Legacy of Dreams: Freedom

by Thomas J. L. Green

  His knees were weak; his stomach was twisting as if searching for something more to throw out. On his way down, he ordered his men to bring the strongest cage they had and prepare chains to wrap it with.

  “So?” Luna welcomed him as he came back to the cellar.

  “Alright, monster girl, I will get you your cage.”

  “Clever man,” she smiled.

  “Why? Why would you kill the people who helped you?” shouted Arthur.

  “I was hungry.”

  “So what? Couldn’t you just eat a cow? A sheep? Why the kid!?” he exclaimed, furious at his own powerlessness.

  “Hunger doesn’t ask.”

  I want to kill her. He didn’t even remember the last time he wanted to kill someone as badly as he wanted to kill her now.

  I really want to kill her… but I don’t think I can. Yesterday she killed four demonic creatures. Now, she has feasted and slept; she is at her full strength.

  He felt empty. She could have killed him. Him and all his men and then just walk off into the woods. There was nothing he could do to stop her if she tried. The hollowness swept the ground from under his feet. The sheer force of his helplessness evaporated his anger, it left only resignation. Resignation and emptiness. He got her the cage; she went in willingly. He had the cage wrapped in chains and thrown into the darkest cell he could find under his barracks.

  “You have a visitor, sir,” one of his men announced from the door.

  “Who?” Arthur asked back in an annoyed voice.

  “Prince Jonathan Stallington.”

  Prince? PRINCE!?

  “Let him in,” Arthur commanded.

  “Greetings, commander,” he opened warmly.

  “Good afternoon, your highness. What can we do for such an esteemed guest?” commander asked warily. He measured the prince with a long look. The prince was old, but well kept. He wore well decorated gold and green robes, but they weren’t overly luxurious.

  “Straight to the point, I like it, for I have actually come to offer you my assistance with the protection of your city, commander,” said the prince heartily.

  Wesley didn’t like it one bit. Powerful men never offered help for free. He decided to wait and let the prince speak his mind.

  “I heard from constable Langston that you have a very troublesome prisoner here. I would like to relieve you of this prisoner.”

  “Do you want to take my prisoner to fight in your arena? I am afraid, even you will not be able to control her, your highness,” Wesley said carefully. He knew that prisoners were the most common source of arena combatants. Plus technically, Luna wasn’t convicted of any crime yet because they couldn’t figure a way to get her to a trial. Not without risking her going on another rampage or being found by Jean who’s men were relentlessly prowling around. That was another astonishing figure. Jean Pierre Castagnet, known as Nine Heaven’s blacksmith was the most famous blacksmith in the world. He was looking for Luna. Arthur did not want to know the story behind that.

  “I would like to see that myself, commander. Would you agree that if I manage to strike an agreement with her and she comes willingly, you shall allow me to take her?”

  “I am sorry, your highness, but she is awaiting her trial and thus cannot be released.”

  “I believe she can be transferred to another city for a trial.”

  For which I have the authority. He has come prepared. None the less, this is a very good deal for me and the city.

  Hell… I should pay him to take her off my hands.

  “I will allow you to go talk to her. But first, it is my duty to inform you that you do so at your own risk as I am unable to guarantee your safety,” Arthur agreed.

  “I thought you have her imprisoned, commander,” prince Stallington pried.

  “We have not found a way to contain her, your highness,” Arthur admitted.

  “Now, you have my attention.”

  Stallington probed commander for more details on the trip to the cells. Apparently, Luna tends to sneak out of her imprisonment and have a feast on the supplies of their kitchens. The guard only found out about it after they started putting a generous amount of garlic on the raw meat and, incidentally, Luna’s prison cell started to stink by garlic.

  “Have you found any details about her?” Stallington followed in questioning the commander.

  “Not much, your highness. She looks and behaves like a human, but that is as far as the humanity goes. She seems to keep her word though. The priests of Palai couldn’t find out anything detailed either. She is neither undead nor a fiend or any type of shifter. She is also not any other type of known monster.”

  “Any personal observation from her arrest, commander?”

  Arthur thought about refusing to answer but decided not to. Least he could do was to tell prince Stallington the full truth.

  “She seems to have an absurdly powerful regenerative ability when it comes to physical wounds. Poison seems to have about half the effect on her. Also, she seems to go berserk at some points and when she does, she literally eats any living being she finds. She seems to hate herself for doing it and staying here captured seems to her as self-repentance.”

  “Greetings, lady Luna,” opened up Stallington when he entered the cell. The girl seemed small. She was wrapped in a bag, chains, caged and the cage was wrapped in even more chains. If she could freely get from and back to this, there was no way he could contain her either. Not physically.

  She snorted inside the chains.

  “Lady? The first time someone has ever called me that,” she said in a merry voice. “You smell like an old man but wear a perfume of a young woman. How would you taste, I wonder,” she mused.

  “I would like to acquire your services, lady Luna.”

  “My services? Got tired of burying your dead?”

  “No. There will be a tournament between the arenas. I would like you to join my champion and win this tournament with him,” Stallington said in a flat voice.

