The Forgotten - Chapter 4

  Vance woke to the sensation of a cool and wet cloth being placed against the back of his head.  The smell of intoxicating perfume as well as the sound of the swaying music told him exactly where he was.  He twisted his wrists only to discover that they were bound tightly behind him as he lay on his side.  He was to be sold as a salve, but only over his rotting corpse he vowed to himself.  He groaned behind his foul tasting gag and tried to sit up.

“Gently,” a light voice told him in a rich, womanly tone.  “You will be sore for quite some time I believe.  I’ve been knocked out a time or two myself.”

The cool compress was moved away and soon replaced by another that cleaned away the excess blood.  He groaned again and chewed on his grime covered gag.  Cool fingers reached around and pulled the cloth away from his mouth.

“That will make you feel a little better,” the woman’s voice said softly.

He groaned again as the cold fingers reached for his bonds.  He felt them also fall away and he pushed himself into a sitting position.  Vance kept his eyes closed for a few moments, willing the dizziness to pass.  Once centred, he opened his eyes and began to massage his wrists to get the blood flowing to his numb fingers again and looked about him, searching for anything that could be used as an instrument of escape.

“I remember you,” the woman said in her soft voice.  “About an hour ago.  You went through to the back room with that other fellow.  He came back a few minutes later.  After a few more minutes you were brought in here, knocked out I might add.  I was ordered to look after you.”  A light chuckle.  “Lucky for you as Prince was starting to take a somewhat sophisticated interest in your prone form.”

Vance found her voice as intoxicating as the perfume.  He turned to look at her and saw the small and young, blonde woman with the green eyes from earlier staring back at him.  He was painfully aware of her near nakedness and of his own as there was only a loincloth to cover his modesty.  Her eyes glanced once at the masculine torso with a light halo of hair covering his chest and seeing the way the muscles played underneath his smooth skin as he reached back to touch the lump on the back of his head.  He did not notice her blush as he looked around the room.  She felt slightly taken aback as she had never seen a man without his shirt on before, at least not one who was muscled yet lean and not making lewd suggestions.  She supposed those would soon be forthcoming.  She looked at the floor to hide her blush as he turned to face her again.

“My name is Vance.  Thank you for your, administrations, is the word I guess.”

She gave a slight nod.  He saw her stiffen and recoil slightly as he reached across and took the damp cloth from her delicate hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her reaction as he placed the cloth against his injury.  “I won’t hurt you.”

The small woman raised her eyes and looked at him, seeing the concern in his expression.

“It, it’s not you,” she stammered.  “It’s just that any man who gets close to me or nearly touches me seems to end up as a dead floater in one of the ally sewerage drains by morning.”

“Nice image.  I’ll take the warning.  You’re a virgin slave aren’t you?  The wine colour of that gauzy wrap you wear hints at it.”

“Gauzy wrap?  I wish.  Gauze would at least cover something.  This thing is like a damn vanishing mist.  I swear there is less of it each morning.”

He could see that she was about to say more when she suddenly shrank back.

“Talking to Princess?”  The pretty boy with the angular eyes Vance had seen earlier approached them, a sneer on his face.

“Princess?”  Vance asked.

“Yes.  Our precious little virgin slave.  Women disgust me, but I should take her for the good of all.  Lower her price, if I could stomach it.”  Though he was a man, his voice was high pitched similar to the tones of a woman rather than a mature male.  He leaned forwards and with the swiftness of a viper, slapping the girl across the face, splitting her lower lip.  “Precious bitch.”  He brought his hand back for another strike.  Vance grabbed the wrist and the man leaned into it before Vance put a hand against the man’s chest to stop him from leaning closer.  “But a big strong man like you?”  He moved back.  “You I would enjoy seducing.”  His gaze was appraising as he stroked his own flank.  “Want to play?”

“No, thank you,” Vance replied coldly.

“What?  Too good for me are you?”  He gave a snorting laugh.  “How about her,” he gestured to the young woman with the green eyes who held a hand against the injured cheek and lip, refusing to utter a sound and give the man the satisfaction.  “You like her.  I saw you staring as you entered.  Or you liked the other one too didn’t you?  Big Bess?  Our blonde, blue eyed Bess?  She might be the last chance you have with a woman for a while.  Big man like you?  Many a rich man will want you seduced and under their control.  Makes them feel big and strong.”  He laughed and began to walk away.  “Butch men are so provincial,” he muttered to them before he vanished into the dim smoke.

“Thank you,” the young woman whispered as she leaned forwards so that Vance could hear her.

He turned to face her again and gave his head a slight shake that he instantly regretted.  “Let me look at that,” he said softly as he cupped her chin and turned her head to see the lip clearly.  He touched the damp cloth to her bleeding lip and wiped away the crimson droplet.  “How is it that this drugged smoke does not affect you?”  He asked as he examined her face closely for further injury.

She gave a shy half smile.  By the Gods she was beautiful when she smiled, Vance thought.

“I concentrate very, very hard,” she replied, her wan smile creasing her porcelain features as she pulled back.

“Is what he said true?”  Vance asked.

“Which bit?  A virgin slave, Big Bess or the seduction thing?”

“The virgin slave bit I was fairly certain but...”

She nodded.  “Yes.  Lucky me,” she added dryly.

“And Cull put you in here?”

