Chapter. 21

“Move it.” Rahlan shoves me forward, breaking my trance. I instinctively pull back, like a deer being forced into a hungry pack of wolves, but he overpowers me with little effort. My feet stumble as I try to regain my balance.

We step into the square. It’s a large muddy quad surrounded by tall buildings and thin roads trailing out in each direction. The top floors are painted white, and the ground floors are colored brown with mud.

Over twenty vampires surround the stage. All these people are here to celebrate my misfortune.

Only a few notice us as we approach the group. Maybe we’ll settle among them? Could Rahlan have brought me here just to witness someone else’s punishment?

We reach the base of the stage stairs, and a pit forms in my stomach. He forces me up ahead of him. The entire crowd’s attention immediately lands on us, and my hope that this was just a threat evaporates.

Humans cower among the vampires – slaves brought to witness a demonstration of what would happen if they were as foolish as me.

A raised wooden board with three holes is mounted at the front of the stage. One large hole for my neck, and two smaller ones on either side for my wrists. A bulky vampire dressed in black armor stands beside the wooden pillory. He looks like an executioner who torments humans as a hobby.

Rahlan forces me forward. My nerves make me trip over my own feet, but his iron grip on my arm keeps me upright. All eyes are on me. I wish I could just evaporate into thin air.

The guard takes me from Rahlan, and it feels like the whole situation collides in on me at once. I’m in the hands of a malicious man in front of a heartless crowd.

He grabs my free arm and holds me in front of him, presenting me to the crowd. They cheer, like the guard is showing off his hunting prize.

The stage is only half a man’s height, making my legs well within grabbing distance. More vampires watch from the top story windows, enjoying my conundrum from the comfort of their homes.

My heart pounds in my chest. It’s like I’m a calf about to be sacrificed. A shiver crawls down my spine. I’ll be completely helpless in that thing, at the mercy of this evil man. I twist my neck around and call for the one vampire I know – the one who can put a stop to this, “Rahlan! Lord-”

“Silence!” The guard shakes me back and forth, and the motion makes my brain bounce around my skull. Where is Rahlan? I can’t see him. Did he just abandon me here to suffer at this man’s hand?

“As you have witnessed,” the guard announces, “this poorly mannered human knows not when to keep its mouth shut!”

Its?

“Today it will face retribution for failing to hold its tongue in the presence of its master!”

The vampires laugh and cheer, but the humans stay silent. The guard opens the wretched device with one hand while keeping me immobile in the other.

An enormous weight forces my head down, resting my neck in the largest of the three holes. More hands lock around my wrists and force them into notches on either side of my head. It’s like he has a million arms to hold me down.

The top piece of wood slams closed, and the sudden pressure around my wrists and neck makes me panic.

“No!” I wail. My back is arched. I can’t stand straight. I pull back against the holes on instinct, but my head is flush against the board. I can’t see through my hair. Where’s the guard? Rahlan can stop this. Where’s he? “Rah-”

A handful of mud is squashed against my face. The irony dirt forces its way into my mouth and up my nostrils. I gasp for breath as soon as the guard removes his filthy fingers. The crowd laughs.

“Cud eater!” someone shouts. A ball of mushy liquid goo smashes into my ear. I shut my eyes and try wrench my hands back out of the wooden restraints. I twist and pull and twist, but nothing works.

Another ball of slime hits my head, sliding over my ear and down my chin.

Rotten fruit splats behind me, and the pips freckle my skin. I breathe from my nose, and the putrid smell hits me all at once. I gag, and someone takes the opportunity to land a balled mixture of dirt, rotten fruit and dung in my mouth.

The crowd cheers. I start to dry heave, but my empty stomach produces nothing. My teeth grit together in an attempt to keep anything else out.

A hand full of gunk lands on my nose and covers my eyes. It’s the guard. He’s the only one close enough to touch me. He runs his filthy hand up over my forehead and threads his fingers through my hair, soiling it down to the roots.

He takes another handful of gunk and presses it against my ear, running his fingers up through my hair. He’s covering every inch of my head with the foul stuff.

His hands finally let go of my hair, no doubt changed from blonde to brown at this point. A ball of gunk hits a bruise on my stomach, making me wince. I’m pelted again and again.

