Chapter 14

Our next trip to Avivia was to be one of service and goodwill. Aria was determined to appease her restless subjects by the border. She was preparing in earnest to take the throne and wanted to win their allegiance. I felt like she was a highly competent leader. She cared about her people and wanted the best for them. She worked tirelessly to ensure that all her subjects were employed and fed.

Father had suggested a tour of the kingdom during which Aria and Islandrians together showed a unified front and gave out supplies to the villages. It was a common practice in our country, usually undertaken by Curtis. It was one of the primary reasons that he was so popular.

When Father, Curtis, and I reached Avivia along with all the guards, we found Aria in good spirits, excited that she would be able to reach out to her people and show some support. We had wagons packed with food, clothes, tools, and gifts for those we met, and looked forward to being able to listen to their concerns. Knowing what success these trips had in Islandria, we were confident that the people would be overjoyed to see us and receive the gifts.

Curtis, Aria, and I traveled at the front of the caravan, with Father, several delegates, and another translator bringing up the rear. The guards would follow further behind to show that we were friendly. We certainly didn’t want to give the idea that we were trying to use an army to look intimidating. Our first stop was at a small fishing village near the castle. Curtis was eager to talk with the locals, and his dreadful Avivian grammar coupled with his heavy Islandrian accent made him most popular with the small children, who crowded around him, giggling about his pronunciation and trying to get him to say complicated words.

Aria discussed the current issues with the adults. Many expressed concerns about the growing population and limited land, and about the Islandrians being hostile toward their families and friends closer toward the border. But being far from the border, close to the castle, and after we had distributed some gifts, everyone seemed content with our presence.

Our tour of the kingdom was to take a week, and as the days slowly passed, I noticed a trend. The closer to the Islandrian border we got, the less receptive the locals were to us being there. Aria and the other members of the Avivian Council had to head up the procession, since the Islandrian lighter skin earned us dirty looks and fists shaken at us. With every village we left, my anxiety grew. But we were nearly done. Just three days left, and we would be able to go home. Just two more days. One more day, and we would be able to leave and go back to Islandria where I would feel safe again.

I will never forget the dreadful last day of our trip. We were on our way to visit one of the last towns early in the morning, with Curtis, Father, and I bringing up the rear of the wagon train, when we heard yells and screams from the front of the caravan. Father spurred his horse into a gallop, and raced to the front to find out what was wrong. It didn’t take long for me to find out.

A band of angry locals had come out of the trees around the trail bend and attacked the wagon train. Armed with clubs, bows and arrows, and torches, men had begun to strike down the wagon train drivers, pull supplies out of the wagons, or else set everything on fire. Curtis and I saw them coming down the line toward us.

Panic set in. I saw the men coming but was frozen with fear. Should I run? Get my bow and arrows? Try to reason with the horde of men? But this band seemed beyond reasoning. Terrified, I looked at Curtis beside me. He had reined in his horse close to a wagon, and was reaching behind the headboard for his weapons.

He saw me rooted to the saddle, paralyzed by indecision, and yelled, “Don’t stay here, Truly! Go! Go get the guards!”

I wheeled my horse about, but more men had poured out from the trees behind us. We were trapped. I knew the guards must be close, but there was no way to reach them. Or were they all dead by now?

Screams tore at the air, and it was these anguished cries that jolted me into action. I reached down and pulled up my bow and arrows, the ones I thought I would never need to use. Curtis, now at my back, needed what little protection I could offer.

I loaded my bow. “Stay back, or I will shoot!” I called in Avivian to the oncoming men. They saw me, and didn’t stop, but continued straight toward me. I called once more, praying they would obey, but to no avail. I squeezed my eyes shut, hating what I had to do.

I began firing my arrows. I only had time enough for a few arrows, and knew I had to make each one count. In a panic, I released them as quickly as I could, trying to protect myself, Curtis, and the unarmed wagon train driver next to me. I hit three of the men, and two other arrows missed. By now, the crowd of angry men were closing in fast. After my last arrow hissed away, I wanted to retreat, but to where? We were surrounded. One of the men waved a torch and Storm, terrified, reared back wildly. I was thrown from her back and landed hard on the ground. I covered my head with my arms as Storm’s hooves pounded away.

One man with a scar down his face pulled me up by my hair. “Islandrian scum,” he growled in my ear, and yanked me back toward the group of attackers. My eyes watered with pain as the scarred man dragged me over to a nearby tree and slammed me into it. Stars popped in front of my eyes as I blinked furiously to clear my head.

“Leave her alone!” I heard Curtis cry out.

