Crickets sung in the night,
filling in the heavy silence. Beneath the curtain of black covering the skies,
Alys laid wide awake. Her eyes flickered upwards to study the diamonds glittering
in the sky through a small window. Nights like this, when it seems like she was
the only person alive, caused her frame to quiver with fear. Fear of the
unknown. Alys knew that the villagers had nothing but hatred for her. They
would like nothing more than to have her burnt at the stake. The endless
taunting and abuse to her body made it seemed as if she was already approaching
her death.
Alys closed her eyes and
leaned her head against the cold wall. She wanted desperately to fall into a
dreamless sleep but the stinging pain in her stomach kept her awake. Her eyes
fluttered open to stare at the heavily-shackled door. She has never felt more
alone and her vision of Berta's death only worsened the situation. Blinking
back tears, Alys slid down on the hard pallet and pulled her legs up to her
chest to curb away the chilly air.
Only when the golden rays
had peaked shyly at the dark sky did the guards slid the bolts away from her
door. With a heavy sigh, Alys pushed herself up onto her bare feet and silently
padded to the door. And so her morning routine began, starting at the washroom. Her
fingers slowly began peeling back the dirty cloth from her body when her eyes
locked with Berta. The older woman, already washed, scurried over to Alys.
Berta's eyes were filled
with worry, Alys noted. "Alys dear, have you broken fast yet?" she
asked with concern.
At the question, Alys was
painfully aware of how her stomach was protesting in hunger. She was starved
off food since last morning by the guards. "No, I have not but it is
fine—"
Berta quickly cut her off.
"Nonsense! I did not catch even a glimpse of you during lunch and supper
last sunrise. You must be famished."
The woman dug her hands into
a worn pouch tied to her waist and brought forth two rolls of bread. "I
could only smuggle these during breaking of fast. It is not much but it would
last you until midday ."
Hastily murmuring a thank
you, Alys accepted the bread gratefully. She practically inhaled the food,
trying to fulfill her hunger. Berta was right; the small rolls of bread weren't
enough. Her stomach still felt empty but the stabbing pain was now gone.
"Go and wash up now, or
you will be late," Berta ushered her to an empty stool. Once again
offering the woman a grateful smile, Alys resumed her morning rituals.
She was in the midst of
securing her long locks with a braid when a guard knocked heavily on the
washroom's door, startling some of the remaing slaves inside.
"Hurry up, slaves! The
new master is approaching!" the guard barked. The women scrambled to
finish their cleansing. Alys pushed her bangs aside and exited the washroom.
She was eager to meet the new bastard who would once again mistreat them all.
Alys rubbed her arms
slightly when she shivered due to the cold air in the foyer. She stood near the
back wall as slaves slowly filtered in. But unlike last night, not even a
whisper was heard uttered from the slaves' mouths. The pin drop silence further
increased the tense atmosphere in the room.
The sun rose higher up in
the sky. Not even a glimpse of the new master was seen. The agitation felt by
the slaves was evident by the way they shuffled their feet back and forth and
releasing a quiet sigh every now and then. Even the guards grew weary of
waiting. They started chatting idly with each other, relaxing their previously vigilant
stance.
Feet aching, Alys leaned
against the wall to ease some of the pressure off of her soles. Her head bowed
when her mind began wandering back to the times when she was happy. She could still recall vividly when she had
her first vision. It was a fire that will destroy a family's house and rob them
off their only child. Until now, Alys still felt guilty for her inability to
save the little baby even though her mother had repeatedly told her that she
was still young and confused with her gift.
The silence in the hall was
shattered by the sound of heavy footsteps and guards shuffling back to their
positions. The new master has arrived. With a heavy sigh, Alys raised her head
and waited for his arrival. Two guards pulled open the heavy oak doors.
"Lord Bartholomew has
arrived!" they bellowed.
Alys rose on the tip of her
toes to peer above the crowd. Her body froze at the sight that greeted her
eyes. Lord Bartholomew stood proudly in front of the slaves, his chest puffed
out as a sign of arrogance. Thick, brown moustache covered the top of his lip
and curled at the tip. But the one long scar going down his left eye was what
shocked Alys the most.
"Berta's killer,"
she breathed. Her trembling fingers unconsciously tightened into fists.
Lord Bartholomew stepped up
onto the makeshift podium. With one hand resting on his walking stick and the
other on top of it, his posture sent out a proud yet an audacity aura.
He took a quick glance at
the slaves before speaking up. "As you have been informed, I am Lord
Bartholomew and I will be your new master as of today."
