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5…The guild The air was thick and sticky when he woke and made it nearly impossible to breath. It felt as if his head had split and now hundreds of pounds of humidity were crushing him. As the young prince came too he felt sick, dizzy and his stomach lurched when he shifted even the slightest bit. Akistu couldn’t tell if his eyes were really open or if it was just dark for not even small beads of light reached him. There was sound however. He could hear mumbling voices, but could not focus on them. They sounded as if muffled by hard wood of a thick door. In a way it reminded him of the conversation he listened into at the temple. Only all the while the source of the voices was right beside him. “Kill him now!” Were screamed words clear enough for the former prince to hear in his state of struggling for consciousness. “And what do you suppose we do!?” A female shouted and the crowed silenced at her words. Akistu tried to move, feeling his stiff legs and arms only being prickled and pinched by tight ropes. He could only hear murmurs and having no idea where he was and being so disoriented he only thought of trying to slip his hands free. Her strong voice sounded all too familiar for comfort however. His mind was so tousled with pain. His body so sore and stiff from laying the same way for hours on end he had a hard time remembering what happened, where he was, who these people were that talked about him as if he was a ravenous animal that needed to be shot or given away. Running. He remembered that. There was red, blood and a sharp pain to his head, he merely suspected that to be the time of his capture. “Hmm!?” The female voice questioned as Akistu sluggishly and weakly tried to slip his hands from the knot, but it was proving to be more and more difficult as he struggled for it only felt as though it was getting tighter. The tips of his fingers were numb and he felt his hands start to tingle and his wrist burn with pain. They tied the rope too tight and he felt his stiff body long to stretch out as he moved. He couldn’t move, not now, not when someone might see. For now his movements had to be slow, steady even though his entire body wanted to shake. “What do you propose we do!?” The woman continued to question, but this question put an uneasy silence around the room. He heard murmured voices, a shifting crowed, but then she spoke again and he, for the first time, noticed how powerful and firm it was. “Do we waltz right up to the castle and hand ‘im over!?.” This made him uneasy for whoever these people were they wanted to hand him in however something else made him even more uneasy, the conmen knowledge of a good amount of people in the room, the imminent knowledge that it was the guild holding him captive, and what she continued on to say only confirmed the thoughts he tried so desperately to get free, trying to move is legs only to find his ankles bound in the very same way. “We are thieves! We are wanted men and even if we did get ‘im to the castle what makes you think we will be getting’ out alive!!!” Her words were like blazing flames to the rest of the room for not even a whisper was heard. Everything was so still, so silent that young Akistu felt as though he was tossed into nothingness. That or he was granted another lump on the head. The smash of a fist on wood, he assumed, was so alarming, so close that it nearly made Akistu yell out in surprise for he even felt the wind from its brute force near his head, even though the loosely woven bag that made it so hard to breath in the muggy air. His young heart was back to beating heavily in his throat and he wished so much to be unconscious again, though he wondered if he should have been wishing for death instead. “But what of the reward!?” the very man that seemed so eager to get attention, that he nearly took off their hostage’s head shouted. Akistu heard the clicking of boots on wood, felt a body lingering over him as chairs scrapped the ground and then the women’s voice again, so clear, so stern that it was frightening even to the prince. “We can just as easily sell him to be a slave for such a small pay!” She wasn’t done however, but what more she had to say interested the young boy. “Besides…” Her voice lingered as the tapping of boots echoed throughout the silence of the filled room. “Do you not know who he is?” She questioned, though her voice was silent again. He had assumed they all knew he was prince. In fact by the way they were talking it was almost definite. No one spoke however, all were silent and her voice lowered. “This boy will be king-“ All went silent. She cut herself off so quickly Akistu’s entire body went stiff with suspicion. Boots clicked on the food again. He heard it creaking under heavy feet. His breathing had become fast, short to the point where he feared they would see the movement of his chest and hear his short gasps for air. It was becoming quite muggy in the woven bag around his face, but he rather it back on when it was torn from his face, and looking down was that women who had spoken, the one with those grey eyes that told him the story of the king of thieves, and she was the leader of the guild. His eyes couldn’t help but wonder the vast room, and the many faces around that in the past couple of days had become so familiar to him. Seeing so many faces around him made him feel as though he was betrayed by the very one’s who he believed would be his new temporary family. His eyes fell on swords slung in belt lopes, on the single door cracked open to a dark looking hall. One so deep it merely seemed to lead to nothingness. “Welcome.” Said the woman’s voice, but he didn’t look to her right away. His eyes fell to the man from his funeral day. The very one he had managed to snatch the cloak from. He now wondered if it was intentional to let him take it. She didn’t say another word. The entire guild was silent as he looked over them; let his eyes fall to the woman with gray eyes again. He felt as though on stage, like he was supposed to give the performance of his life and instead he sat there on stage without a word moving his lips. He smiled down at him, a smile that the former prince was unable to call unsettling or warming, but it was followed by chilling words. “I introduce you to the guild, Prince Akistu of Asmalen.