by A. Rosaria
The stranger lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the wagon. Before putting her down in the back, he kissed her tears away.
“It will be all right.” He gave her one more kiss. “You‘ll die soon.”
And she did.
OUTCAST
Lyna‘s eyes fluttered open to what seemed to be the ceiling. She couldn‘t distinguish the lush design and artisan workmanship she so liked to wake up to any other day. With her vision blurred, she saw only smudges, dark smudges on the otherwise meticulously white ceiling. It didn‘t help that the only light came from a torch casting the room in a yellowish tint, with shades dancing over the walls with every breeze passing through the torch‘s flame. She must still be in bed, woken from the bad nightmare she had. She couldn‘t remember what it was; only that it had frightened her. She still felt clammy from the sweat and a certain numbness she ascribed to suddenly waking up.
She blinked to clear her vision. Lightheadedness befell her. Lyna squinted. A burning feeling started at her left cheek, a light throbbing pain. She brought her fingers to her cheek, lightly touching the skin with the tip of her fingers. Wet. Had she fallen? The pain she felt throbbing at her cheek increased, and she could now feel the hard stone beneath her. She lay on the ground, not the soft cushion of her bed.
Something dripped on her forehead. Cold. It was very unlikely water leaking from the ceiling–above was no roof just another of the many rooms in the castle. She opened her eyes; the ceiling swam above her. Lyna pulled up and immediately slammed back down, crying out in pain. She gritted her teeth and brought a trembling hand back to her cheek; this time she cupped it with the palm of her hand. Her cheek throbbed. She cried out and saw white for a moment. Her skin felt raw, torn, and each touch, no matter how light, was painful. Having had a protected life so far, she never felt this kind of pain, any pain really but for the occasional bumping of her knee.
Lyna looked up at the ceiling. The blurred smudges slowly turned into spatters of blood. The blood dripped down on her. So much blood, she thought. Claudette. Aaron. She turned her head to her right. She gasped. A pressure built in her chest that didn‘t allow her to breathe. Dazed, she stared at her little brother‘s severed head. His eyes were wide open, white with terror; any hint of life left in them was long gone. The edges around his neck were raw, torn. His head had been ripped off and not cut clean by a sword.
When Lyna finally breathed out, the air exploded out in a moan of anguish. What had happened rushed back to her in a flash. The demon had soared through the air, and with one swipe of her claws, she had severed Aaron‘s head. Claudette had charged the monster, a knife in her hand, screaming her brother‘s name. Lyna turned her head to her left. Her eldest sister lay crumbled and broken on the floor. It flashed in front of her, the demon had pierced Claudette‘s chest with her claw and tore her still-beating heart out. The demon had crushed it, the meat and blood seeping through her claw-like fingers. Next the demon had pulled the knife Claudette had managed to stab her with out of her chest. Demon blood had spurted Lyna‘s face and she couldn‘t help swallowing some.
Lyna remembered she had no time to gag or spit the blood out. The demon had bore down on her, swinging with her claws. Lyna had staggered back, but its nail had cut deep into her belly, slashing stripes of cloth and skin. Lyna had looked in disbelief at the demon. Her own sister, Christine. She had scratched Lyna‘s face. The nails had carved her cheeks open, and the force of the blow had knocked her down. Christine had stood over her, a twisted smile on her face, glaring down at Lyna.
She had kicked to get away from Christine, but all strength had left her body. Bleeding profusely, she could only watch, helplessly waiting for the last blow to end her life. It didn‘t come. Christine‘s face had fallen into a blank stare and she had started chanting instead. She had whispered words in Latin that Lyna didn‘t fully understand, but they had made her skin crawl in disgust. Just as sudden as Christine had started, she stopped. Soon after, Lyna had heard banging on the heavy oak door. Men barged in and escorted Christine out. Not one of them had noticed her bleeding on the floor or her brother and sister‘s dead and mutilated corpses. They walked inside as if Christina was the only one in the room. Lyna had called out for help, but they had ignored her as if she was long gone, dead for ages. She had screamed and kept screaming until she passed out.
