Eden

by Janelle Stalder

  “Yes, sir,” he replied obediently.

  “Take her to the camp,” he instructed, dropping Rose to the ground. She landed with a thump, pushing herself up instantly to run away. They were too quick for her, each grabbing an arm and forcing her down.

  “Where you going, sweetheart?” The blonde one smiled. He pulled a rope out of somewhere Rose couldn’t see and tied her hands behind her back. She screamed for help, but no one was there to aid her. Bodies lay on the streets, some with cuts in their throats so bad their heads were almost severed. Other women were being thrown into a wagon, each crying for mercy. The blonde man pulled her toward the wagon, throwing her in with the rest of them. She frantically looked for her mother, but the only girls there were the younger ones. Tears still ran fresh down her face; her mind and body were frozen in shock.

  “Rose?” she heard someone say softly. She turned to see a young girl named Shauna; she was only thirteen that year, and Rose could see her clothes were torn everywhere. She had a black eye, and cuts along her arm. Rose shuddered at the thought of what had happened to the young girl that night.

  “Come here,” she said in a hoarse voice. She held her arms open, and the girl scooted over to her, resting her head on Rose’s shoulder. Rose embraced her, and they stayed like that in silence for the whole ride.

  “Fresh meat!” a man yelled as they entered the camp. It was a makeshift camp of small tents, men were everywhere around multiple fires. They glared at the girls with hungry eyes. She felt sick, and closed her eyes to say a silent prayer to the Goddess for protection. Surely, after all the deaths and destruction that night, surely someone would help them. They couldn’t be left to these men and their perverse desires. The wagon suddenly stopped, and another man came around to the back, opening the door.

  “Let’s go,” he barked. Rose kept her head down, and her arm around Shauna. The poor girl was trembling violently. She whispered encouraging words in her ear, telling her everything would be all right. It was a lie—she knew it. It already wasn’t all right, but Rose felt an obligation to be the strong one now. She couldn’t let herself fall apart, or everything that was left of her would be lost. Her parents would be watching her now, alongside the God and Goddess, and her father would certainly be telling her to be brave. Right away, the women were separated into two tents. Thankfully, Rose and Shauna were able to stay together. They sat at the back of the tent in two small balls. Rose kept her arms around Shauna, creating whatever shield she could from the horrors that awaited them.

  “We have to get out of here,” Shauna whispered. Rose looked down in shock. It was impossible. There were too many men, all trained by Brutus the Red, and therefore the best of the best. It was impossible, she thought again. Shauna sat up to look at her better; her eyes were wild, causing Rose to flinch backward. She looked simply mad—her hair was wild, and her nose flared. “We need to escape, Rose, or we’ll never survive,” she said urgently.

  “You try to escape, and you’ll most definitely not survive,” another girl said, overhearing their conversation.

  “I wasn’t talking to you!” she snapped.

  Rose placed a reassuring hand on the girl’s arm, keeping her voice low and calm. “Shauna, she’s right. It can’t be done. There are too many men. We’ll be seen, and they wouldn’t hesitate to kill us on the spot, or worse …” The words hung in the air. Rose knew deep in her heart that worse had already happened to the girl. The idea of an escape was all she had left, but it couldn’t be done. “Let us rest now, and see what the morning brings,” she suggested, opening her arms again. Shauna sat up, her eyes still wild with panic, but as the seconds passed, Rose could see the realization hit her that Rose was right. An understanding hit her, causing the poor young thing to break down in tears, burying her face in Rose’s shoulder. She hushed her softly, stroking her tangled hair.

  There were twenty of them in that tent. She wasn’t sure how many had been brought to the other, but no one else came for them. Eventually, they all fell asleep, the events of the night finally catching up with them. It wasn’t until a few hours later that Rose jolted awake. Sitting up, she looked around slowly, letting the reality hit her again. She turned to look beside her, and saw that Shauna was no longer there. She was nowhere inside the tent. Cursing, Rose got up, stepping over the other bodies that lay around the tent floor, and pulled back the flaps of the tent just enough for her to see outside. Shauna was two tents down, hiding behind the corner as three men passed by. Rose wanted to yell out, but it would bring attention not only to Shauna, but to her as well.

