Chapter 25

PART TWO

~SYDNEY~

A horse, neighing, disturbed my sleep, and rolling over onto my side, I felt straw poke me in the face. Swatting at the irritating pieces, I snuggled a little deeper into the bundle beneath my head. An essence of horse manure wafted up from the straw at the action and caused me to wrinkle my nose in disgust. The sudden realization of what I was smelling slammed into me, and jerking into an upright position, I gazed at my surroundings, my eyes wide; I was in a stable.

I shook my head in bewilderment, and standing, I wavered about what to do. What the hell was I doing in a stable and how had I got here? The last I remembered, I was in the library in the cavern… my inner fire had been trying to protect me, but it had flared out of control… OH. MY. GOD! Brielle and Leighton! Declan!

Fear shooting through me and needing to find about their welfare, I took off at a run past the stalls. The horses snorted at my sudden action, but I paid them no mind. My gaze fastened on the opening at the other end of the stable.

The cool dampness of the night air was the first thing that hit me as I ran through the large opening, then my surroundings, and I gave a disbelieving gasp. What the hell was going on? The Guchereau mansion was gone, and in its place was an obsidian mass that reflected the moon on its surface; I was gazing at a vast body of water.

Where the actual fuck was I?

The sound of metal being pounded against metal caught my attention, and whirling in the sound’s direction, my eyes grew enormous. This was freaking impossible! I was gazing at a palace dimly lit externally and internally by light-wells. The palace was too dark to judge much about the structure, but I could make out it was made of brick and stone blocks—and old; very old.

As I gazed at it, I shook my head, stupefied, before a guttural voice broke through my disbelief. “Esý ekeí. Pós se léne kai poia eínai i aitía sou na trigyrnás kryfá sto paláti aftí tin óra tis nýchtas?” (You there. What is your name and what is your cause to be sneaking around the palace this time of night?)

Gaze shifting to the owner of the voice, I gazed at a man who stood not a hundred yards from me and I could see he was a hoplite. He wore metal guards to protect his shins and knees, and a breastplate made of metal and leather covered his chest and stomach. In his right hand, he carried a spear.

Realizing he was waiting for me to reply, and knowing I couldn’t explain my presence, I turned and ran. I never slowed, even as I heard the man’s shouts to stop echo behind me as I slipped into the thick layer of the trees. Somehow, I knew lurking around a palace, if caught, could be punishable by death if a suitable answer could not satisfy.

As I moved deeper within the trees, I realized its depths would soon crawl with infantrymen. My fleeing had raised the possibility I was a threat to the palace, or a spy for a warring faction.

Time passed as I pushed deeper into the cover of the forest, and the need for water was making itself known. As I’d heard no sound of pursuit, I felt comfortable in slowing, assuming the guard must have felt no need to raise an alarm. However, I continued pushing forward in a hunt for a creek. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before I began hearing tinkling water as it ran over rocks; the sound was pleasant and promising as it sang its alluring song.

When I reached the small stream, I dropped to my knees over the stream, and placing my hands in the chilled liquid, I drank thirstily, then, dipping my hands in the water, I carried some to my face, splashing the liquid against my skin, a sharp gasp escaping at its cold bite.
The sound of rustling within the undergrowth of the trees caught my attention, and standing, I prepared to run, for within the cover of night, all varieties of creatures came out to hunt and drink from the stream. However, as the sound of breaking limbs and the snort of horses reached me, I realized my company wasn’t a variety of animal, but human.

Indecision stilled my steps. Should I hide where I could or run? I chose the latter of the two and, picking up the skirt of the unfamiliar dress I had awoken in, I quickly moved away from the stream, slipping behind a tree. The riders finally made it to the creek, allowing their horses to drink, and I could hear the men joking back and forth with one another. Confident they remained unaware of my presence, I silently slipped into a nearby thicket, and stilled, figuring it was as good of a hiding place as any other at the moment. Yet, as the men’s voices and the snorting of the horses grew closer, I feared my hiding place was inadequate, and reacting, I fled my hiding spot, realizing the mistake of my decision too late.
They were much closer than I had judged, and my sudden appearance from the thicket startled one horse, causing it to rear on its hind legs. As the rider fought to gain control of the horse, I took off running. Low hanging limbs tore at my hair and dress, and vines tangled my feet, slowing my frantic pace as the men gave chase, their whoops and calls echoing out behind me.

A thick tangle of vines caused me to stumble, and losing my footing, I fell, but never reached the ground, as a pair of arms circled around my waist and lifted me into the air, planting me, stomach down, on a set of muscular legs.

Immediately, I began kicking and wiggling, trying to break my captor’s hold. However, at my actions, a hand pressed into the middle of my back, as applying pressure, he constricted my breathing, subduing my movements.

As I struggled to draw my breath, I could hear the other men laughing, then one called, “Polý lígo, e, Lin?” (Quite the little hellion, eh, Lyn?)
When the hand holding me down released some of its pressure, I greedily sucked air into my lungs, then laying my hand on the man’s thigh, I squeezed hard with my fingers, digging my nails into the flesh beneath them. My captor gave a yelp, as jerking my hand off his leg, he snapped, “Stamáta to!” (Stop that!)

Ignoring the man’s warning, I moved my head and bit into the inner meat of his thigh. Immediately he slapped the back of the head, snarling, “Aftí skýla, eípa Stamáta aftó!” (She-bitch, I said stop that!)

Another of the men called, “I gemáti tha kánei éna oraío épathlo!” (The filly will make a fine prize!)

“Óti tha kánei!” (That she will) my captor returned, before signaling to the other men he applied his heels to his horse. As he pushed it into a canter, the men fell in behind him and I hissed, “You spell your death!”

At first I thought he was going to ignore my words, then he replied in English, “That I do!”











(note: the above words spoken in Greek were translated using English to Greek Google translator)