Days At Sea

Chapter 3 - We Must Stay Together

Waking with a gasp, Isabella's head ached as if it were a cannonball struggling to be held up with her neck. Putting a hand to her temple, it came back wet and covered in blood. Her hair was stuck to her face with the dried liquid, and in her confusion, she couldn't remember where she was. She was getting frustrated with how many times she was waking up completely befuddled. In the distance, as though the sound was muffled with water, she could hear a rattling of something metallic. Forcing herself to sit upright, the gloomy room spun before her dizzy eyes.

"Hugo?" She breathed. Her eyes were dotted with lights, and as her head pounded, she said the only name she remembered clearly. The clinking grew more frantic.

"If you want to save him, we must be quick." A voice replied quietly. Isabella grew more unbalanced, straining to piece together the events that had happened so suddenly. After a few furious blinks, her eyes focused on a shadow behind the metal bars.

"What's.." she began.

"Shhh! You can't wake anyone up!" The male voice whispered imploringly. Isabella watched the shadow fiddling with a loop of keys, trying each one in the lock.

"What's happening?" she whispered, unsure if she was dreaming. She knew it wasn't time for her to be sent to the gallows yet; it was still pitch black outside. She felt her injured head once more, memories of falling and being grabbed from behind becoming more vivid and scary. Her instincts told her this man hadn't been sent to fetch her, which made her stomach sink. Shaking her head, she pushed away thoughts of what torture could be inflicted upon her.

"We're.. getting...you... out!" He gasped triumphantly as the door swung open. Images of her thwarted escape flashed before her eyes as she saw his face more clearly. Hugo had told her to run, and she had watched him running out of oxygen, weakness overcoming him. She had frozen, her body unable to move before she was grabbed by a man who seemed very familiar...

"You stopped me from escaping!" She hissed.

He frowned at her. He had neat blond hair that fell loose around his collarbones and seemed not much older than herself. He looked too ordinary, too inoffensive to be standing above her in this nightmare she was living. 

"Yes." He confirmed, extending an arm to help her up. "And now I'm helping you." He pulled her to her feet and held her upper arm as he hurried her down the stone corridor. She was staggering and shaking as they crept along the cells, her mind racing. This stranger had an impulsive confidence that was glossed with a layer of terror as if it was his first time breaking the rules. This notion made him much less formidable. She thought back to when the man had whispered, "I've got you", as he held her tightly, and as unexpected as it was, she wondered if it had been a poor attempt at reassurance.

Almost every prisoner slept in various uncomfortable positions on the freezing floor, but Isabella spotted a child looking up at her wonderingly. The child had huge, warm eyes that burned into her as her delicate lips formed a gentle circle of surprise.  Isabella stopped walking, and the man turned to look at her, his hand tugging her wrist as if to urge her to keep moving.

"Why are you helping me?" she whispered. She looked at his uniform, which was similar to Linville's, albeit a little less polished.

"I don't know." He whispered hurriedly. His eyes were wide, and his rapid breathing matched her own. The stranger didn't move or blink for a few seconds.

"I don't think you're a witch. There was nothing wicked about you when you were lying broken and near death on the docks, " he murmured. The child was still looking at Isabella curiously. She looked about four or five, although she was so malnourished it was hard to tell.