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Though the air on ground levels was swimming with a wave of humidity, atop the castle walls it was slightly cooler then the rest of the world. There was a breeze atop the wall, an actual fresh gust of air to take in every few minutes and so on such days as now in the heat of the summer it was a blessing to be on guard duty. (However winter was an entirely different story.) A guard sat upon his station above the chains clinking chains and rusted trunnions that moved the draw bridge which in comparison to size made a grown man appear as a flee to a blade of grass. He had not a sword since the only few allowed with one when so close to the king were apart of the royal guard when he was simply a look out. He had but a bottle of ale in one hand and an eye glass in the other, but he hardly expected any visitors that day. The heat was sweltering down bellow and the only one’s going in and out of the castle were guards and trackers on their way to look for the prince, which there had been endless reports of that as of late. Nearly a wagon full of peasants approached every hour to report a sighting of the prince, and this particular guard found it quite amusing since not one would have known what there dear prince would look like. So all in all aside from the constant lowering and raising of the bridge that day nothing interesting happened, until then. He remembered letting a small group of guards leave the castle walls early that morning. And a second small group followed maybe but an hour ago and now he saw four men in the distance. The blazing sun was behind them, brightening the green fields and making the blue sky seem as if painted perfectly, but the down side of such a beautiful day was it made the look out strain to try and make out the four figures approaching. He lifted his eyes glass up, leaning nearly over the edge of the wall to see through the brightness of the day, and what he saw was something to spice up the day for everyone for either one of the men had come close to the prince and the guild, (rumors had been spiraling through the castle none stop since the dawn of this day) or the older man had had a bit of a brawl between his younger student for this man had to remember every face and name to those who left and as he saw the wounded man hobbling forth with two other men, one on each side, helping him along, he remembered him as part of that small little group that went out on news of the princes. The eye glass was quickly stuffed in the belt of his pants and he ran, metal clinking the metal toe boots all guards of the castle were required to wear, hit the stone grounds of the castle walls. It appeared as though he would launch himself off and into the entry of the castle when he slammed into the side of the wall with such force he nearly flipped over the edge. Looking down to the startled guards below who were slumped against walls and fanning themselves with their hands. “Open the gates!” The young man shouted down, drawing their attention away from heat and skin sacks of water that they drank and poured over their sweat sticky faces. “Anuk is hurt. He is on his way back! Quickly open the gates!” They moved quickly at the mention of the kind Anuk’s name. He was one a guard that stood close in standings to both Gran and Kirimont. He also acted as the go between for the two rivals. He was a kind man, one of the few that actually ever showed any worry for the young prince and among the people of the castle he was well respected. Some even pegged him to be next in line for king if their dear prince was never discovered. Most believed him to be dead however. When the king pronounced that he lived, many believed, and still believe, that he had gone mad with grief. Even if the man never showed any worry or care for his son how could a parent not grieve when losing a son, and in this case the only heir to Asmalen. The guards bellow jumped from their slumped positions, calling to the men stationed at the pulley system of the draw bridge. The young man on guard duty pushed away from the wall when he heard the great door groan like thunder as it was released with its upright stance. He leaned over far on the ledge of the wall, looking out as the knights drew near. The rusted chains rattled, the trunnions creaked with the strain of slowly lowering such heavy wood. It finally touched down as the three men made it to the gate. Several more guard’s rushed out to take the wounded Anuk, one under each of his arms, and the ones who carried him all that way rolled their shoulders and slowly followed. The young man on guard duty watched until they vanished through the main gates of the palace, and the chains rattled and the wood creaked and groaned as it rose once more.
