Chapter 6: Awakening

The storm came more quickly than Cristo had expected, soaking him through his green and blue apprentice garments instantly. He was not used to being out in harsh weather such as this biting, cold rain whipping through his formal wear. Being the Princess' bodyguard meant he had to follow her wherever she went. Since Alena was used to the sheltered life, Cristo also was used to the sheltered life.

Huddling his tunic close, Cristo glanced back to check the rest of the search party. Reginald, Henry, and Flail seemed to be doing fine, obviously used to the rigorous outdoors. Brey, on the other hand, was having trouble keeping up in the muddy road. Although Henry had been generous enough to loan his cloak to the old man, Brey still had difficulty moving through the storm.

Henry had assured the bodyguard storms like these only lasted a few hours at the most. Looking overhead at the clouds, Cristo was not so sure. It had only started half an hour ago but it felt as though it had gone on for hours. Cristo could not wait to find the Princess so they could head back to the castle.

Soon, after what seemed an eternity of dragging his feet in mud, the search party arrived at the outskirts of a village. According to Henry, it was the village of Weser.

Not much of Weser could be made out in the dark night. Of the few buildings scattered about the entrance to the market square, they were all devoid of light and soaked through their wooden frames. Judging by the lack of life from within, Cristo could not tell if any peasants resided here. From what he saw, this place could easily be a ghost village.

"I think we should stay at an inn tonight," the hunter suggested as they stood at the entrance to the village. "I doubt the Princess will make any progress in this weather."

Cristo wiped his face, brushing long, soaked brown curls from his drenched face. Henry was right. Even these seasoned trackers were having their spirits dampened by the storm. The bodyguard turned to Flail and asked, "What do you think?"

"The Princess is a determined person," the mercenary replied evenly, "but I do not think even she is foolhardy to be caught in rain like this."

Cristo rubbed his chin, thinking about it. He noticed there was a bit of stubble and realized he had not shaved for a few days. A decent shave would be good right about now, along with some warm, spicy food and a dry bed.

The bodyguard shook his head, clearing his mind of such leisurely thoughts. Now was not the time to be thinking of such things. He had a duty to uphold and he would not rest until he found Alena safe inside the castle's walls.

He turned to Reginald, asking, "How far ahead of us did you say the Princess was?"

"No more than an hour," the tracker replied automatically.

"And this storm didn't hit us until a half hour ago, right?" The rest of the search party nodded. "The Princess must have been close to this village when it hit, then," Cristo continued, looking down the main road of Weser. "It would be a safe guess she sought shelter somewhere in this village to escape this storm."

"Are you suggesting we search this entire village?" Henry said, looking at Cristo incredulously. "That would take hours!"

"Just a quick look around," Cristo clarified, sensing his companion's apprehension. "Reginald and I will search barns and stables, you and Brey can search in the market square, and Flail..." Cristo paused as he looked at the large mercenary, finding it odd to order him around.

"I'll make myself useful," Flail calmly said, as if he knew what Cristo had been thinking. He strode off into the night, disappearing with the shadows. Cristo shivered, wondering what it was about the mercenary that made him feel so nervous.

Shrugging it off, the bodyguard turned to the rest of the search party and said, "We'll meet up again in two hours at..." His voice trailed off, looking at Henry for a suggestion since the hunter knew the layout of the village better than anyone else.

"The only inn here is the Weser Inn," the hunter offered. "A bit run down, but it should suit us for the night. It's located near the opposite side of the village."

"Alright then," Cristo said. "We'll meet back together at the Weser Inn in two hours. I would like to get Princess Alena back to the castle before the sun rises so no one will be the wiser. I want you all to do your best." He then nodded to the rest of the group and they divided up to search the village.

She had been able to sleep through the foul stench of the room. She had been able to sleep through the scratching noise of rodents in the walls. She had even been able to sleep through the howling wind and battering rain on the single window in her room. Her exhausted body demanded a good night's rest, especially after all the walking tonight. Nothing attacking her five senses could shake her awake.

Her sixth sense was a different matter, though. When the door clicked shut, the princess instantly snapped awake. Her instinct warned the sound was not good.

