The Shadows Within

Chapter Five- The Promise.

Chapter Five-

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“ We feel free in escape- even if it’s out of the frying pan into the fire.”- Eric Hoffer.

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Cáit stared at her feet, moving across the damp earth. Her body was charged with energy, her senses on high alert. Buckles’ relentless grip on her elbow burned her skin.Her muscles were bunched underneath her, ready to bolt. It took every ounce of her willpower to stay put and act defeated when her whole body was screaming at her: Run! Fight! Get away!  Cáit knew that if she had any chance of ever finding her mother, she had to stay put. She had no idea where to even start looking for her, and she knew these people held the answer.

She stumbled as Buckles dragged her over the rough terrain. He hadn’t blindfolded her, probably assuming she wouldn’t have the balls to run away, even if she knew where she was. Mistake number one. Cáit kept her head bowed, and deliberately dragged her feet, delaying progress. She knew that blantantly studying her surroundings would draw attention. She prayed that her bowed head and slumped posture would be enough to disguise her wandering eyes. She quickly realised that she was in a campsite. It wasn’t much. Including hers, which was situated away from the camp, on the crest of the nearest hill, there were five tents in total. Hers was the smallest, and the others looked to hold about three men each. She marveled at the tents. They were like something you would see in a museum; primitive structures, with two sticks at either end holding up a length of canvas. Strange. The tents were grouped around the dying embers of a fire. It explained the light layer of ash that smothered everything in a dank shade of grey. As Buckles dragged her nearer to the fire, she became aware of the men sitting around it. There were 12, judging by the pairs of boots. She could feel the stares of the men as he marched her by. She could taste their sweat in the air. She wondered if Maidhc and Breén were nearby. She didn’t look. She kept staring at her feet. They were taking swigs out of a what looked to be a leather bottle. It’s hardly Mi-Wadi in there, she thought dryly. Wolf whistles laced the air as she and Buckles drew closer.

 “Hey! What’s your name, my sweet?”
“ Why so shy, love?”
“She’s sad, lads.Awwwwhh, we’ll change that won’t we!”

The man closest to Cáit reached out suddenly and grabbed her wrist, pulling her in close. “ What’s the problem, lass, too good for us, are ye?” he whispered in her ear, his putrid breath making her stomach heave. “I’ll soon cure ye of that.” He leered at her, his black eyes flashing. She ripped her arm out of his grip, heart pounding. That earned a few laughs. Their laughter bounded off the trees and echoed in Cáit’s mind. Buckles chortled softly in her ear. “Now, now ‘fella’s.Our friend has an appointment with the Prince.” Buckles’ voice shaped the words slyly, coating them in malice.The men’s laughter stopped abruptly. Buckles continued. “There’ll be plenty of time to get to know our guest later.” The men exchanged satisified glances. “ And that’s a promise, sunshine.” Buckles’ whispered words were only for her ears. And they had the desired effect. She was scared.

The Prince’s tent was the only other tent besides Cáit’s that was removed from the main camp. It was set a little bit up the path, nestled between two towering oaks. Since Buckles’ promise, she had given up all pretense of being defeated and was fervently scanning her surroundings. She didn’t plan to wait around for him to keep his promise. The only problem was, the quiet, damp forest they were camped in could be any one in the whole of Ireland. She couldn’t make out any distinguishing features, and was forced to accept that when she got the opportunity, her best hope was to just pick a direction and run. Fast and far. Hopefully, the trees would give her some cover and if not, well, she wouldn’t come quietly. Aim up, and strike as hard as you can. Imagine castrating Buckles. The thought warmed her, and she practised quietly, chained to a tree, while he went to announce their arrival to the Prince. She didn’t have long to wait. From the sadistic smile on his face when he came to fetch her, she would have rathered stay with him and his men than face whatever was waiting for her in the tent. “ Enjoy your playtime” he goaded, before he shoved her through the gap in the canvas.

It took Cáit’s eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom inside the tent. It was much darker in here, much darker than the forest outside, the silence echoing. Although the tent was no bigger than her own, cosy at best and claustrophobic in truth, it took her a moment to spot him. He was standing at the opposite end of the tent, his back to the wall. She gulped as she realised how even his silouhette made her knees quiver. As the silence stretched out, she wondered if she should break it. Another look at the angry set of his shoulders, and she decided against it. She tugged at a stray copper curl, needing to occupy herself. Eventually, he turned. She wished he hadn’t.

He closed the distance between them in two long strides. Before she had a chance to react, his hand clenched around her throat and pinned her against the wall. “ I don’t know who the hell you are, but I want answers and I want them now. Unless you enjoy the company of Lornon and his men, I suggest you start talking. And quickly.” His eyes were as captivating as they were that day at the pool. And just as terrifying. His voice didn't rise above a whisper. Cáit had no doubt he would carry through with his threat. To her credit, and her surprise, her voice came out even when she tried to speak. “ Get your hands off me, and then maybe I’ll talk.” It wasn’t the response he was expecting. His dark eyes opened wide with shock, her own emerald eyes reflected in their depths. It wasn’t the response Cáit expected either. She stared at him, hoping he couldn’t sense her racing heart, or the sweat on her palms. She couldn’t exactly wipe them, what with him pinning her to the wall. Nevertheless, he released his hold on her, but kept his position. He slammed one hand into the wall above her head, and kept it there. The top of her curly, copper head barely came to his elbow. She had no chance to run.

“What do you want to know?”
 It seemed like the most resonable question to ask. The safest.

 “Don’t act stupid.”
His voice was a growl, low and menacing.

“ Why aren’t you in Illvéras?
 Who are you working for?
 Did Jaduún send you?”

“ I don’t know what you’re-”

 “What does Lornon want with you?
 He knows who you are, doesn’t he?”

He hurled the questions at her, faster than she could think.

 “ Where were you trained?
Who trained you?
 Why didn’t you register with the Crénán?
 Why-”

“SHUT UP! I have no idea what you're talking about."
 She placed both hands on his chest and shoved. He didn’t budge an inch. She shoved again. Still no response. She shoved again, and again, and again. She didn’t realise she was pounding on his chest with her fists until he seized her wrists and flung them away from him as if they burned. At last, he took a step backwards. Cáit sucked in a lungful of fresh air, for the first time, or so it seemed, since she entered the tent.

“I don’t believe you.”

“ Tough. It’s true. I have no idea what Ill-vay-ras or-whatever-it’s-called is, I have no idea who you are or who this Lornon person is. I have no idea what’s going on, or why I’m here. Believe me, or don’t believe me, it’s your choice.” Believe me. Please believe me.

“I don’t believe you.Your lying, and I’ll prove it.”

He stormed out of the tent, leaving her in his wake.