Beyond the Bridge

by C D Beaudin

  “I’ve watched you stitch me up throughout the week. Besides, I’m a fast learner.”

  Kaniel chuckles, patting Awyn’s shoulder. She likes the twinkle of pride in his eye, making a small smile spread across her lips.

  As Awyn knots the end of the string, the man stirs. “Oh, he’s waking up,” she says, anxious for him to wake so her curiosity can be put to rest.

  The Delcah doesn’t seem half as curious, though. Kaniel walks over from the fire, having just poured three cups of tea.

  Awyn picks up the cloth from the bowl, wringing it out again, and gently pats the freshly stitched line, watching as his eyes flutter, not quite opening yet.

  “Make sure he doesn’t move suddenly; his bones are very fragile right now.” Kaniel sits down at the table, opening a book of science and medicine, one Awyn loves. She’s had much time to read since she’s been here. She always loved reading but there weren’t many books in her cell.

  The man shakes awake, his eyes wide open. Awyn holds his arms down, looking into his eyes. “Shh, shh. It’s all right. You’re safe. Just don’t move much, okay? Your bones are broken.” Even though she’s trying to keep her tone soft, and her voice affectionate and protective, the man struggles under her grasp. “Don’t move,” she says a little firmer, looking over at Kaniel.

  He puts the book down, walking over to them, and looking into the man’s eyes which widen in shock or surprise. Maybe both. He tries to point with his finger and opens his mouth, but grimaces as the pain overcomes him, letting his arm drop.

  Kaniel smiles softly. “Hello, Aradon.”

  The girl sips on her tea as Aradon sits up on his bed and is handed a cup by Kaniel. He winces again as he moves his free arm, sipping the tea.

  “It helps the pain,” she says, and Aradon looks at her, feeling spiteful, then hands the cup back to Kaniel, who sets it on the table.

  Why is there a child here? If she interrupts our conversation I’m going to throw her out to the Dalorin. Being helpless agitates him. “Kaniel, I really need to talk to you—alone.” His teeth clench, and the girl puts a pillow behind his back, gently pushing his shoulders against it, indicating for him to lean back. He glances at her, his jaw tightening.

  This is absolutely humiliating, having a child take care of me. He sighs through his teeth. Then squeezes his eyes shut, breathing heavily as a wave of pain washes over him. He looks up at Kaniel, not really acknowledging her. “Kaniel, Hagard tells me of the princess. She escaped her cell.”

  The young girl chuckles at that, and Aradon stares at her, feeling confused and slightly angry. “What’s funny about this?” he snaps. “And who are you anyway? Mortal’s future is hanging by a thread, and finding the princess is a giant leap toward peace.”

  She bites her lip, like she’s stifling a laugh, and looks to Kaniel, who also has a stupid grin.

  “So why do you laugh?” Aradon demands.

  She holds his gaze. “Oh, no, it’s just that…well…I am the-the princess.”

  Aradon stares at her dumbfounded, and glances at Kaniel. He knew. His eyes narrow, and slightly embarrassed, he huffs. He bows his head, more out of embarrassment than respect. “Sor-ry…Your Highness,” he stammers.

  “You know, I’ve never cared for formalities. If you call me Awyn, it would be greatly appreciated.” Her whole posture changes, and her face contorts into anger as she gazes into the bowl of water. “It’s better than what those scum guards called me,” she mutters under her breath.

  “Scum guards?” Aradon asks, puzzled.

  “The ones that guarded my cell and...” Her eyes instantly fill with tears, but she looks up as if to stop them and shakes her head, like she’s snapping herself out of the memories. “Uh, so, why were you trying to find me?”

  Aradon’s confused at her sudden change of emotions. He hesitates, but then speaks of what Hagard told him. “You must take back your kingdom,” he states. “Your people won’t survive. And the legends say you are to help with the salvation of Mortal from Revera.”

  From the way the princess’ face goes blank, he can tell she isn’t quite sure what to make of his last statement. She breathes, almost sighing, but it comes out sounding like a huff. “Look, I can’t go back there.”

  Kaniel and Aradon’s faces have the same amount of shock written across them.

  “I can’t.” Her voice turns to a whisper. She bites her lip, standing up from her chair, and forces herself past Kaniel’s reaching arm and out the door.

