The Dragon King's Shaman

3 ½ years ago - Avery “Leave her there. I’ll move her pitiful sack of bones later,” he said. I listened for the door clicking closed while I forced myself to remain awake as the grip of exhaustion attempted to claw me back into unconsciousness. Every bone in my body ached, and every muscle screamed. The door closed behind him, and I let out a shaky breath. I shuffled up, resting my back against overstuffed pillows, and a lancing pain shot through my left arm. I was fairly certain he’d broken it, possibly along with my cheekbone. Usually, he didn’t visibly mark me, but someone betrayed him, and I paid for it. I forced my breathing to slow despite the pain and dragged myself off the side of the bed, clutching my arm to my body. My chains clanked loudly in the quiet room. I scooted backwards into the corner by the bed and the wall, as far as the chains allowed me. My right arm stung where it bore the vertical burn of his latest torture or transfer, as he liked to call it. I looked around the room as I mentally catalogued my injuries and gathered my strength. The room’s opulence juxtaposed the depraved acts that took place here. There was a four-poster bed, rich red and gold upholstery, garishly framed pictures of bloody battle scenes, and ornate candelabras like he fancied himself some regal king and not the evil bastard he was. Fatigue dulled the edges of my vision, but I had to move. I had to go. This was my chance. I would escape him this time or die trying. I had everything I needed. And now that he’d used me for the transfer, he would be off enjoying his sick games. It was the only window I would get. I pulled the dirty sheet from the bed and wiped the residue from my body. I felt no cleaner afterwards. I would never feel clean again. I groped under the bed for the slat I’d stuffed a pair of jogging bottoms and a sweater into. He often discarded his clothes, assuming the servants would collect them. I was naked. I looked at my emaciated and defeated body. It looked shrunken in on itself like a used-up husk. Did I have the strength to get away? My wrists were so thin now, with some wiggling, the manacles slipped right off. I yanked on the clothes, one-armed, wincing at the pain in my body. The clothes were too big for me, so I turned them up. I slipped a tiny blade I’d found into the hoodie's front pocket. It wouldn’t work against him, but maybe if I met someone hostile outside. That or I’d drive it into my own carotid artery if he caught me again. He wouldn’t take me back alive. You must get away for them. The nameless that suffer in his evil arena. If he doesn’t have you, he can’t keep up that level of evil. My internal third person pep talk over, I stood on shaky legs. I’d overheard them and their sick plans a few months ago, and it lit a renewed fire in my broken soul to get away. Last time I tried was a long time ago, and I paid dearly for it. My stomach roiled with agitation as I strained to hear any sound of approaching footsteps. Would he come back and find me? With an ache in the back of my throat and a dry mouth, I shuffled to the doorway, pulling the hood of the sweater over my head and tucking my hair away. We were on the third floor here. The back of the building had a fire exit. That was my aim. Noiselessly, I slipped out of the room, darting my eyes around the corridor. I braced myself against the frame and took a deep breath. Go! I moved forward jerkily on unsteady limbs that were heavy with exhaustion. The carpet muffled my footsteps. I made it to the end of the corridor and shrank back when I saw a figure outside the window across from me. I clung to the frame, trying to halt my breathing. My heart thudded heavily in my chest. I dipped low under the window and crept around the corner. The door ahead would lead me to the back stairwell. My trembling hand reached for the fire exit bar, and a screeching noise had me dropping into a crouch, bringing up my knife. Was this how I died? Nothing happened. The only sound was my choppy breathing. Move, you idiot. I slammed through the door, all sense of sneaking gone. Tripping, I banged my head on the stair railing. Pain reverberated through my skull, and my vision doubled for a second. Gasping, I brought myself under control. You’ve had worse. Keep going, you stupid bitch! I stumbled down the stairs. Nearly outside. Dizziness swamped me once I reached the ground level. I shut my eyes and waited for it to pass. Trembling, I turned the handle to the lower