The first thing she saw was a large body huddled over the door. It was too dark to make the figure out but her intuition knew it was the innkeeper. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, her interrupted slumber making her just a little perturbed.

The large man turned around and she noticed he was only wearing loose fitting pajamas. Although there was limited light, Alena could also see he was smiling broadly. She recoiled a bit, the sight a little intimidating.

After looking at her for a moment, the innkeeper replied, "It be 'later'." Seeing the manner he licked his lips, Alena quickly realized what he meant. He took a slow step forward.

Alena weighed her options. There was not much space to move around in the room, so defending herself was out of the question. She also doubted she would be able to overpower the large man. Her only chance was to dodge and get to the door before he got to her.

The innkeeper lunged forward, hoping to catch Alena by surprise. However, she had been ready for the move and quickly rolled to her left and off the bed. As the large man fell on the bed, she scampered to the door. She tried to turn the knob but it would not move. The door was locked!

Before she even had a chance to curse her bad fortune, rough hands grabbed her from behind. Alena was thrown on the bed and the innkeeper quickly got on top of her, pinning one arm behind her back and the other with his hand. She tried to scream but his other large, dirty hand covered her mouth.

He bent over her, smiling a row of rotted teeth. The smell of his breath was horrid and Alena recoiled, struggling with very little effect. He sniffed her hair like some wild animal and rubbed his cheek against her own, scratching her delicate skin with sharp whiskers.

Out of desperation, Alena tried to bite the innkeeper's fingers. She managed to catch one between her teeth, causing him to slightly recoil but not enough to release his iron grip. He spit out a curse, then slammed a large fist into the side of her head. Alena's mind swooned with nausea from the blow, making any resistance seem like an arduous chore

"Don't be makin' this harder," he growled into her ear. "Just so's y' know, I'll cut y' tongue if y' so's much as utter a sound." Sensing no further struggle from his victim, the innkeeper started to messily rub his tongue up and down her neck.

Alena wanted to fight back but her mind was too dizzy to focus. All she could manage was tightly closing her eyes and hating every part of what was happening to her. Fear seized full control as she heard her silk dress being torn apart. Tears spilled from her eyelids as that tongue as awful as Esturk touched her breasts.

Her mind swam in despair. Why was this happening to her? Was it some sort of cruel punishment for running from home or disobeying her father? If such was the case, then she no longer wanted adventure. And the thrilling and exciting sojourns she had dreamed of, to Vah-Kirgol and back with them! She just wanted to be back home, safe and secure within her room.

A stinging sensation from within her soul caused her to utter a muffled sob. No, that was not it at all! All she wished for right now was to be away from this horrible man!

Suddenly, such rage as she had never felt before surged within her body, a flaming anger at being violated in this manner. She no longer felt the man's body on her and she no longer heard the wind howling and the bed creaking. Adrenaline blurred her world, not unlike when she broke the wall at the castle. Frustration at actually giving up, animosity at being violated; it was more than her disorientated mind could handle. Vehement intentions washed over her body and Alena's scream of rage reached the heavens.

She threw her head forward, letting her anger take control of her actions. Had she felt or heard the crack of the man's face as her skull made sudden and savage contact, Alena would have been satisfied. However, in her fervent state, the princess made no such distinction and landed another quick and harsh blow to the man's face, splattering blood across her auburn hair.

The innkeeper fell off, grasping for his broken nose and moaning in agony. Alena was not finished, though. She would make this man regret having ever considered raping her body.

Once her legs were free, Alena jumped up and threw the man to the ground. Before he had a chance of defending himself, she jumped on the large man and repeatedly struck out with her tiny fists, solid blows smashing his face. She screamed curses at him, although she had no idea what the words meant. So engaged in her bloodlust was Alena she lost all sense of rationality. She felt no shame her exposed breasts were now covered in the splattered blood of her victim. She felt no remorse as she dug a manicured nail deep into his left eye. Her only goal was to make this man hurt more ways than Esturk could ever contrive.