Alys' knuckles turned white
as she clenched her fists tightly. She stood frozen as she witnessed the man
from her vision spoke to the crowd. His voice was teemed with confidence.
"Fret not, my fellow
slaves. I have been informed about the rough handling of the previous owner and
his common mistreatment." Lord Bartholomew smirked, "Rest assured
that I am nothing like him. Torturing of slaves will not be tolerated in this
building—"
The rest of his words were
droned out by Alys. When the words 'torturing of slaves' were uttered, images
of her vision flashed before her eyes. Bruised skin and splatters of blood
seemed to dance its way across her view. For a moment, all she could see was
white hot rage. The man was trying to fool all of them!
Alys' lips seemed to move on
their own accord, mouthing out a word before she could think clearly.
"Lies," she choked out. Her voice was feeble but in the pin drop
silence of the hall, it was as if she had screamed the word.
Lord Bartholomew's welcoming
speech came to a screeching halt. He cleared his throat, eyes searching the
back of the hall for the source of the voice. "I beg your pardon?"
Releasing a shaky breath,
Alys stepped into his line of view. Upon sighting her, his face immediately
hardened. She saw his lips move discreetly to mouth the word demon. Her hatred
for the man grew tenfold.
"I said," she
raised her voice, "that you were spewing out nothing but lies."
A few women released shocked
gasps at her outburst, and the silence in the room was broken by murmurs and
chants of the occupants in the hall. Lord Bartholomew's face slowly turned red
from anger.
He tried to speak normally
through gritted teeth. "And what, pray tell, made you come to that
conclusion, girl?"
"I just know,"
Alys replied simply. The man before her suddenly burst into laughter. People
stared at him in a mixture of disbelief and fear. Disbelief over his unexpected
reaction, and fear over his mental state.
He descended the stairs with
grace, his shoulders still shaking from laughter. "Allow me to guess. You
'foresaw' me," he chuckled, "doing unholy things. Did you not, little
demon?"
Alys' fists shook as anger
welled up inside of her. "You have no right to call me that," she
hissed.
The man stopped his strides
within a few feet of her. A crooked smirk adorned his lips as he eyed her form.
"Oh but you are one. Predicting the future and what not," he narrowed
his eyes. "Not to mention, killing your own dear sister."
Her eyes widened in shock
momentarily before she ducked her head, shielding them from view. The stunned
onlookers could see tremors running through her body. Bartholomew merely raised
an eyebrow in amusement.
"I did not kill
her," Alys muttered. She raised her head, revealing blue orbs burning with
ire. "Do not flap your gums as if you know everything when in fact, you
and this whole damn village know nothing of me!"
Bartholomew sneered at the
girl with disgust. "Very well. Let me play along then and make your
'vision' come true."
Before she knew it, armored
guards were flocking around her and restraining her arms behind her back
painfully. Alys struggled against their grip but her petite form was
overpowered by the heavily-built men. Bartholomew bent down so he was eye level
with her and leered.
"Take her to the
dungeons for punishment. I do not tolerate insolence," he ordered the
guards darkly.
With a rough shove that sent
her stumbling, Alys was forced by the guards to walk through the gaping crowd.
None of them dared to say anything, opting instead to cower away from her as if
she was diseased. I wish I was diseased
instead, she thought bitterly, because
then I can find a cure for this.
"Stop! Please stop this
instant!"
Their steps faltered and
stopped at the familiar voice. Alys managed to twist in the hold of the guard
to face the equally stunned crowd. Her eyes widened at the sight of Berta
running towards them. With her skirt hitched, she desperately pushed through
the slaves to reach them. Bartholomew, who was trailing behind them, studied
the scene with keen interest.
Upon reaching the lord,
Berta dropped to her knees. "Please my lord, do not punish her, for she is
still a naïve young girl," she begged. "She made a mistake just like
any younglings do. Please forgive her."
Bartholomew pretended to consider
her, rubbing his thick moustache with a finger. "I am not certain I can
grant your request, slave. If I release this chit, then I will not have anyone
to release my anger upon and this demon has made me very, very angry."
"Then take me as her
replacement," Berta replied without a second of hesitation.
"No," Alys shook
her head, her face contorted in shock. "No, Berta, stop this! You cannot
possibly—" she was forcibly pulled back when she tried to step forward.
The man smiled leeringly. He
glanced at Alys through the corner of his eyes briefly before meeting the eyes
of the guard restraining her. "Release the demon. Take this woman
instead," he barked.
Alys grunted in pain as she
fell unceremoniously to the ground by the force of the guard thrusting her
forward. Quickly pushing black hair away from her face, she stared in fright as
Berta was escorted out of the hall. Springing to her feet, Alys tried to chase
after them, only to run smack into another guard.
