The Whipping Tree

I: Charcoal and Cerulean

I

Charcoal and Cerulean

         She feels as though Imorda has turned back time, and she is in her bedroom again, sobbing into Maud’s shoulder with an image of Tomas seared into her mind.

         The two men accompanying her stand stoically on either side, their swords buckled onto their belts.

         Despite the predicament, Joan finds it silly that they are armed, or with her, for that matter. Brevinham is known for its quaint community, not for its sword fighting. She highly doubts that the two beside her would stand a chance against a Nocen. She has half a mind to tell them they are free to leave, but realizes part of the reason why they are there is to make sure she does not escape.

         The wind picks up and she shivers. The dress she was forced to wear offers little warmth. Her sleeves funnel the gust straight to her chest, so she tucks her arms in tighter against her body.

         She shuffles away from the Whipping Tree, a feeling of nausea settling into her gut that was absent during the Day of Choice.

         “How long has it been?” she asks, and discovers that her voice is hoarse.

         “No more than five hours, Miss.”

         Five hours? Joan wants to tell herself to cast aside her childish whimpering, to toughen up and accept what will become of her. Just as she knows the worst part of something dreaded is waiting for it to happen, she also recalls the horror stories concerning the Noci.

         “They’ll take you back to their lair and devour you, piece by piece. And if they’re not hungry enough, they’ll leave you until their next meal.”

         Joan feels another set of tears rising to her eyes. A voice reminiscent of her childhood pleads and begs for this not to be true. Another voice, akin to how she sounds now, is hard at work trying to calm her nerves.

         Father said the Nocen was less than a day away. He said that yesterday. Why hasn’t the Nocen come for me yet?

         She imagines what her parents are thinking right now. They spent the remaining time after Joan was dressed holding each other. The goodbye itself was brief. Three bone-crushing hugs before the guards arrived to escort her. Lord and Lady Ailemer stood in the doorway waving until they lost sight of Joan as she rounded a corner.

         I can ask for it to end it quickly. Kill me, and then it can have its way however it pleases.

         “Might not come, Miss.” When Joan forces herself to look up, she meets the gaze of the guard to her left. He is middle-aged, possibly with a wife and child at home. She wonders how he was chosen to accompany her here.

         “Always a possibility, yeah?” the other guard chimes in. “Never know if what them messengers say’s right or not.”

         Joan chokes on her breath. She is grateful they are trying to calm her, though it brings more tears to her eyes. She remembers when she had glass in her arm from trying to retrieve a bottle of milk sitting atop a counter she was too short to reach. Her father held her in his lap, his arms around her stomach, calming her with promises of sweets and new toys. It did nothing to alleviate the pain when the doctor closed his tweezers around the shard and tugged it out, but she knows now, close to ten years later, that the fear and panic would have increased tenfold had she needed to face the prospect alone.

         She is a little girl again, wanting someone to hold her and comfort her, tell her that death is painless and it will be over before the tears dry on her face.

         There is a clunking noise, and Joan looks around to find the guards unbuckling their swords and sitting down. The sky is starting to dim, though Joan knows from the ongoing whirring and clanking from the machines down the road towards Fairmeadow that workers have not yet gone home, and it is not yet suppertime.

         “Eat some bites, an’ get some sleep, Miss. I know you wasn’t sleeping yesterday.” The guard tosses the food they have, mainly bread and cheese, towards Joan.

         She can barely stomach the scratchy bread and crumbly cheese, but it fills her and gives her something to do. She asks for the burlap sack the guard carries the food in, and finds a rock to lean against. The bag serves as a blanket, and she falls asleep to the guards’ low murmurs.

         Joan is shaken awake by a pair of hands that burn her cold skin. She jerks and opens her eyes wide, her heart almost stopping at the sight of a figure crouched in front of her.

         “Awake, are ya?”

         “Pardon?” The courteous word feels silly as it leaves her mouth. She struggles into a straighter sitting position.

         “Awake, girl?”

         She blinks her eyes hard and finally focuses on the man in front of her. His breath stinks of gruel, and his eyes are bloodshot and baggy, as far as Joan can tell.

         “Yes,” she says uncertainly.

         “Come on, then.” The man stands, and he is barely five feet tall. He is dressed in rags and has hair that hangs down to his shoulders.

         Joan recoils from him. Everything about the man repulses her, makes her want to scramble backwards on all fours. She looks around and sees the guards fast asleep.

         “Who are you?” she asks.

         “No matter, girl. Come with me.” He gestures, and begins striding away. “Ever heard o’ rescue?”

         Rescue? The word quickens Joan’s heartbeat. “Rescue,” she repeats. Her spirits lift as she looks back at the guards, one snoring away, the other with his mouth agape.

         “Where are we going?”

         “Ask later. Hurry, before they wake.”

         Joan looks from the unknown man to the guards, then back.

         If I stay, I have next to no hope of living. If I go with this man… She straightens her shoulders and folds the burlap sack, tucking it under her arm.

         “Lead the way.”

         The man grins and waves her towards the road going east.

(**A/N: I hope you guys are wondering the intentions of this mysterious...incredibly short man.

We're in for one more flashback before action picks up.

Gah I don't think I ever featured it, but I received a banner from autumn_aura about a month ago. I'materriblepersonIamsosososorryforforgetting D': Thank you so much again for making me my first ever banner on Wattpad!)