Chapter 11
A Different Kind of Monster
Alissa walked into Porjea wearing Freyah’s light-yellow, flowered dress. It was the girliest dress she had ever seen, and though she looked lovely in it, the feeling was entirely foreign to her.
Unlike her friend, Alissa never wore dresses; it reminded her too much of her mother—the long hours Mrs. Kriegen spent sewing, the way young Alissa had marveled at her work, longing to keep every dress for herself.
She would beg her mother not to sell them, with the hopes she could wear them when she grew up, but the answer was always the same: “These are not fit for your beauty, my love. When you’re grown, I will make you the most beautiful dresses Bryniard has ever seen. ”
Of course, her mother died before that could become true.
Since her mother’s passing, Alissa had never found the strength to wear a dress again.
She told herself it was because they made hunting more difficult, which was partially true.
But as she stood there now, wrapped in the soft fabric for the first time in years, she knew the real reason lay much deeper.
Now, while they strolled through Porjea’s alleys, she understood why Eldric wouldn’t let her come in wearing her trousers and tunic.
All women in the village wore long, thick dresses that covered every inch of their limbs, leaving only their faces visible and their hair styled in tight buns.
The difference in the design of their dresses alone could set the women of Bryniard apart from the rest. Alissa had never felt so self-conscious about exposing her arms as she did at that moment when they attracted so many eyes.
She wished she hadn’t left her cloak in the carriage.
Their red and light-brown hairs cascading down their backs made them feel almost sinful.
Every one of the Porjean women was accompanied by a man.
These women were perceived as objects, and therefore, their gazes were fixed to the floor in submission to their male companions.
The sight made Alissa’s stomach turn. She made sure to stay close to Freyah and Eldric and keep her head down, not to accidentally look into a man’s eyes.
She did not need to look up to sense the gazes of other men over them like a pack of wolves surrounding fresh meat, patiently waiting for them to slip up to attack.
“Stay close to me and keep looking down.” Eldric drew his arms over both of their shoulders in a protective manner.
Alissa felt secretly thankful for that, her bravery starting to waver as she saw herself surrounded by vicious men. Freyah trembled slightly on the other side.
Porjea was only a third the size of Bryniard and more archaic in its construction, making her hometown look very modern. The simplicity of the people was evident in the clay houses. Mountains and trees stood in the background, casting a convenient shadow over the establishments.
Their first stop was a shop so small that calling it a shop was of utmost generosity. It did serve the purpose, however, when they purchased more canned goods for their trip and apples for the black stud pulling their carriage. Lastly, they stopped at a tavern to purchase drinks for the ride.
As soon as the doors opened, the smell of alcohol flooded their nostrils. It reminded Alissa of Freyah’s days working at her family’s tavern and the many hours they had spent inside the barrels to escape Bryniard not so many days ago.
They walked in side by side, the men scrutinizing them as vultures circling carcasses. This atmosphere unsettled Alissa, but she knew it was considerably worse for Freyah. It was a trigger for all the abuse she went through at her own family tavern.
Alissa sensed her friend shudder. “I’m right beside you,” she whispered.
Freyah nodded and reached out for Alissa’s hand. She squeezed it lightly with gratitude.
Eldric’s posture had also changed from the moment he entered the village.
He puffed out his chest and held his head high, walking with firm, commanding steps.
His eyes burned with intensity, ready to confront anyone who dared cross their path without hesitation.
He guided them protectively, and Alissa knew the only reason they could still call themselves free women was his presence.
They leaned onto the counter, and Eldric started ordering the refreshments they had agreed to purchase from the barkeeper. Alissa and Freyah remained looking down with unwavering confidence that nothing could ever make them slip up.
Until Alissa heard a voice.
A rich, warm voice that reminded her so much of the voice of the man who used to read her the stories she read to her daughter now. The same voice that last time spoke the words, “I’ll be back soon.” But he never did. She never heard that voice again.
As she avoided looking toward the voice that called her, she wondered if this really could be her father. Her father, who, like herself, had escaped the walls of Bryniard but never came back. Her father, who, she assumed, had died years ago.