door. It was unlocked. With the wall at my back, I stuck close to the side of the building. The shrubs gave me cover to make it to the next set of foliage, then the next. I’d studied a path from the window in my cell. The grass was cold and dewy under my feet. Sharp stones dug into my soles, but I pushed the pain out of my mind. Each step took me closer to freedom. A twig snapped to my right, and I froze in place. I slapped a hand over my mouth, willing my breathing to settle. My racing heart felt like a beacon to my pursuers. Did they know I’d escaped? A rabbit hopped out into the ground in front of me, and I sank to my knees in relief. The rabbit startled and ran off. Trembling, I used my right arm and pushed myself up onto my weak legs. Move. I raced on into the woods, heading for the road beyond it. Twigs and debris dug into my feet, slicing them, but a cold numbness settled in, dulling the pain. I pressed on. Nausea in my gut gripped me. The jarring pain in my left arm took my breath several times because I jostled it as I forced myself faster. In what felt like hours but was probably less than one, the trees thinned, and I heard vehicles on the road. Sticking to the tree line, I saw the country road ahead of me. In the distance, a farm’s outbuilding rose out of the early morning mist that clung to the field on either side of the road. I needed more clothes. There might be dogs on the farm, but I had to risk it. I was leaving a bloody trail with feet that I could no longer feel. I needed to cover them. Time sped up, and in what felt like the next minute, I held my breath as I rounded the corner of the barn. There were no animals in sight as I slipped inside. It smelled of dry hay. I hugged my middle and looked about for anything useful. Jackpot! A dusty windbreaker in faded khaki hung on a hook above a set of oversized wellington boots. I pulled them on, and my feet slipped around in the enormous boots. I stuffed some straw down the back and pulled my sweatpants down over them. I had to move. He could be tracking me already. I moved back to the road. How close was it to the city centre? I jumped at every car that passed, my footsteps jerky in the big boots. Fatigue threatened to overwhelm me, and another wave of nausea and dizziness rolled over me. It forced me to stop, and I leaned on a farm gate. A car pulled in a little further up the road. I tensed. He’s found me! I spun around wildly, looking for cover. The door cracked open, and a woman stepped out. The car was a blue people carrier with a child seat in the back. It’s not him. The woman wore knee-high boots, trousers, and a tailored jacket. She stepped towards me cautiously. She looked friendly enough, but my filter was damaged. Everyone could be dangerous. “Are you okay?” she asked. I nodded my head, not trusting my voice. It was so long since I used it. She came slightly closer and winced as she got a look at my face. “I thought you needed help. Do you want me to call an ambulance?” I shook my head frantically. No, no! He’d find me that way. “I can’t leave you here. Can I take you somewhere?” “Bus station,” I croaked, my voice raspy and unfamiliar. “I think you should go to the hospital or the police?” She reached her hand out to me, and I flinched back. “Please, the bus station.” “Okay, come and get in the car. It’s freezing out here.” I shuffled to the car, wondering if I should bolt. Was it a trap? I tried to analyse the situation, but my mind felt sluggish. I peered into her car as I drew level with the passenger side. The baby seat was empty. What possessed a single woman to stop for a dishevelled woman on a country road? She opened the door, and a blast of heat and flowery perfume hit me. A large rosary hung from the rear-view mirror. Perhaps God told her to stop. I scoffed internally. I wish God had stepped in a long time ago. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I jumped at her proximity. I clenched my jaw. If I was going to die, I might as well get warm first. I climbed into the seat and fought back a wave of unexpected tears. The seat was heated. A shudder ran through me as I sank into its warmth, and my teeth chattered. I moved my left arm onto my lap and thumbed the blade in my right-hand pocket. I’d never intentionally hurt anyone in my life, but if this unknown saviour turned out to be my enemy, then maybe I’d have to rethink that. What had I become? I cast a glance over at her as she settled in the driver’s seat. “Why stop?” I croaked again. She eyed the rosary where it dangled. “Something told me I needed to.” “Never do it again.” I cleared my throat and forced my vocal cords into line. “There’s unimaginable evil in the world. You have too much to lose.” She saw me looking at the car seat. “I’m a child minder. None of my own. Anyway, what kind of monster would I be ignoring an old lady struggling to walk along the road?” Old lady? With a trembling hand and leaden stone in my stomach, I pulled down the sun visor on my side of the car. Sure enough, there was a mirror, and the sight that met my eyes stole my breath. Sunken eyes glazed with terror stared back at me. One eye bloomed with the bruise he put there hours earlier. Wrinkles framed both eyes so deep I must have looked sixty if a day. My red hair was laced with grey. How had I not noticed?Missing a mirror for a year probably did that, I guess. I never thought I would look like that. “Did you fall at home?” I studied the woman who must be in her mid-forties. Her blond hair was pulled back from her face, and diamond studs twinkled in her ears. I shook my head at her question. She sighed and continued to drive. “My name is Julie. Do you want the main bus station?” “Yes, please.” “Would you like a drink?” I eyed the bottle of water she fished from the centre console. It looked sealed. Dare I drink it? I was suddenly so thirsty. When did I last drink? I jumped as she held it closer. “Thank you.” I took it and cracked the seal. The cool water ran over my cracked lips and down my throat. It felt heavenly. “Are you running from someone?” Julie asked. I tensed. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Do you have any money? Or any shoes that fit you?” I looked down at the ugly green boots and shook my head. “We should really take you to the police station.” I shook my head violently. “Please, the bus station.” “Where will you go with no money?” My vague plan had been to beg. I didn’t need much money for the journey if I changed coaches. I didn’t want to drag her into my mess any further. Had I already endangered her life? I didn’t answer her, merely stared out of the window as the rural villages gave way to suburban dwellings. People increased, bustling about their lives. How long had it been since I’d seen this? Eighteen months? More? Buildings became taller and roads wider as we entered the centre of town. I startled at a loud honk from a vehicle trying to force Julie’s car into another lane. She pulled into the bus station into a waiting bay. Rummaging in the back, she pulled out some trainers and a small drawstring bag into which she stuffed a protein bar, another bottle of water, and three twenty-pound notes. She passed the bag and trainers to me, but I shrank away. “Come on. Take it. I know you need it. Take those awful farmer’s wellies off and put these on.” “I can’t take all that.” “Why not? You said there is great evil in the world, and I’ve no doubt you’ve seen it. Why not accept something good for once? I’d like to do more, but I know from experience the best you can do sometimes is respect someone’s wishes.” She shook her head sadly. “I’ve got no more cash on me else I’d give you that too, but this will get you most places. I hope you have somewhere safe to run to.” I nodded, too choked up to reply. Her kindness threatened to break the dam of emotion I’d built up inside. Releasing it would remove the last of my sanity. I hoped I had a place to escape to. If it wasn’t safe, I didn’t know what I’d do. Tears that hadn’t fallen in a long time dribbled down my cheeks. Julie’s eyes softened. Her compassion was the first I’d felt in a long time. I forced myself from her car and gave her a tight smile. The muscles in my cheeks had almost forgotten how to form one. Julie, the angel. I went to the toilet and gingerly peeled off my straw and blood-filled boots. Wincing, I washed my feet off in the sink, my cuts and blisters stung, and I stifled a cry at the pain. You’ve had worse, you daft bitch. Get a move on. A fellow female passenger came into the toilets, and her horrified gaze fell on me at the sink. I rushed to stuff my sore feet into Julie’s shoes before the woman finished in the loo. I didn’t need station staff trying to kick me out. This was what he’d reduced me to. My now warm feet screamed in pain as I moved. I’m sure there were bits of forest and road still embedded in my cuts. Stuffing the boots in the bin, I made my way to the ticket window. The woman in the ticket booth radiated disgust at my appearance, and it