Alena did not know when or why she stopped. Maybe it was because her arms had grown tired, or maybe it was because there was not much left to punch, stab, or scratch at. Whatever the reason, her wild attacks suddenly ceased and she regained her sense of rationality. She sat still, feeling her body begin to shake. Her breathing became haggard as a creeping realization of she had just done slowly made its way into her consciousness.

The princess slowly held her hands up. There was not enough light to show her the carnage she had just committed but the sensation of blood running from her fingers and down to her wrists made her convulse. A voice in the back of her mind told her this man had deserved it but had she gone too far? The gentle rising and falling of the large chest she was still sitting on assured her the innkeeper was still alive but had she done enough damage to end his life?

Panic began to creep into her mind. Alena quickly stood up and easily kicked the door off its rusted hinges. No one appeared in the hallway. Good, she thought. Maybe no one heard.

Hastily, she rushed over to the desk and grabbed her feather hat. If this man was still alive, she did not want him to have any of her possessions.

She started to rush out the door when she glanced at the innkeeper again to see if he was still breathing. She had not realized light from the hallway was now filtering in and she saw the man's face. Alena gasped in horror, the severity of the attack graphically detailed.

The princess had been sheltered from gory displays such as the one before her and seeing such a thing for the first time would have been unnerving nonetheless. Yet, this was by her own hands!

How could she have done this?

What sort of monster was she?

Tears of confusion began to form in her eyes, her mind reeling. It all seemed like a horrible dream; the storm outside, the terrible inn, the attempted rape, and now this man's tortured face from her attack.

Her tears took take full control of her senses and she ran.

"What are you doing?" Brey asked Henry, trying not to strain his voice in the harsh conditions. The old tutor coughed, his lungs wracking in pain from the storm. Maybe he was getting too old for this.

The hunter stopped walking, turned around to face Brey, and replied, "I figure we might as well get ourselves out of this storm and to that inn I was telling Cristo about." He then continued to walk, hurriedly making his way down an empty street.

"Wait a minute," Brey called out, ignoring the flaming sensation in his chest when he did. "We are supposed to be looking for the Princess." He hurriedly hobbled forward, trying to catch up with the quicker man.

Henry paused, turned around again and smiled. "It won't hurt to book a room in advance," he said. He stepped over to Brey and patted him on the shoulder. "And I'm sure you'd like to get out of this weather as soon as possible," he added.

Brey opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself, realizing Henry spoke true. "All right," he muttered, looking down at the mud in disgust at his lack of stamina. "Lead the way."

Henry nodded and continued on. "Don't worry, Brey," he said as they walked. "I know the innkeeper personally. He'll get you some warm clothes and decent food in no time." Brey only nodded, as he was not interested in the hunter's sympathy.

It was not long before the pair approached the Weser Inn. Brey gazed up at the wretched establishment, amazed at the poverty peasants could actually live in. Reflectively, the old tutor was glad he had done everything in his ability to avoid such a life.

Henry walked up to the entrance of the inn and knocked on the rotting door, calling, "Hello?" After no reply came, the hunter slowly pushed the door open, its hinges creaking with decay. "That's odd," he muttered as the door opened.

"What is it?" Brey asked as he walked up to the entrance.

"Bert always locks up at this hour," Henry quietly said, more to himself than in response to Brey's question. The hunter quickly looked over the door. It did not take long for him to notice the handle of the door had been smashed.

Brey walked up to inspect the door as well, noticing the concern on Henry's face. After seeing the broken lock, the tutor looked up at Henry and asked, "You don't think someone broke in here, do you?"

"From the inside?" Henry asked, pointing at the handle. Indeed, the lock had only been dismantled within. The handle on the outside was still in decent condition, save a slight wobble.

Brey scratched his white whiskers, trying to figure the mystery out. If the inn had not been broken into, why would anyone try to break out? It would be a simple matter to just ask the innkeeper of the place to unlock the door.

Almost as if Henry had been thinking the same thing, the hunter suddenly looked up and said, "Where's Bert?" If anyone knew what had occurred, surely the innkeeper would. He rushed to the tavern, quickly searching behind the counter and into a back room.

