Droplets (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 1) (30 page)

29. Flight

A loud pounding thud throbbed inside my head. Trying to press it out, I squeezed my eyelids tighter but it only grew louder in resistance. Slowly, my mind grappled with what surrounded me. A familiar pain to my midsection brought back the previous moments in a flash and I opened my eyes quickly.

     The sight was exactly what I expected. Morven’s shiny black boots rang against the stone floor and my heart accelerated as I remembered the darkness, the fear, the sorrow, and, most of all, the cries of Patrick as I was led away.

     Slung over Morven’s shoulder like a rag doll, I watched as his feet ascended a staircase easily. For only a moment I hung in despair as I let the emotions of the torture Patrick had been through and the pain in his voice wash over me. But once Morven stepped into a dimly lit hallway, the floors cleaner than those down in the dungeon, I realized the advantage I had.

     Lifting my head slightly, without shifting my weight on his shoulder, I took in our surroundings. Thinking I could keep track, I began to count the turns and pathways in my head, but they all looked so similar I began to lose track. Tears of frustration welled inside my eyes and rolled quickly into my hair as I hung upside down.

     With each step of Morven’s boots I could hear Patrick’s last words to me. It was like an echo of desperation from his soul to mine.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…
.    

     Just as the despair almost consumed me, a sudden ghostly light flicked over us. I lifted my head, hope spurning in my chest. There was a window, a window filled with the most beautiful light I had ever seen. A doorway to freedom.

     The window was small, and lonely, but it’s very presence rekindled my desire to save Patrick’s life. The ghostly light poured in, its direct source the moon, and my heart soared with joy.

     With more concentration than before, I began to count the turns Morven made. With each turn I repeated the entire list in my mind and found that I could remember them all. Satisfaction throbbed through my pounding temples.

     Morven mumbled as he walked, his movements agitated, but I was too concerned with the moves he made to worry about what he might be saying. His feet began to slow suddenly and then I heard the dreaded sound of a familiar creaking door.

     The hope I had recently felt plummeted. Why had I been so stupid? I should have known he would bring me back here.

     Pushing the door all the way open, Morven thundered into the stone bed chamber which had been my prison for the last eleven days. Lifting me off his shoulder unceremoniously, he threw me onto the overly large bed. I crashed into the mattress with a jolt, and a sharp pain shot through my head, but I remained limp, wanting him to think I was unconscious still.

     He stood over me, his breathing heavy and violent. With all the control I could muster, I forced myself to remain still and not give myself away. Then he suddenly disappeared. His boots retreated and the door slammed with finality, confirming my returned state as prisoner. The loud crack of the heavy wood made my head throb in pain and I pressed a hand to my temples. 

     With a choking sigh I lay back on the mattress, careful to keep the huge knot on the back of my head out of contact with the bed. A sigh of frustration broke through my lips. Knowing the way out and not being able to obtain it was only more distressing. As I lay there, I thought of a plan, but everything relied on the door not being locked and there was no such way for me to get out.

     Piercing through my thoughts was a mumbled voice. Sitting up with a jolt, my hair swung around my face, but my ears perked to hear more. I grimaced from sitting up so quickly, but hastened to listen for the voice again. I had never been able to hear voices inside the room before.

     There it was again, muffled, but clearly a voice.

     Slowly hopping off the bed, I crept forward toward the door. The closer I got, the wider my eyes became in disbelief. Between the door and the wall was a small crack, a sliver of torchlight from the chamber outside.

     With my breath caught in my throat, I wondered how it had opened. Thinking back I thought of the way Morven had slammed it shut, of the way he had been mumbling to himself. His distracted mind seemed to be on my side. A sly smile, like I had never had before, spread over my lips; I had the chance to do what must be done.

     “It’s all rather strange.” I crouched down next to the door to listen, as though it would keep me more hidden from the voices that were coming closer. “Do you have any idea what he’s doing?” Gell’s voice was familiar to me, and his curiosity was blatant.

     “Not really,” a woman said, her voice soft and honeyed, smooth like slippery silk.

     The footsteps stopped just outside my door. They began to speak in hushed tones now that their voices were the only thing in the corridor. I strained further to hear what they said. 

     “All I know is what Bolrock told me.” There was a long silence while Gell and I waited for the woman to continue. “Marina was taken from her room the other night and put in a cell right next to Patrick.” The way she said his name made the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. Something about the way she spoke of him made me fear for his life even more.

     “Bolrock was standing guard when it happened,” she said to confirm her story, but then a hard laugh escaped her mouth. “Do you know what he said? He told me that, like the old legends, he could actually feel her power.” She laughed harshly again in disbelief. I bit my lip from where I crouched in the shadows. 

     “Then what happened?” Gell prodded anxiously.

     “Nothing
has
happened yet, but I will tell you the plans.” The woman baited Gell with her voice and I could picture him in my mind, so eager to hear her words. “Morven told Bolrock what he’s planning. He’s going to take Marina out of her cell, as though she is condemned. He wants Patrick to see her being led to her death.”

     My heart thundered, wondering just what motive Morven had behind all of this.

    “But why?” Gell asked, clearly as confused as I was.

     “Look,” the woman began, sounding irritated as though Gell was wasting her time, “Bolrock has been at every single one of the human’s beatings.” I winced, remembering the bruises and cuts along Patrick’s arm. “He said that no matter how hard they beat him, he wasn’t giving in. That’s why Morven has been so irritated lately.”

     “But what do the human’s beatings have to do with Marina?”

