Chapter 19
The cart carrying Amberly pulled up to the main gate of Avernadale, Thomas pulling the reins to slow the horse to a stop. The two gate guards began talking to Thomas and his wife, Amberly couldn’t quite hear what they were asking from the back of the cart. She noticed a Warden began to circle the cart, the guards saw but made no move to stop him, scanning for anything suspicious.
When his eyes met Amberly’s he paused longer than he should have. His gaze trailing from head to toe, eyes greedily appraising her body. Savoring the site before him. Amberly felt disgusted, this attention unwanted, she wished that he would just move on. She pulled herself into a protective ball bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
Waldor moved closer searching the area around her, so close she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. She tried to shrink further from the man terrified of the look in his eyes. The Warden reached out and put his hand under her chin tightly, his calloused hands rough on her chin, began raising her face to meet his.
“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing riding in the back of a dirty cart?” His voice weathered, his touch worse.
“How about I take you where you really want to go?” Waldor said licking his lips.
Amberly trembling in fear, her skin crawling with disgust, could only muster a quiet “No.”
He climbed into the back of the cart almost on top of her.
Amberly pulled her knees in tighter. Please no, just leave me be. She thought. Why are the guards not doing anything?
Lips to her ear. “I’m sure you would be pleased.” His tongue reaching out and gently flicked her earlobe.
Amberly shuddered, the man becoming more brazen sniffed her neck.
Just then the cart started moving again. The Warden still at her ear.
“I’ll find you again.” Licking her cheek, he hopped out of the moving cart his eyes never leaving Amberly.
Frozen in shock, tears welled in her eyes. She stared at her feet, wishing she could disappear. By the time the cart stopped she was trembling so hard she could barely move.
Thomas hopped down off the seat at the front of the cart and made his way back. When he reached the back of the cart he called Amberly’s name, but she didn’t move. Concern spreading through him he spoke again but louder.
“Amberly, we are here.”
“Amberly are you ok?”
“Amberly!”
He reached out and touched her hand. She recoiled as if a snake had just lunged at her. Looking up from her feet, the world slammed back into her knocking the breath from her lungs. She saw Thomas the look of concern on his face palpable. Taking a steadying breath she said quietly.
“I’m… ok…, just need a minute to compose myself.”
The look of concern on Thomas’ face not leaving but lessening a little.
“Ok.” He began removing the items he brought from the cart and moving them in front of the house.
Amberly sat a few moments longer, taking deep breaths, getting her heart beat under control. Standing, her muscles ached from the journey and being hugged so tight. She straightened her dress, stepped off the cart, reaching back to grab her pack. Wiping her cheeks she put on the face her grandmother taught her for when you see a patient: calm, blank, unreadable. Her grandmother said it was a face that would not scare the patient even if it were dire.
Moving beside Thomas, her hands balled into fists to hide the tremor, she asked to see the young girl.
When they reached the door to the home, Thomas knocked loudly. A woman answered the door, her hair disheveled, circles under her eyes announcing she has not slept fully in a while, her shoulders slumped. The kind of exhaustion that came when hope was almost gone.
“Brother, thank you for coming.” She said quietly, exhausted. “Please come in.”
Thomas led the way into the home. “Sister, this is the granddaughter of the woman I told you about.”
Thomas’ sister looked at Amberly, a small sliver of hope in her eyes. “I’m Gertrude, thank you for making the journey here.”
Amberly gave a small nod, compassion showing on her face. “I’m Amberly.” She continued “If you don’t mind I would like to look in on the child, where may I find them?”
Gertrude turning before speaking “This way.”
Gertrude led Amberly to the stairs at the back of the house. When they landed on the second floor, the first thing Amberly noticed was the smell, sweat, body odor, vomit thick in the air. Following close behind the two of them made their way down the hall to the last door on the left. Opening the door the smell increased biting at her nose.
The room was small, hot, and cluttered. In the bed at the far wall was a young woman about Twelve years old. Bone thin, her breathing shallow and haggard. Amberly crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Looking down at the girl she reached out and felt her forehead, it burned to the touch. Amberly thought. The fevers too high and her skin too dry. She glanced back at Gertrude and asked for a basin with cool water. Hoping this would help ease the fever even just a litte.
Taking a cloth from her pack she dipped it in the water and wrung out the excess. She place it gently on the child’s head, instantly the cloth went warm.
Turning to Gertrude she asked.
“When was the last time she ate or drank anything?”
Gertrude thought for a minute not truly remembering “I believe three days ago.”
Amberly turned back to the child. “My poor girl.” Sadness touching her thoughts. “It has progressed that far already.”
Turning to Gertrude. “I have preparations to make, may I use your kitchen?” Her voice calm, not giving a hint of the dire situation.
Gertrude nodded. “Anything I can do to help?” Her maternal instinct to care flowing out of her.
“Just sit with her, keep the cool cloths on her head, let her know you are here.” Amberly turned and left the room, her emotions at risk of showing.
Amberly made her way down the stairs, her hands trembling, her tears threating to fall. She walked into the kitchen and right out the door to the side of the house. Outside the slight breeze cooled her flushed skin. Collapsing on to her heels, her hand over her mouth as the sobs came, unable to hold the emotions of the day any longer.
Amberly let herself have these moments. She didn’t fight it, didn’t try and hide it. It was a release that she needed.