But what if her father hadn’t died when he escaped Bryniard?
What if he somehow ended up in Porjea instead?
It was possible, considering she also found her way to this very same village, when the only confirmation of his death she had ever had was the muffled sounds coming from the other side of the thick wall.
There was a saying in Bryniard. “Only what’s seen can be truly known,” it said.
Alissa whispered the words in a revelation.
She surrendered to the temptation, her hope of finding her father in this twisted place filling her heart.
Finally, she gathered the courage to lift her head, immediately turning to look toward the voice that warmed her heart with a faith she had long buried.
On the other side, she saw a bald man in his mid-fifties, with dark eyes staring right into hers.
While she hoped the man would look at her with the affection and love of a father, he stared at her with thirst and mischief.
The ground beneath her feet cracked open when she realized not only that it was not her beloved father but how badly she had messed up, putting all their lives at risk.
“Oh no!” Freyah gasped, her voice wavering.
Eldric turned his head the exact moment Alissa exchanged glances with the man. He instinctively pushed her behind him and stood his ground between her and the man who now demanded to purchase her from him. “She’s not for sale,” he growled.
“A lovely young woman, such as yourself, should know better than to look into a man’s eyes if she does not want to be made his,” the man said. He bared his teeth while his eyes surveyed Alissa with malice, thinking of all the things he would do to her once she became his possession.
She felt sick.
Freyah stood behind Alissa, still looking down to avoid more trouble.
The man stomped in their direction, but Eldric was unyielding. “Back off.” He pushed the stranger, snarling in fury. “She’s mine.”
Alissa knew he only said that to make the man back away; this was the only way a man of this kind would leave a woman alone. They didn’t respect women, but they did respect other men. Still, as his voice roared deeply to keep her safe, she couldn’t stop the shivers from coming.
Soon, the atmosphere at the place grew chaotic. The discussion drew the attention of other men who gathered around to support their despicable neighbor. More bidding offers were shouted, one, two, three, four silver coins. Not only to purchase Alissa, but also Freyah now, who looked terrified.
Are we really only worth four damn silver coins?
Trapped against the counter, surrounded by those savages, their hearts beat at the same thundering speed. And although Eldric shouted with his lungs time and again that they couldn’t be purchased, the villagers had decided they would take the women for themselves anyway.
Eldric leaned closer to whisper in Alissa’s ear. “When I say go, you two climb over this counter and run to the cart. If I’m not there in three minutes, you leave without me.”
She nodded.
Freyah’s panic was almost paralyzing; her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths, and her eyes shimmered with tears.
Alissa felt sweat dripping down her forehead, and her heart thundered as she grasped the gravity of what awaited them.
She clenched her fists at her sides, feeling the rush of adrenaline rise through her body, welcoming the confidence, the instinct to survive that burned through her veins.
With a defiant sneer, she whispered, “Bring it on.”
Eldric lunged for the dagger Alissa carried inside her boots and stabbed the first man in the throat in a split second. “Go!” he shouted, his scream echoing throughout the tavern as blood splattered all over his face. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand to wipe them.
Stunned, Alissa grabbed Freyah’s hand and ran to the exit.
They climbed tables to escape, kicking dishes aside as shouts rose behind them.
A man dove forward and caught Freyah’s ankle.
She tripped and fell onto the tabletop, thrashing to break free.
Without thinking, Alissa dug her fingers through the man’s hair and slammed his head against the wood once, twice—until his grip loosened and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
She hauled Freyah to her feet and pressed forward.
A second man moved to stand in front of them, trying to block their way to the door.
Freyah snatched a glass of ale from a nearby table and threw the contents at the man’s face.
He roared, filled with rage. He grabbed a chair and lifted it above his head, ready to throw it at them.
Freyah closed her eyes, bracing for impact.
From the corner of her eye, Alissa caught a blur of motion—a glass bottle flying in their direction, hitting the man right at his temple. He fell unconscious at her feet.