[2] Ephemeral - Edmund Pevensie

Chapter 8: The Girl

CHAPTER 8

Walking straight forward, muscles tense and forehead sweating, the man's grasp on Pommella's wrist tightened at each step taken. She had tried to escape numerous times, yet to not prevail. Her hands rested behind her back, tied with thick, scratchy ropes into tight knots, the knots being so taut she could feel hot blood seeping through the rope's fibers. She grimaced from the pain but tried not to appear weak or in distress; she was queen, after all.

Pommella climbed down the stairs shakily, her knees wobbling after being kicked multiple times by the man. She was sure she had bruises on her legs by now, all black and dark. Her legs moved forward, still trembling from pain. Whilst walking, by now doing it absentmindedly, her head turned around, eyes observing all the ancient-looking buildings, marking the memories of them into her brain before having to be sacrificed into the green mist. As she scrutinized the area, her eyes caught the sudden quick movement of someone running. She squinted to get a clearer glimpse of the figure, but with a blink, it was gone.

As she trudged over small pebbles and the hedges of stone curbs, kicking away non-existent dust and dirt, she couldn't help but feel bored. Moving her feet forward absentmindedly, her mind started to go places. More specifically, about the voice, she had heard when she was in the cellar.

The voice. . . oh, she had no words to describe how delightful it sounded. The person's voice when not raised so ethereal, as though she had heard the voice a lifetime ago, in a different time and place. She wondered who it belonged to. She couldn't distinguish if it belonged to a male or female, because she had heard it as mere echoes banging on the walls of the cellar.

Her zone-out was soon followed by a groan that came from the person behind her — her captor. Before she could see what the hell had happened, she fell headfirst onto the ground, her nose feeling fragile after the fall. She scowled, her hands being tied behind her back, which had only hurt enough. 

"Don't move," the person warned the voice belonging to a female.

Pommella stayed still and stiff, obeying the person's order. Soon, someone started cutting through the ropes bound around her hands. The person, whoever he or she was, thinned the ropes until Pommella could break free. Pommella rolled on her back, facing upwards towards the sky, to see who the hell had just rescued her. She shifted her eyes to focus on the image above her but saw nothing except a person's body towering above her own, face shadowed by the black cloak the person was wearing.

"Get up!" the female demanded, handing her hand for support.

Pommella took her hand begrudgingly and steadied herself into a sitting position, stretching her numb legs. She pressed her thumb on the dark bruises that were spread across her leg and slightly winced from the pain. Although she knew pressing the bruises pained her, she kept on doing it, the next harder than the last to test how much pain she could take.

"Come on! No time for this!" the female cried loudly, kicking Pommella's hand away from her leg.

Pommella groaned in annoyance but obeyed, nonetheless. She jumped up to her feet, the action hurting her legs more than expected. 

"Got a sword?"

"Obviously," Pommella replied dryly, pulling her sword out of its sheath and flexing it.

"Right," the female nodded. "Now. . ." she took the bow placed on her shoulder and loaded it with two arrows at a time. "Go shadow, stealthy."

"Mm." Pommella hummed, polishing her sword with her blood-drenched blouse.

"What're you waiting for? Go —"

Pommella cut off the female's sentence by stabbing an incoming attacker who was running towards them, and he fell to the cold, hard ground with a loud thud. The female, whose name Pommella was yet to know, stared at Pommella, mouth agape with wide eyes. Out of pride, she smirked, and she went off to find Lucy, Eustace, Edmund, and Caspian.

Two figures came into view. They were Edmund and his captor, both walking ahead towards the docks where the boats were settled. She stealthily approached the two men, ensuring not to make too much noise. Once close enough, she grabbed a nearby pole and knocked the captor out. In shock, Edmund looked over his shoulder to see who had done so, and he soon saw Pommella poking the captor's back with the pole she used to knock him out.

"You're welcome," said Pommella curtly, dropping the pole. "C'mere, I'll undo the knots."

Edmund obliged and came a step closer, his head level with hers. She searched for a dagger in her pockets, but soon remembered she had used it to kill a slave trader earlier. She shrugged, then patted her pockets in acceptance.

"Got a dagger?" she asked Edmund.

"Right side pocket,"

She patted the right side of his leg where his pant pocket was knitted. She felt a dagger-like bulge and swiftly pulled it out of his pocket. She put it into her right palm, the cold metal feeling as though biting through her complexion. Then, she began harshly cutting through the thick ropes. She looked up from the ropes to meet Edmund's gaze, whose cheeks were red from the heat of the sun. Soon, she got lost in his hazel eyes, absentmindedly trying to cut through the ropes with a sharp dagger.

Millions of memories flashed through Pommella's mind, replaying each conversation they held, the song of their voices and echoes of laughter resonating in her mind. She smiled sweetly, something she hadn't done in years. Edmund's hazel eyes glistened with the ghostly reflection of the beautiful sunset that layout on the horizon.

"Ow!" Edmund exclaimed, snapping Pommella out of her thoughts.

Instead of cutting through the ropes like she was supposed to, she had accidentally stripped of some skin at his wrist, creating a wound. At least she got rid of the wretched ropes, she thought.

"Sorry," she mumbled incoherently.

"'Right." he brought his arm up, then began pressing the wound with his clothing.

After cleaning off the blood from the wound with fresh, clear water from a well they found nearby, they went off to meet the female, who presumably had saved the others.

"Pommella! Here!" said the woman from earlier, waving her hand frantically.

Pommella smiled when she saw the sight of her friends trailing behind the female, ropes no longer bound around their hands. She ran to them in delight, only to be struck with a sudden thought. Her steps slowed down, and then she stopped in her tracks, Edmund almost knocking her over due to her sudden halt.

"Hey," she called to the woman, catching her attention. "Hey, how do you know my name?"

"Who's this?" Edmund interjected, scrunching up his nose.

"Glad you asked," the woman replied in a mysterious tone. 

Then, the female doffed the black cloak she was wearing, and Pommella let out a loud gasp.

Skin as pale as sand, long, silky blonde hair, and a white dress torn to her knee length.

"You're—" Pommella tried to find her voice but was shocked by the sight of the girl in front of her. "That girl in my dream. . ."

"Yes," the girl replied with a smile on her face. "But do you know who I am?"

Everyone shook their heads, having no clue who she was. The girl seemed satisfied with their gesture, as a small smirk tugged her lips.

"I am Lilith Faye Eamon."