took a few minutes to prove to her I had the money to travel. However, I secured a direct bus from Birmingham to Liverpool. It was leaving in just over half an hour. Adrenaline flooded my system at the prospect of standing still while out in the open. Nerves and electricity jumped under my skin. I searched the station, and I froze as a tall, dark-suited man emerged from a doorway nearby. My pulse raced, and I gripped my new bag. He turned, and it wasn’t him. Just a manager or something. I tried to calm my heart rate as my eyes darted about. I repeated the address I was heading towards over and over in my mind. Every minute dragged by as I sat in the bus bay waiting. No one sat near me. I knew I smelled like the rubbish bin I’d left the wellies in and looked like a homeless, old woman. The bus pulled in, and after, some passengers disembarked. I stood and tried giving my ticket to the bus driver. He looked me up and down. “Try not to piss on my back seat, love.” He declined to take my ticket. The curl of his lip indicated he might catch something from it. I’d suffered worse than his scorn. Maybe I would piss on his back seat. I scuttled to the back row so I could see the whole bus. The worn velour of the seats did nothing to ease my aches and worries. I sank back against the window, and exhaustion lapped at me, threatening to overwhelm me. I couldn’t let my guard down. There were three hours to stay awake and alive on this bus. I stared out of the window as miles of motorway slid by. What had my life become? Once I’d been a young professional full of my own self-importance. Not only did I feel like a shell of myself, but I looked that way too. Was it worth continuing to fight? I shook that off and shifted in my seat. I repeated the address and name. Stay focused. Liverpool was busier than Birmingham. Loud noises tore at my frayed nerves. Every billboard was a shrine to the iconic band, The Beatles. The city looked more modern than when I’d been here nearly a decade ago with a friend visiting her hometown, fresh-faced and excited for a rare weekend off. A lifetime ago. My gaze scuttled about, looking for him or one of his minions. Was he racing towards me already? Maybe he’d used me up enough to not bother. No, I knew that wasn’t true. That was the dream, the denial, the hope I held that I wouldn’t need to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life. People jostled me in the crowded station, and renewed pain throbbed through my arm. I’d fashioned a sling using the sleeve of my hoodie. Dare I waste money on a cab? The problem was I didn’t know which direction the building I needed was. I willed my shaky legs towards the taxi rank. The cabbie in the first position had a flat cap on, and his jowly face held an unfriendly scowl. His lip curled as he looked at my clothes, but his eyes softened as he took in my eye. I told him my destination and sank back onto the back seat. The city and its people slipped by, and I fought the sluggish tiredness that pulled at me again. I deliberately jostled my arm, using the pain to wake myself. We pulled up in front of a tall building. Its architecture made it look older than many of the new androgynous buildings around it. Gargoyles stood sentient halfway up where the building narrowed up to an ornate roof many stories up. The bricks were red and faded, looking like they’d seen some years. Would my good luck hold? I pressed the ornate brass buzzer with “Alfred, Smith, and Sons” next to it. “Do you have an appointment?” a female voice asked. “No, I….” “We don’t see anyone without an appointment.” “I’m here to see Maurice Smith.” “Well, as I said before, if you don’t have an appointment, then I’m sorry.” She didn’t sound sorry. I took a deep breath. “I need sanctuary in the name of Ignis.” I’d rehearsed the line a million times, but saying it out loud to this officious disembodied voice in the middle of an unfamiliar city as my body ached seemed so stupid. I did not know what it truly meant. Was it just the ramblings of a woman who’d lost her mind? What did it matter? This was my last and final hope. The moment stretched on forever. I’d blown it. I’d gotten here, and it was a wild goose chase. I wanted to fold to the ground and cry as defeat crowded on top of me. The door buzzer sounded, and I surged forward, pulling the door open with my good arm. I stepped into the warmth of the lobby, into the unknown. Whether it would be a sanctuary or my doom, I didn’t know, but anything was better than going back.