The hinges of the doors drew Gran’s attention as it creaked open and in rushed a set of guards, dear Anuk wounded in their arms. He was on his way to his dear queen’s room however the sight of three guards, one, Anuk, being wounded, drew his attention and moved his feet in a new direction, to the King’s study. He had been in there for some time. Since dawn broke over the mountains in fact. The fat old man hadn’t been doing much more then sitting; staring at the crumpled note left by the guild, but Gran knew it was left by the prince for he was the one that taught the boy to guise his handwriting. The only times the plump man would shift from his seat was when there was a knock on the door, and not just from anyone, only from those who would bring him information of his ‘kidnapped’ son. The queen would wait, he knew this for she would think that any information of her son was would be worth the wait. He followed after the three men, stood behind them as one knocked on the door and slowly started to open it. Their hurried actions, such as not waiting for their king to grant them entry, only further meant that it was indeed useful information…and that dear Anuk would not last all that much longer. “Did I grant you entry!?” The king snarled as they wobbled their way in, blood trailing on the carpet behind the fallen knight, making the king stand up quickly. To Gran’s surprise however it wasn’t the letter in his hands that he read, but a book, and one he put down quite quickly when all four, including Gran, walked through the doorway. The Queen’s knight did catch a glimpse however, of the binding of the book which read, “Rituals and Summoning.” quite an odd book in fact for a king to be reading, especially when he could just as easily get his astrologers or alchemist to read it. “You’re making a mess!” He snarled, jabbing a finger at the bloody carpet in the door way by Gran’s feet. “Get out!” it was a direct order, but Gran didn’t move. Instead he bowed low, eyes to the ground. “It is not I, my king that makes such a mess.” He glanced up again, the smirk of a mischievous boy on his thin lips, “but perhaps if I grant you working eyes you can see it is the dieing knight before you, Anuk, who is bleeding on your carpet.” He stood up straight than, the king’s face groan red with anger, but he didn’t shout back. Gran talked like this many times to the king. Insulting him, even embarrassing the aging man, but never once was he killed. Never once was he forced to follow the knight’s chivalry to the king, but always he did for their dear queen. What do you want?” Asked the king as he turned his back upon the knights, Gran simply taking his place leaned against the door frame once more. He seemed uninterested however, even as one of his best knights stood before him. In-between the arms of two other’s, dieing from wounds made by a blade, when he was simply looking for the young prince. “I have no time for wounded men. I am trying to find my son!” He barked and Anuk started pushing away the men who helped him stand. The pain must have been great for his face twisted in the oddest of ways as he stood before such a powerful man with not one single hand to help him stay stead. His face was pale, blood leaked to his feet and yet he still stood straight and tall, and still he bowed low to his king. “what I bring is News of your son.” At his words it wasn’t only the king that reacted. As he turned back around the guards around him let their eyes grow wide with shock and amazement for all thought the young boy to have been dead. Not one guard on this mission to find a dead boy thought he was actually living. “Tell me!” The king shouted, both hands grasping the guards shoulders firmly and started to shake the wounded man until it appeared Anuk would collapse with pain. The wound must have ripped for Gran only say more blood. “In the village!” he answered quickly and the king tossed him back. It was only Gran who ran forward to catch him however, and right the dieing man once more. “He was…running from us.” The knight continued and the king turned his back once more, walking to his chair and picking the book up from the padded wood where his royal back end spent all day. “I don’t know why…but the guild…the…they got him and…I am sorry my king I failed. There were two and young Lee died.” He trailed off, Gran could see the distant look in his king’s eyes and he turned again and slowly seated himself, a heavily decorated hand of gold and diamonds rested atop the velvet bound book. “Get out.” He nearly whispered with a wave of his other hand, not even making eye contact with the four, and they listened. The two that had helped Anuk in, helped him out, walking past Gran without a word for he insisted on staying put. “Get a doctor.” He mumbled, however, as they passed by, and they would listen. Anuk was well loved within the cold stone of the castle walls and no doubt he would be helped. The silence of the room reminded the queen’s knight of the first snow of winter, so still and silent, only instead of the soft feeling a writer or poet usually wrote about when it snowed Gran only felt the cold of a coming blizzard and in the mountains it was equivalent to the fierce winds of a sand storm to the far east. The king’s eyes seemed to not focus on anything in the room, in fact he seemed deep in thought, and thoughts which Gran knew were only on the safety of his son. It puzzled the knight however. After all why would such a heartless king want the prince to be living when all these long years he acted as though he would be better off dead? “I told you to leave.” The king snapped, only making Gran realize that he had drifted deep into thought as well as he stood in the doorway. He said not a word however. His eyes locked with the heartless king’s and he grinned at the other, a challenging grin before bowing low. “my king.” He mumbled to excuse himself, backing from the study and closing the door behind him. There was one last stop to be made for the day before he would be excused from his duties for the day and that was to see his dear queen for she would want to hear any news regarding her dear son. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Un-tie me!” were the first words from the young prince’s lips after he had gotten over the initial shock of waking up in the guild. They only laughed a mix of shrieks and deep hums, of stomping feet and broken laughs at what he demanded. His eyes shifted nervously to the men and women for even the one with gray eyes that told such a descriptive tale was laughing at him. Then she stopped. Reached for a glass and tossed it hard to the ground. On her lips there was still a grin and her eyes still laughed at him but when all eyes were on her she simply rose a hand and all fell silent. Those gray, almost familiar eyes were on him again, staring down upon him as she gave a hard yank to the rope on his arm. It was an embarrassment to close his eyes tightly and yell out in pain as the seemingly sharp rope dug into his stiff arms. He himself had never been bound so tightly, but it was a reality he found himself facing. The reality of that the prisoners in the castle went through daily as they were brought to the castle or transported around to meet the king or even the executioner. “You do not tell us what to do.” She starts, but only when his eyes are open and looking only to her. This close he could see the wear of middle age around her eyes, as beautiful as they were. He could even see the damage of constant work in the sun. The wrinkles and damage he didn’t have and if he ever continued the tormenting life he had in the castle, he possible never would never get. “You do not give us orders. You are prisoner here. Do not talk unless spoken to.” There was a lump in his throat the size of a rock for there was something threatening in her words as they were spoken. The thieves around grunted, nodding their heads in approval. He saw them at the corner of his vision and saw more when he looked around. It was almost a stage, what he was sitting in. It was not stone like the ground where most the men and women stood, but hard wood, worn and old that gave way to anyone upon it. One day soon it would break, but not now, as much as the distraction would play in the prince’s favor. Behind him was a long table, sitting atop it bottles and empty mugs. He was sitting before maybe close to fifty people. Fifty pairs of eyes watched his every move, studied the frightened look in his eyes. She turned her back to him again and quickly his head snapped to face forward, and his chin tilted up to watch her. “I only meant they are too tight!” He said and hadn’t noticed, but apparently he had done another thing wrong for the crowd started to mumble again and the women stopped in her tracks. The wood under her feet groaned under his weight as she shifted to glance over her shoulders. “That accent of yer’s don’t sound right on you.” She said, almost a whisper in her words. “Who tied him?” Shouted the women into the crowed, and Akistu’s gaze followed hers as the crowed parted and that odd, almost sinister looking man that had taken him so effortlessly, stepped forward. “He had a talent of escaping.” He replied. The man seemed to have such a smooth, deep way of talking and yet his eyes didn’t come in contact with anyone. “He had taken Neon’s blade, managed to stab ‘im in the leg.” His eyes finally rested on something as he spoke, the young prince who had been staring at the silent male since he started talking. The prince got a sudden chill when such cold eyes were cast upon him, and quickly he had to drop his gaze to his knees. “Neon is resting now, but the boy is crafty for a Royal. Not a bad fighter with a bit of training if you don’t mind me saying.” All seemed to stair, looking at the male as if he had just admitted to turning them all in to the king in exchange for their safety. Even Akistu looked up, but only because it puzzled him when he would say that. He watched the small man look around him; happy to see that his cold gaze did not only affect him for several, much older men had to back down from his piercing eyes. “I only say to help in decide what we are to do with him.” Akistu watched shoulder’s drop, frightened stairs wither away to the corners of the room or back up to the prince, or the woman beside him. It was like the roof was caving in and before they were crushed someone lifted it back up with inhuman strength. The former prince still noticed uneasy glances however, and hateful stairs, but only in his direction. From where he sat he could see the entire room, and close to every face around, however he would have preferred a more…secluded area when the woman turned to him once more. She knelt down on one knee before him, taking his gaze again. His brow was creased, his heart beating heavily in his chest, more so than when he climbed down the tower wall. He was in the guild. He was with people who would give their lives to see him dead he knew he couldn’t escape. He had already gone over all his plans. There was only one door that he could see and to get to that there was a large group of fully grown men and woman, all armed, all angry, to get through. The door may have not even been the way out and he would, no doubt, be stabbed to death on his way there. Her hands were cold, he noticed, when they wrapped around his own hands that slowly turning a repulsive kind of purple, almost black, color. They had become stiff, and sore from their long time of being bound so tightly and just looking at them made him think they would have to be cut off, however he wouldn’t dare ask such a question. Back