It all came back to her. Now not only the pain burned, but also something else. It festered at her heart, spreading through her body and pushing back the pain. She crawled up and stood unsteady on her legs, her head dizzy. She gritted her teeth. With each awkward step she took, her body hurt. Under her breath, she swore revenge for the death of her sister and brother. With each sting of her cheek she knew more and more that life as she knew it was over. Eadric, the young knight she fancied, wouldn‘t want her now, damaged as she was. She had been doubly wronged by her sister; she had destroyed those she loved most and her future with the man she adored. At least she still had her father.
In her bloodied gown, she limped out of the room. Dirtied with blood, her long black hair fell over her shoulders. Her pale face stood ghastly out in the darkness. Her hollow eyes darted from side to side. Anyone who saw her would be alarmed, and help would come if not for that the arched hallway was dark and empty. Any sound she would normally expect was not there. She struggled through the hallway to the other side to her father‘s chambers. She didn‘t visit her father often. It was never a social call, nor would today be one. Today would be worse, much worse. She knocked. On the other side came no answer. Lyna cried out her father‘s name. She yelled for help. The tears burst out; she couldn‘t hold them back anymore. Her whole body trembled. Lyna dropped to the floor, clawing the door and hitting it with her fist. The tears kept coming.
She sat like this for a long time. No one came to help her. With some difficulty, biting the pain back, she got up. Every step she took, she felt her body drain of energy. She wanted to just collapse, to give up, and to have things be as they were. She wanted see her brother and sister‘s faces and Christine‘s. She pushed her feet to take another step until she saw light burning ahead. The wind carried many voices her way. She stood still, listening. She heard the distinct, heavy voice of her father. The weight of the black tidings she had to tell him burdened her. How was she to tell him how Christine, his own daughter, had slaughtered his other children, his favorites? By their own blood, they had died, she herself almost died. Her tears streamed. She wiped them away. With bloodshot eyes, she arrived at the arch and then continued to the castle‘s audience room.
Armored men, knights stood in front of her father, the lord of the castle, listening to the orders he barked at them. She saw that her Eadric stood among them, his chest puffed up, full of resolve. Her heart skipped a beat. She prayed to God that he would not turn his back on her, that he would help her through this ordeal. The knight he was surely would. Maybe he wouldn‘t be there in love, but as a friend instead. That was the least he would do. That thought made her feel as if a light lit within her, easing the burden of delivering the dark message she had. She walked toward her father‘s throne. The room hushed and all eyes drifted to her, most of all her father‘s. Grim faces stared at her.
Her father stretched a pointing finger at her. “Seize her.”
Startled, she stood with her eyes wide, looking on as two knights closed in on her fast. Before she could say or do anything, each grabbed one arm and held her tight. She shook her head in disbelief. “Eadric,” she squeaked out.
Eadric held her left arm tightly. His mouth was set in a thin, stern stripe, and he didn‘t look at her. There was no trace of the tenderness Eadric had touched her with so many times; she was roughly dragged in front of her father. They pushed her down. Her knees hit hard on the stone tiles. She clenched her teeth together to keep a cry from leaving her lips.
She looked up, questioning. “Please, Father, tell me what happened for you to treat me so?”
“Silence, foul creature,” E
adric said between clenched teeth.
In shock, she looked from her father to him. Her heart ached at the way he looked at her with contempt. What lies had they been told for them to speak and look at her with such scorn?
“Father, please. Little Aaron and Claudette…”
She couldn‘t hold them at bay anymore; at the mere thought of her sister and brother, she broke out in tears and cried openly for all to see.
“They are dead,” she said between sobs.
Her father sat down with a defeated look. Eadric and the other knight let her go, backing away in disgust.
“I sent the wrong one,” her father said while looking dazed ahead of him. “The farmer was wrong or lied.”
Lyna had no idea what her father was saying, but she knew that her brother and sister lay dead on the cold floor. Men had whisked away the monster that killed them and who knew where they took her.
