A note from the author: Hello readers! No I haven't forgotten you. I've just returned from my vacation and I am in love with Europe. Germany in particular. It is so beautiful there. Ok, enough from me. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. An author thrives on constructive criticism. Now, without further ado,
Chapter 6 Escape
I'm not dead.
Why am I not dead?
I should be dead, shouldn't I?
Cautiously, I opened my eyes and gazed around me, searching for some clue. HE was no longer standing above me. Upon closer inspection of the room, I found him crumpled against the opposite wall, unconscious. What the #&!! just happened? Never mind, I don't care. Whatever it was just saved my life . . . as long as I can get out of here.
Quickly forming a slapdash plan, I retrieved my shoes from the corner where they had been tossed weeks ago and ran around to the door. I pounded on it urgently, then hid to the side and waited.
Seconds later the door was flung open and my guards entered. Upon seeing their fallen king, they rushed to his side. And I slipped out the door and into the hallway, pushing the titanic pain that coursed through my soul into the furthest reaches of my consciousness, knowing full well that I would have to deal with it sooner or later.
Left or right? Which way? Left or right? Ok, there's only one way to settle this. Eene, meenie, miney, moe. Right it is. Hurrying as fast as my body would allow, I made my way through the maze of corridors, hiding whenever I heard someone approaching. Every nerve was on edge. Every sound sent me scurrying for shelter.
I didn't think anyone had noticed my absence yet, but I didn't expect my luck to hold; especially with my wounds bleeding freely again and the back of my dress ripped away, not to mention the limp that I was trying so hard to hide.
Soon, much to my excitement, I found an abandoned cloak. I tore away a good six inches at the bottom so it wouldn't drag, and used that material to bandage up several of my more serious cuts. Pulling up the hood, I felt less exposed, and merely turned my face away when others passed, instead of cowering in the shadows.
How does anyone get around down here? I thought as I ran into yet another dead end. I was about to retrace my steps when a voice from behind stopped me dead in my tracks.
"Hey, wot' you think yer doin' down 'ere?" D#n, so close! I slowly turned around, trying to figure out a way around him without giving myself away.
"I arsked you a question. Now, wot are you doin' 'ere?" Taking care to keep my face shielded by the hood, I attempted to walk nonchalantly around him, like I'd just taken a wrong turn, but he caught my arm. I winced and spun around to face. . . Rog?
"Hey, don' I know you?" I pulled back the hood and let him see my face. No use hiding now. "You, it 'tis you. I'd a wondered wot happened to you. Yer the one theys lookin' fer, idn'it? I dunno what you done, but you sure pissed off somebody. The entire guard's lookin fer you. Good thing I got ya first, idn'it?" Yeah, you get to be the big hero. The one who brought her back. I didn't try to fight him as he led me through another maze of corridors. What was the use? Why try to fight fate?
But instead of leading me back to my cell, or the "interrogation room," as I had taken to calling it, he led me to a . . . tapestry. A threadbare, faded tapestry that showed a family running down a hill, away from their burning house. Not the usual scene, but it captured my attention nonetheless. I sent him a quizzical glance. Can we just get this over with?! I thought angrily.
But then he did something surprising. He lifted the edge of the hanging, exposing the entrance to a dark tunnel. I snapped my attention back to Rog, my face a mask of confusion and gratitude.
"This should take ya' to the edge a' the city, from ther, stick ta the woods and ye'll be fine. Take care a yerself kid, I've a feelin that you've a great destiny ahead a ya." I flung my arms around him for the briefest moment and then I was gone, scurrying quietly down the dark tunnel, which seemed to go on for ages, until I finally saw a speck of light at the bottom of the wall. This would be my exit. Since I had no idea where I was, I laid myself flat against the floor and looked through the space between the stones. It was dark, but I could distinctly make out a gate directly across the road. A city gate. Freedom.
Checking both ways to make sure the coast was clear, I squeezed myself through the tiny opening and sprinted across the road, fumbling the door open. There, across the field, was the safety of the trees.
Gathering up my last ounce of strength, I made a mad dash for the woods, only slowing when I could no longer make out the lights of the city in the distance. I kept going, not daring to stop for fear of being caught, even when my muscles were threatening to give out, and my feet became numb from trudging through the snow drifts.
Finally, the edges of my vision became blurred, and the ground suddenly pitched forward, and I was welcomed into the warm oblivion of sleep.
"Is she alright? What happened to her do you think?"
"I dunno, but she's in pretty bad shape. Let's get her back to the wagons and let Mary see what she can do."
"Alright, but how are we going to explain this to Ben? You know how he reacted to the last one we drug back."
"Aw, he's always like that. You watch, in a week he'll have her 'driving' the wagon for him."
"Alright, let's get her up, on the count of three. One, two, three." I was barely aware of the voices swimming around me. It didn't even register in my mind that these voices might have belonged to bad people, people who might have took me back
I awoke next, warm and sore, covered by a mound of quilts in an unfamiliar place. I tried to remember how I got here, but the memory wouldn't surface. Then it all came back in a rush: the ransom, Rog helping me escape, the voices.
