired. I should show you to your room.”

“No. I’m not tired,” I blurted. Even though my eyes felt heavier by the second, I had a strong desire to stay with him—to discover the mystery behind the man.

His body rose from the chair seated at the other end of the table. Before I could stand tall, he had rushed to my side for assistance.

“You need your rest.” His voice had been gentle, but his stare serious.

He gently lured me from the chair, back into the foyer of the castle, with ease. It wasn’t until my first step onto the spiral staircase that I realized I had taken his suggestion. By that time, I simply couldn’t argue.

I inspected the second staircase that twisted beside us while we rose step by step to the third floor. It was easy to imagine a prince and a princess ascending the other staircase, at another time. I must have still been dreaming.

I slid my fingers along the railing as the stairs twisted to meet with a platform. He took a step on to the platform and shuffled to the right. We went through two elegantly carved doors into another hallway. My eyes passed over painting after painting hanging silently on the walls. Knights in armor, shields, spears, everything medieval, decorated in every way.

We passed several passageways and doors before we finally stopped. The man pointed down a short hallway that ended in a bright red door.

“You are free to roam the castle, but this corridor is forbidden.”

“Why exactly?” I asked.

He seemed to be searching for the right words, and then he muttered, “It’s not safe.”

I could tell he was a uneasy about the subject, and I was fighting off sleep with every step, so I let it go. We walked a little further down the hallway, until we came to another door. The wooden door was almost a mahogany color in the light. I pressed my fingers to the carvings and traced over the lines of a large crown that was guarded by two men—one holding a shield, the other a sword. Every door in the castle seemed to tell a story.

“This is where you will be staying,” he said, stepping away from the door. “Have pleasant dreams, Clarabella.” He slightly bowed and then walked away.

The heavy door pushed open easily, revealing the green decorative interior of the room. I took a step inside. The walls were lined with delicately carved molding, which stretched like ivy all the way to the highest peak in the tall ceiling. A fireplace was on one side of the room, and an oversized, four-post bed on the other—completing the inviting and cozy design.