in the castle, when he had made his father angry, as he always had in some way, for following him around as he often did. He had gotten his fingers slammed in the door to the old man’s study when he had attempted to sneak in just to see the many books, to try and read what his father read. He was young than, he screamed and cried because back than there was no greater pain than on that day. They ended up swelling to an unsettling size and he remembered them being hard to move as well. Gran wasn’t far off. He never was for it had always been his assigned job by the queen to watch him. All the mid wives couldn’t keep their eyes on such an adventurous boy, or so the young prince heard many times. He remembered specifically asking Gran if they would have to cut off his hand for it wouldn’t work. It hurt so badly and to the young prince in only seemed natural to have it cut off. After all he had seen many men in the castle, some even in the dungeon, that had not a hand and he feared so greatly that it would happen to him as well. He remembered Gran laughing at him. It was humiliating, but it had stopped his tears until the swelling went down and eventually even the pain. Akistu never knew if his father had done that on purpose, however that was the last time he tried to get to know the king. After that he simply avoided him. She loosened the rope. All at once it fell in a tangled clump to the ground, reveling imprinted rings around Akistu’s white wrists. The blood that rushed to his hands burned him in a way, but it was a relieving burn even as her cold hands wrapped around them both and massaged them lightly to lessen the stiffness of his numb fingers and help the blood to flow more smoothly throughout his hand. “Better?” She asked and her voice was quiet, soft, almost caring and he nodded his head. She grinned at him, one that was so familiar from his earlier days in the castle. “Good.” His hands were dropped at her words and she got from her knees in such an elegant way. As if she was wearing one of the many modish and flowing gowns his dear mother wore every day of her life in the castle, but this woman was anything but the timid shy woman he cared for. She was powerful and sleek like a panther while his mother was a fluffed up stray cat. “I am sure the gild would want to know why you lied.” She was facing the rest of the room again, her voice loud enough for all to hear as Akistu reached down to undo the binding on his feet. “It was the only way I could escape.” He answered and the guild seemed to be listening intently to his quiet voice. “Why would you want to escape?” She asked. “Why would you want to escape the very walls that protect you and place the blame of your death on us?” Her hands rested on her larger hips that a pair of pants, oddly tight for a woman. In fact it was odd for her to be even wearing the pants of a man when woman wore skirts and dresses. Even most the peasants made sure that had one long dress in their closet. “I was thinking about it for a while.” He answered, thinking it wise to tell the truth for maybe they would let him live. “I stole all your letters from my father, copied your handwriting, memorized your wording, the type of ink you used, studied the width of your pen and I only did it because only the guild would think of killing me.” The room was silent with curiosity and wonder when Akistu spoke. The former prince watched as they looked from one to the other in peeked interest, or fear, for the boy seemed bright and their leader willing to let him live. “You haven’t answered my first question.” Spoke the woman as she sauntered with swaying hips towards him. “Why did you escape?” “Why wouldn’t I?” He answered quickly, standing so that he wasn’t quite as short. “Would you stay in a place where your only name was a title?” There was questioning the smooth voice so heavy with royal accent. “How about living in stone and knowing you could never walk outside them?” His eyes scanned over the crowd, daring them to challenge his reasons for leaving, but he wasn’t done. He was among the guild and he was speaking down to them all. “Not one of you can tell me you would stay locked up in that prison without wanting an escape!” his voice was strong now, loud like the woman’s had been when she spoke to them all. “Your thieves and I know you would hate it more so than I!” “Settle down little one.” Laughed a voice as the women’s cold hand pulled back on his shoulder. He had been nearly yelling, and he hadn’t noticed it until that instant when she chuckled. “I find it amusing that you fear your royal guard more than us.” “I am not afraid of them.” He retorted before the many people around could chuckle. “I didn’t want to go back to being a cursed, evil son. People were afraid of me there because I was the prince.” The air around him seemed damp and like the air after the rain and his eyes cast to the wooden floor. “Are you so sure everyone hated you in that palace?” She questioned, her eyes narrowing in thought as she looked down on the prince. “I am sure your mother cared…perhaps someone else as well.” There wax a way in which she had said these words that caused Akistu’s expression to change. His brow creased in thought, his eyes slimming at the tall woman. How much did she know? It was something to wonder and it was something he would think about for a while. Was that robed figure in his room the night he was so sick real? Was that black shadow that had been following him around for nearly his entire life this one woman? “How old are you?” Was the question asked, and one that ended the battle of thoughts between the thief and the royal. She was the one to ask it as well. “Twelve.” He answered, not