  As the men disappeared, Shauna took off around the corner, disappearing from her view. Rose fought with herself, before deciding on the right course of action. Creeping out into the darkness, she kept close to the tents, looking each way before crossing the lanes between them. She reached the spot where Shauna had been in seconds. She was breathing heavily now, adrenaline coursing through her body. Looking around the corner, she couldn’t see the girl anywhere. A group of men sat around a fire only about twenty feet away, clearly drunk. Their voices were loud, and they sung battle songs repeatedly. Making sure they weren’t looking, she began to crouch along the other side of the tent, knowing if one of them should happen to look her way, she would be easy enough to see. The light from the campfire illuminated the area she was in perfectly. She prayed the whole time that none of them would look as she moved as quickly as she could. When she reached the outside tents of the camp, she could see a river not far off, and a small figure running toward it. By the shadow of the wild hair, she knew it was Shauna. Breathing a sigh of relief, she looked around quickly before running after her, keeping low in the tall grass that surrounded the river. They were actually going to do it, she thought, laughing. They would actually escape whatever lay behind them, and would have each other to find help with.

  “Shauna!” she whispered. The girl stopped before the river, turning to look at Rose. The moon shone off her white teeth as she smiled at Rose’s approach. Throughout her journey, Rose had been so focused on Shauna’s figure, she had failed to notice the other shadow that grew nearer to her. Before she could yell out a warning, a man stood behind the young girl, slicing quickly across her neck. A gurgling sound filled the air as Shauna fell to the ground. Rose let out a horrified scream, dropping to the ground where she stood. The man slowly approached her, his blade hanging by his side. She could still see the body lying by the river, and tears began to flow again. Death would come to her next. At that point she welcomed it. Everything was too much for her. So many people she had known and loved were gone—she couldn’t save any of them, not even poor Shauna.

  “Please, just kill me,” she sobbed, keeping her eyes on the body by the river, avoiding the man who stood in front of her. “Please …” she pleaded. The man was silent. Looking up, she recognized him right away. He wore the same detached look he had when he took her from her home. “I can’t handle this,” she spoke directly to him. “She was only thirteen, and never hurt a soul.” She began to cry harder, feeling a hole in her chest where everyone she had known had once been.

  Crouching down in front of her, the man reached out and grabbed her chin. Tilting her head up, she looked at him in his dark eyes. “Trying to escape is an instant punishment of death,” he spoke in a rich voice. It didn’t have the same accent as most of the northern men. The accent was more refined. This must be the man from the Capital City who’s in league with Brutus, she thought. The prince who hadn’t won his crown.

  “Then kill me,” she spoke back. “I don’t want to live like this.” He didn’t say anything back. Bringing his other hand up, he reached for her face again, drying the tears on her cheeks. She sat still, waiting for the blow that would end it all. It didn’t come. Instead, he lifted her up and walked her back to the camp, keeping a tight hold on her wrists the whole time. A soldier came out to meet them, clearly afraid of the consequences of losing a girl.

  “My lord,” he began, his voice shaking. �
��We didn’t see her leave.”

  “Clearly,” the man replied. “Perhaps if you men didn’t cloud your judgement with wine all night, simple girls wouldn’t be able to get past you.” The look the other man gave her was one that could kill. She would certainly be punished for bringing this shame on him. She froze under his look, wishing she could turn around and run. If she died while doing so, she wouldn’t care. The prince who held her noticed as well, understanding the future that awaited her. “Bring this one to my tent. I will deal with her myself.” Disappointment visibly filled the other’s face, but he nodded his head dutifully. Taking her hands, he dragged her to a larger tent that sat on the other side of the encampment.