“Disgusting!” someone shouts, and more gunk follows. I keep my eyes shut tight and try turn my head, but the board gives me no slack.

I breathe through my teeth, leaving just a narrow slit between my lips to allow air in. The smell is horrendous. Using my nose will make me sick.

“Spineless human!” More gunk hits my legs, and something gooey is smeared over my face.

“Not hungry, human?” The guard taunts. He pushes a handful of the gooey rotten food against my nose and between my lips.

I hold my breath. He eventually gives up trying to get it in my mouth, but my relief is short lived. He pulls back my collar and dumps it on the back of my neck.

The cold sticky liquid oozes down my back and around my torso, dripping down the inside of my dress. The crowd doesn’t cheer with the same enthusiasm as before. Another clump of gunk hits my head, but all I hear is a low murmuring. At this point there’s so much mud on me that I doubt they can see the difference.

The pelting becomes less and less frequent, and after an hour, it seems to be over with. The mud and dirt and dung and oil has caked over my face, sealing my eyelids shut. I can’t hear the guard or the crowd anymore. I guess everyone left after growing bored of my humiliation.

My spine is arched at an awkward angle, and it’s really starting to take its toll. Adjusting my feet provides no sense of relief. It’s like this thing was designed to make its victim as uncomfortable as possible.

Hours pass, but the pillory doesn’t allow my mind to wander. Standing hunched over provides enough discomfort to keep me grounded in reality.

Though my eyes are closed, I know the sun is setting if not already set. The previous warmth on my skin is now absent. It stayed long enough just to dry this crud on me.

A heavy footstep from behind makes me flinch. I’ve been alone on this stage for hours, but now someone’s standing over me. Has the guard returned with a new appetite? My body tenses. How can this not be enough? Do I really have to endure everything again?

There’s a loud click to my right. It’s unlocked.

The top board is lifted away, and I’m finally released. I take a step back, but my legs give out, and I hit the wooden floor.

On instinct, I raise my hands to clean the hardened mud from my eyes, but I’m stopped by a heavy stick.

“Wait,” a voice says. Rahlan.

I sit still, relieved that I’m in Rahlan’s presence instead of the guard’s.

A torrent of freezing water washes over me, and the cold shock makes me squeal. An empty bucket clunks as it hits the ground.

My eyes open to a blurry world. It’s dark, early evening. A tall figure, Rahlan, stands over me.

“Up,” he commands.

My legs are aching, and my mouth hangs open. I give him a blank look, too exhausted to form words.

“Up!”

To avoid a tiring argument, I follow his command and rise on wobbly legs. My vision comes into focus, and I stammer backwards at the sight that greets me. He’s pointing his sword at my chest!

“Relax.” He pokes me with the sword, but there’s no pain. It’s sheathed.

He presses it against my back and guides me towards the stage stairs. He’s using it like a stick to avoid touching me. Ass.

I take the steps one at a time, being extra careful not to fall with my fatigued legs.

He uses the sword to guide me down a dimly lit road. The cold air has crept in. I hug my sleeveless arms to try retain some heat. The houses project candlelight on the street through doors and windows. They look warm and cozy, a sharp contrast to how I’m feeling.

While this experience was anything but pleasant, I’d endure it ten times over if it meant avoiding being beaten. I’m still bruised from his retaliation from the first time I tried to escape. At least this punishment didn’t hurt.

A hazy mist emanates from a building ahead. We step inside. The walls, floors and low ceiling are all made of smooth beige stone, and the whole place is filled with steam.

Rahlan nudges me through a series of passages, finally stopping inside a small room lit by a single candle. It’s a bath. The floor has a small ledge before dropping off into a pool of water – steaming water.

Rahlan removes his cape, wraps it around his sword and steps out of his huge boots. He unthreads the buttons on his shirt, revealing his muscular chest. No wonder he can overpower me so easily. He’s stronger, faster and more resilient. It hardly seems fair. He has every possible advantage over me.

He unclips his belt, and I turn away.

There’s a splash in the bath, but I keep my eyes down.

“You can look,” he says, “’Tis safe.”

I slowly lift my gaze to him. He’s neck-deep, and the murky water hides everything below his shoulders – his huge shoulders.

“What’s keeping you?” he asks.