Darkness -- Part of Eulogy of a Dreamer

Darkness

Darkness surrounded her like the Wicker-Woman’s Shroud. She tried to open her mouth and scream, but the rough gag inhibited her from making a sound. The quickened beats of her heart slamming into her ribcage egged on her fear of the darkness. She tugged and twisted against bonds that cut into bother her slender weakened wrists and bony ankles. Where ever she was, she wasn’t in good company. Again, she battled against the bonds, throwing herself into the floor beneath her, and that’s when she realized she was moving, or rather being moved. Letting out a slight whimper, she huddled in the shadows hoping her captors would show at least some mercy.

Trapped in the mobile darkness, she pushed her memory to try to think of the last thing that happened. But nothing came to mind, all she could think of was the surrounding darkness and the ennamate danger she was in. She had deciphered by the movements she was being held in a cart of some kind, which held connotations of childhood stores of the Bahrak, who stole woman, children and young men out of their beds for nefarious purposes. In the dark, she strained with her ears to try to hear any sounds but nothing came, and slowly she drifted off to sleep to the croaking of the wheels.

A soft caress brushed against her cheek and she awoke startled. Shrinking away from the touch, thinking it one of her captors, she brought her hands up in front of her face and tried to thrash out at the intruder. The hand was back, brushing at her bruised skull and then the nimble fingers were at the gag freeing her from that bondage.

A moist, hushed voice was suddenly at her ear, breathing on it heavily, “Daphne, shush, don’t fight me, it’s all going to be fine.”

“Estin. Estin, is that you?” She held her breath hoping, that she wasn’t in Illusionist Nightmare, well it didn’t feel like one yet.

“Were you expecting someone else, milady?”

The fingers fought with her blindfold finally freeing her from the abyssal darkness, a grim smile greeted her harried state.

“Estin, how?” She was silenced by two calloused digits.

Her eyes shifted towards the hole in the canvas that was pitched over the cart and his expression more severe as he collected the bonds.

“I think they’ve stopped the train, I have to gag and blindfold you again. I hope you don’t mind.”

Voices trumped slowly towards the cart, but she couldn’t hear much more than that.

“I don’t think I…”

The sounds grew louder with that the darkness and inability to do more than whimper encased her [senses] again. She reached out again frantically for Estin.

Please, please don’t leave me. She cried inaudibly, fear prickled on her skin like water droplets and the sense that these captors meant more than intended lodged in the back of her induced mind.

She felt him squeeze her hand slightly before disappearing even from touch. Daphne felt utterly lost, even the notion that Estin had found her had not quelled her fright.

Rough, jagged voices penetrated her realm and the sound of swishing canvas found her straining ears.

Toothed pulps of hands fisted at her skin, wrenching her from the cart. Wind gouged against her cheek and pierced at bruises and sores, as she met with the frigid outside.

Her limp body met the uneven dirt with a thud, and lay crumpled there until a hand righted her on her knees.

He muttered and scuffed his feet, but Daphne didn’t understand him.

The Bahrak.

A bulbous hand yanked at her chin, forcing her head to tilt upwards.

Daphne shivered at the contact. The figure holding her seemed content and let her go. More muffled steps and sounds erupted in grunts and affirmations and she felt completely exposed not being able to see her attackers. Then they silenced and she felt all eyes pinned on her.

Thwack!

Pain blossomed under the skin of her left check as her neck made an audible snap. Daphne steeled herself for another but none came. More muffled sounds from the captors found her tears.

Estin, her mind whispered to the dark, please.

The group after some scuffled came to an end, a hand hauled her upwards. Blubberous fingers ripped away her blindfold. Telling herself to breathe, Daphne took in her surroundings. The light that was left set against harsh mountains of the east illuminated at least even large figures dressed mostly in furs and rages. Pack ponies and two carts made up the small caravan. A sparse grove of trees shelter them from the rest of the road, leading a surreal quality to the sight. She was trapped, no place to run, no one to run to. Estin could well have been just part of the whole nightmare. If it had been possible, Daphne would have questioned the captors of why she was here, but it seemed useless at the time being.

The whole place seemed at a stand still as dusk fell, Daphne starting at her captors, her captors eyeing her like one eye’s a prize calf, making Daphne squirm under their visage.

But slowly, they came back to life, moving silently building up a camp, around her and the one who seemed to be their leader. He stood monumentous over her lithe figure, a gleaming silver hunting knife in his right, a carter’s cat of nines in the other. When he seemed content with the state of the camp, he gathered his men around him and spoke sharply in tones Daphne could not decipher. One of the smaller men grunted, stood up and pointed at Daphne, then to the cart in which she had been kept in. As fast as she could with bound feet Daphne shuffled over to the cart, plunking into it as her guard pushed her face first. The men in the circle kept on talking, it seemed like they were arguing over something but she didn’t comprehend their consonant heavy speech. Jewels and furs were exchanged and Daphne had the sneaking suspicion that they were bartering over her.

Daphne succumbed herself to that these men had her, and that Estin wasn’t coming, that he had been just an illusion.

A hand pulled at her lifting and pushing her backwards into the cart. The large over zealous man, face blood red, showed a knife he looked wiling to use. But instead of bringing it to her neck, he lifted her skirts slicing the bonds around her feet. Daphne in one last ditch effort pulled her knees in to kick him but failed as he flattened her against the boards.

His hands roved everywhere, thrashing at her dress and tearing her undergarments. Tears welled in the back of her eyes as large fingers pinched, prodded and contorted her exposed flesh. Daphne tired to scream against the gag, as it became increasingly hard to breathe.

Daphne struggled against him as best she could but with her arms pinned above her head and her knees wrenched at odd angels, she was verily immobile.

Through the grunts and [expletives] of an unknown language, shouts could be heard, Daphne strained to her them. A worrisome feeling washed over her, and the smells of canvas burning invaded her nostrils. Her captor dropped her, and left the cart in a hurried fashion, Daphne thrashed in pieces.

Crawling towards the entrance as she tried to get back into her dress, Daphne pulled the small flap open. The small camp was in frenzy, one or two of the tents were up in flames, burning wood and canvas leaving a spicy aroma.

A hand brushed against her arm, and she jumped when the hand grabbed her wrist.

Estin popped out from under the cart, wide grin plastered to his face.

“Your ride awaits, milady.” He gestured gallantly, and she found herself jerked into the forest.

Once they were out of sight of the burning camp, Estin stopped and turned towards her. Daphne was bent over, breathing heavily; she barely got out a thank you before two horses appeared. The liver chestnut mare, Estin's Evra and a mottled grey, she remembered from the stables.

“This is Dubhan, Daphne meet Dubhan.”

He handed the bridle to her and the gelding sniffed cautiously at her fingers, neck stretched out fully.

“He’s a sweetheart; you won’t have trouble with him.”

“What are you implying sir?” Daphne shot back as she watched him mount in one step.

“Nothing, I’m implying nothing.” He muttered, as Daphne heaved herself into the saddle.

Estin clicked his mare, Dubhan dutifully followed, leading their riders away from the carnage of the fire.

Daphne turned to Estin, as they had slowed their horses to a walk, he had been very quiet.

“I suppose I should be thanking you for saving my innocence.”

He turned towards her, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I wasn’t aware you innocence was in need of saving.”