A few moments later, she heard a shuffling in the hall. In a moment, a familiar presence warmed the room: a presence that she loved dearly and had been often deprived of. She felt her heart crack in her chest.
Annabeth waited until she knew she could keep back the tears before she raised her eyes to meet her father’s. They were grieved, pale, blue eyes that looked into hers, but there was a touch of compassion and love in them. She knew that he loved her, though no words passed between them.
Having him see her pain and humiliation was a torture all its own.
In too short a time, Raburn came down, a gloating smile on his face.
“Well, well. I am glad to see we are all back together again. Now you can make this a truly happy reunion, and just tell me where Prince Alfred is. Because if you do that, I will set you free from your bonds and your father’s and make a poor mere peasant girl some sort of pretty little duchess in my kingdom. What do you say?” he asked, stroking her cheek in an affectionate manner.
“You would do nothing of the sort,” Annabeth replied flatly. She knew too well how he made and broke his promises.
Somehow he smiled as he gave the order. “Put her on the rack.”
Four men stepped forward at his command. Eliot unlocked her bonds, and Annabeth found herself pinned to the long table with each man holding down one of her limbs.
“You know how this goes, Annabeth. I ask you four questions, and your answers decide whether you get tied to the rack or are set free. Now, the question is very simple. Where is the prince, Annabeth?”
“You already asked me that.”
“But I did not receive a proper answer.”
There was a long pause. Raburn nodded. The rope was tied securely to her right hand.
“Where is the prince, Annabeth?”
She buttoned her mouth shut, tightening her jaw with resolution.
A rope was firmly attached to her left leg.
“Annabeth, I am not sure how you got in my castle, but I know you did. You helped the prince leave my care and protection. Now where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
It was now her left hand that lost its freedom to the rack.
“Annabeth, where is Christina?”
She looked up at the ceiling. That was her final answer.
She phased out the sound of his voice talking and the rack tightened one notch, pulling the ropes tight.
Annabeth stared at the ceiling. She would not let Lord Raburn get to her; he would not break her.
Her pain increased as her body stretched painfully, but it was no worse than she had expected. One notch at a time the pain grew worse, and his voice became harder to obscure in her head. She let her thoughts weave panicked trails through her mind, trying to escape her bitter reality of the pain that gripped her.
Without warning, the ropes jerked her body as the wheel turned three notches in one smooth roll.
Annabeth couldn’t help the scream. Something on the right side of her body gave way and there was a shuddering pop in her shoulder.
A moment later the ropes slackened, and she was released. Her body sagged. She dare not try to move as the pain seemed to make it impossible.
There was a dampness on her right side. Her wound, so newly healed, had given way beneath the jerk, and now blood was soaking her dress.
Annabeth was wrenched from the rack and pushed to her knees before Lord Raburn. He touched her shoulder.
“Hold still now.” With a sudden and calculating yank, the shoulder jolted back into place. Annabeth screamed, falling forward, blackness reaching to catch her.
Chapter 17
Annabeth knew from the feeling of the room that Captain Eliot was standing before her, hands resting on his hips, his stance wide, and his shoulders squared. He was staring at her—it felt more like he was staring through her. It was his hands had that twisted the wheel of the rack.
Numbly, she wondered how she was standing. What was holding her up?
Captain Eliot seemed to sense her coming to consciousness. Moving forward, he tilted her head back and poured water between her parched lips. The movement of her head rippled a spasm of pain through her body, and she sagged against the cold damp wall, suddenly realizing what was holding her up despite her weakness.
Chains with weights pulled at her arms, holding her upright even as her legs were unsteady as water beneath her. The weights held her, forcing her against the cold wall. Her mind sought a refuge, but pain haunted every corner of her existence—numb, blaring, searing, and pulsating through her core. Her head seemed to swim in circles; Annabeth knew there would be no stopping it.
Eliot was silent. His hands barely touched her wound. Pain seized her and she let out a cry of pain as a chill ran through her body. Waves of hot and cold pulled her into a whirlpool.
The gentleness in his touch was strange as he bound her wound, but even his lightest touch of mercy caused pain to gnaw through her worse than before.
Something strange pricked her heart and mind awake as he finished. She shoved it aside.
“Lord Raburn told me you’ll have a day to think over your decision. If it doesn’t change, you go back on the rack.” His voice was steel-like, and he turned to go.
The words pricked her mind again, and she wanted to push them away. Then the thought flashed through her mind:
“For Ransom’s sake, tell him.”
“Be careful of Raburn’s wine.”
“What?”
Using up her strength she repeated the words. “Be careful of Raburn’s wine. It loosens the tongue more than most.”
Suddenly his cool hand was pressing against her hot cheek, sweeping a stray hair away from her face.
“I will be.”
Then he was gone and Annabeth was left with the numbing pain in every atom of her body.
Chapter 18
Dawn rose, and Ransom sat at the edge of the woods, staring at Anondorf. Song Lark was sound asleep. He would have to wait for the right time. He couldn’t seem too eager.
He was Ransom, the bounty hunter who had tracked his prey back to Anondorf Castle and wanted to see the elusive and fabled Annabeth for himself.