I tried fiercely to break free of the man’s grasp, but he was far stronger than I was. My efforts did no more than amuse him as he roughly tied me to a tree. Looking beyond him, I saw the wagon train driver laying on the ground, several arrows protruding from his body and blood pooling around his unmoving body. I screwed my eyes shut, trying to block out the scarring image, then wretched as my insides heaved their contents forward, spattering the scarred man’s boots.

Leaping back in disgust, the man pulled a torch from one of his comrades and approached me with a nasty smile spreading slowly over his face. “Let’s teach this Islandrian a lesson, boys!” he called to the group at large. The men gave up a sickening cheer. My entire body was tied tightly to the tree, and I couldn’t move anything other than my head.

I screamed over and over. I simultaneously wanted the others to get to safety, but also for the guards, Father, Curtis, anyone to come save me from the scarred face leering sickly over me. A harsh, strong slap to my face broke through my thoughts and made me gasp for air as I felt the side of my head beginning to swell from the force used.

“Nobody is here to save you, lassie,” the man growled. “They will all be dead soon. You too.”

My brain raced in overdrive as I felt panic begin to take over my body, overwhelming my senses. I forced my eyes forward, refusing to look at the driver’s dead body. I knew it was only a matter of time before they killed me too. Would they torture me first?

“Guards! Over here!” I screamed out suddenly, defiantly, hoping my voice would lead them to me, scare my attackers, anything. Why? Why didn’t we keep the guards right with us? Why were we stupid enough to think that not having guards would make us seem more friendly? Of course it would put a target onto us!

The scarred man slapped me again, even harder than before. Blood began trickling from my mouth, and the bark of the tree I was tied to scratched the side of my head as I was hit.

“Got a feisty one, eh Garrit?” another man, squat with a droopy eyelid, came loping from the group over to the scarred man. The squat man grinned evilly, revealing a mouth full of jagged, broken, and blackened teeth. “She is a pretty one, this lass!” he leered at me. He was too close. I could smell his putrid breath. “Got a kiss for me, sweet?”

I spat into his face.

Several other men were gathering around the scarred face man and the squat man with broken teeth now. They laughed as the squat man wiped my blood and saliva from his face. “Alright boys, who wants to have some fun?” the scarred man yelled.

A cheer that turned my stomach went up, as the men began coming closer, wielding clubs, torches, swords, and other weapons.

“Help!” I screamed frantically, desperately. “Help! Someone help! Help me!”

I was slapped again and this time, someone from behind me yanked my hair painfully so I couldn’t even move my head.

Even over the roaring in my ears, I could hear Curtis shouting “No! No, No! Truly!”

“Curtis!” I screamed back, unable to see anything but the mass of foul-smelly bodies pressing forward.

The squat man chuckled softly and said, “No help is coming missy. Is that your boyfriend? We will take care of him in just a minute. Just after we take care of you.” Then I saw the scarred man approaching, bringing with him the burning torch.

Nearer and nearer he came, leering as he tauntingly waved the flaming branch in front of my face as a roar of approval came up from the men gathered around. I could feel the heat radiating off the torch and knew what my captor planned to do.

“Shame that your boyfriend won’t have a pretty face to look at anymore,” he leered, indicating the torch’s dancing light. “Not that you are long for this world anyway.”

I pulled against my unyielding bonds as much as I could, desperate to get away from the insufferable heat. As much I was trying to hold them back, tears began to slowly leak out of my eyes. My head was filled with a high-pitched whine of panic as I began to hyperventilate.

I knew it was coming, but that didn’t help at all. It made it worse. Time seemed to slow down. The scarred man held the hungry flame against my face.

The agony was indescribable. Every fiber of my body seemed to explode in protest of the blazing fire against my face. I tried to pull my head away from the flames, yanking against my bonds as hard as I could, but the men only laughed and kept the torch on my skin.

My eyes watered, smoke choked at my lungs, and I screamed as I had never screamed before in my life. And yet the torch remained on my skin, burning everything it could reach.

My hair caught on fire. I felt a heavy blow break my left arm as someone smashed a club into it. I thrashed about wildly, eyes rolling madly, screaming endlessly, trying to relieve any of the all-consuming pain.

Suddenly, the torch dropped, and the men were scattering as new shouts joined the rest. The guards had caught up at last! I smelled the acrid scent of my burning hair as my eyes began to roll and eyelids flutter. Darkness was taking over my body in wave after wave of pain.

Just as I thought I would pass out from the agony, I saw a group of Islandrian guards running in my direction. Curtis sprinted at the front, leading everyone toward me. He was bleeding from his own wounds, but he ignored his injuries and rushed to my side. I vaguely remember him smothering the flames and cutting me from the tree before I slipped into a blissful blackness, oblivious to all else.