Chapter Sixteen: A Euphoric Escape

“Tea is for women, Felix!” Goliath snapped refusing the giant mug Armadillo had tried to place in his hand. His dark eyes blazed with indignity.

“Ah, it’s just to sleep better. I know you guys don’t usually sleep well.”

He glanced toward me. Lister grumbled, “If she can fall asleep using your damn tea, then I’ll believe it.” Smugly, he crossed his arms, a confident smirk across his face.

Dill shrugged. “So, be it.” He walked over. He blew gingerly over it to cool it. Gently, he opened my mouth and tipped a mouthful of the steamy drink in.

The taste was terrible, of dirt and bitterness; it stayed in my mouth. The heat from the drink flooded my shivering body for a mere moment, before the frost settled again.

Armadillo whispered in my ear, “You have about an hour before you digest that. You’re going to feel loopy and tired. Your foot isn’t going to hurt, but you can’t walk on it. Be careful with Ace.” He brushed his fingertips over my eyelids, shutting them.

For a few moments, I stayed like that, eyes closed and breathing gently.

Dill remarked, “See, she’s already asleep. Imagine a deep rest even tied as she is.”

“Well, you Nancy boys drink up. I’m going to sleep like a real man,” Ace teased.

Creaking my eyes open slightly, I sighted Goliath gulping down the drink and Lister drinking a good amount as well. Silently, I celebrated the beginning of success.

“Ace, gag the girl.” Varick muttered sleepily. “I don’t want her screaming.”

“Ah, Varick, I heard this excellent poem that I think you would enjoy.”

“A poem?” His voice picked up. He questioned eagerly, “Whose work is it?”

“Are you familiar with the Old Era poet, Byron?” Dill replied casually.

Varick lowered his brow. “I always thought it was Bryon,” He remarked.

Masking irritation, Armadillo continued, “Whichever it is, he is one of my favorites. I thought you might enjoy his work. ‘Titan! To whose immortal…’”

Ace’s hand on my cheek tore me from the sound of Armadillo’s voice. “I’m going to miss you, you pretty thing.” Ace held up my chin. His thumb stroked my lips. As I had suspected he did not retie the gag, but dropped the cloth from his other hand.

It’s now or never, I supposed, kissing his thumb.

Frightened, he withdrew, but as I sent him a small smile, he inched closer. “Natalie…” He whispered. “Felix…if he finds out…I can’t. We shouldn’t.”

I shushed him and pressed my lips to his collarbone. When he groaned happily and gripped my shoulders, I pulled back. Beaming, I gestured my head to my tied hands.

“The ropes…of course, of course.” Quickly, he unbound me and eased me onto the cold ground. He nestled himself on top of me, wary of my foot.

Although it no longer pained me; in fact, it almost felt numb.

I refused to let his lips touch mine. My fingers stroked his beard, caressing their way down to his muscled chest. I murmured Lieuvi babble at him in a gentle purr.

Despite how reserved I was, he still gripped my waist hungrily.

A small grunt and a thump at the camp told me Tristan and Armadillo had succeeded in knocking Varick unconscious, but I still wished they had hit Ace already.

Ace’s hands slid up my sides. He buried his face into my neck. His tongue slid up to my jaw, leaving a trail of spit on my neck. Strands of his dark beard tickled my face.

With confined laughter, I jittered. Although Ace’s gestures made me ill a few moments ago, they now seemed to be a joyous sensation. Each touch sent shivers through my body. Light filled my thoughts with happiness. I grinned at his lean toward my lips.

“That is enough.” Armadillo decided, bluntly pounding Ace over the head with the hilt of his sword. He looked to my first shocked and now disappointed pout. “Nice acting.” He slid his sword back into its scabbard. “You were pretty convincing.”

“I wasn’t acting,” I grumbled, upset. “It felt nice. You ruin everything, Dill.”

“Dill?” Tristan asked, raising an eyebrow. When Armadillo introduced himself, he shook his hand. Then Tristan muttered to Armadillo, “What is wrong with her?”

“I’m almost positive it’s the opium.” He paused, and peered down. “Jenny?”

I was so immersed in the wilting flowered intertwined with my fingers. “It’s so pretty. Do you see how pretty it is?” The feeling of the leaves was tickly and wiry like Ace’s beard. “It’s so pretty, Dill. Do you see how pretty it is?” I repeated, giggling.

“Jenny!” When I was able to look away from the flower, Armadillo wondered, “How does your foot feel? Better?” He spoke slowly as if I were a little kid.

I laughed. “I don’t have feet. I’m a fish.” Then I inflated my cheeks and exhaled. “See my gills? I’m a beautiful fish swimming the sea. I’ve never been to the sea. Dill, will you take me to the sea?” I asked, sounding like the child Dill assumed I was.