It was near midmorning when he decided it was time to make his appearance and request entrance at Anondorf Castle.
“Who goes there, and what do you want?” asked an unpleasant voice from the top of the castle.
“I am a bounty hunter looking for work. I heard this is the place to come.”
There was a murmur at the top of the castle walls, and one of the guards disappeared.
Several minutes later, the drawbridge was lowered and the gate opened. Ransom rode through.
In the middle of the courtyard he was halted; a stable boy took his horse. Dismounting, he casually followed the guard.
He was shown into a large chamber that resembled something after the manner of a throne room in its grandeur. Eliot stood beside Lord Raburn’s chair, looking slightly surprised. Ransom ignored him.
Ransom bowed low. “My lord,” he said reverently.
“So I hear you are a bounty hunter.”
“That I am. The best one in every country that I have been in.”
Lord Raburn laughed shallowly. “Is that so?”
“I was on Annabeth’s trail, and when I found out it led here, I thought I would see if it was true that she was caught.”
“Really?”
“Truly, my lord. I was less than a day behind her, and catching up rather quickly. It appeared as if she was traveling in a party of three or four.”
“It is true, she was. Unfortunately, according to my captain, their trail disappeared into thin air, but they did catch the worst of the culprits.”
“So, it is true you have her.”
“Yes, it is true.”
“Would it be possible to see her?”
”I don’t see why not. Eliot, bring her up here. I think she needs a break from the dungeon. Being down there too long can be hard on the soul.
”
THE CELL DOOR CREAKED open. A key unlocked the chain that bound her to the wall, jerking her body to one side.
Annabeth gasped at the pain as it washed cruelly over her in a fresh deep pang, causing the pain to soar and pound into her brain.
“Not yet,” she whispered hoarsely, the fresh pain breaking words from her that she did not wish to say. “Not the rack; not yet.”
“You have a visitor. Ransom, a bounty hunter, has come to see you.”
At the word Ransom her mind jerked away from the pain into full consciousness.
“What?” she asked, her eyes clearing from the blur of pain.
Eliot looked at her and, placing his hand on the wall, leaned close in the low flickering light of the torches, searching her eyes.
“You know him, don’t you?” he whispered quietly.
“No, I don’t,” she said, trying to twist away. Annabeth was shocked to find herself so disabled. Her limbs felt hollow, but rippled with inexhaustible pain. Any command given to move only brought torture and a frozen feeling to her body.
“Raburn always said you were a poor liar.”
“I never had the chance to lie to him,” she answered, seeking for a weapon in her words, only to make a confession. Her eyes glanced painfully up into Eliot’s.
“I don’t wish to see anyone.” The very thought of stepping outside of her cell was exhausting.
“Come on,” he said with an unexpected gentleness, pulling her arm tightly against her body with a sling. “This way you won’t hurt too badly.”
Annabeth was unsure exactly how she arrived at the tall set of double doors that led into Raburn’s hearing room, but she was standing there. A gray numbness gnawed at her while unconsciousness stood ready to sweep her unsteady feet out from under her and carry her away into the comfort of oblivion and darkness.
Eliot turned her and lifted her chin to look into his eyes.
“Whatever you do, do not betray him.”
The words and meaning seemed blurred. Annabeth just wanted to sink into nothingness—to never be.
With a powerful stroke of his hands, he opened the doors and led her in. Annabeth kept her eyes on the floor.
“So this is the famous Annabeth,” said a cold but familiar voice.
Little had Annabeth ever known a voice to carry so much power. She wanted to cry. To have him standing there in that room, to have Ransom see her like this, was breaking her heart to pieces.
“Annabeth, you have a visitor. Aren’t you going to greet him?”
“No,” she whispered hoarsely, without raising her head.
“Eliot, make Annabeth show her manners.”
Annabeth could feel him moving towards her. She wondered what cruelty he would think of. Then, Ransom was by her side.
“No need. I can do it myself. A cruel hand like yours could break a girl needlessly,” he said, taking her chin and lifting it to meet his face.
Annabeth closed her eyes. She did not want to see him.
Ransom laid a cool hand on her neck that burned from the tense pull of the chains. He leaned close, whispering, “Look at me.”
His hand pressured her neck. The pain caused her eyes to open in wounded surprise.
Raburn laughed from behind them. “You have a way with the girl.”
Ransom’s hand dropped to his side; he turned slightly to face Lord Raburn. “I like girls who know their mind. I find they need a special touch,” he said, brushing the back of his hand over her cheek.
Annabeth let her eyes sink daggers into him. What is he thinking?
Ransom walked casually around Annabeth in circles, taking in every inch of her frame.
“Are you taken with her?” asked Lord Raburn, sounding rather amused from his throne-like chair.
“I must admit,” he let out rather reluctantly, “I am. She is such a helpless looking little thing, I can hardly believe she eluded me.”
Raburn laughed. “She is a crafty little thing.”
“Yes, I am afraid so.” Ransom stopped his circling and stared at Annabeth for a long time, and then he whirled around. “But she is beside the point. I came here to see if you had any other work that you could offer me. I have a good reputation in the kingdom of Falway and am ready to prove myself here.”
