The Medoran Chronicles~ A Fanfiction

Part 7

ALEX'S PERSPECTIVE:

   A firm hand wrenched Alex's shoulder back and she screamed against another palm that closed over her mouth. The pain overwhelmed her. Her pulse stuttered and a cold sweat drenched her clothes. Alex thrashed her legs against her attacker's shins and bit his hands, feeling the flesh bruise beneath her jaws. Her hair was yanked back in response and a hand pinched the back of her neck. With a final burst of energy, she coiled and sprung out again, fists flying and legs streaming. She managed to writhe away into a knee-deep stream, giving her time to think. Sort of.

  She saw her kidnapper's-- a man, she then noticed-- form rushing towards her, and she leapt onto her hands before kicking and twisting her legs, knowing he couldn't avoid them. A moment later, she had again flipped upright and saw the man crouching before her. 

  The sight of his greying hair, now-bruised, hollow cheeks, cracked lips and bloodshot eyes almost made her feel sorry for him, but she shoved it aside.

  It was clear the man was in no position to fight her. So, with trembling hands that balled into tight fists, she said, 'What do you want?'

  'Alexandra Jennings,' the man greeted her with a sarcastic bow. His voice was so brittle, she heard cracks in every syllable.

  Alex was taken aback by his promptness. Was this the same person that had just fought, hurt and hauled her away from safety? And how...How in the worlds did he know her name?

  'I'm Forael Lonien, and I'm sorry for disturbin' you. Well, not really, but for the point o' pleasantries. Anyway, I saw Leasia spying on ya' on the cliff while ya' slept, so I couldn'' go out then but I knew I needed to get ya' outta' there some'ow. She dun' know where we are now, but she will soon, 'right? So I'll tell you as much as I can quickly.'

  Alex gaped. 'Er...Sorry, what?' She asked partly because his words were melting together like ice cream in his accent, but also what-the-freaking-hell-is-happening was beginning to set in. 'And how do you know my name?'

  'Don't ya' know, girlie? Aven has posters of you everywhere with a very, ah...detailed description of what he will do to ya' when he finds ya', as well as to the peop'e who have any information on you and don'' care to give it. To put it nicely, pretty, the entire population knows yer' face. And worse, yer' worth.'

   'I...' Alex fumbled for words. This man had seen someone watching her from somewhere, for some reason decided to come to 'save' her and take her to yet another somewhere to explain that, what a surprise, there was a price on her head? And if there was a price on her head, he clearly needed the money so why hadn't he grasped his chance and killed her?

    'Anyway, I presumed you'd lived here fo' years, pretty, considering Aven's clear hate o' you?'

Alex scoffed against her will. 'You don't want the story. But--'

  The man waved a dismissive hand. 'Sorry, girlie. I can tell you dun' understand, and I wish I could explain, but I can'', right? But I can tell ya' that Aven's bloody ruined Meya--'

  A painting, Alex thought drily, then felt a pang of sympathy. It was clear these people had feelings and lives as any real Meyarin would.

  'And Leasia is one of the reasons he's been able to do so. She's been pickin' off young Meyarins fer' years and giving them to Aven to do who knows wha'.'

   Alex wanted to tell him that she knew exactly what; but she saw that whatever this man already knew was enough for him to bear. The fact that his King was eating his own peoples' hearts...

  'She has so much power over him but the worst fing is, he dun' even know it. She's a cocktail of volatility that she could-- and does-- unleash at the slightest sign of weakness from her King because of. He already gives her more in a day than many of us have had in years, and bloody 'ell, does she know it. She's played Aven pretty well, really-- she let 'im think he was in control, played to 'is likin' and then wrapped her vice around him so toightly, he can't escape his vision that she loves 'im... Anyway,' he added, looking around tentatively as if he expected the woman to leap out at any given moment. 'She'll come soon. She'll take you and regre'ably, dere's nothing I can do about it, bu' if you give me information 'bout what the guards say on the inside, I can help ya', girlie.'

   'And?' She paused. Silence. 'So, it's a bargain?'

  'I guess you could call it tha'. I'd rather think of it as a 'help-for-help' ordeal.' A grin spread on his face.

  Alex was no longer focusing on his voice. To put it frankly, he was the ugliest Meyarin Alex had ever laid eyes on. His eyes were blue like an ocean but dulled by a sheen of grey, and his red hair fell limply over his forehead. He could have been handsome, truly, but...he simply wasn't.

 'And ya' wouldn't just be helping me; yer'd be helping Meya. I've a group of friends on the inside who don't have half the opportuni'y you do to get that information. Just fink of it--how lucky yer are! Traevarg!'

  The mere word caused goosebumps to riddle her skin and a painful, hard lump welled in her throat. 'I'd hardly call it 'lucky' over 'torture.' Also, I need to leave. Which way is--?'

  Forael ignored her completely, seemingly in a daze. 'Pretty, just fink of all the guards talking amongst themselves. If you heard a single conversation, I'm sure we'd all learn some', right? And, really, listening in to a few conversations is worth food, wa'er and comfor', innit?'
 
She opened her mouth to object-- about so many things-- but he cut her off swiftly. 'But we don't have much time, again, girlie, so here.' He punctuated the last syllable by handing her a small brown fabric bag. She looked down to see some dry meat, some sort of golden fruit covered in silver streaks, and a pouch of water.

  But when she looked up to thank and question him, she was staring out into the thick forest. 'Forael?' she called. 'Where are you?' She paused, looking on into the silence. 'I--'

  A coarse, Myrox-flecked material enveloped Alex's vision, scratched her skin and causing her heart to migrate to her throat. She locked in fear, but when she tried to kick out, she found that her entire body was encased by it. For eternity or more, her world was a brown fabric and darkness, and the silky voice of who could only be Leasia. '...I'm sure you'll enjoy your stay,' she continued. 'Especially considering the pampering you've clearly had, dearest. Well, look at you! Fit as a warrior. And yet, I've never seen you around the palace. No matter; after your time in Traevarg, nobody will be able to bear looking at your face, let alone recognise it.' A delicate laugh rang through the air, and, for some reason, Alex found herself savouring the light sound.

  Her limbs acted of their own accord as they yanked and pulled at the bag frantically. Feeling she might faint or at least vomit, Alex flailed against the darkness that held her in. She summoned A'enara with a thought. The fiery blade slit the material like a knife to butter, and light seeped in. But within the seconds of satisfaction she let herself have, the Myrox thread itself back together. She sliced the bag, again and again, ignoring Leasia's mockeries and tuts. 

 
  Halfway through her thirteenth stab against the material, her body was crushed into the bag as she was thrown onto a hard surface. She felt her head hit against stone, but she couldn't cushion it while her limbs were trapped in this case.

  Leasia untied to bag and swiftly left with glinting, delighted eyes framed by a silky sheet of blonde hair. 'Greet your inevitable future nicely,' she said with a pointed look to the corner of the cell.

  Alex shoved the bag off her lap... Stared around the cell... Saw a pair of Meyarins clutching each other in the corner of the room, pale like snow next to the black wall; too pale for blood to be pumping around their bodies... Next to them, saw a pile of bloody, bruised bodies... Saw their empty eyes, their bodies in various stages of decomposition... Saw the gaping windows of shadow in their chests, the broken ribs that pierced their skin... The empty pockets of blackening flesh where their hearts should have been.