Chapter Six- The Resolution.

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“Action is the antidote to despair.”- Joan Baez


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Today is the day we find out.

Ever Your Servant,
Lornon.

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After the Prince had left the tent, something strange had happened to Cáit’s legs. They wouldn’t hold her up anymore. It was a relief to slide to the ground, to feel the rough forest floor against her cheek. It was only when she felt the bark and dry leaves rubbing against her bare arms and legs that she realised she was still in her pajama’s: shorts and a tank top. She hadn’t even noticed until now. How long had it been since they took Mam? 24, 48 hours? Too long. Far too long.

She may have been sleeping when Buckles, or Lornon as she now knew, came for her. She wasn’t sure. He crouched down beside her, a smile on his face that never quite reached his eyes. “I hope you were trained well.” She glared at the floor. He seemed to have been expecting this. “ Now, now”, he laughed, and she might have been a naughty child. “We both know that you have been trained. The question is, by whom?” His eyes probed her face, gauging her reation. She stared back at him, wondering what he saw there. It was impossible to say; his face was as guarded as they come. A guilded shutter, hiding the thoughts beneath. Cáit shivered to think of those thoughts, to think of what those charcoal eyes had seen. Buckles adopted a sleazy, rougish demeanour around his men, but Cáit knew that it only served to hide a much more sinister nature. His men, and the knowledge of what they would do to her made Cáit’s heart jerk violently in her chest, made her palms break out in a cold sweat and caused her muscles to tense, ready to flee. But Buckles was so, so much worse. Just being near him, her skin crawled, the hair on the back of her neck stood up, her knees weakened and her whole body spasmed.  Every muscle seemed to drag, as if drugged, fear preventing her from action. It was all she could do not to curl up in a ball and shut her eyes tight, and pretend he was not there. His presence awoke a terror in her, like nothing she had ever experienced. The other mens' intentions were apparent in their sordid conduct but she couldn't get a read on Buckles. Cáit wasn't quite sure she wanted to.


The man in question pulled her both sharply to her feet, and out of her reverie. “ Now Sunshine, since you’re too shy to talk about your training, the Prince has devised a little test for you, so you can show us instead.” He pushed her harshly over a tree root, causing her to stumble and fall. He laughed as he dragged her to her feet again. “ We are staging a contest, and you, my dear, are the challenger. It will be hard to disguise your training, when your life is being threatened.” He leaned in closer, and rested his chin in the crook of her shoulder. His mouth brushed her ear and whispered, “ Just one little slip of the sword, and you willl be maimed for life, at best. If I were you, Sunshine, I would give as good as I get. Make a mark of my own. But that’s just me.” He retreated then, gripping her shoulder once more. “ Keep in mind that, this was all the Prince’s idea. His way of gleaning information from you.I had a few more, reliable methods in mind and if this doesn’t work then I’m sure I can make the Prince see reason. If not, then he doesn’t have to know. It’ll be our little secret.” He hummed contentedly to himself for the rest of the journey.


After what seemed an age, a small clearing among the trees came in to view. The men were gathered  in bunches, their chatter rowdy,  eagerly anticipating the fight. Cáit’s and Buckles’ arrival was met by racous cheers. Buckles paraded Cáit to the center of the crowd, and forced her to her knees there. His voice echoed between the trees as he addressed the men. “ Our challenger, salutes the Prince.” He shoved her head down, the impact jolting all the way down Cáit’s back, in a mock parody of a bow. As she raised her head, she saw him, to whom she had been bowing, the Prince. Standing alone, at the edge of the clearing, his arms were folded and his face was blank. Cáit blinked and looked away. “Get to your feet.” Buckles gave her no time to obey his command, but hauled her up anyway. He dragged her to one end of the clearing, untying her shackles there. “Even if, somehow, you win here today, don’t forget about that promise I made you, Sunshine. I always keep my promises.” His whisper hovered in the air, even as he smirked and made his way to the other end of the clearing.

Alone for the first time since she had learned of the test, Cáit quickly tried to gather her thoughts.The sunlight was casting dappled shadows on the moist forest floor. She squinted and used her arm to try to shield her eyes. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, then bounced on the balls of her feet. She had no idea how to prepare for a fight.  In truth, Cáit had never hit another human being in her life. Well, apart from Michael, but then didn’t everyone fight with their-No. No. She pushed that thought down. She wouldn’t think of him. Ever. She had decided that a long time ago. Cáit dragged herself back to the present. She had a job to do.

At the other end of the clearing, he was arriving. Whoever it was that she would be fighting. She prayed for someone small. Asking for someone her own size was simply ridiculous, she doubted there was anybody in the camp within two heads of her own diminutive frame. She prayed for someone kind, that he would take pity on her when her complete lack of fighting skills was revealed. She got neither. When the Prince’s Champion was revealed, amidst the jeers and catcalls of the men, Cáit’s knees near buckled. Her head suddenly felt as light as air. The forest backdrop spun slightly, tilting up and then down only to repeat the process again. She had met him before. The one who had grabbed her at the fire. The memory of his vile breath and sticky hands were enough to make her stomach heave and her pulse race. As he drew closer, his black eyes flashed in eager anticipation. Standing up, he cut an even more imposing figure than he had sitting by the fire. He was at least double Cáit’s height and was possibly the tallest man she had ever seen. His shoulders were broad and thick, and his whole body was laced with muscle. His face was sculpted, and if his presence had not radiated such violence, he would have been good looking. Handsome, even. She was shoved from behind to the center of the clearing, where both him and Buckles were waiting. She was placed facing him, with Buckles standing a little way off. “ How do, lass?” His smirk told her he was enjoying her terror. His breath told her he didn’t own a toothbrush. She jumped when Buckles began to speak, stating the rules: the first with a kill shot was the winner. 


Cáit had almost convinced herself that it would be simple. That it wouldn’t last long, that she wouldn’t get seriously hurt. That was before they brought out the swords. The Champion was presented with his, a spectacularly ornate piece. The polished silver of the blade glinted in the sunlight, sending pricks of fear into Cáit’s stomach. Above that the, the- Cáit wondered what it was called-the thing you grip? Whatever it was, a carved snake, made of what looked like a precious stone, blood red in colour, wound itself around it. Its eyes were ebony chunks, and its scales looked alive. It seemed to glare at her. When she was presented with her own sword, Cáit couldn’t help the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. It was a flimsy thing, lighter and with a thinner blade by far than the other, yet it’s weight dragged her arm towards the forest floor. It was simply made, a basic design and cast in silver. It was covered in a light layer of rust and dirt. Cáit gripped it with both hands, ignoring the tug in her muscles at the effort. Her mind was numb, she coulnd't do this.  But the fact that it seemed dreamlike did not make it so. She rubbed her palms free of sweat and turned around. It was time.

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