  Awyn notes Kaniel’s hut is on the edge of the Dark Woods, so she’s relatively safe. Well, as safe as you can be in a nearly pitch-black death trap. In front of her lie the plains of Mera. Ten steps and she would be in her kingdom, but it’s not home. At least not anymore. Her dress whips in the wind as she looks out, few trees separating her and green grass. Green grass. The softness, the smell of dirt. She didn’t have time to enjoy it when she was running from the castle. Taking one step forward as a tear falls down her cheek. Then another. Her breathing becomes heavier. She passes a tree as she takes a third step. Four. Five. Six—

  “Awyn!”

  She turns around, her hair flying, and more tears fall down her face.

  Kaniel stands at the entrance of his house as Awyn looks back at the green fields, lowering her head as she turns back to the Dark Woods.

  Back inside and having prepared a stew with Kaniel’s help, she says, “Sit down, Aradon.” Kaniel smokes and Aradon tries to sneak by her and stand up but fails. He gives a huff, and a small smile grows on her face. She scoops the stew into a wooden bowl with the ladle, chunks of grayish meat plopping into the thick, brown liquid, peppered with onions and carrots. She hands a bowl to Aradon, propping him up with an extra pillow. She offers Kaniel a bowl, but he holds his hand up to say no, and Awyn pours it back into the black pot.

  Setting a bowl for herself on the table, she stares at it once she’s sitting, stirring it with her spoon, thinking of all those times she was hungry in that dark cell. It distracted her from the emotional torment the sorceress would inflict on her. And from everything going on outside the cell, namely that her uncle had betrayed her and killed her family. Hunger was her friend, it seems. She takes a deep breath.

  I don’t need my hunger anymore.

  She takes a spoonful, tasting the food for the first time in a week. She’d mostly refused Kaniel every time he offered her food during the week, but she feels ready, ready to let go of her past. At least that’s what her mind is telling her, because her heart is full of anger...and revenge. But she decided long ago that thinking with her heart would only get her hurt.

  The night is dark, and Awyn looks out of the grimy glass window, at the trees of the Dark Woods. An owl hoots, and the wind howls in the dark forest. The serenity of normal woods doesn’t show here. Instead a brooding, dark atmosphere prevails, but Awyn has gotten fairly used to it over the week. She watches as shadows pass, nervous every time one goes by, but knowing they can’t touch her in Kaniel’s hut.

  But then something else catches her eye. A flash of black. She sits up, squinting. That was not a Dalorin. Neighing fills her ears. Her eyes widen as she scrambles, looking at the smoking Kaniel, who’s staring into the fire. “H-Horses!”

  Aradon looks up from his book. He stares at her like she’s crazy.

  “Horses! And guards! Meran guards.”

  “What are you talking about?” Aradon grumbles sleepily.

  Kaniel’s eyebrow rises as if he thinks she’s also gone insane.

  “Do you not hear the neighing?” Frantic, she ducks as men on horses ride through the Dark Woods. “I thought they wouldn’t follow me here,” she mutters.

  “What are you talking about?” Aradon asks again, but then a loud yell sends Kaniel to the window, and Aradon’s mouth opens dumbly. The neighing is louder as men on horseback emerge from the trees. “Oh. That neighing.”

  Kaniel looks out the window, and his eyes widen. “Hide!” He throws a blanket and some old clothes over
Aradon, who lays as flat and lifeless as he can on the bed, and Awyn hides under the table, behind a stack of books. From her position on the floor, she can see everything.

  Kaniel watches what is undoubtedly a frantic scene. Awyn can hear the horses’ frightened braying, and the soldiers’ cries. Hooves clatter against the ground, and she gathers many soldiers are likely fleeing, for fear of the forest. Kaniel reluctantly answers when a loud, thundering knock pounds on the door. Opening it, a man is dressed in shining silver armor, with the symbol of the Everstar engraved into his breastplate. He brushes a strand of his blond hair away from his face.

  “Sir, have you seen a young girl pass this way?” Kaniel scrunches his eyebrows as if he has no clue what this soldier is talking about. The soldier rudely sticks his nose in the door, taking a peek around the hut with his eyes.

  “A young girl? Well, what does she look like?” Awyn hopes he’s putting on a good act.