  Inside was filled from floor to ceiling with things. Maps were laid out on a large table, weapons leaned up against the sides of the room, armour sat scattered around the tent, and candles sat on every surface, casting a low glow about the tent. On the left side was a large bed, covered with fur blankets and numerous pillows. There was even a large rug on the ground, making it feel less like a tent and more like a room you’d find in a palace. The man tossed her inside and told her to sit until someone came for her. She walked over to a chair that was in front of the large desk and sat down. The man followed, tying her hands to the back of the chair so she couldn’t run again. He left then, and she sat alone amongst the prince’s things. Looking over at the desk, she saw a large map of Eden unrolled with lines drawn on it. She assumed these were their routes, since all lines led to the Capital City. Her heart beat faster as she thought about her poor brother who was living there.

  The flaps opened again, and he walked in, throwing down his sword with the rest of the weapons and taking off the fur vest he had been wearing against the cold. His upper body was bare now, letting Rose see every muscle in his chest. He was extremely fit, larger than most men she had seen from Capital City. The northern life had affected him. He had scars everywhere as well, most likely from training. Rose knew that the army’s training in the mountains was very intense. They never held back, never used blunt weapons for practice. Everything was done as if they were in a real battle, so men were often injured. He walked over to her, going around behind the chair, and sliced the ropes with a small dagger he held in his hands. She could feel her anxiety rising, her mind racing through all the things he’d have planned for her. Blinking back tears, she kept her head held high, refusing to show him any fear. He looked down at her for a minute, his bare skin close to her face, but then he turned and walked toward the bed. Her breathing quickened. She was scared more than she wanted to admit. She had never lain with a man before and would have died rather than do it now with this tyrant.

  Instead of calling her to him, he pulled the top fur blanket off the bed and placed it at the foot of the bed. He then proceeded to toss a pillow on top of what looked like makeshift bed.

  “You will sleep there tonight,” he said in his elegant voice. Her body was frozen on the chair, too afraid to move a muscle. “Would you rather sleep on the chair?” he asked, his voice betraying his annoyance. She shook her head and slowly stood up, walking over to the blanket on the floor. He watched her intently as she curled herself into a ball on the floor, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Without another word, he climbed into bed himself. Rose didn’t hear another word from him for the rest of the night. Shortly after he climbed into bed, she heard his light snoring and knew he had fallen asleep. Her eyes were heavy too, finally closing on their own accord, and sending Rose into a deep sleep.

  It was mid-afternoon when Rose finally woke up. The heat of midday filled the tent, causing sweat to build at the base of her neck. She threw the heavy blanket off her, sitting up with her knees to her chest. Looking around, she immediately noticed the empty sheets on the bed beside her. She hadn’t heard him wake up and leave, but she was certainly thankful he had. A small lady bustled in unexpectedly, carrying a tray of food. She kept her eyes down, avoiding Rose’s look. Dropping the tray on the floor in front of her, the lady quickly turned and left. She wanted to call out but doubted it would do any good. The woman was clearly as scared of these men as the rest of them. The others, she suddenly thought. Her heart beat faster as she remembered all the others who had been brought there. What was happening to them, she wondered. Getting up slowly, she walked over to the opening and pulled back the tent flaps. Letting out a scream, she fell back hard onto the floor, bruising her tailbone. Her captor’s body now blocked the opening, and he looked down at her questioningly.

  “Ow,” she cried, unable to help it. Rubbing her back, she slowly looked up at the man’s face, which at that moment looked almost amused. It was the first minor evidence of a personality in him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his stance in the entrance.

  She nodded her head, lowering her eyes again.

  “You should eat,” he continued, walking in and taking off his riding gloves. He sat down on the chair and began to remove his heavy boots. “What is your name?” Her back was to him now. All her instincts told her to go along with him—maybe that would save her from being abused—but her mind wouldn’t let her. She hated him, hated all the barbarians in the camp, and couldn’t willingly have a conversation with them. He let her sit there quietly a minute before speaking again. “I asked you what your name is. It is rude to ignore someone’s question.”