Raburn looked at him piercingly.
Ransom lowered his eyes and looked up at him sideways, a sly charm easing from him. “I’ve heard rumors that the prince has been quite a disobedient problem, and stands in need of a firm correction.”
“You would be correct, Ransom.”
“If he is indeed the other part of the group that was riding with Annabeth, they have reached Falway. There is no better man than myself to track him down and bring him back to you unharmed.”
“Unharmed, you say?”
“Yes, my lord.” He let a long pause drift in the conversation. “Unless some unfortunate accident happened to take place, my lord.”
“You are a keen man, Ransom.”
“I could easily make it look like the prince was killed by some stray Falway noble who murdered him in cold blood. I would drag the body back here and you could lift it up as an outrageous insult to your people.”
“A war might start between your country and mine.”
“I couldn’t care less. My loyalty is to my satisfaction and whoever serves it.”
“Then consider yourself commissioned. Your pay will be excellent, I promise.”
“Thank you, my lord. I shall fulfill my duty with all diligence.” Turning to leave, he stopped beside Annabeth. Reaching out, Ransom touched her chin, turning her to face him. Annabeth pulled away, feeling wounded and betrayed.
Gently he repeated the action, more firmly; preventing her head from lurching away.
Slowly, painfully, she opened her eyes and looked at him, tears coming into them. Suddenly, Annabeth didn’t care if she cried.
Where is the Ransom I know? What in the world is going on?
UNEXPECTEDLY, LORD Raburn spoke. “You know, Ransom, letting her live with the knowledge she failed would be the worst torture she could ever face.”
“I’ve no doubt about that. She is the kind that would feel it keenly all of her days.” Ransom looked into her eyes, now welling with tears. He wanted to reach out and harbor her in his arms, to make all the pain she was suffering fall away from her body.
“Then, if you want her, you may have her when you return; she will be a bonus to your reward.”
Ransom nodded. “That suits me perfectly, my lord.”
“It suits us both.”
“Consider it done, then. I’ll be back in a week to claim my prize,” said Ransom, stroking her cheek.
She turned away; he let her slip past his hand.
“Annabeth,” he said almost under his breath.
Unexpectedly, she turned to him. “When you return, there will be nothing of me left. I suggest you choose your next step wisely. Men who live by the sword die by the sword.”
Ransom looked into her eyes, letting questions race through his, hoping she could read them. “Are you ready to meet what fate he has for you?” he nodded towards Lord Raburn.
Annabeth swallowed; she was resigned. “I have been ready for the last few months. The time has come.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said, and he walked past her.
Suddenly, Eliot’s chest collided into his. Eliot’s hands gripped his vest.
“Don’t you ever dare overstep your bounds with me again. He gave me the order.”
“Keep your hands off me,” said Ransom. Grabbing Eliot’s fist, he pushed it away. As he did so, he felt a piece of paper pressed into his hand.
Bristling, they passed each other, rubbing angry shoulders.
Chapter 19
Ransom walked swiftly into the courtyard, still bristling from his encounter with Eliot, his fists tightly clenched. Before mounting, Ransom adjusted his boots; sliding the piece of paper that Eliot had put in his hand carefully between his conc
ealed dagger and his leg.
He would not think of Annabeth until he was outside the gate, lest it show on his face. He smiled at the stable boy and flipped him a trifling coin.
“Thanks for taking care of him for me.”
Barely touching the stirrup, he leapt into the saddle and galloped through the gate. In a moment he was gone, and he let what he had seen run through him.
Annabeth. My Annabeth. He had never dreamed he could see her in more pain than when he had first met her. She was torn—wounded inside and out. She would not last long in that dungeon. It would not break her will, but it had already shattered her spirit; it was killing her.
He could not reach where he had hidden Song Lark soon enough. There would be no time to wait for King Harold to come with his soldiers to attack. Lord Raburn was the kind of man who would torture her for his own amusement. He longed to sink a dagger into the man’s chest—to make him feel all the pain he had ever caused Annabeth, her father, and his other victims.
Ransom knew he would have to storm the castle.
Alone.
“IT APPEARS, MY DEAR Annabeth, that you have a knight in shining armor come to rescue you from my wicked dungeon. What he doesn’t know is when he arrives back in a week, he will find you dead, and then I shall finish him off too in the dungeon. Best way for a rich man to save himself money: hire bounty hunters, and then kill them like they did their prey.” Lord Raburn laughed as he brushed past Annabeth, upsetting her balance. She tottered, then fell to the floor. Pain jolted through her, fraying every nerve, twisting every muscle, pounding round and round in her head. Resigned, she lay on the floor, too weary to care that her bed was stone.
“What do you know of this man? Eliot, he comes from your country.”
“I know of him, and he is a man of his word. He will do exactly as he says. He is an honorable thief, you might say, my lord,” said Eliot, his voice quiet and steady.
Raburn sighed with satisfaction. “I do feel rather indulgent today. Maybe no rack until I feel inclined. Take her back to the dungeon and put her against the wall. It breaks them soon enough.”
Annabeth's War Page 12