The voices. Somehow they had made me feel safe, welcomed. No, that's impossible. You're a wanted girl. There's nowhere safe for you. Not now. Think, Danielle. . .no, not Danielle. Danielle is as good as dead. An idea began forming itself in my head. I need a new name. But what? Oh, so many to choose from. It's amazing how well I can think in this condition. Why, I bet I could think the alphabet backwards—wait, off subject, sorry. Ok. What are my choices? Well, I'll want to pick something close to my real name. . .Oh. I was struck by a sudden realization. She knew. That's why she made up that game. She knew I would have to change my name, didn't she? How? Oh, never mind. So what are my choices? Let's see. How many ways could I change Josephine Daniella Nicole de Barbarie? Danni...no, too close. Nicole…nah, doesn't sound right. Sophie? Yea, Sophie. I like it, it fits me. Sophie it is. A smile found its way onto my face.
"Well, don't you look good for a girl who's just had the holy tar beat out of her." I looked around for the owner of the voice and found a young woman, about twenty years old with her short, reddish-brown hair pulled back in a kerchief, and her wide, angular features twisted into a half-smile. She was crouched near my feet with a pan of water and a sponge poised above a wide gash in my calf.
"I'm happy to see you're finally awake, but you are probably going to wish you weren't right now. I've had to re-open this wound and several others to clean them out and prevent you from contracting an infection. All of your joints are back into place, so that should feel better, though this is going to hurt like no other, so feel free to scream if you wish." Ha, ha, haaaaaoooooooowwwww! I curled my hands into fists, my fingernails digging into the flesh of my palms. You would have thought I was used to this by now, but apparently not. Or maybe that wasn't just water she was using.
"Hun, are you still with me?" She stared intensely at my face for a few seconds. "Can you tell me what your name is?" I shook my head. "Scheißa, I thought as much," she mumbled to herself. "Kid, can you speak at all?" I shook my head and turned my face away from hers, unable to bear the look of pity that I knew I would see there.
"Hmm." I could hear her tapping her chin in thought and I turned back to look at her. Focusing her attention back at me, she made several strange motions with her fingers and then looked at me like she was waiting for the answer to some unspoken question. I just gave her a blank stare.
" . . and apparently you don't know Traveler either. This is going to be more difficult than I thought. Oh well, I'm always up for a challenge," she said more to herself than to me. "Here, drink this and get some sleep, you don't want to be conscious for the rest of this." Grabbing for the cup, I downed the contents and drifted back into a dreamless sleep.
When I awoke again, the sun was starting to dip low in the sky. I quickly took stock of my pain and found that most of it was. . .gone. I could move most of my limbs without pain. Now, I was able to take stock of my surroundings. And my surroundings were. . . crowded. I was in a Gypsy wagon, reminiscent of the gypsy wagons that I had read so much about, surrounded by all of the earthly belongings of, I supposed, Mary. Speak of the devil, I thought as a familiar red-headed face poked through the door at the rear.
"Ah, so you've finally awaken have you? You've been out a while child. I thought you'd never come around.I brought you something. Wanna' know what it is? Of course you do, you're a kid, all kids love gifts. Well, you're gonna love this one." She jumped inside and proudly produced a battered chalkboard and a miniscule piece of yellowed chalk. "Now we can communicate effectively. You can write, can't you? Of course you can, you're like, what, nine?" Grabbing the proffered chalkboard and chalk I angrily made two vertical lines and turned the board around to show Mary.
"Oh, sorry, eleven. You don't look eleven. Then again, starvation can stunt the growth, and I can count every one of your ribs. I'll just have to stuff you with vegetables. That's what you need. Veggies. They will make you grow big and strong." Never having been a big fan of green things, I made a face. "They're good, I swear," she said, after seeing my look.
"Carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, mmm! That reminds me, I'm hungry. I've a bowl of broth here if you want it. I don't think you're ready for anything rich yet, but that'll change. Man, wherever you came from, make sure you don't go back." Wow, could that girl talk. I was having a hard time keeping up with her and her random thought tangents. I began to wonder if she was completely mad, or if her mind just worked that fast. I hoped for the latter, but I was leaning heavily toward the former.
"Ok, where was I? Oh yeah, can you write your name?" She asked kindly, handing me back the blackboard.
Hit by a sudden flash of memory, I was overwhelmed by the emotions that came with it. It was several minutes before I could continue. "Sophie" I carefully printed.
"Nice to meet you Sophie, I'm Mary—"
"Or as your friends call you, Scary Mary. At least, they would if you had any," interjected a warm male voice from behind my head. She flipped him the finger.
"And now we see why. Hello little one. My name is Evan, and this," I can only assume he was gesturing around him, "is the most prosperous, most famous caravan this side of the Simanah
River. Welcome home, sweetheart."