Brey started to follow when he heard a moaning from the staircase opposite the entrance. The tutor turned there and saw a large man slowly edging down the stairs. He had a large hand covering his face and Brey noticed blood was leaking between his fingers. "Henry!" Brey cried out.

The hunter rushed back and immediately saw the large man. "By the Master!" he gasped and rushed over. Henry took him into his arms and gently eased him down onto the stairs. "Bert!" he cried out. "Can you hear me? What happened?"

Only a few, disgruntled noises came from the man but the most apparent of these noises was "bitch of a whore!" Brey immediately assumed the large man meant a woman of some sort.

"Here, take it easy," Henry gently said. He turned to Brey and ordered, "Brey, get a wet cloth! Hurry!" The tutor nodded, put down his walking staff, and rushed over to the bar.

Seconds later, he came back with a wet cloth. Henry nodded and said to the man, "Okay. I'm going to have to remove your hand. Easy now. Easy does it." As the hunter slowly removed the man's bloody hand from his face, Brey gasped. Large scrapes and gouges had been torn across the man's face, pieces of skin hung like tattered rags from his cheeks, and his left eye was nothing more than a purple mound of blood and puss.

Henry's face contorted in disgust at the sight as well but was used to grotesque forms such as this and grimly applied the cloth to the more tender spots. The lot of good that'll do, Brey thought grimly. Where's Cristo when you need him?

Although the bleeding did not stop, the man's hysteria began to subside and Henry was able to calmly ask him a few questions. "Who did this to you, Bert?" he asked as he dabbed the cloth on his face.

"Some bitch," Bert muttered, leaning his head back in an attempt to stem some of the blood flow.

"A name would be useful," Brey said. Henry shot the old man a dangerous glare and Brey backed up a bit, somewhat stunned Henry would give such a look.

"Don't know," Bert muttered. "Said she was some princess or somethin'. I didn't see anythin' royal."

Both Brey and Henry looked at Bert and said, "Princess?" They looked at each other, somewhat embarrassed at speaking at the same time. Brey waved his hand, letting Henry continue. The hunter nodded and turned back to the innkeeper. "How long ago did you see her?"

"Don't know," the man replied. "Five, maybe ten minutes ago. I ain't thinkin' straight, y' know." He suddenly coughed and blood spilled out of his mouth. He grimaced, muttering, "Damn, that hurts!" Reaching a bloody hand into his mouth, he jerked it violently and a loud, sickening crack was heard. A yellow tooth drenched in blood was pulled out, followed by more even more blood leaking through his blackened lips. Even Henry grimaced at the sight. "Third one," Bert muttered, splattering saliva and blood on the floor with his spit. He tossed the tooth, quietly swearing, "Damn bitch of a whore."

After he recovered from his immediate revulsion, Henry said, "I'll get you another cloth. I think this one's soaked through." The innkeeper nodded and the hunter stood up. As he did, he made a jerking motion with his head to Brey. The old tutor understood and stood up as well to follow Henry.

Once they were at the counter, Henry quietly asked Brey, "Do you think it's the Princess?"

"It's possible," Brey whispered back as he soaked another cloth. "As Flail said, she would probably go seeking the closest shelter when the storm hit. That would most likely be this inn." He glanced at Bert, who was still muttering curses. "Besides," Brey added dryly, "it sort of looks like Alena's handiwork."

"What do you mean?" Henry asked, confused.

"Nothing," Brey sighed, and he walked back over to the innkeeper with a fresh cloth.

Once Henry had joined them, the hunter asked, "Do you think you'll be all right for the moment, Bert?"

"Yeh," the large man replied, applying the wet cloths over his face.

"Okay," Henry said. "We're just going out for a moment to find the assailant."

Bert nodded and said, "Go out an' find that bitch of a whore! Give 'er what's comin' to 'er!" He then spat on the floor, more blood than saliva splashing on the floorboards this time.

"Um, yes," Brey said, looking at Henry. "We'll do that." Bert smiled, showing a row of bloody, yellow teeth.

Henry and Brey stood up and headed for the entrance. As they walked, Brey glanced up at Henry and quietly said, "Nice people you know here."

"Don't get me started," the hunter dangerously muttered without looking at the old tutor and they left the inn.