Annatrice of Cayborne (2 page)

“Her mind is empty, only her body remains.” Jeaynus exclaimed as he examined her more closely. Annatrice did not register the man's presence but continued to tend the horse who welcomed her gentle touch.

“Not much of a trophy for Tragian.” Heynagan said as he towered over the diminutive female.

“If he does not want her, I shan’t deny her a home.” Jeaynus replied with a hint of jest.

“Aye, I'm sure you'll tend to her every need.” Heynagan replied knowing full well that Jeaynus was not offering the devoted care of a father. Suddenly, Jeaynus' mount, previously content at being smoothed by the tiny hands of the girl threw its head back and lashed out with its hind legs, kicking Jeaynus full in the midriff and knocking him to the ground. The soldier moaned and rolled over to his hands and knees, struggling to right himself in his plate armour.

“Gods man! What happened?” He croaked, winded despite his breastplate taking most of the impact.

“Looks like your horse took offence to something.” Heynagan looked over to Annatrice who stood ghost-like, her blacked eyes staring the tall warrior in the eye for the first time. Jeaynus scrambled to his feet and stumbled towards Annatrice whose face was painted with defiance once more.

“This girl has the devil inside her.” He whispered as he grasped her jaw once more and pressed the cold nose piece of his helmet to her face.

“She has the eyes of the Gorgon, the flesh of a Siren and the stench of a witch.”

Annatrice's eyes slowly rolled upwards to look her captor in the eye, her stare cold and hateful. There was a moment when Jeaynus felt a chill, a shiver which ran through his body and caused his head to shake. The girl's eyes glazed over and defocused as if someone has disconnected her mind from reality once more. Jeaynus picked her up roughly and fairly threw her fragile body across the back side of the horse once more.

“Sooner we get rid of this the better.” He declared as Heynagan looked on with mixed emotions. The child was fragile in both body and mind and his onerous act in the house of her father was beginning to play on his mind. There were many unwritten rules in the code of war. The crime he had committed had previously been self justified by the thirst for gratification after the cold reality of battle and the foul taste of murder. Now however, when he looked upon the consequences of his actions, he felt a numbing sense of great regret. If it were not for the fact that his penitence was great enough as it was, he would have slit the child’s throat and ended her suffering there and then.

Leaving Karick in their wake and riding hard towards Tragian's estate and his prized Castle Fontayne, the storm that chased them had taken its hold over Karick and stayed a while to torment the residents. Blue skies greeted the returning soldiers and a low but pleasing sun warmed their skin as they caught sight of the gleaming spires and fortifications of Tragian's greatest asset. Set upon rising slope of a flattened valley of grassland, Fontayne was the jewel in Araman's crown and the place the weary soldiers called home. Their pace quickened as the climb to the outer walls steepened and the horse's vigorous movements were enough to awaken Annatrice from her stupor who grasped the animal's powerful form with all her might as the countryside rushed by in a blur of greens and browns. Her body was sore and her mind addled, she was tired and confused; her world had been torn apart. She knew not why her father had been slain so brutally or what these monsters had done to her in the aftermath. A single tear welled up in the corner of her eye until she bravely blinked it away, vowing to herself there and then that she would no longer be intimidated by these belligerent creatures. She closed her eyes and centred her inner strength; her terrifying journey had just begun.

CHAPTER TWO

The awe inspiring gates which signified the entrance to the compound swung slowly open as the riders approached. Annatrice's head was heavy and she struggled to keep any sense of perspective as her tense body no longer fitted the smooth and muscular curves of her captor's horse. The soldiers thankfully brought their steeds to a gentle trot as they entered and Annatrice strained her neck to look up and around her new surroundings.