  Without thinking properly, she turned to look at him, anger burning hot in her chest. “You dare to speak to me about what is rude? You have killed everyone I have known and loved, and now keep me prisoner. Is that not ‘rude’? Why should I give you my name, when you only plan to rid yourself of me when you move on?” Her cheeks were hot, and tears welled up in her eyes. She had just put her foot in her mouth, but she didn’t care. If she were any braver, she would have gotten up right then and there and clawed at the man. His face wore the same detached look he normally had around her.

  Slowly he began to smile, looking down to hide it from her, but she caught it. This angered her even more. Flying up from the floor, she ran at him, all thoughts now turned to a flurry of emotions. Her hands flew to his chest, punching him as hard as she could. He was momentarily taken off guard, but he gathered his wits quickly, grabbing both her hands and picking her up in a tight embrace. Even though she was now squished against his chest, she continued to try to move her hands and began kicking and kneeing at his legs. Lifting her off the ground, he carried her over to the bed, pinning her limbs down with his. His face now hovered above her as she struggled with whatever strength she had left. It was no use. She had no food in her stomach, and the emotions that filled her body weakened her more, the adrenaline slowly draining. He seemed to wait for her to stop moving. Unable to move a muscle, she finally gave in, looking up at his face. In the light of the day she could see his features better. When he had first found her in their house, his eyes had looked black, but now she saw that they weren’t black like a demon’s, but a deep chocolate brown. She searched them as he looked back at her. Her father used to say she was an old soul. He said her eyes looked like deep wells from years of past lives, just like this man’s. There was so much to be read in his chocolate eyes—sorrow, guilt, anger, rage, and something else she didn’t want to see.

  Her breathing came out heavy as he kept her pinned down against the bed.

  “What is your name?” he finally asked again, his face close to hers.

  “Rose,” she replied, clenching her teeth. He smiled in response, a smile that was not mocking, but genuine. The kind of smile that would normally have made a person smile in response, it lit up his face in a way that made him seem almost like a different person than the one she had known so far.

  “Was that so hard?” He got up, walking back over to the chair to take off the boot he hadn’t been able to take off yet. Her body shook as she stayed on the bed. It took her a moment to regain her composure before she sat up on the edge of it.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked.

  His eyes
looked over at her, looking her up and down. “I don’t know yet.” He shrugged indifferently. It was such a casual answer, as if she had asked him what he wanted to eat for lunch. It made her angry. It was bad enough that she was there, but to not even have a purpose made it even worse.

  “I won’t sleep with you,” she blurted out, her cheeks growing hot from just saying the words. The thought of sleeping with a man was foreign to her, and it was embarrassing to even mention. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, his mouth tightening to a straight line. His jaw seemed to become even more pronounced. She kept her face stern, hoping he would take her seriously.

  “Callum!” a man’s voice yelled from outside. A second later the man threw open the flaps and barged into the tent. He stopped in surprise when he saw Rose sitting on the bed. Rose knew who this was—everyone knew him by his red hair and large physique. Brutus was a hard-looking man. His hair was as fiery as the flames he set upon villages; his face had strong lines and bone structure. The only thing that was soft about him was the baby blue eyes, which currently looked at her questioningly. He wore the same black pants and boots as the prince but had a chest plate covering the front of him and a helmet under one arm. “I didn’t realize you were busy,” he said, still looking at Rose. Her cheeks grew even hotter at the implication.

  “I’m not,” the prince snorted. Callum was his name, Rose reminded herself. She hadn’t been able to remember what it was before Brutus had just addressed him. Now she did, however: Callum, the younger son of the late High King Elrond. Looking over at him, she wondered if he missed his father, or if he ever wondered what he would think of him knowing he was in league with Brutus and the sorcerer.

  “Who is this, then?” Brutus smiled. Callum looked over at her for the first time since Brutus had arrived. He again wore the detached look that she was becoming accustomed to.