Annatrice of Cayborne (18 page)

“I must be alone; when I do this other minds may only serve to confuse me in my efforts.” Annatrice said as she laid a hand upon the King's chest. Petrus stepped forward.

“It shall be as your word dictates.” The King's son waved everyone from the chamber including Drayk who looked displeased at missing the action. On leaving, Sophima leaned over and kissed Annatrice upon the cheek and squeezed her hand. The hopes of so many weighed heavily upon the young woman’s shoulders.

“I will need something...” Annatrice whispered in return. Sophima knew what she was referring to but she did not have anything sharp to hand.

“A candle, the pain will be fierce and the pain prolonged.” Annatrice suggested. The thought of Annatrice burning her own flesh to save her father was a profound and chilling blend of horror yet admiration. Sophima reached up to a large candle which sat upon a mounted plinth high on the wall.

“I am so proud of you.” Sophima said as she left Annatrice to her own devices and finally the King and the young girl were left alone.

Outside the chamber, a gathering collection of officials, royalty and even castle staff began to gather as if they felt they could offer their help in some way. Of course the greater the throng outside, the more difficult it would be for Annatrice to get inside the deeply buried consciousness of the comatose King. Petrus clung on to Sophima as the first cries of anguish were heard from within the small room. A second agonising wail chilled the bone all those who were spectating. The torture continued and Sophima even muttered aloud in horror as Annatrice's agonies were clearly heard if not felt by the expectant souls that were drawn to this place. The quickly drawn breaths of the seer could be heard now, the convulsions of her weeping and the high pitched whining all brought great distress to those outside and at one point Sophima broke free of her brothers grasp and stated her intent to stop the nightmare. Drayk clutched at her arm and stopped her in her tracks, there were few who would dare lay their hands on a member of the Royal family. Suddenly, every single one of the people who had gathered outside were afflicted by a curious sensation, a feeling of mutual sharing, of togetherness. Annatrice's mind was becoming more powerful by the day and Drayk's eyes widened with intrigue as he struggled to understand the curious sensation. As the people whispered amongst themselves, wondering what strange phenomena had just taken place, they had almost not noticed that the shrieks of pain had ceased. Petrus looked over to Drayk who motioned to enter the chamber and discover precisely what had happened but not before Annatrice emerged. Her face streaked with tears and her arms blackened and charred. Sophima held her hand to her mouth and most shamefully wretched as she smelled the burnt flesh.

“Oh the Gods, what have we let you do?” She spluttered realising the cost of her family's coercion.

“Bring the physician at once.” Petrus called out seeing the disturbing sight. Drayk was less sympathetic.

“And the King? Speak girl!”

Once again, a hundred eyes bore down upon her only this time; Annatrice could feel every pounding heart beat and every nervous quiver.

“The King remains in the deepest of slumbers.”

Drayk threw his hands in the air in exasperation; his demonstrative actions belied his pleasure at the King's continued inaction. Annatrice could not but help lash out despite being fearful of this man.

“I am surprised Drayk that you find this so displeasing, you have enjoyed most sincerely the thrill of command in your King's absence.”

Drayk's face stiffened and his outrage was clear yet he dare not get embroiled in this argument before the King's offspring and the collective courtiers. Drayk felt feelings of vengeance for Annatrice's defiance and she could feel his hatred pulse through her veins.

“Please, continue Annatrice, we have been shamed in standing by whilst you have suffered so greatly...” Sophima interjected. She knew Drayk was power hungry but he had been a loyal servant to the King and had led Suleyman to many a glorious victory.

“The King's thoughts are not his own to command. He is in a dream-like world, he longs to leave but it is comforting to stay. He is perplexed; he is torn between the satisfaction of oblivion and the pain of reality.”

Annatrice's account brought silence to the court.

“So we must wait whilst my father battles to be free, not knowing if he will prevail?” Petrus asked a rhetorical question, not even Annatrice knew what the outcome would be.

“The King feels safe in his world, he does not understand that his body cannot be sustained, he has no inkling that he is in peril.”

“Can you not communicate with him; tell him to escape this hellish place?” Someone unknown to Annatrice called out, a bleary eyed noble who had been pulled from his bed by an excitable servant.

“This place is not hellish, it is heavenly. It is for the King to decide when he wishes to leave. I have tried to communicate to him the dangers of remaining but his mind is not mine to control.” Annatrice did well to be coherent, she stood shaking, the distress of her pain evident.

“Perhaps you cannot bear to administer enough of the pain which feeds your vision, perhaps with some...aid, you could grow powerful enough to call out to him in his most desperate hour?” Drayk spoke and the courts whispers fell silent. No one was in any doubt what the General was angling at. Annatrice knew also what he intended.

“You seek to restrain me and torture me to the limits of my sanity.” Annatrice stated as her face began to demonstrate her intense fear of the man and her tears began again.

“No! This is outrageous!” Sophima cried out.

“Annatrice has already suffered enough. Do you not see that she has given enough to our cause already? She is innocent, she is but a child. Would you seek to destroy her for the slim hope that her powers could resurrect our King?” Sophima voiced her horror with no restraint.

“Look around you my Lady, you see a score of nobles who are indebted to our most wise and gracious ruler with their very lives. The King has brought us great fortune and peace; he is the stability from which our land flourishes. For the sake of the people of Suleyman, the King
must
be saved. Their prosperity lies in the hands of this simple girl, her powers ours to command. Forgive me if I seem dispassionate but I am a man of logic, I see the world not through the eyes of the King's progeny but through the cynical eyes of a simple soldier. If I tasked any man of Suleyman to choose between the life of the King and the discomfort of this girl, I know what their answer would be.” Drayk spoke so quietly, he need not raise his voice; he commanded the respect of many who gathered there, some had their lives to thank him for.