The morning was so bright and colorful. Everything was so full of warm and radiant life. It was enchanting. I wondered why I hadn’t realized it before.

“Ugh,” He groaned as he lifted me. “She’s a bit out of it.” He draped me over the horse on my stomach like a saddle; I lay there like a lump, trembling with laughter.

“A bit? Is a fish in the sea what you define as a bit?” Tristan scoffed. “You two have no idea what it is you are doing, do you?”

“Well, Jenny did until I gave her that tea earlier. Now, she’s in some sort of opium euphoria, I presume. And on top of that, I am sure that her foot is infected.”

“Then I suppose she really wouldn’t have feet,” Tristan retorted dully.

“Please, don’t joke. Thank you, Tristan, for all of your help. If I’m even in Dunver again, I will be sure to contact you.” Dill mounted the horse speedily.

With a fierce tug on my hair, I slid off the horse. “Wee!” I cried gleefully, plummeting toward the cool earth. I felt no pain as I slammed into the ground.

A hand yanked me into the shadows with the grip on my hair. “Thought you’d get away, pretty?” Lister snarled, reeling me toward him. At my delusional chortles, he only grew angrier. “What’s so funny?” He demanded, clutching the collar of my dress.

Tristan pulled Dill’s sword from his waist. “Lister, let her go.” He pointed the blade toward him. Prudently, he stepped closer. “I mean it. Let her go.”

When I looked up at Armadillo, he pressed a finger to his lips signaling quiet.

I imitated him and made a loud shushing sound. Then I snorted, guffawing.

Lister smacked me. The sound resounded in my ears sharp and painless. “Would you stop laughing? What were thinking, Felix? Opium tea? I smelled it from the start. Trying to make all of the profit from the girl? Varick was a fool to trust you.”

Inquisitively, I smacked Lister across the face to see how the noise would differ. It wasn’t as sharp or as loud. Pondering how he achieved such a lovely sound, I stuck out my lip sulkily and lowered my eyebrows. I reached up to try it again from a new angle.

“Ow! Little b***h!” He threw me onto the ground. “Happy? I released her!”

“Lister, you will tell no one of this.” Tristan gripped the sword so tightly that his knuckles were pale. “Do you understand?” Menacingly, he stepped closer.

The blade was nearly at his neck. Exhaling, he complied. “We will see what happens in Dunver.” His hand covered Tristan’s on the hilt. “Won’t we?”

Tristan stood his ground. “I suppose we will.” He kept complete eye contact.

Once Armadillo lifted me onto the horse, I understood why Tristan had not switched into an attack; he wanted to distract Lister.

With a quick yank, Lister fell onto the mossy rocks and dewy grass of the forest.

Tristan threw the sword to Armadillo, who caught it easily and flicked the reigns. “Good luck!” He called after us. As we rode off, he watched attentively.

Lister tackled him to the ground. “You little…!” He roared fiercely.

Galloping, we sped away from their tussle. “They were so nice! I hope we seem them again in Dunver.” I leaned against Dill’s back. My chin rested on his shoulder.

He opened his mouth to scold me, but instead sighed, “I hope so too.” Smoothly, he tucked the sword back into the sheath. Smiling, he glanced to me. His grin faded when he sighted my cheek. “It’s already beginning to bruise. Does it hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” I wondered. “Nothing has hurt since we had a tea party! Most little girls have tea parties. I never had a tea party. I served actual tea to guests at the inn. It’s not fair, Dill. It’s not fair,” I whined, rubbing my face in his shirt. “Oh, that feels nice. Like a backscratcher, but for your face. You should make that. A face-scratcher!”

“Jenny, as much as I love your sleep-deprived and opium-induced rambles, could you please shut up until we reach a place to stay?” He flicked the reigns impatiently.

Noisily, I exhaled, “Fine, fine. You’re grumpy.” I closed my eyes. Exhaustion became more potent. “I’m sleepy.” My eyelids gently drooped with my head still on Armadillo’s shoulder. My hair fell in my face, shielding it from the bitter wind.

“Finally,” He muttered to himself. “She’s asleep. I can have a moment of peace.”

“Hoo-ah!” Someone grunted, dropping on the horse’s back behind me.

The horse stumbled for a moment with the new weight; Dill turned around.

“Where did you come from?” Dill yelled fuming as he halted the horse.

“I jumped out of a tree.” The stranger gripped my neck and pulled me backward. He held a knife to my throat. “Take your things and get off the horse or I’ll kill the girl.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dill replied flatly. “How many weird thieves are on this road?” He shouted grouchily, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder.

“Hi!” I smiled up at the knife-man. “How are you today?”