A muddy courtyard populated by small groups of training soldiers and other more casually attired folk milling around was immediately apparent. The high crenulated walls which surrounded it were even more startling. The child had never seen such an architecturally advanced structure. Inside each wall were towers, walkways and clusters of assorted machinery and although Annatrice could not identify them, they looked to the young girl to be otherworldly and quite captivating. As the horses were pulled to a halt and pivoted on the spot, Annatrice lay eyes on the grand centrepiece, Tragian's keep. A formidable building, tall enough almost to touch the clouds above, its shadow loomed large over the compound, blotting out the light of the sun. Its façade was wide and flat, imposing and dominant. It was a place that offered a sense of foreboding and Annatrice instantly took a dislike to the dreaded construction.

Jeaynus dismounted and tied the horse to a post outside a series of stables. A young boy of similar age to Annatrice approached and tended to the weary animals. He glanced over at Annatrice who remained prone and tightly clasping the mare's haunches and gave her a toothy grin. She replied with a puckered sneer and an exaggerated look away as if to exhibit her disdain. She felt the strong arms of Jeaynus pulled her down from the tall animal and her bare feet once more felt the cold squelch of a muddy track. Her knees buckling, she almost toppled over initially and she reached out for the animal to gain her balance. Heynagan had also dismounted and he walked around to her and looked down at his victim with a curiously circumspect face.

“Do you speak?” He asked his voice distinctly less gravelly than before. Annatrice looked up at him and then turned her head away. She found it difficult to look into his eyes without lashing out with hate for the things he had done.

“She's mute. Afflicted with some curse no doubt.” Jeaynus growled as he recalled his bruised ribs.

“No, she is just scared.” Heynagan added attempting to look into the child’s dark eyes. There was something very curious about her eye colouration that Heynagan had noticed previously but not lingered upon. Her pupils were black and deep, wide and hollow. They seemed to dominate her eyes and Heynagan wondered if they were purely a natural phenomena.

“She is scared now? Wait till Tragian gets his hands on her!” Jeaynus boomed and Annatrice skin crawled. What other tortures would she have to face before this ordeal was over?

“Hold your tongue Jeaynus. She has suffered enough.” Heynagan's demand caught his associate by surprise.

“The lack of war has slackened your bladder Heynagan. You are growing soft in your advancing years.” It was clear that the two soldiers had been close friends for a long time and had fought their way through many trials and tribulations.

“Come; let us get this over with. The day has been too long and I yearn the taste of ale and the comfort of a woman.” Jeaynus was more jovial now their deed was done.

Annatrice was firmly grasped around the wrist and pulled along through the compound towards the towering keep. Annatrice was small for her years but her form seemed even more slight as they approached the behemoth of Tragian's rule. Passing a guard of more footsore soldiers, Annatrice felt the cold stone floor on her feet as they entered through another grandiose portal. The air instantly smelt of revelry and riches. The roasting suckling pig aroma wafted through the building like an elixir of mouth-watering and there was too a smell of aromatic herbs and spices, honey and clove. The brightness of the day gave in to the relative darkness of the tower and before she knew it, Annatrice was climbing a seemingly never ending mountain of winding stone stairs, the like of which she had never seen. Her captors pace was indefatigable, her own limbs did not carry the same power or will to move at such speed. Jeaynus yanked her wrist several times, almost lifting the girl off her feet at one point as the compact and darkened space accompanied by the incessant motion of moving around and around sent the young girls mind into a nauseating dizziness. Eventually after scaling a considerable height, the staircase ended and a small corridor presented itself with another lavishly ornate door at the end of it.

“Now wipe your feet on the mat. When the king addresses you, kneel before him. Do not speak unless he asks something of you and do not dare say anything out of turn otherwise to your neck an axe will fall.”

Heynagan made it quite clear to Annatrice who had yet to utter a sound what was to be expected from her; however this king of whom Annatrice had heard many foul stories deserved little or no respect from her at all. Indeed from his lofty position he had decreed that her father be slain for as petty a crime as trivial but derogatory small talk. Annatrice shuddered at the thought of showing any kind of servitude to this murderous noble.

