Chapter 16
Guinevere
The gargoyles were so kind to me and so eager for me to stay with them that I feel a little guilty fastening the overlarge belt around my waist and hunting through the chest of clothing until I find an ornate jeweled knife.
It’s not much, but it’s a weapon at least. I tuck it into the belt and put my hair into a long braid.
It’s awkward to tie my hair myself, and it takes me a few attempts to get it tight enough to stay.
I consider taking one of the torches from the sconce in the bath house, but in the end I decide that will only draw more attention to me in the woods.
And I doubt one small torch would be enough to put off anything that truly wanted to do me harm.
I would be better to stub my toe on a hundred unseen rocks than draw a monster out of the dark.
As I walk through the crumbling gates, I look back at the gargoyles sadly. They are sweet creatures. They deserve to be happy. If I thought I would make it back here one day I’d come, but the truth is, I don’t expect to survive my quest.
At that moment, the sun actually manages to break through a gap in the gray clouds between the leafy canopy and it glints off a shape on the walls I hadn’t noticed before.
One wing is broken off, and part of its face is missing.
Poor thing. I wonder if its soul is resting now.
Do creatures like the gargoyles have a soul?
It’s a question I don’t have time to stay and ponder. I must make what progress I can before night falls again. Turning away with regret, I head deeper into the trees, and soon the castle ruins are out of sight.
The morning is long and arduous. I strike out in the opposite direction from which I came to the ruins, hoping this will lead me toward Blackthorn Keep.
But soon I find an icy river I must ford, and the current is stronger than I expect.
I end up dragging myself through with the help of a fallen log, but I'm washed some way downstream and decide not to correct my path.
I have no idea if I was even going in the right direction anyway.
I’m glad of the tight hose of the prince’s outfit. I’m not certain I would have made it through the stream with heavy skirts on. They certainly make travel more practical. I may never wear a dress again.
My father would be sad. He always liked seeing me looking pretty. My chest aches when I think of him, and I worry I’ll be too late to say goodbye. I wish for the hundredth time that I could take back the last few days. Return to a time when things seemed more innocent.
When I was innocent.
Of course, this leads me to thinking about Alaric, and I imagine with pleasure the moment I plunge the knife between his ribs and have my revenge for the things he did to me.
Every bruise, every moment spent captive and helpless.
I’d like to repay him like for like for each one.
I doubt I’ll have the chance, but I can at least content myself with ending him the way he tried to end me.
A cracking sound to my right makes me suck in a breath. I stop and listen, but I hear no further noise. After a while I continue on.
A few moments later, a strange barking sound draws my attention to my left. My skin starts to prick with phantom awareness, and I draw the small knife, clutching it in white knuckles. Something is definitely watching me.
I wish I could imagine it was the gargoyles come to find me, but they told me themselves, they cannot leave their castle. No, this is something much more sinister, hiding in shadows, refusing to show itself.
I continue on, not sure what else to do. Every now and again there’s a sound, but never from the same direction. I start to wonder if I’m being followed by one or multiple monsters. Are they herding me to a secret lair? Into an ambush?
Frustrated, I turn swiftly, hoping to catch a glimpse of something through the trees. All I see is tangled undergrowth and twisted branches. “Come and face me,” I yell.
There’s no response.
It goes on this way for miles. I walk and walk, veering away when I hear a sound, eventually losing track of direction in the thick trees.
When I come to a tree split through the center, the right side dry and hanging from the rest while the left side lives, I let out a groan of frustration.
I passed this same tree earlier. I recognize it.
Have I been going in circles this whole time?
“Show yourself!” I challenge the creature, but again there’s no reply.
I step back, stumbling on a loose rock, and there’s a growl from the darkness. That’s all the warning I get before a huge wolf leaps at me, gnashing jaws and snapping sharp teeth at me.
I yelp, twisting to run, only to see a second, bigger than the last, as tall at its shoulder as I am at the top of my head. Vicious, growling, jaws dripping with saliva.
It lunges at me. Instinctively, I jab the knife toward it, but the lunge is a trick.
It snaps its jaws and darts away, and I’m only just in time to scramble away from the first wolf.
I try again to thrust with the knife, but the creature dodges it easily, leaping away to leave room for its companion to attack again.
Each snap is closer to my flesh, and they gradually drive me back. All the while I’m left wondering what they want. Are they going to attack me? Do I dare to run?
Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, I decide to make a run for it. I swing the blade wildly in the air, trying to buy some time, then I turn and bolt down an incline with the wolves on my heels.
It’s no good. They are enormous. Even a normally sized wolf could outrun me, but these giants bite at my ankles easily as they trot alongside me.
Sobbing, I come to an abrupt stop. I slide a little on the leaf litter and land heavily on my side.
That’s all it takes. With a roar, the wolves are on me. I jab my knife upwards violently. I meet wet flesh and blood splatters down my arm.
At the same time, sharp teeth sink into my leg.
I scream.
The wolf twists its head from side to side, worrying at me, throwing my body backward and forward. I lose my grip on the knife. My fingers, wet with blood, slide away, and I cry out.
A second set of teeth sinks into my shoulder.
Then pain blinds me and the world goes dark.
I wake with a searing pain in my legs and a deep ache in my chest. The giant wolves are nowhere to be seen.
I try to sit, but I cannot. Dried blood covers me.
It’s sticky, and the crust breaks when I lift my head to look down at myself.
My clothes are a bloody ruin. Horrifyingly, my legs hang from my body at an unnatural angle, and when I try to move them I see they are partially gnawed, hanging from threads of flesh that looks withered and gray.
The world spins, and my head drops back to the forest floor with a thunk. Bile fills my mouth, and I have to turn my head and spit into the dirt to rid myself of it.
I should be dead.
Then I remember—I am dead. Will I stay this way now? Am I preserved forever in this torment? Choking down a sob, I try to think.
I need help. Or someone to end this misery. The gargoyles promised to help me. They warned me not to leave, but I wouldn’t listen.
With an enormous effort, I stretch out my hand and grasp a handful of earth, hauling myself forward though my legs scream in protest.
Hand over hand I drag myself in this way, stubbornly refusing to give in. What choice do I have? There’s only one way to end this torment. Either another monster finds me and does it, or I make it back to the castle ruins and beg my friends.
I struggle on until the world blacks out again.