He thought for a moment. “You know, no one asks me that. I mean I have feelings too. I’m well! And yourself?” His voice was smooth and jolly.

“You can’t be a crook of your own accord. Why do you steal things?” I wondered sadly, peering into the green eyes curtained by his dark hair; his face was stubbly.

“I had nothing else to do after school. I didn’t have enough money to go apprentice and certainly not enough to go away to school, so I started robbing people. I really wanted to be a sailor.” He dropped the knife from my throat remorsefully.

“What’s stopping you? The coastline is still there, isn’t it? Move to the coast and be a sailor! I’m sure you have enough money now and if you don’t, there’s-”

“Jenny!” Armadillo interrupted, annoyed as he pulled my bag over his shoulder.

“Hey, buddy. Don’t be talking to the lady like that. You’re right, girl. I’m going to travel to the east and become a sailor. Unfortunately, that’s a long walk, so I’m going to steal your horse.” He lifted me by my underarms and nestled me onto the ground.

“Careful, she has a broken foot,” Dill warned him gently as the man lowered me into a comfortable sitting position on the cold ground. Nervously, he watched the thief.

He studied how the beam plastered across my face and the placid tone of my voice. “She sure doesn’t act it.” He whispered to Dill, “Is she alright in the head?” Creasing his forehead, he examined me, perplexedly fumbling with a stone in my fingers.

“Not at the moment, no. She, ah, it is a very long story,” He explained. “Dill Green.” Unusually friendly, he held out his hand for a shake of acquaintance.

“Aspen Quaker.” When Armadillo’s lips curled up slightly, his voice went cold. “Don’t you dare laugh, boy. Best of luck on your travels, kid. And ah, she seems like a nice girl if you’re into airheads.” He flicked the reigns and the horse stomped off.

Armadillo called after him, “She’s not usually like this! And…ugh, forget it.”

As he decided to look over at me, I was having a puppet show with my hands. I mimicked Dill’s voice deeply and loudly, making it especially stuffy sounding. “She’s not usually like this. And ugh, forget it! I’m Armadillo Ferdinand Alexander Green and I’m so smart! I like history and dislike fun. And face-scratchers.” I laughed manically to myself. While I rolled around in the road, Armadillo grabbed the collar of my dress.

“Come on,” He growled. Hastily, he helped me up and hung my knapsack over my shoulders. Then he draped my arm across his shoulders and told me to lift my foot.

“Why do we have to walk like this?” I whined. “It’s so slow.”

“I don’t want you walking on your foot! You’re hurt if you even remember that. Now, shut up until we can find a damn tavern,” He ordered sternly.

The merriment in my head turned fuzzy. A dull throb crept up my leg. Exhaustion overwhelmed me. Shame from how foolish I had been acting burned my face or perhaps that was the fever. My cheek felt swollen from Lister’s slap. My muscles tensed with each step. After walking for a while, I coughed. “Dill,” I said softly.

“What, Jenny?” His voice still held irritation. He hadn’t cooled off from earlier.

I stumbled. My voice was raspy and quiet. “Could we stop for a moment? I don’t feel well.” The nonexistent contents of my stomach sloshed around painfully.

“I see that you’ve rejoined the living.” He commented. “Jenny, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but there is a building right up the road. Can you make it that far?”

I nodded, hobbling along with Dill’s support. My foot felt worse than it had when I first broke it. My mind only focused on a rest, possibly a bed, but I didn’t count on it.

My eyes were practically shut when we passed a sign reading, ‘Hans’s Haven.’

Dill pushed the door open. Carefully, he set me on a barstool. “I’ll handle it.”

I heard heavy footsteps and a thick voice greeted us. “Bit early for drinking, my boy! What can I do you for? The name’s Hans Tamas, but Hans is just fine with me.”

Armadillo sat on the stool beside me with a tired moan. “Hans, I haven’t a Tyan or even a Crahavac, but do you think you could spare two glasses of water?” Dill queried.

“I don’t see why not. Your friend looks like death. Did you two encounter a bit of misfortune on the road?” He asked with the familiar clank of glass on wood. “Drink up.”

“We were robbed twice. She hasn’t slept a wink in a few days and she broke her foot. Do you think you could possibly give us a room? We won’t stay too long.”

“Under those circumstances? Stay as long as you need. Rooms are upstairs.”

Gratefully, I muttered, “Thank you.” I groaned when Dill lifted me over his shoulder and thumped up the creaky stairs. “Dill, I could’ve…” My voice trailed off, too drained to continue. When he situated me on a bed, I called to him, “Dill?”

“What is it, Jenny?” He sat on the edge of the other bed, removing his boots.

I suggested, “The next time that we’re kidnapped, you have to speak Lieuvi.”