Sequel: The Game ›
Status: complete, but revisions are being made
The Pauper Princess
Chapter Twelve
I hear muffled voices through the dark; it sounds like I’m under water. I can’t make out distinct words. Suddenly I feel intense pain in my whole body, then mainly in my shoulder and head. As the pain slowly ebbs into a dull ache, I feel that I’m laying on something soft. For that, I am grateful. I try to move, but manage no more than a feeble twitch. I feel restrained, not only by the heaviness of my body, but also by something else, something holding me down.
The murmuring sounds suddenly stop. I try to open my eyes. Blinding light invades them and a headache instantly forms behind my abused eyes. I blink back tears as I try to get used to the light. I can only see the brightness of the light at first, but something suddenly shades it. I open my eyes again and find that by squinting I can stand to keep them open.
The first thing I see is stone. The ceiling and walls are made entirely of dark granite. I notice a curtained window that must have been the source of the burning light. Before I can take in any more of my surroundings, a crushing weight presses on my rib cage. I gasp as waves of pain blazes through my senses and my breath refuses to return. I nearly black out again.
“You’re hurting her,” a firm voice says.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” The weight quickly disappears. I look to the source of the second voice, and see that it is Mehta.
“M-m,” I try to say her name, but it refuses to come out.
“It’s okay, Mehta,” she says quickly. Her eyes dart to my left, and then quickly back to me again. I close my eyes in confusion, but in a moment, I remember why she’s calling me Mehta. The plan. The camping. The fog. The attack. I open my eyes again to see the concerned look on Mehta’s face. I smile weakly, hoping it doesn’t come out as a grimace. Seeing her face brighten I figure it was a smile. I swallow to make my dry vocal chords work, but my throat sticks and I end up coughing painfully. Mehta quickly lifts a mug to my parched lips, and I greedily drink the cool fluid. I swallow again and am satisfied that my voice will work.
“What happened?” I whisper hoarsely. Mehta’s bright face darkens into a sad smile and she looks to my left again. I follow her gaze and see Ekohl leaning against the doorframe of the room.
“You remember the bandits?” I nod. “One came up behind you. He stabbed you in the shoulder. You hit the ground hard, broke a few ribs and hit your head. Luckily the blade missed your heart, your shoulder blade, even most of the tendons. It’s a miracle your arm still works at all.”
“How did we make it?” I inquire, my voice sounds a little less dry this time.
“The Lequinians heard the horns. We were only about a mile away from the Wall, but we followed the wrong trail through the fog. If it weren’t for their help, we’d be dead.” He looks down and rubs his left arm, which I notice is bandaged from the wrist to the elbow.
“How are the others?”
“There are only three of us guards now,” he answers grimly.
The murmuring sounds suddenly stop. I try to open my eyes. Blinding light invades them and a headache instantly forms behind my abused eyes. I blink back tears as I try to get used to the light. I can only see the brightness of the light at first, but something suddenly shades it. I open my eyes again and find that by squinting I can stand to keep them open.
The first thing I see is stone. The ceiling and walls are made entirely of dark granite. I notice a curtained window that must have been the source of the burning light. Before I can take in any more of my surroundings, a crushing weight presses on my rib cage. I gasp as waves of pain blazes through my senses and my breath refuses to return. I nearly black out again.
“You’re hurting her,” a firm voice says.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” The weight quickly disappears. I look to the source of the second voice, and see that it is Mehta.
“M-m,” I try to say her name, but it refuses to come out.
“It’s okay, Mehta,” she says quickly. Her eyes dart to my left, and then quickly back to me again. I close my eyes in confusion, but in a moment, I remember why she’s calling me Mehta. The plan. The camping. The fog. The attack. I open my eyes again to see the concerned look on Mehta’s face. I smile weakly, hoping it doesn’t come out as a grimace. Seeing her face brighten I figure it was a smile. I swallow to make my dry vocal chords work, but my throat sticks and I end up coughing painfully. Mehta quickly lifts a mug to my parched lips, and I greedily drink the cool fluid. I swallow again and am satisfied that my voice will work.
“What happened?” I whisper hoarsely. Mehta’s bright face darkens into a sad smile and she looks to my left again. I follow her gaze and see Ekohl leaning against the doorframe of the room.
“You remember the bandits?” I nod. “One came up behind you. He stabbed you in the shoulder. You hit the ground hard, broke a few ribs and hit your head. Luckily the blade missed your heart, your shoulder blade, even most of the tendons. It’s a miracle your arm still works at all.”
“How did we make it?” I inquire, my voice sounds a little less dry this time.
“The Lequinians heard the horns. We were only about a mile away from the Wall, but we followed the wrong trail through the fog. If it weren’t for their help, we’d be dead.” He looks down and rubs his left arm, which I notice is bandaged from the wrist to the elbow.
“How are the others?”
“There are only three of us guards now,” he answers grimly.