“Of course, it is not my decision to make...” Drayk knew that it was Petrus as heir apparent that held the final word. Sophima looked up to her tall brother who suddenly felt the weight of expectation upon his shoulders. Annatrice looked into his mind and already knew his answer, she cried out with a scream that would remain forever scored into the hearts of all those who heard it, and with that she dropped to the floor, her will to continue gone.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Annatrice awoke to the sound of shuffling feet and the inexorable restraint of iron shackles. The burning agony resumed as the melted flesh was repeatedly stripped from her wrists by the solid metal cuffs. Annatrice was laid spread-eagle upon a cold metal table, her freezing ankles also held down by similar means to her wrists. The room was gloomy but Annatrice need not open her eyes to know who shared the space and what their intentions were. As Drayk leaned over her, she could feel the stench of his malevolence and she was embittered by the fact that he was enjoying this moment. She looked at herself through his eyes, pallid and frail upon the table, his eyes wandered up and down her body. He could not resist touching her as she lay there in her underclothes, vulnerable and subdued. As the rasp of his hard skinned hand made its way from her knee to her inner thigh she screamed out and cussed him. She heard laughter from all around, a number of other figures stood around and watched the molestation.

Annatrice opened her eyes and turned her head to the audience, three or four figures lurked in the darkness. She felt their desires to take advantage of her vulnerability but understood their fears of being found out. Annatrice gritted her teeth as she delved into Drayk's savage mind and saw the brutality of his past, the slaughter of battle and the acceptance of its many spoils. She clearly understood his desire to use her for his own ends, he was fully aware that she would be an asset of great importance in the conquest of not only Araman but of the whole of the Protathaian Isles. His ambition was second only to his loyalty to his King and Annatrice thanked the small mercy that it offered. Drayk's seedy visions were vivid, he imagined taking her there and then, and he did not care if the others watched. It was with great relief however that he held back from his most animal urges; to spoil his opportunity to use her in the future would be idiotic. In his calloused hands, he held the greatest prize he had ever known. Now all he had to do was do what he did best...administer the most tortuous pain imaginable.

“Now my little flower, we will see what we will see.” Drayk's face was so close to Annatrice's that she could smell his stale odorous breath.

“Let us not get distracted from our quest, prise the King from his sleep and you will be hailed as a heroine across the land. Seek to manipulate me or one of my most talented colleagues and I will tear you limb from limb and feed you to the dogs.” Drayk was nervous about Annatrice's power to befuddle and she could feel it.

“Do not fret; the King's life is first and foremost in my thoughts.” Annatrice growled.

“But if I discover some traitorous secrets from your feeble mind in the process, I will be sure to share them with the King over a chalice of wine.”

Drayk sneered.

“Your purity astounds me; I cannot imagine what it must be to live such a chaste and wholesome existence. Fear me girl for I am one who will not succumb to your cursed powers but will thrive off them. You think that Tragian was a cruel and depraved tyrant, I promise you my lovely, his attentions are nothing to what I can offer you if you choose to cross me.”

Annatrice writhed around on the table, the room was cold and she could feel the presence of the King in an adjacent chamber.

“Get on with it!” She screamed as she was quite aware that there was no miracle which would aid her in escaping the forthcoming pain.

Drayk shuffled off into the gloom and there was a period of silence. It was then that Annatrice realised that it was not only physical pain that aided her sensitivity but emotional distress also. As the moments passed and the expectation of agony grew, she tried to disconnect her own terrified feelings and concentrate on the King. The quicker she could resurrect him the less damage Drayk could do. If she could not reach the King then only the Gods could save her from the most horrific demise.

Drayk approached, he was holding something, and there was a feeling of heat in the cold air of the chamber. Annatrice did not even have the pleasure of closing her eyes to block out the anxiety. She could not help but see herself from all angles as her vision extended to Drayk and his cohorts. She saw the red hot length of molten iron as it approached her, the residual heat growing in intensity. She shared the sickening enjoyment, the relish of being in control and then there was the pain.

Annatrice was sent into a maelstrom of darkness, tumbling over and over, every fibre of her being was alight in a searing inescapable blaze. She reached out to grab something to halt the swirling, nauseating motion. She fell to the ground with a thud and she roared in defiance as there was suddenly light all around and the world became still once more.

Annatrice was standing in a sun kissed meadow, the long grass tickled her legs and a nearby cricket chirped loudly. There was a giant tree to her left which stretched so far into the azure blue sky that its leaves were swathed in white fluffy cloud. Beneath the tree, a figure laid, hands behind his head chewing on a length of grass oozing contentment. Annatrice walked over to the man whose fresh face was familiar but markedly different.

“You look so different without the beard.” Annatrice said quizzically.

“I was not always old and fat you know.” The King replied taking the thin firm piece of grass from his mouth.

“I had never imagined...” Annatrice's words were cut short.

“Me to be so handsome? No, I suppose not. Why if I you were around when I was tearing about the castle grounds in my younger days, I would have snapped you up as my queen.” The King smiled as he sat up straight.

“What are you doing here?” He asked as if suddenly recalling who she was and looking beyond her most beautiful and intact form.

“I have come to take you back.” Annatrice said extending her hand.

“Back where? Back to my old age? Creaking knees and weak bladder? I cannot even lace my boots by myself anymore; no this is much better. I think you should stay here for a while and make merry. I should like to take you to my bed, there that is settled.”

Annatrice laughed out loud at the King's presumptuousness and his most matter of fact mannerisms.

“No, I am afraid that cannot be. You see, this is a mere illusion of your mind, there is no satisfaction in this place only grief and hardship for those who love you on the outside. I have been sent here as a last bastion of hope, for if you do not return with me then you will surely die and all of this will end.”