     “It’s rumored that Marina and the human are in love.” The woman whispered the words, her voice slicing through the dank hallway like a knife. My heart pounded heavily in response. “I was there to see it all in Lathmor. I was the one who caught her actually.” The memory of the dark-haired, thin woman popped into my mind and shivers ran through my spine. Her name was Verna.

     “Bolrock believes that Morven is trying to blind Patrick with pain. He wants to take away everything he has.”

     My breathing accelerated as I realized what had happened. Verna and Gell might be unaware that these events had already occurred, but I knew.
I knew
.

     I had seen it unfold. I realized now that all of it had been a plan, a well-crafted plan. Morven had kissed me only to give him a reason to take me to the dungeon. It was a way for me to think him angry enough with me that I would not find it suspicious. Somehow he had known I would hit him.

     My hands shook as I further realized what had just occurred. The reason I was put beside Patrick, the reason I was led away like a criminal, and the reason he had made me scream in the dark chamber was all for one reason.

     He wanted Patrick to think I was dead.

     Anger coursed through my veins as the treachery and awful horror of what Morven had done crashed into my mind with clarity. My plans immediately changed. I couldn’t escape, not now. Patrick had to see me alive, he had to know I was still living.

     I had to get down there, somehow, some way. I must.

     Waiting in the darkness, Verna and Gell finally retreated. As soon as I could no longer hear their footsteps, I bounded to the dark wardrobe and grasped the heavy brass handles. Moving quickly, I pulled out the heavy dark cloak and secured it over my shoulders.

     Reaching forward, I pulled on the wooden drawer and it slid toward me silently. Snatching up the solid hunting knife still resting in its sheath, I drew the hood of the cloak over my golden hair and slipped like a ghost over to the ominous door. Needing my hands to be free, I slid the knife into my corset. It was enclosed in a secure spot, but close enough so I could quickly grasp it if needed. Thinking of the blades I would be up against was almost enough to keep me from walking out the door.    

     I pulled the door open slightly, thankful that the small movement didn’t force a loud squeal from the creaky bolts. When the space was just big enough to fit through, I took a deep breath and slithered into the flickering hallway.

     Glancing both ways, I saw no one, but drew the cloak closer about my person for protection. I moved as quietly as possible, but my feet pattered loudly on the stones. Aches and sores from the night before protested, but I ignored them—the pounding and fear in my heart was of more concern.

     Counting the passages carefully and whipping around corners with the black dress and cloak billowing about my person like a shrouding shadow, I finally reached the moonlit corridor. The very sight of the natural light sent a pang through my soul again.
Oh, to see outside these walls
.

     Breaking into my reverie were the sounds of approaching boots. My heart rate escalated as I dashed to the first door I saw, hoping it would be unlocked. It let me pass through easily, and although I wanted to shut the door completely I was afraid the click would alert the intruder to my whereabouts. Grasping onto the handle with a shaky hand, I held the door as securely as I could. A small sliver of moonlight filtered into the closet and I could make out a thin glimpse of the hallway. With my heart hammering in my chest, I waited.

     The feet approached and as their faces passed I saw who they were. I had never seen the mermaid before, but the blonde merman was the one guard who had looked at me so disgustingly the night before. He was the one I recognized from the night I was changed. Could this be Bolrock? 

     Their conversation was low and of no importance. I pressed a hand to my mouth to keep my breathing from being heard. In the shadows, I waited patiently for them to move along. A loud yell of alarm came suddenly from above us.

     Bolrock and the mermaid stopped in their tracks right in front of my door. They turned to face the way they had come, their expressions as cautious as I was worried. 

     Pounding down the halls came the scurrying of heavy boots and through my small crack I saw Gell come flying into view around the corner of the hallway. He ran at full speed, almost knocking into Bolrock and the mermaid. With one strong snatch, Bolrock grasped Gell by the arm and brought him to a halt. 

     “Whoa! Slow down there, Gell,” his voice boomed loudly.

     “Let go!” Gell yelled frantically as he tried to tug free of the merman’s sturdy grip. The tiny blonde mermaid laughed. Gell looked like a child between the two of them.

     “Did I not just tell you to attend to Marina?” Bolrock asked harshly. My eyes widened.

    
Gell knew.
My window of opportunity was gone. He knew I had escaped.

     “But she’s gone!” Gell’s voice was loud and echoed in the empty hallway. Both merfolk stared at him as though he had gone mad. “Check for yourself if you need to,” he said, shrugging off Bolrock’s hand, “But believe me there’s no one in that room. She is gone. She escaped somehow!”

     “Go and tell Lord Morven. Now!” Bolrock pointed toward the end of the hall I had been heading to only moments ago. My pathway to the dungeons was cut off.

     Without a word, Gell sprinted forward as fast as his stocky legs could carry him.

     “LORD MORVEN!” he yelled, his cry echoing against the walls.

     “Ressa,” Bolrock spoke quickly, his words flowing in a stream of commands. “Alert everyone of Marina’s disappearance. I will go and warn the guards. I don’t think she’s made it outside yet, but she is clearly more cunning than we realized. Shut this down before she makes it to the ocean. We don’t want her reaching Tunder and his soldiers.” A bubble of hope threatened my soul; were the Lathmorians just outside these walls?

     “Yes, brother,” Ressa said formally as she turned to run back the way she had come. Bolrock stood for a moment longer and then followed his sister out the corridor.

     I would have thought that my heart would relax when they left, but it was thundering louder than ever before. I was on a precipice, a moment of decision in which I could fall one way or the other.

     I could try and make it to the dungeon to let Patrick see me, but what were the chances that I would make it?

     Or I could flee. Frozen where I stood, I tried to decide. It was impossible to think of letting him suffer my apparent death. What would he do? What could he be thinking?