  Luna laughed. “You do realize I will likely eat your champion before we get anywhere, right?”

  “I am fairly certain you would be unable to do so.”

  Luna paused and Stallington knew he had her. He read her perfectly. She shook for a bit, then extended her hand from the chains, took the bag off her face and threw Stallington an inquisitive stare.

  “Is he that strong?”

  “Why don’t you come and see for yourself, lady Luna?”

  “I like my cage.”

  “You can take it with you,” he remarked with a wide smile.

  “I don’t like it that much. I want a room straight next to your champions, a comfortable bed, freedom to move around, adequate salary and a full service of food and drinks.”

  “What manner of food?” Stallington probed.

  “Raw lamb and beef is enough, though I cannot guarantee the safety of my opponents,” she grinned, showing her teeth. They looked normal.

  “That is a risk I am willing to accept.”

  3

  Iowen

  Iowen Drach’Tea was lying in the prison cell. She lied on bare rocks, naked, beaten up, exhausted and hungry.

  Guess they finally decided to get rid of me and locked me down here to die.

  Well, I did kill over eight guards when I tried to escape… for which they almost whipped me to death and threw me here. Why didn’t they just behead me? Did they think beheading me would be too easy of a death?

  It would have been nice though… a quick death has its merits.

  They didn’t bother to chain her so she could at least lie comfortably while her body slowly tried to recover from the wounds. She knew it wouldn’t turn out pretty as the whips tore her skin apart. So far, she has managed to survive by licking condensed water from the stones.

  That won’t cut it for much longer. Soon, I will die here in this hole. Perhaps death will be a relief. I wonder if hell is worse than this place.

  No… nothing can be worse than this place.<
br />
  Suddenly, the lock made a few strange sounds and the door opened. She clenched a sharp rock in her hand and prepared her muscles for one last fight.

  I am not going back to the mines. I will force them to kill me.

  As the door opened, a man stood in the frame. He carried no light. Iowen could partially see in the dark thanks to her curse. Demonic curse. The curse that made her body colder than ice. The man was lean and handsome, dressed in leathery clothes with a hooded cloak over his back, both suited for traveling. All his clothes were black. His face was good-looking, maybe even handsome. Silvery hair to the shoulders, eyes blue with a strange shade, face clean shaven. He stepped into the room. He moved like water; he made no sound.

  “Got a name, girl?” he opened up. His voice was kind, but his presence was commanding, downright formidable. No man in the mines was like that.

  “I do.”

  “Care to share it?”

  “No.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “Come closer and find out,” she breathed out sweetly while she prepared herself to lunge at him.

  To her surprise, he stepped closer and crouched over her. With the remains of her strength, she flung her left hand toward his face as a feint while she went for his neck with her right. He caught both hands effortlessly. His gloved hands held hers. Iowen tried to struggle, but it felt like he was made of steel. She dropped the stone.

  “Sorry... I thought you would like some foreplay.”

  He didn’t reply. Instead, he let go of her hands, took down his cloak and threw it over her.

  “You don’t have to be so shy, uglier men have raped me."

  “Liar.”

  How does he know? Did he already notice I’m too cold for that? He had gloves so he couldn’t have felt it... I guess the Ice Witch of the Caverns isn’t as unknown as I had thought I was.

  He turned her over. She braced herself, but he just wrapped her in his cloak. With one hand, he lifted her and threw her over his shoulder. The sudden move filled her head with blood and made her nauseous.

  With blurry vision, she saw how he took her through the mines, his pace fast and steady. He walked like he didn’t want to spend there another second. She wasn’t surprised. Though she couldn’t see it clearly, she enjoyed the troubled looks of the guards they passed. She tried to struggle a few times, but without success. He didn’t say a single word as he was passing through the mines. Nobody asked him anything; nobody even slowed him down as he walked. The air slowly got fresher. They were approaching the surface. Soon the ground changed from stone to mud. They were getting to the main courtyard. He still hasn’t loosened his tempo for a single step. They were at the courtyard.

  So… they did decide to finally execute me.

  He didn’t stop and kept trotting through the courtyard. She saw the confused guards and soldiers as they passed them. Confused, but they did not dare to say a word.

  Who the hell is he? What does he want from me?

  Iowen gasped as the ground turned to a road. This was the front courtyard, the one before the main gate. She thought she was imagining it, but now she saw it clearly as they passed it. The guard barracks. The first fence. She burst into tears. Through the watery haze, she saw the guard post. The second fence. The admission office. Confused-looking overseer of the mines. The main gate. Her heart exploded when she saw the main gate behind her.

  Am I out of the slave camp?

  For the first time in four years. Four years that felt like eternity.

  Impossible.

  She fainted.

  Iowen woke up drowsy. Drowsy, but rested. She didn’t even remember the last time she slept this well. Her body ached but not nearly as badly as in the past few years.

  Guess I’ve finally kicked the bucket. If this is what hell is like, then I should have killed myself years ago.

  She tucked herself into the cloak. Leathery cloak. Rough, black, thick and not warm. Exactly how she liked it.