She nodded again and sniffed.  “I trusted him.  He always said that one day someone would come for me.  I did not expect they would come for me like this.  I mean, someone had to have had at least some feelings for me to give me this.”

She shuddered and dipped a hand into the folds of her gauzy dress and pulled out a small purse.  She shook out its contents and a golden pendant fell into her waiting hand.  “There is an inscription on the back of it.  ‘To my daughter from your mother.’  Lovely.”

The necklace was an amethyst in the shape of a full moon, surrounded by diamonds with a solid gold backing and suspended from a thick gold chain.  The symbol of the Katrall Royal Family and proof of legitimacy.  Could it be her?  Could this bruised, bedraggled young woman be the one they were looking for?

“Princess Astrid?”  He asked, hiding his surprise.

Her eyes shot to his face, suspicious.  “How do you know my name?  Wait, Princess?  What tomfoolery are you up to?”

He shook his head slightly.  “It’s not that I know you on a personal basis, but I know of you.”

“Of me?  Why would you?  I’m just a daughter of some long vanished whore.  One of a long line of children probably.”  She rolled her eyes.

“Is that what you have been taught?”  He paused.  “Please listen to me.  I was sent by my Lord Draynon to collect you.  Myself and another.  Cull was supposed to hand you over to us.”

“But he decided to sell us both instead?”  Astrid guessed.

“Correct.”

She sighed.  “Why wouldn’t he?”  She then said a few choice words seldom heard from the mouth of any noble.

“That’s what I thought,” Vance muttered the reply.

“Why do you want a whore’s daughter anyway?”

Vance leaned in close enough to breath into her ear.  “You are no whore’s daughter, but you are the daughter of noble parents.”

She gave a sudden rich laugh that set her eyes to dancing.  “You tell a good story.  They’re similar to ones I told myself when I was a child.  Stories of my true parents who loved me and were rich and one day would come to claim me.  Then we would leave together and I would get to eat beef, or fish, or something at all every night, have a feather bed to sleep in and never be hungry again.  After that I would marry a prince and live happily ever after.”

She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

“But silly dreams like that are for children,” she added mournfully.  “As you get older you realise that your dreams don’t come true, but your nightmares do.”  She paused.  “So truthfully now, how do you know of me, or are you some figment of my imagination and the smoke has finally done its job?”

Vance was leaning back, surprised by her high level of cynicism.  “Stories are for children Astrid, you are correct about that.  But sometimes the dreams do come true instead of the nightmares.”  He leaned in close again.  “I am no imaginary dream, my dear, and you are a noble woman,” he whispered.  “A true Princess.”

“Fine.  Don’t tell me the truth then.”  She looked at him as she leaned back with a smile that brought a lump to his throat.  “But besides your amusing tales, you are my supposed rescue, even though you have the wrong girl.”  The smile vanished from her face.  “It just gets worse and worse I suppose,” she added, her tone self-mocking.  “So is there another idea, or did it end with the bastard Cull meekly handing me over to you?”

Vance gave her a impish grin.  “There is aways a backup.  In this case, a distraction.  Enough to grab you in the confusion and ride off into the sunset where we live happily ever after.”

She raised one eyebrow.  “Really,” came the sardonic reply.

He winked.

“Oh Gods.  You’re not joking are you?”

Another wink.  “It’s late,” he said to her softly, all serious now.  “And it’s a big day tomorrow.  Try to get some sleep.”

“With Prince here?  You’re joking again, right?”

“Prince?  Oh.  The man thing?”  He placed an arm around her shoulder.  He felt her stiffen but when he made no further move she relaxed.  “I’ll not let Prince near you and you’ll be free again by tomorrow afternoon at the very latest, and on your way to a new home with regular food and everything you could ever want,” Vance whispered to her reassuringly.  “It’s where I have been living for the past 12 years.”

Astrid raised her head to look at him and he was snared again by those captivating green eyes.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“You’ll look after me?”  She asked, her voice small and timid.  “You’ll not let some oversexed buffoon buy me?”

He wrapped both of his arms tightly about her as she leant back against his chest, her hands between his skin and her cheek.

“Never,” he replied.  “I’ll get you out of here, both of us.”

“You’re not worried about ending up dead by morning?”

“I was trying to forget about that, but I assure you that I will be here in the morning and still alive.  Sleep now.”

Astrid gave a small sigh that betrayed no emotion one way or the other and closed her eyes.  Vance looked down and watched her fall into an exhausted sleep, the hard lines on her face vanishing as she slept.  He stared at her, caught again by her beauty.  It was not a conventional beauty, but something from within that was all her own and captured your attention.  Innocence.  Something very rare in these days of barbarity, war and plague.  No wonder Cull had so much interest for her.  Her innocence made her undeniably desirable.  Princess or not, Vance decided he would spend the rest of his days making Astrid happy and one day he would convince her to marry him.  Astrid was his dream girl and dreams can come true.

  The slaves were woken the next morning by swift kicks and curses from several guards.  Most of the women began squealing in fright only to quieten again under the threat of whips.  They were all forced into the semblance of a line from the cheapest to the most expensive and rarest.  The beautiful man, Astrid then Vance were at the back of the line.

“Keep calm,” Vance whispered to Astrid.  “The other fellow, Sigwulf, he’ll take care of this.  Trust me.”

“Gods I do hate it when people say that.  It’s usually just before a ‘Plan B’ is warranted.”  

“This is the ‘Plan B’.”