Young Writers Society

Chapter 4

Isabel peered out of a thin crack through the curtains of her golden carrier. IT was night. The fountains in the palace gardens trickled bead’s of pristine water into the man-made lake below them. The carrier was on a bridge, being carried by ten bulky men. Isabel cringed every time they took a quick step on her bridge for fear of shoe marks.

The carrier was lowered at the palace entrance, fifty foot oak doors with a portcullis baring and detracting from its unique splendour. The men left just after raising the portcullis.

As she entered an icy chill invaded her senses, a strange darkness prevailed over all the oil lamps, now diminished that were all over the entrance room. A faint creak was heard. Isabel cautiously stepped forward, he lip trembling, she nearly shouted for the guards. She though better of it.

Something hard hit her shin, a chair broken, destroyed, blocking her footpath. Isabel inhaled a breath trying to calm herself but instead could smell a rotting, salty smell resembling dampness.

A swish was heard, the blowing of material. The curtains at the other end of the hall blew to one side, they blew slightly more revealing two bright yellow eyes.

At once the room was illuminated, the Boatman stood there with his fingers coiling themselves around a girls hair, who was lying on the floor. Delzette.

Isabel tripped and fell backwards, trying to escape from the Boatman, with a flash of light she had seized up, unable to move, her eyes focused on the ceiling, but her hearing still sound.

“I warned you Delzette,” said the Boatman with his sharp, masterful voice. The drumming of his fingers on Delzette’s forehead pulsed through the eerie silence. His voice lingered, repeating itself, as if it was a force attacking Isabel.

She regained her senses again and carefully stood up, the Boatman now with a knife at Delzette’s throat standing in front of Isabel and bearing his toothless grin.

“Wwhat do yyyou want?” Isabel stuttered and backed against the wall, she broke out into a cold sweat. The Boatman’s eyes burned amber and he and Delzette rose off the floor and approached Isabel.

Delzette was chained and unconscious, her body radiated the glow of a curse: a thin blue attraction, appealing to the human eye.

“You did not listen to me,” He hissed gently, “YOU FAILED ME.” His voice became hoarser and backed up with greater power: a hint of rage that could silence an entire battle field. The Boatman steadily raised his hand, and pointed to the scarred side of Isabel’s face. “LIAR!” He roared at her, she glided down the wall, lost for words, entranced with fear.

“I will keep my promise…” He lowered his hand and looked directly into Delzette’s eyes “…I will destroy your family, one by one. “ With his eyes yellowed, the glow left Delzette, leaving her pale, still, lifeless.

“NO!” Isabel’s sudden screams ricocheted through the palace and out to the guards, they ran to her aid looking around, seeing Isabel distraught and her daughter dead. The Boatman had gone.

Isabel crawled over to her daughter’s body. She stroked her face and kissed her on the forehead, blemishing it with her tears. “He killed her,” she whispered. “HE KILLED HER.” Her whisper turned to a wail. The guards stood, silent unable to understand what had happened. She wiped away her cries to reveal eyes of determination. “Guards take my daughter, hang her naked in the town centre,” she said with a sly grin. The guards looked at each other before doing as she asked.