“She killed them,” Lyna said, “and almost killed me. Look at me, Father. Look at my wounds, look at my hurt, look me in my eyes and witness my sorrow.” Still on her knees, the thin gown offered her no protection. Her knees scraped over the rough tiles when she turned around to face Eadric. “And, you, look at me. Can you cast me away so easily after all we had? You professed your love to me and I mine.”
Stricken Eadric looked over her head at her father. He nodded and cast his eyes down on her and backed away. She broke her stare and looked around at the knights, their grim faces looking back, not hiding what they felt.
“What greater tragedy befell today than that of my brother and sister? Why does no one stretch out a helping hand? Why do you all stay frozen to the ground and look helplessly on instead of charging out to get their murderer?” She faced her father again. “Why hold me so? Has your love for me grown so thin or turned into hate that you sit there stricken and powerless to go after their murderer and instead torment me for whatever reason that may be?”
The eyes of Lord Robert burned into hers. She saw the fire of contempt burn hard in them and also a hint of fear hidden behind his obvious repugnance for her.
“Vile creature, do you really think I will let you trick me once more?” A tear fell from his eye. “I already sacrificed one daughter, one much more loved than you, one I should have known couldn‘t have been the monster the farmer told me she was. It was you all along. You had that farmer hexed.”
Bewildered, she looked at her father. “Trickery? Sacrifice? You accuse me?”
“Christine,” he said, “when they took her, my children still breathed among us. Not long after Christine left, you disappeared along with them, and now a day later you come in here begging like a victim.”
One day she had been unconscious. One day Christine was gone from here, escorted by not enough guards to keep such a monster captive. She felt her stomach turn with the idea that Christine, that demon, was free.
“Father, it was Christine.”
Lord Robert signaled the knights to seize her. Eadric grabbed her left arm and held her tighter than before. An old knight, Tristan she thought his name was, held her other arm albeit gentler than Eadric did, but not that gentle that she could easily get away.
“She left us in her room, me heavily wounded and unconscious.”
“Lies,” Eadric said. “I was there along with Ambos.”
The way he spat out Ambos‘ name made it clear the young knight had no fond thoughts about the man. Eadric squeezed her arm; she yelped out in pain. He smiled harshly. She had never seen him like this before. The young man she thought she knew, the one she fell for and gave him all but her maidenhead, she never fathomed him ever being mean to her. It made her feel the shame that much more.
“I saw no corpses. Lady Christine was by herself.”
Her father‘s scorned look, Eadric‘s mean streak, the knights‘ grim faces, they told her all she had to know. They believed that she and not Christine had murdered and mutilated Aaron and Claudette. In their hateful eyes, they saw her as a monster.
“She hexed you all. She must have,” Lyna said. “I lay on the floor bleeding. I cried and no one came, just like now I cry and you stand there idle with your accusing stares. I swear–”
Her cheek exploded with pain. “Lies,” Eadric roared. He stood with his hand raised to slap her again.
“How dare you hit me,” Lyna screamed. “I‘m the lord‘s daughter.”
“Any daughter of mine would be human,” Lord Robert said in an emotionless tone.
“I am human,” she said.
She felt something burn from within, pushing her sorrow back and exploding out. “I‘m your daughter and not the monster you want to make me out to be.”
Her father raised his brows. “Oh no?” He pointed at her. “If so, why, in front of my very own eyes, is your wound healing?”
Lyna touched her cheek. It didn‘t hurt like before and her skin was smooth. It only stung where she had been slapped. She stood frozen for a moment before it dawned on her. Her hands shot to her belly, the cuts had disappeared. She now noticed the numb, bruised, painful feeling she had woken up with was gone, replaced with something else. A vigor she never knew she had before.
“Your wicked enchantments only lasted you for so long. You thought to trick us, but now you have fallen in your own trap,” Lord Robert said.
She had no words to explain what she didn‘t understand. What had Christine done to her to make her so? It could only have been Christine. Lyna didn‘t know what was happening to her, but what she was sure about was that she hadn‘t killed anyone.