  “Black hair, tall for a girl. Eighteen. Fair skin. Blood red lips. Ice-blue eyes. She’ll have a lot of bruises and cuts on her.”

  “No, I haven’t seen a young girl come around these parts since the elves. I’ll let you know if I see anything.”

  “Thank you, sir.” The thanks are rushed in a streaming line of words, barely understandable, as if the words are said a hundred times a day.

  Kaniel nods, closing the door as the guard mounts his horse, and she can hear them ride off farther into the Dark Woods. Awyn sighs in relief, and obviously Kaniel feels it too. Aradon throws back the blanket, sitting up, and Awyn rushes to him, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself.

  She swallows hard, her nerves tightly strung, and Aradon says, “They’re gone.” His face remains on hers. To her surprise, the tears glistening in her eyes don’t make him waver.

  “Yes, I know.” She turns, tripping over her dress, and falling to her knees.

  “Awyn, you’re safe,” says Kaniel, helping her to her feet.

  She puts her wrist to her mouth, blinking back tears. “I-I know. I know that.” She forces a small smile and rubs her throat. “Uh, I’m just sore, I need some water, that’s all.”

  Kaniel fetches her a cup, and she drinks it thirstily. She sighs and whispers, “That man. Oh, that awful man.”

  The sight of the guard brings back a flutter of memories Awyn would rather forget but will never be able to.

  Awyn had stood on the wooden chair, standing on her tiptoes, trying to look out the small crack in the stone walls, trying to feel the warmth of the light outside. She’d jumped a little, missing the chair, and had landed on the floor with a thud. Struggling to get up, tears had fallen down her dirty cheeks. She looked at her shaking hands, dirt and grime under the fingernails, covering her once fair skin. Awyn had pushed up her ripped, blue sleeves as they fell, like they had for three years, when they first started to fall apart.

  Looking at the wooden door, she crawled toward it, pain flooding through her body. She’d banged on the wooden surface. “Guards! Help!” The words were pain-ridden and squeaky as she swallowed back sobs. “I’ve fallen!”

  She hadn’t really been in that much pain, but she’d needed to see a human face. No one answered her plea. She stood up, falling onto her hard bed. Crying into her pillow, she’d remembered the days of her youth, when she would run in the meadows by the White City. Then the horrifying image of her father with a knife in his chest, and how she’d had to grow up too soon. Only nine-years-old and sentenced to a life no eighty-year-old could ever imagine.

  Nine years. Locked in that cell for nine years.

  And now she was eighteen.

  She should be walking through the palace grounds, her fiancé beside her, with her father and mother sitting on their thrones under the cherry tree in bloom. The cherry tree. It would have been blooming now, with pink flowers, and petals falling to the grass, dancing on their journey to the ground. Oh, how she wished she could see her parents again. And have a loving man beside her, talking about what their future could hold.

  But she’d been in that cell for so long.

  She’d jumped upright when she heard the lock being fiddled with. She stood, wincing in pain, straightening herself up. Revera had walked through the door, her red dress draped over her feet, and black hair tumbling over her shoulder. Her heels had clicked as she walked against the stone floor.

  “Why do you keep troubling me with your pitiful attempts to end your stay in this cell?” Her voice had been taunting. “I do get so tired having to come here so often. Do not make your problems mine, dear. It’s quite irritating,” her raspy voice had mocked.

  “I have not made my problems yours, nor have I wished you to come down here so often. That has been your choice.” Awyn had stood straight, looking at the sorceress as Revera walked toward her.

  “I see. Well, I would heal you like I’ve done many times in the past.” She walked close to Awyn, grasping her face with her hand, peering down her nose at her. “But it would be more fun to watch you suffer.” Her blood red lips had spat the words, and she’d pushed Awyn back to the floor, letting go of her grasp, and walked out of the room.

  Revera had gestured to one of the guards. “Haywen, take her to Lord Tamon.” She had looked back at Awyn, an evil charm in her icy blue eyes. “He has some business to take care of.” She’d smiled, her pearly teeth parting as she chuckled, walking out of view.

  The blond guard had roughly grabbed Awyn’s arm, and she’d squirmed, knowing what was about to happen to her.

  “No! Please, no!” she’d pleaded, but Haywen had yanked her forward, making her stumble. For the first time in nine years, she was out of that cell.