"Berta, no!" she
screamed. "Come back, do not do this! Stop!"
In a bid to reach her, Alys
reared back and threw a punch on the guard's uncovered face. He groaned at the
pain of the impact, and staggered a few steps back. She slipped past the man
and ran towards the door.
"Berta! Do not do it!"
Alys yelled. Berta turned her head towards her and offered her a sad smile
before completely disappearing behind the door.
Alys wretched the door open,
ignoring the angry hollers of Bartholomew behind her. She began chasing after
the retreating form of the older woman, in hopes of stopping this madness. As
Berta rounded a corner, hands grabbed at Alys and pulled her back.
"Unhand, you bastards!"
Alys kicked and punched, and even bit at the guards trying to hold her back. Bartholomew
approached them, glaring at the struggles she was putting up.
"Lock her in the
underground room! I have had enough of this demon," he spat harshly. Alys
stopped the scuffling to glare back at him.
"You are nothing more
than a lowly son of a—"
Those were all she managed
to yelled out before a guard brought down his fist to her temple, resulting in
her lost of consciousness.
________________________________________________________________
It was dark when Alys regained her bearings. Not the usual dark that came when the sun sets beneath the
horizon, no, this darkness was even thicker. There was not even a small ray of
light in the room to aid her vision. She pushed herself up and winced as her head began to
throb.
That was a really hard hit, Alys noted as her fingers lightly skimmed her left
right temple. She gripped at the cold wall behind her to hoist herself up,
nearly yelping when she touched what felt like moss. Her knees trembled beneath
her for a while. Inhaling deeply to compose herself, she threw her hands in
front of her and started walking forward.
Blinded by the darkness, Alys
could only grope the air to prevent herself from running into a wall. When her
hands touched another wall, she flattened her palm against it and started
search for a sign of an exit. Alys began walking again in that manner when she
felt metal beneath her fingertips.
A door handle! she was quite taken aback when the door opened with a weak tug. No locks, no
restraints, no guards. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, Alys
stepped out of the room. She waited until her eyes adjusted to the lights of the torches before running towards the dungeons.
Alys ran down the hollow
corridor, up steep stairs until she reached a dimly lit corridor. Which way now? Alys thought as she
panted. Her question was answered when a scream echoed in the corridor. It was
Berta's, she knew. Alys sprinted in the direction of the scream, all the while
praying that it was still not too late. Berta's voice got louder with each step
and Alys could feel the panic rising in her chest.
Upon reaching the door that
holds Berta behind it, the younger girl began pounding on the wood.
"Berta! Berta, hold on!" Alys pleaded. "I will get you out of
there!"
She started ramming into the
door with her shoulder, hoping that the force would be enough to knock it down.
However, just after two tries, a blood curling scream escaped from the room.
Alys halted all movements.
"Berta?" she
called in shock. "Berta, please respond. Please say something!"
Stray tears fell from her
eyes as she fell to her knees. No, she
cannot be dead, no! "Berta!" her voice quivered. The door that
she was trying to knock down swung open. Bartholomew stepped out along with a
flack of guards and locked eyes with Alys on the ground.
"Why?" she
whispered questioningly, staring at him with tear-filled eyes. The man smirked.
"Because I can." With
a swish of his cloak, Bartholomew brushed passed the shaking girl. "Take
her back to the underground room," he ordered the guards standing by the
door. "And dispose of the body."
Alys buried her face into
her palms as she sobbed. Her lithe figure shook with the tremor of her sobs.
She didn't resist when she was pulled to her feet. "You heard the master,
back to the room!"
"Wait!" choked out
Alys. "At least—at least let me see her, for the last time."
The young guard's hardened
face faltered for a moment. "Her body—is not in a condition for
viewing," he explained quickly.
She shook her head. "I
don't care. I need to see her for the last time, please."
With a loud groan, the guard
led her into the room. Alys tried hard not to notice the torture equipments
hanging on the walls, some of it still dripping blood. She shakily made her way
to the body lying on a stone table, covered by an old rag. Alys had to fight
the urge to gag at the sight of blood staining the rag whole.
Her fingers quivered as she
pulled back the rag to reveal her face. Fresh tears ran down Alys' already wet
cheeks. She gingerly closed Berta's eyes with her fingertips before kneeling
down next to her.
"I'm sorry, I'm so
sorry," Alys cried out. "This was my fault. Please forgive me,
please."
She buried her face into the
woman's hair and let her tears mingle with the blood.
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