  Maybe I did make it to heaven in the end.

  She listened to the rain laced with occasional thunder. The rain drops were muffled. It sounded like she was in the forest. She focused on the smell around her.

  Grass, leaves, pine and wine.

  What a nice smell of the forest.

  Wait… wine?

  She raised her head a bit and looked around. Across the meadow in front of her sat the man from yesterday.

  This must be a hallucination

  She blinked and shook her head.

  Nope. He is still there.

  Iowen pinched herself and shook her head again with eyes closed.

  Still there.

  He sat there in the rain in a shirt with a half-empty jug of wine in his hand. He was completely drenched.

  “Name’s Lucas,” he said before he took a large gulp from the jug.

  She just stared at him for a long while. He didn’t seem to care. No, he did care. He seemed worried.

  What the hell is going on here?

  She looked around and saw she was under some makeshift tent. It was made from what appeared to be clothes, branches and a saddlebag. She lied comfortably on something soft, wrapped in the leathery cloak. Her body was wrapped in restraints.

  No. Not restraints. Bandages. There had to be some explanation for this.

  Nothing came through her mind. She looked at Lucas, the forest, the bandages, then back to Lucas.

  Nope.

  “Care to share what this is about?” she jabbed at him.

  “Bandages are soaked with ointments that will help the skin and muscle regenerate. Tent is there to protect you from the rain. Clothes tucked behind you are yours,” he explained dryly.

  “Got anything more obvious to say?” she asked poisonously.

  “It is night, we are in a forest and it is raining.”

  Iowen stifled a laugh.

  “What do you want from me, Lucas?”

  “Keep lying still so the bandages stay on the wounds. Rest until you are recovered enough to walk for a full day.” Lucas kept his voice dry, devoid of even a hint of humor.

  “Are you always such a pain in the ass?”

  “Yes.”

  He took another big gulp from the jug. It really didn’t look like he was about to provide any answers now. Or maybe he needed a little push.

  “I’m hungry,” she declared in an authoritative voice.

  “What would you like to eat?”

  “Gargantuan Sonenheim caviar for the starter, dragon steak with velvet grass, grilled not boiled for the main meal and sunset fruit for the desert. Oh, and a bottle of Stardust wine to go with it, at least ten years old.”

  “I’ve got dried jerky and bread.”

  “If you insist.”

  Her mouth watered just at the thought of meat. Any meat. She hasn’t had meat in years. Four years in fact.

  Lucas put aside the jug and went toward her. He rummaged through the roof of the tent and bowed down to offer her the promised jerky and bread.

  “Thought you said it was dry,” she remarked in a disappointed voice, as she looked at the soaked food.

  “It was,” he retorted as he gave it to her and went back to his place. Without waiting for anything, he bit into a piece of jerky and the bread, he made sure she sees it.

  “Nice try Lucas, but how do I know that it isn’t poisoned and you just have an antidote in that wine?”

  Without a word, he raised up to his feet again and put the jug of wine in front of her.

  “Or you just took the antidote beforehand,” she suggested. He ignored her.

  Iowen gave him an inquisitive look, but couldn’t really resist. She bit into the food hungrily.

  Not bad.

  Meh, who am I kidding?

  It’s delicious.

  She ravaged the jerky, bread and finished off the wine. She coughed at the wine. She did not have any alcohol in a very long time.

  That was embarrassing.

  The alcohol hit her in the head like a h
ammer. A very, very heavy hammer.

  “What’s in that wine?” she demanded.

  “Grapes.”

  Idiot.

  Iowen angrily turned around and showed him her back. Soon afterward she fell asleep.

  The birds were chirping when she woke up. Lucas was dozing off by the tree, still drenched head to toe.

  So, he does sleep after all. Good.

  Her body did not hurt anymore. Her head did, but that was surely from the wine.

  Stupid!

  The headache was quite sharp.

  Cheap-ass.She cursed him in her mind, for the wine was obviously very cheap. She silently snuck out of the cloak and went to examine the clothes that were tucked behind her. Travelling boots, pants, armor-like tunic, gloves, undergarments and a half-face mask. All black and made of boiled leather, rough boiled leather, not padded with anything.

  Alright, Lucas, I will give you this one. You do know how to buy girl some clothes.

  Iowen chuckled in her mind as she silently dressed herself. The clothes were a bit too large but nothing embarrassing. They matched with the cloak perfectly. To her shock, there were neatly folded weapons under the clothes. An elegant long sword, six daggers, bow and arrows. All sheathed and visibly new.

  He really is an idiot.

  She put the sword around her waist, tucked two daggers into her shoes and the rest of them around the body armor. The weapons were light and apparently well crafted. The bow was a bit worse but still definitely efficient enough. She contemplated running an arrow through his stupid head but decided not to and rather just sneaked out of the camp.

  With the mask, I can travel relatively freely and be long gone by the time he wakes up.

  Iowen advanced through the forest slowly, she made sur eto move silently so she hears if he is going after her. Nothing. No sound from behind her or anywhere else. Ten minutes later, her heart started pounding wildly.