When the sobbing subsided, she pulled herself up, straightening her clothes. She walked across the small back yard to the well, pulling the bucket up and sitting it on the stone lip, she leaned forward and splashed cold water on her face. For a moment, her reflection stared back at her, red-eyed, and weary. She didn’t recognize the girl in the water. Lowering the bucket again she refilled it and brought it into the kitchen with her.
She stoked the fire in the hearth and set a pot to boil. Pulling the salve and the herbs from her pack, she gently opened the herbs and placed them in a section of cheese cloth. Tying the bundle tight she placed it in a bowl. When the water was ready, she carefully poured the water over the bundle into the bowl and let it steep.
When finished with her preparations, she carefully made her way back upstairs as to not spill the herb tea. Pausing outside the door to steel her nerves, she watched and listened to Gertrude as she stroked her daughter’s hair, humming a soft soothing tune.
Tears dripped from the edges of Amberlys eyes. Stop now. I need to go in and help. I can’t let her see me like this. Taking a few slow breaths Grandmother give me strength, she entered the room and quietly asked. “How is she doing?”
Gertrude looked at her, eyes full of tears, her cheeks wet with them.
“N… No… No better. Still too hot. She won’t wake.” A sob escaping her lips.
Amberly placed the bowl and the salve on the floor next to the bed, and then placed her arm around Gertrude’s shoulders.
“We will do the best we can, and she will do the best she can.” Her voice wavering, trying her best to hold the calm.
“Help me here, try and get her to drink this, it should help to bring the fever under control.”
Gertrude took the bowl from Amberly, moving to the head of the bed she sat gently and placed her daughters head in her lap. Tilting her head back she slowly poured some of the herb tea into her mouth. Talking in a sweet tone.
“Here my sweet child. Drink please, this should help you feel better.” Her tears landing on her daughter’s forehead.
Amberly looked on from the other side of the bed. Grandmother, what am I supposed to do.
When the tea was finished, Amberly moved to take the bowl from her and left the room, bringing the bowl to the kitchen she thought. That’s all I can do right now, that poor girl, I hope she has the strength to fight it.
Returning to the room Amberly placed a hand on Gertrude’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go get some rest. Its going to be a long night, I will sit with her now.”
Gertrude didn’t respond. Her hand, curled in her daughter’s hair, stayed frozen. She stared down, rocking slightly, lips moving though no sound came.
Amberly sat beside her through the night, listening to the girl’s uneven breaths, watching the shadows stretch across the walls.
At dawn, the fever had not yet broken. Amberly stayed seated, head in her hands, afraid to hope.
Across the city, sunrise brought more work for Greycen.
The young Warden Alswith liked routine. Everything the same every day. Up early to the slums, then the barracks, then his actual shift, and finally the tavern near the bakery just off market row to end the day.
Mind numbing, boring.
But boring was useful.
Today, Greycen followed again. Quiet. Patient.
He kept his distance, keeping to the shadows. Alswith emerged from the barracks.
“Don’t trust your sight.” an ominous message from the voice. “This predictable routine could be a setup.”
Greycen pondered going over everything he had seen the past couple days. It could be the Wardens wanted to make people complacent, make it seem ordinary, then strike when least expected.
Greycen eased back, adding more distance, he continued his pursuit.
Morning turned to afternoon, then evening. This evening was different. Alswith didn’t return to the barracks straight after his shift. Heading in the opposite direction he weaved his way through alleys until he spilt out just before the main gate. Here he seemed to meet with another Warden.
Greycen used the shadow to his advantage and moved in closer. Just out of sight but close enough to hear what they were talking about.
“Frederrick, what was so important you would risk a message.” Alswith looking around nervously.
Frederrick spoke just above a whisper. “Waldor found a new plaything yesterday.” He cleared his throat.
“I guess a cart came through about mid-morning, nothing unusual, but there was a young woman in the back.”
“And” Alswith replied sounding annoyed.
“And she is all that he talked about. Her scent, her eyes, her tits. The main was going into vulgar detail.” Frederrick feeling uncomfortable continued.
“He has sworn to find her. Sworn to take what he believes is his.” Anger flashing across Frederricks face.
“Do we have a name?” Alswith asked.
“No. Nothing easy to go off of.” Frederrick continued. “I just want you to keep your eyes and ears open. You know how he is with women.”
“I will.” Alswith said turning. “Get back to your post, we want to stay out of suspicion.”
Walking towards the barracks, Alswith decided that if it came to it he would stop Waldor.
Greycen, processing what he just learned the voice spoke up menacing.
“If the girl’s smart, she’s already gone. If not… ”
Greycen’s fists clenched.
CRACK. His knuckles struck the wall, silencing the voice mid-sentence.
Breath sharp, muscles taut, he forced himself still.
He knew where Alswith would go next.
The tavern. Always the tavern near the bakery.
No detours. No hesitation. Greycen melted into the shadows and moved.
Greycen sat at a table in the corner of the nearly empty tavern. The air smelled of stale ale and smoke, he barely noticed. Lost in thought of the days’ events.
Any moment now Alswith would walk through the door, order his supper. Drink his fill of ale. Same routine. Every night.
He was predictable.
The door opened spilling the last of the light of the day across the worn wooden floorboards. Graycens gaze shifted to the person who just entered. The figure stepped into the fading light. A small frame. A soaked cloak. She lowered her hood, wet hair clinging to pale cheeks. Amberly. Their eyes met.
Hers full of pain and sadness.
His, shock. And fear.
Closing Note
Next release: Chapter 20
Monday at 9:00 AM.
Thank you for reading.