  In the hallway, Awyn had looked up, staring at the hundreds of stairs in front of her. She’d never forgotten how deep that cell was, down into the mountain. She was led up by the guard, one in front of her, Haywen behind her. She’d squirmed when he touched her, but he’d tightened his grip.

  A long, forceful while later, they’d gotten to the top, and Haywen had motioned to the guard to wait outside. He’d grasped Awyn’s wrist, making her face him and stared at her, a lustful look on his face.

  “It’s quite a shame I won’t be able to touch you again. I’ve enjoyed it so much through these years. Amazing how time flies by.”

  Awyn had spat in his face. “You are a dog who doesn’t deserve to live! You should crawl with the strays that infest my father’s great city.” She’d thought, if she was going to die, she might as well be true about it.

  His face had turned red with anger, slapping her across the face. Awyn had shrieked as his hand struck her, putting her fingers to her burning cheek. Haywen had pushed her through the doorway, into the main prison. Prisoners stared and gawked at her as she was shunted past them. They watched her fight and squirm, and the door closed as they’d exited the dungeon.

  A great hallway had beheld her. Gold ceilings, with magnificent crystal chandeliers. She’d looked around her. White marble walls and floors, pillars encrusted with silver had lined the walls, and red drapes flowed from the tops, revealing large windows that let in…sunlight. Awyn had pulled on the grip of Haywen, freeing herself to run to the window. She’d pressed her hand to the glass, and wonder had flooded her dead eyes.

  Green plains, as far as the eye could see. Hills. Rolling hills in the distance. Mountains. She could see the mountains! And below her, the bustling White City had been full of people. People. Her people.

  But she’d been pulled away when Haywen grabbed her arm, leading her from the window. A large set of white doors beheld her, and when Haywen pushed through them, he’d thrown her against the cold marble floor, and she’d seen she was in the Hall of Kings. More golden ceilings, carved with intricacies and hangings, the beautiful crystal in the chandeliers with gold designs catching the light. White steps had led to the two marble thrones on the low dais, where her mother and father once sat. A figure had sat in the largest one, but he was not King Daron.

  “Tamon.” The name was barely au
dible and stung her lips. Awyn had lowered her head, accepting her end had come. “Uncle.”

  Lord Tamon had stood up, walking toward her, shaking slightly. “Hello, Princess. It’s been too long.”

  Awyn had looked up at him, seeing his sword. She’d exhaled, closing her eyes. So this is how it ends, she’d thought. My blood spilled in the house of my father.

  “Awyn?” Aradon brings her out of her memories.

  “What? Oh, right. Uh, I need some fresh air.” She stands up, walking out the door.

  “No. Awyn!” Kaniel yells after her.

  But she doesn’t turn behind the hut, or toward the green plains, but walks through the Dark Woods instead. She runs, not thinking, not feeling. Black crows squawk above her, and a high-pitched scream makes Awyn cover her ears. Her eyes widen as a shadow heads straight for her, and she starts running back to the hut.

  “Kaniel!” she screams. Fifty feet to the door, she suddenly, unwillingly stops running, and a cold chill fills her body with a piercing sensation in her heart. Aradon hobbles out of the hut with his sword, and Kaniel’s right behind him, as her vision turns to ice, covering her eyes. Frozen in fear, she collapses on the ground, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, black ice covering her body. Kaniel rushes to her, holding her freezing, limp body in his arms. She can hear their words but can’t respond. She knows what’s happening, but she can’t see it.

  Kaniel’s voice sounds in the frozen blackness. “She’s turning into one of the Dalorin. She won’t make it unless we get her to the elves.”

  “But the last remaining elves are in the Kawa, and that’s at least two weeks ride on the fastest horse,” Aradon says, worry pinching his voice.

  “I have an idea,” Kaniel’s voice chimes in. “Only elf magic can save her now.”

  Awyn can feel herself being picked up, and his footsteps are fast. Then a bang of a door, and she’s on the bed. She hears the Delcah’s voice again. “Can you ride?”

  Awyn feels like she’s in a daze. She fights with all her strength to hear again, to fight into consciousness, but she can feel the ice pierce her heart and the darkness pull her in. Her breathing is heavy, and she’s gasping for air as her chest tightens, blocking her airway. It feels as if something is being ripped from her, and if the stories are right…it’s her soul.