Blackmoore Academy (On Hold)

Chapter Four

In the confines of her dark prison, Gwendolyn quickly lost track of time. The constant rattle of the black carriage lulled Gwen into a state of fatigue, despite her attempts to remain alert. Eventually she fell asleep, only to shake herself awake moments later. She'd long since given up on breaking herself out; there was no inside handle on the carriage door, and a key was required to open the gate. Escape was not possible.

The bump are rock no longer made Gwen sick. She'd learned to cope with the nausea. She'd figured at least a few hours had passed, but the blackness of her prison made time hard to tell. So to pass time, Gwen leaned back and hummed a song her father had taught her. The lyrics were lost to her, but the tune remained engraved in her mind. The notes rose and fell in a hauntingly beautiful melody. Most days she would find the song cheerful. Today it held no joy.

Gwendolyn stopped. The lump settled in her throat choked her, silenced her. Thoughts warred in her mind: her father was marching towards death; her mother was dead; she was a prisoner. Panic raged, like a parasite, inside her chest. It ate away at her insides. Made her feel hollow. Made her heart thump in her throat.

"The horses need water!"

The call startled Gwen into alertness. She sat straight, listening intently.

"We'll stop here. Be quick." 

The carriage slowed to a stop. Gwendolyn scrabbled to her knees and crawled to the door. "Please! Please let me out." At first she received no response. She tried again. "Hello? Hello, hello?! Let me out! LET ME OUT!" 

"Shut up!" A sharp thump on the door rattled the entire carriage. Gwendolyn rocketed back to her seat, clamping a hand around her mouth.

"You'll be hanged for this! My father's a general!" When no response came, she sunk into despair. She lay down, thoughts tumbling in her briar like vicious waves pounding the shore. Finally, an idea came to her. "Can I at least have something to drink?"

Gravel crunched as someone approached the door. Keys clanked; doors rattled; and suddenly sunlight flooded the black space. Gwendolyn cowered and threw her arms over her head. She squinted at the silhouette in front of her. A halo circled the cloaked figure's head. Light outlined the figure.

"Here." The voice definately sounded masculine to Gwen. She accepted the cup.

"Who are you?"

He didn't answer; he stood there, waiting patiently. Gwendolyn rose the cup to her lips but stopped when she noticed a sickly sweet smell. There was only one herb she knew of that could give off such an odor. The leaves of the Rhdrandan plant, ground into a fine powder, a small dose could make one sleep for hours, possibly days. In larger doses, people didn't wake up. Judging by the strength of the odor, Gwendolyn guessed she might be out for days - if she was lucky.

Without further warning Gwendolyn threw the water in the face of her captor; she struck out with a well-aimed kick at the knee. He reeled back and lay sprawled in the dirt. Gwendolyn jumped from the black carriage - still squinting - and took a second to view her surroundings. Several people had been milling about, but were now all headed to intercept the escapee. Before Gwendolyn could take more than a few steps, she was caught.

The cloaked figure who'd handed her the cup tore the hood from his face, gasping. He turned to her; his hair had been shaved so he looked bald and his skin, pot marked and rotten-looking, had an unhealthy pallor to it. But the most shocking detail was his eyes - black, like the night sky with no moons or stars; like a pit.

"Drink," he said. He held another cup out to her. Drugged water dripped off his mrlted-wax-looking skin.

"I don't think I want to anymore." Gwendolyn screamed as someone wrapped a hand through her hair and jerked her head back. She clamped her mouth shut.