knowing his age was such a shock for the entire room broke into buzz of conversation again until her steady hand moved up in the same manner as before, and as before all fell silent. “Quite accomplished for your age…something that should be feared.” Her words themselves were feared, for the tone in her voice made the boy think she would draw out a blade and kill him right there. “That is if you were out enemy.” She continued quickly and the former princes’ shoulders dropped and he couldn’t help but sigh and the ‘shink’ of metal sliding back into their sheaths filled the room. Though Akistu may have been at ease with what she hinted, the tension merely shifted to the much larger group in the room. “It’s observed!” There was a younger woman on the table short hair tucked under a dirty hat and she wore pants as well though of a more comfortable fashion. “Now Vick.” The leader groaned in an almost childish manner as she lifted her chin and focused all her weight on one leg and a protruding hip. ‘I haven’t yet said anything yet and still protest?” The girl growled under his breath and her foot stomped down into the table, making glass cups rattle and one topple over before rolling to the floor with a smash. “I wont let you bring that rat into this guild!” “Who’s guild exactly is it!?” her strong voice was back and with it the room hushed. “I have lead us all for years now since our king vanished and we still hate yet to be found!” The girl’s high shoulders dropped, as did her gaze, but the ferocity in her eyes did not wither. “And still,” she continued walking down the stairs to the stone ground with heavy steps. “Still you dare to challenge my judgment!? All of you!?” All held a look of guilt as the women stood before them, no longer higher up, now short than most, but still she held a sort of superiority that Akistu thought would even put his father to shame. She spun around quickly, eyeing all around her with piercing gray eyes, her long black braid lashing back and forth as she turned her head about. No one spoke out again, but there was a frustrated scream as the girl kicked at the glass on the table. It shattered the second her leather boots hit it, spilling old ale over the floor and slashing it on all near by. She jumped down than, and Akistu watched, finally noticing another door, though hidden further back, for that was where she went. “Anyone else?” The leader called out, but no one came forth. They went back to their tables, some following after the girl to the hidden door and others moving up the stairs to the bar to get fresh drinks. There was the murmur of conversation once more and people took their seats as the woman walked back up the steps to where young Akistu still stood. “You can be useful to us.” She explained, grabbing his shoulder and pushing him forward. He stumbled before the stairs, his feet making him clumsy as he tripped down the few steps and nearly meeting the floor with his face if the woman hadn’t reached forward and grabbed his arm tightly. “You have talent from what I have heard of your daring chase through the allies.” said the woman as she pulled the young boy to an upright possession. Others seemed to be listening on. Despite most having gone back to drinking, seeming to not have a care in the world what happened to him. He shifted his gaze from person to person; from gaze to gaze feel as a mouse must in the field a hawk is circling. Despite the word already being given many even still looked at him as if he was a bucket of gold and a cozy home within the palace walls. “Pay attention when I am speaking to you!” she snapped and the boy straightened up so fast, his eyes darting to hers so quickly it made even the leader of the guild of thieves chuckle. “You catch on fast.” Her hand acme down hard on his back, making him slump forward, losing his upright possession. He didn’t dare look back to the vulture eyes around him. Not when she seemed to want his full attention. “I have a test in mind for you.” She spoke at a normal tone of voice, and yet all seemed to have heard for more heads turned towards them as they walked through the crowd. “You are to steal something for me.” It seemed simple, but by the grin she wore as she spoke those words it made him uneasy. “But not something from my guild, or the peasants for that matter.” she continued “You are to steal something from a royal guard in the very castle you seek to escape.” The young boy had seen corpses before in the dungeon. He had seen the dead with maggots for eyes and those with pale clammy skin. The one thing he remembered most however was but a sheet of white that all their body resembled. At this point he felt as though the skin in his face took on the very deathly white color. “I can not go back there!” “You can and you will.” Interrupted the guild leader and her hand tightened around his small wrist for she thought, from the fear in his eyes that he would try and run. “Just get a good nights sleep.” Her voice was distant to the prince as the words were spoken, for not were his thoughts like the speed and intensity of the rapids of a river, but she had turned her head, skimmed the crowed around them. “Ellie!” her fingers snapped loudly towards the bar, and the person Akistu saw turning towards them did nothing at all to brighten his mood. Ellie, was in fact, the very women, who on the very night of his arrival, took him in. She fed him, gave him cloths, a free room. The one who turned to face them from the bar, with frizzy brown hair and the white dress of flowers, was the innkeeper. She walked down the few steps to the bar. Her eyes shifted and her stance was timorous as she approached. As the prince watched her, losing