Jeaynus rapped on the door with the hilt of his sword which he half extracted from its sheath. The heavy studded wooden door creaked open and there was a sudden waft of aromatic cuisine and the sound of music and laughter. A well dressed man presented himself and looked the soldiers up and down then looking down upon the slender girl whose dress was stained and her hair matted and dank.

“We've come to present the spoils of battle to the Regis.” Jeaynus announced nervously. The grey haired man of the court raised his eyebrows. He had an air of nobility about him, a superior pose which seemed to invite respect.

“Not much of a prize is it!” The man hissed shattering any illusion of grandeur he might have attained by his appearance. Heynagan stepped forward.

“Nevertheless, our orders are to bring back all girls of an age for his Lordship's pleasure.”

The man of the court once again looked Annatrice up and down and flicked her long straight hair away from her face causing the girl to repel from his touch.

“Charming creature. Fine. Wait here.”

The man closed the door rudely in Heynagan's' face and a minute of silent waiting ensued, Jeaynus shifting his weight across his feet, his armour’s bulk beginning to tell. Heynagan placed a hand on Annatrice's shoulder. She looked up at him with ponderous eyes. She could not tell whether she had somehow gained affection from him or whether he was just fearful for her in the coming moments. Either way, Annatrice knew that despite his previous actions, he was the only spark of minimal comfort that she had remaining to her.

The door was prised open once more and the three were waved in by an impatient hand. The fine dark blood red carpet which adorned the chamber felt like the warm fur of a rabbit upon Annatrice's toes and she looked down upon the great expanse of colour with some surprise. A large chamber awaited them, a large lengthy dining table and numerous chairs and a roaring open fire. A small group of well attired people, both men and women stood around the fire making merry with flagons of ale or other more refined beverages. In the centre, a small wiry figure of a man was clearly the main attraction as his guests fluttered around him like nervous butterflies. His body was robed in dark purples and gold thread and a dark moustache which was finely preened sat upon his top lip in a quite unnatural fashion.

“What do we have here?” He inquired, his voice tinged with the hint of excitement and the subtle tones of a more sinister kind.

The soldiers walked slowly to within a distance of the kind and halted, taking to one knee. Heynagan attempted to drag Annatrice to do likewise but she repelled his attempts with a defiant tug away from his grasp.

“As requested Sire, the traitor Taurlin of Cayborne has been disposed of. I present to you his daughter of...unknown name Sire.”

Tragian pranced over like an exuberant pony, his guests following him as if hanging on to his every word with extreme interest.

“Yes, another opponent to my legacy falls to the gutter. When will these people learn?” Tragian's entourage laughed as one as the king lapped up the appreciation of his quip.

“This specimen is the traitors cursed offspring then...fascinating...she has the appearance of a peasant but the eyes of a cat, almost a nobility in her defiant gait. A curious article. Tell me girl, who do you believe to be the rightful ruler of Araman?”

Tragian's question was met with silence as Annatrice felt compelled not to appease him with flattery.

“My, what no tongue? Or do I take your silence as treason?”

Tragian's casual tone belied his malignant intentions, Annatrice was not so foolish as to incur his wrath but her anger was such that she could not help herself.

“I have a tongue, I just choose not to offer esteem to one who has no right to demand it.” Annatrice's voice was childlike but her words showed a maturity beyond her diminutive stature. Heynagan's hand took to his forehead with astonishment as the girl finally spoke. Her words were not that of the wretch he had initially taken her for and he suddenly realised that he had defiled a young woman who had the wisdom to understand fully the crime he and his associate had committed. Tragian's face was a picture. His courtiers all drew a collective gasp and awaited their rulers verdict.

“Oh what a delightful surprise! Rather like a double yoked egg, who would have thought such well chosen yet wholly unwise words could fall out of such a young mouth. Tell me child, what would you say to me as the sharpened blade of an axe began to fall to sever your pretty head from your shoulders?”