“Please, Father, be it that you don‘t want to see me as a daughter, please hear me out for any sliver of love left for me. Go to the room and see for yourself. Trust me in this before you do something harsh you‘ll regret the rest of your life. We already have suffered too much for more to come.”
Lord Robert scowled at her. “Regrets? You are my regret since you were born.”
The words from her father lashed at her. She always thought she was the least liked of the four, but to hear it from him, that since her birth she was never loved, hurt immensely.
“As a lady, give me the courtesy of first investigating my claim before judging me. I swear on my soul that if the room is empty as claimed, you can kill me.”
She contained the shudder and looked straight at her father‘s unmoving face. Her eyes locked on his. Lord Robert hesitated. He broke sight with her and looked into the audience room over his knights‘ heads, thinking.
“Very well, I‘ll go on with this farce for a little longer. Eadric, cut her down if she tries to escape.”
Eadric put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Your wish is my command.”
A shiver went up her back, hearing the eagerness in his voice. She stood up straight. The pain was gone. Instead, a newfound strength coursed through her body. This was not natural, she thought. She hugged herself and led the way. Two knights walked on each side of her. Eadric was close behind with his sword now drawn and ready to cut her down if she tried to run.
The hallways seemed to stretch to eternity. Their surrounding was cast in the orange light from the torches‘ flames. With each flicker of the fire, shadows licked the surface of the walls and floor. Above their heads, the arched ceiling was swallowed by darkness; the light of the torches couldn‘t reach up there. They moved on at what seemed like a crawling space. She wanted to make haste, but she feared that would spur Eadric to use his sword.
Lyna could hear her heartbeat sending her blood surging through her veins, and she heard theirs. They beat hard, fast with anticipation and most of them also with fear. The brave, grim faces were but masks they hid behind. She could smell their sweat, full of the stink of fear. Only two men didn‘t reek, her father and the old knight Tristan. The others feared her, and so did she herself. She feared what she was becoming.
They reached the room. The door stood wide just as she left it. A trail of blood followed out on the tiled floor–her blood. The men walked over the blood, mumbling si
lent prayers. They stood aside waiting for Lord Robert to arrive.
“My lord, the room is empty,” Eadric said.
Lyna shook her head. “This can‘t be.”
Lord Robert raised a hand to silence her. He walked to the doorway and looked in himself. A cruel smile appeared on his face. “No one is inside.”
Lyna wanted look herself but was roughly grabbed by Eadric.
“Stop right there.” He raised his sword. “I‘ll cut you down.”
Enraged, she grabbed his wrist and twisted it. Eadric screamed out in pain and let her go. Lyna pushed hard with both of her hands. He flew backward, smashing hard against the stone wall, hitting his head. He fell down, his armor clanking on the stones. She gaped at what she had done, at the man she loved who lay motionless in front of her. Lord Robert looked aghast at her and so did the knights. Lyna turned around and ran for the door while ducking under the arms of the knights trying to grab her.
In the room, she staggered to a halt, faced with the carnage done to her brother and sister. The blood soiled the floor, the walls, the ceiling, all over the room it was spattered around. Her sister lay crumbled on the ground, twisted and broken. Her brother‘s body was intact but for his missing head. She swallowed back a cry, turning her sight away from his severed head.
“Seize her,” she heard her father yell.
“She‘s gone,” Tristan said.
Lyna turned to the door and stared straight at the face of the old knight. Tristan scratched his white beard, looking surprised. The room must hide what was inside and only show an image from before. Must have been Christine‘s doing. Lyna had to make them believe in her honesty and innocence. She fidgeted with her fingers, pacing around. She hesitated, but knew it had to be done. She bent over and grabbed Claudette‘s feet. Her skin crawled as she touched the cold skin of her sister. Lyna dragged her toward the door. Claudette‘s head lolled in an impossible angle. Bile shot up Lyna‘s throat, leaving a sour taste in her mouth. Turning her face away, she kept on going for the door.