the small woman once or twice in the crowd, something came over him, a sinking feeling. One that made him feel as though the floor boards reached up and pulled him deep down bellow the earth. For years he had lived in a castle where there were secrets he couldn’t know, whispers behind his back and the prickling feeling of murderous plots for when he came of age. He lived in a place where betrayal was expected and secrets flooded the halls in whispers that only the walls, as thick as they were, could hold and keep from all. As a child Akistu often believed that if he put his ear to the cold stone, or the rough wood of a door they would tell them to him, but they never said a word, and it turned out the village was no different from the castle for now, standing before him, was a person he once trusted and the entire time she knew. It explained the questions. It explained the way she looked at him, studied him. She knew from the moment she took his silk shirt and washed his pale skin. She noticed when she washed his hands, noticed how soft and un-calloused they were. How he didn’t know anything about the village legends and how he even spoke. She knew everything and the entire time she was apart of the guild. She looked at her with something close to pain or disappointment. She stood before them now and their eyes met. Hers shifted to the leader as quickly as they caught her gaze, but just for a while he noticed a flash of the look he gave in her eyes. “Take him to a room.” Spoke the guild leader with the strength in her voice she used when telling a member what to do. “Preferably the one he had been using for a while.” She continued and the very sentence made his brow furrow in puzzlement. If what she said was true than he had never left the inn, however this place, where he was standing now, looked nothing like the inn in any, aside from the basic shape of the room. “Yes ma’am.” Ellie answered with a bow of her head. She reached for his hand than, but the second he saw it coming he pulled away with an icy stab of coldness. Both female eyes looked at him, and only one hand reached out. The guild leader snatched his wrist, giving it a hard yank and holding him out to the innkeeper as if she was simply offering the woman a severed arm, with no body to go with it. The innkeeper took it, but her rough hands were a much lighter grasp than the guild leaders. It was still firm, as it always had been, but gentler, more guiding than forceful. They started to the door to the back, the very rotting wooden door Akistu sought to escape from, before she called out to him, or rather mumbled over her shoulder as if pitching him haunting words, “If you escape we hunt again. If we hunt we kill this time.” Ellie kept walking. As if not hearing the whispered words that, to the prince, was the only sound to reach his ears. He looked back as he was pulled long, watching the guild leader’s back as she walled away until the crowd swallowed her up, and he was guided through the door that smelled like a dead forest after a rain fall. It shut and he was left in the dark while the flames from the torch on the wall captured the air around it. Ellie took it from its holder, casting a dim orange glow before them as she led him forth. Not a sound was heard in the long hall. Only the clap of Akistu’s boots on the stone hall, and the light tapping of the innkeeper’s bare feet as they walked. The flames whispered, the torch sizzled, and the darkness never seemed to leave them from up ahead. Not a word was spoken, but there was a heaviness in the air. Something that made it hard to breath and made the young boy’s feet hard to lift from the ground. “Watch your step.” The words echoed like thunder up and down the single long hall. He looked up quickly and only realized what it was she said that stirred him from his thoughts when he tried to walk forward and only caught his toe on the edge of a set of stairs. He stumbled forward to his knees, catching himself with his free hand, but unlike the rest of the guild who would laugh or maybe even keep walking until he sat up, she bent down beside him. Her hands felt around in the dark until they fell to his wrist. “I told ya ta be careful.” She scolded while picking him up from the stairs. Nothing was changed in her voice. It was the same scolding, parental voice she had used on him since he was first found by the strongly built woman. He said not a word back, but let himself be helped to his feet, watched the dim orange glow and listening to the whipping of flames as she pulled the torch back in front of her and continued up the stairs, but at a much slower pace. Soon before them the darkness parted and emerging from it was yet another wooden door, however it held a very odd, almost crooked shape to it. As if the top half of the wooden door was cut on a downward slant with an ax. His wrist was dropped, but he didn’t move anywhere for there was no where to go but back the way they came and straight into the heart of the guild. The torch was place on a holder beside the door and from where it cast its light he could see a handle of brass flickering in the fire. She lifted the handle and with an eerie creak his mother would try to imitate long ago when telling him frightening tales, it opened. Before him was the inn and what he walked out of the stair well. Despite having seen all this in the past he couldn’t keep the wonderment from his face. Out of all the places he could have wondered to in the night of that storm he wound up lost in the allies and straight into the guilds hide out. The grip on his wrist was tightened as the air cooled in the more open room. It was empty. Completely bare of life and it was something