Fan Fiction ❯ Spirit of the Dragon ❯ Lonely Soul ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter Four

~~~Crowe found herself suspended in a void of darkness. At first there was nothing but silence, and then from somewhere far away she could hear the silvery melody of a lyre. She turned her head to find its source. There she saw a spot of glitter in the distance. She extended a hand and moved towards it. Her body moved slowly. It was as if she were swimming in tar.

"Come to me." A voice sang. The music grew louder.

"I'm trying!" Crowe fought to go faster, but her muscles refused to oblige her will.

"Don't give up. Spread your wings."

Crowe became dispirited. She felt herself sinking.

"You can't let them take you back! Free yourself of them!"

"I can't…" Crowe said miserably. "I failed…"

Below her came the sound of dark laughter. A pair of hands shot up from the chasm, snatching her ankles.

"Vosi vor tae prodito!" Someone snarled in the Gardrothian tongue.

Crowe screamed in terror, thrashing about wildly. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"Vosi vor tae prodito!"

"I'm not a traitor! Leave me alone!"

"Vosi prodity vestri divi-terre! Vosi prodity vestri plebis!"

"I didn't betray them!"

"Come to me…" The first voice sang again, but it was drifting away…

"Help me! Please, help!" She called to it desperately

The hands were dragging her down, smothering her in darkness.

But the lyre continued to grow louder. Then along with its soft undertones came a throbbing drum, followed by shrieking strings. Arcane whispers joined the atrocity and the song evolved into a horrible canticle.

"Prodito!!!" Boomed a declaration.

"…prodito, prodito…" The whispers agreed.

"Come to me…" The first voice said once more, but it was so faint now…

There was a flash of light, and Crowe found herself staring into a pair of burning eyes. ~~~

Crowe bolted upright. A wave of unexpected pain hit her back and she let out a yell. She tried not to cry while she lay back down. Tears blurred her vision.

Where am I? Crowe turned her head to the side. She was in an adjoining room to some sort of clinic. The walls were white and sterile. There was absolutely no furnishing, minus a small table in the corner and the bed she lay in. The only thing appealing about the little chamber was the round window that looked out into a rose garden.

Her ears perked up at a musical resonance. It sounded like a lyre.

The melody was beautiful. Crowe longed to peer into the garden and see who was playing.

Someone then began to unlock the door to the room. Crowe clutched her chest, bracing herself for the worst. They can use the most sinister of ploys to hear what they want from me, but it will never work. "Meo quovi nullquom prodito mei divi-terre…" Crowe thought, remembering the Gardrothian oath. I will never betray my homeland. This I have pledged…

The person who entered was the opposite of who she had been expecting. It was a frail old man with a flowing white beard and kindly silver eyes.

"Ah, I see you've awaken." When he gestured, the green sleeves of his velvet cloak swayed elegantly. "How are you feeling?"

Crowe blinked at him. Is this a trick?

"Do you know where you are, lass?"

She looked away. The music had stopped for a moment.

"You're in Azalea Castle, the Heart of Drunesmerre. This room is a place where we treat…our unique patients." He stroked his beard, then made an attempt at Gardrothian: "Effici voci…intellux…mihi?"

Of course I understand you. Out with the tricks already.

When she didn't respond, he made no motion to strike her. This was unusual for an interrogation. "Do you even remember your duel with Prince Acanthus?"

My duel? She thought for a moment. All she could remember was leading her army into battle. She had scanned the green soldiers for their Prince. And then…What's happened to me? Why can't I recall getting here?

"You look disoriented. It seems you've suffered a concussion…as well as a medial wound to your shoulder, bruised muscles down your back, and a couple of broken ribs."

She swallowed. No wonder she felt so lousy.

He doesn't seem like an asper-quim, does he?

"I've given you some aloe vera. It should help you heal. And some regenroot, for the pain." He pressed a hand to her forehead. "You were burning up before, but it looks like your fever's gone down."

Why is he being so nice to me? I know what my mission was. I was supposed to kill the Prince. Xethia knows I should be rotting in a cell for such a crime. Or rotting in a grave, for that matter…He said the Prince and I had a duel. Is he alright, I wonder?

The man removed his hand from her forehead. "Prince Acanthus is fine, by the way. You beat him up a bit, but it's no worse than he's been before."

This comment startled her. It was as if he had read her thoughts.

"It looks like you'll be alright, with a little time and rest. But this is not what troubles me. There is something else to be worrying about. Do you know what I'm getting at, Crowe?"

I never told him my name. She scowled in annoyance. This man's behavior was unorthodox. She didn't know what to expect anymore.

"You're carrying a baby." He said softly.

Crowe's breath caught. She had spent the last three months denying this possibility, trying to convince herself that there was some other explanation behind her lack of moonflows. But to hear these words spoken out loud, she realized that she had known it all along.

The man knew that she had understood him. It would have been obvious to anyone the way her eyes flickered in recognition.

"I didn't want to stress you further, but I felt it was something you should know." He stood and headed for the exit. "I just came to check on you. I'm glad to see that you're recovering."

That's it? No questions about who sent me? About my status? The Evincio?

The door shut behind him.

After he had left, Crowe realized that the harper had started to play again. This song was forlorn, and it spoke to her quaking heart.

This can't be happening. I don't want to be a mother. Not now. Not to a child of Rono's. But there was no going back now. She was trapped in an alien world with a new life forming in her body.

Suddenly the severity of her situation dawned on her, and she began to weep. Salty tears rolled down her cheeks like rain. Never had she felt so lost and afraid. Never had she fallen victim to such despair.

And the only soul to hear her cries was the lone harper in the garden of roses.