Akistu had never seen before. The door swung shut on its own, but unlike when it opened it shut without a sound. Not even a click as the hidden brass larch clicked it shut. He knew where he was going now. Ellie didn’t need to lead him to the very room he had used for two nights, but he only assumed she still held his wrist tightly so he wouldn’t run. He wanted to. He wanted to shake her grip free and run as far and fast as he could, but the woman’s threat still lingered in his mind. He knew they would. They were the guild and they had sworn to kill the royals. In fact it was a puzzle of its own, and driving the young boy mad for that matter, as to why they would keep him living, in their guild no doubt when they wanted him dead. As he was lead down the muggy hall his door was opened, for he had forgotten to lock it as he left that morning, he thought carefully. If he was the leader of the guild of thieves…he wouldn’t leave himself alive. He would assume this some sort of trick. Set up bait, the bait being him, and dangle it before the guild. Have the bait escape and find the guilds possession. It would be a risky plan, but his father was always taking such risks. The room was in order, exactly as he had it from the sheets on the ground to the mud under the window. There was one change however and that was the single iron shackle at the end of the bed. It weighed a heavy feeling of disquiet on his shoulders when being led over to the bed for he had never once thought he would be shackled before. He could deal with ropes, but only because ropes were simply to free from. All one needed was a sharp knife or small wrist and you were free. With chairs and irons they were clasped so tightly you couldn’t free yourself so simply. Ellie must have seen the alarm in his eyes, for as she sat him on the bed, bending down to remove his shoes she said to him, “It is only to assure the other’s you won’t run away.” She placed his boots aside getting to her feet again and brushing the dirt from her white dress. “I won’t put it on tightly.” She told truth. As he sat on the bed, one leg outstretched, the other tucked in making it like he was half way through sitting cross-legged. She didn’t leave than like he expected. For too long he hadn’t said a single word to her when he wanted to say many. He wanted to let her know how disappointed he was, how he hated her and every other member of the guild for making him a prisoner again! Silence seemed to have a greater effect however for he didn’t look at her, but he could feel her gaze on him. “This ain’t fair.” The bed creaked as she sat down beside him. “Yer just a boy and they’re forcin’ ya ta suffer through this.” She whispered. Akistu hardly jumped when her fingers started weaving through his hair and glided against his scalp until they rested over the large lump near the back of his head. “Does it still hurt?” She asked and Akistu didn’t answer. “I wish they were careful with ya. They shouldn’t be bashin’ yer head into the ground.” “Oh but he was a feisty little fighter.” came a voice from the door. “Mikan thought it would be easier to knock him out.” The guild leader chuckled while walking in through the open door, her boots tapping the floor much as they did wherever she walked. “I don’t care what that brute of a man thought!” Ellie shouted and stood from the bed to meet her leader in height. “He didn’t have ta be knockin’ the boy against the stone!” “Easy Ellie.” The tone in the leader’s voice had changed. It had an almost caring tone to it which the young boy thought impossible from such a strong appearing woman. “He’s not your brother.” She continued in the same whisper, and the innkeeper’s eyes fell to him. “I know.” She responded, walking past to the door. “Just don’t get too attached.” Were the final words the leader got in before the innkeeper left the room, leaving former prince Akistu and the leader of the guild of thieves alone. The woman’s eyes didn’t leave the door however. Not until she cleared her through and approached the bed. “A sweet girl she is.” She spoke, but Akistu refused to look up. “Lost her brother he was-“ “Around my age.” He finished for her, making the woman smile, nod her head. “Right.” The words were whispered and with their end the room grew silent as the night. His ears picked up the tapping of her boots again. From the corners of his gaze he watched her go to his door. “You should get a good night sleep.” Akistu didn’t respond, didn’t look up, and didn’t lie down. She seemed effected by his coldness as well, but in a strange sort of way. She looked at him from the doorway, but all he could feel was a stair. He refused to look over to try and read the look in her eyes and he refused to lay back and rest until she left. “Night Eden.” She said at last and just as the door closed he looked over. He wished he had heard a taunting chuckle in her voice, but she said it smoothly and it was clear as day. He wondered if she saw him as the prince at all. If she did than why would she use his fake name and not the one granted upon him by the king? He lay back, looking to the dark ceiling. The inn was silent for once in his night of sleep. Usually by the time he slept the room bellow would still alive with conversation and the lasting effects of music. Even the rooms beside him were usually filled with laughter and shouts. The entire inn was silent, the whole kingdom dead. He was trapped again, and the silence in the air that night filled Akistu with worry for his father knew and he was being hunted. He escaped the lions, but the pack of wolves had caught him.
Aki112 · Fri Oct 12, 2007 @ 04:46pm · 0 Comments |
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