The Reader - Chapter 9

Chapter 9 

The fire was dead, the embers gone cold. Emmeline shivered in cool morning mist, her hair damp from sleeping on the forest ground. 

Newt and Forrest were loading Void, Angel, and Rusty Bob as the first beams of sunlight were streaming through the canopy. Coral was using the bits of water in the air to wash away any signs of their camp. 

Clara and Beckett were still rubbing sleep from their eyes as Emmeline gathered the remaining blankets from the ground. 

Her skin was dirty and grubby, and Emmeline couldn’t help but wish that they would find a stream or some sort of water so she could bathe. Even in the circus she had bathed at least twice a week with the buckets of water from the wells scattered around the woods. 

Beckett was playing with the ring on his finger as Clara was talking to him in hushed tones. “They make a cute couple,” Coral commented to Emmeline. 

Emmeline nodded, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit protective of Beckett. He wasn’t an object or anything, but she was the one who had Read him and went on a journey just to find. Emmeline knew it was great that he was getting along so well with Clara - that meant he might open up more. 

“We’re almost ready,” Newt called from the horses. “A few more minutes and we can hit the road.” 

“What did the road ever do to you?” Forrest asked from Rusty Bob’s side, a toothy grin on his face. 

“I faceplanted once,” Newt shrugged with an equally large smile. 

Emmeline couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Seriously, was she going to have to deal with Forrest and Newt? 

Her thoughts were interrupted as something thumped on the ground in the center of what used to be the camp. Emmeline turned to see a small pouch-like object, still wriggling like there was something stuck inside. 

Coral went to prod at it and Emmeline realized too late what the object was. 

“Coral, don’t!” Emmeline cried out. But the other girl had already poked the pouch with her finger. 

Immediately, a pinkish dust rose into the air, consuming most of the clearing with it’s sickly sweet scent. Emmeline tried to cover her face with her shirt but the dust had already made it to her. 

Darkness fell over Emmeline and she knew she had about thirty seconds before the other effects of the dust began to settle in. 

The dust was stuff Slavers used in their business. They filled hearts of magical forest creatures with the compound of plants. The hearts would beat, pumping out the dust for a good five minutes or so - long enough for the Slavers to check their pray. If made correctly, it could also cause short term memory loss so victims wouldn’t know what happened.

The dust was a special compound that would paralyze any Blessed, Cursed, or Normie. But with a Reader it would blind them and eventually cause a fair deal of pain and possibly screaming - which was a good thing for Slavers. 

Emmeline crawled frantically across the ground, her vision gone entirely. She could feel something hard on the ground - a rock maybe? If she could just reach the pouch … 

Emmeline felt a stabbing pain in her chest and she gasped as it spread through her body. Burning. Itching. Burning. She tried to press back her scream and lie still - hoping maybe the Slavers would ignore her if she looked like the others. 

The burning and itching grew worse - too prominent to ignore. It felt like bugs were crawling across her skin, stabbing at her with tiny, clawed legs. 

Emmeline knew she needed to stay as still as possible, but the itching was so bad now she wanted to tear off her own skin. She could hear movement around her but she wasn’t sure what it was. 

Wait, why was she itchy again? The terms dust, Slavers, and memory loss came to mind but her thoughts were mostly a jumbled mess. 

“Drink,” someone told her, pressing something cold to her lips. Emmeline didn’t realize someone had got close enough to touch her. “It’ll ease the itching.” Emmeline didn’t remember why she was so panicky. Was someone trying to hurt her? Obviously these people weren’t, they were offering her help. 

Emmeline drank a warm, syrupy liquid. Slowly her vision returned, fuzzy around the edges until it became sharp and focused. With that, her memories returned as well but the burning and itching eased only slightly. 

Emmeline wanted to cry out as she realized the Slavers had caught her. What had they given her to drink? Probably a sedative or something to calm her. 

“That’s a good girl,” a person told her. Emmeline realized that they were holding her upright, a dark mask around their face that covered their nose and mouth. “Drink up, darling, drink up.” 

Emmeline wanted to spit out the liquid but a warm sensation spread through her body. She couldn’t move at all, it was like her limbs were frozen in place. 

The Slavers had forced her to drink a paralyzing sedative or something of the sort. She was going to die or be sold or be forced to Read or… Emmeline began to breathe faster as she realized that there was no escape. 

“She’s panicking,” the same person that was holding her said loudly. 

“Give her Merriment,” another voice said. Emmeline felt something sharp prick her neck and a refreshing cold flooded her. 

It went straight to her head and began to seep into her thought. Emmeline could feel herself slipping away from reality. In her drugged state there was no way she would be able to call out to her friends. Not that they would remember the Slavers anyways. 

Newt, Emmeline tried to yell. But the coldness swept over her and her mind went dark. 

Emmeline was cold, hungry, and very angry. She woke in a small, dark room with no windows whatsoever. She was tied to a chair so tightly that she could barely feel her hands and feet. Her eyes adjusted a bit to the darkness allowing her to see silhouettes of the furniture around her. 

The door was at the far end of the room, probably locked. She could see a table next to the door covered in objects she couldn’t quite make out. 

Emmeline was gagged as well, and she knew she was probably drugged because it took a lot of effort to move. She tried to struggle against her bonds, but she knew it was hopeless. The ropes didn’t budge, they only cut into her skin. 

The door suddenly slammed open and Emmeline almost jumped out of her skin. 

“One minute, sir. The Reader will be out, but we must speak to her first.” She could hear the voice she had heard yesterday speaking to someone and the door shut again. 

The man stepped into the room carrying a torch. The flames licked up the side of the torch as he bent close to her, holding the stick next to her. “Listen here, little miss. You will Read this man. You will tell us what you saw. You will not say anything else nor will you attempt escape. Otherwise, well, there are worse things than death. We need you alive but not necessarily sane.” 

Emmeline gulped back her arguments and forced herself to nod. The man smile wickedly. “You’re already drugged with thorns from a certain flowering plant. Attempt to remove them and you lose a finger.” 

He placed the torch in a small dip in the floor, the flames casting dancing shadows on Emmeline as he worked to untie her ropes. 

Then the man plucked something from her neck - Emmeline realized it was a thorn from whatever flower the man had mentioned. Warmth flooded her limbs and suddenly she could move a little easier. Not enough to run, of course, or even to fight back. 

The man grabbed his torch and wrenched Emmeline to her feet. Her knees buckled but Emmeline couldn’t fix them. The man pulled her again and she righted herself. 

He opened the door, tossing the torch aside once it was open. It went out with a pop and Emmeline wondered if maybe he was Blessed from Wylia and he could control fire. But she couldn’t focus enough to ask him. 

There was little light, but Emmeline’s eyes still had trouble adjusting as they ascended the spiral staircase. 

Emmeline knew most Slavers used abandoned mansions as bases. The multiple rooms provided private Reading spaces plus large basements that could be used as prisons. So it didn’t surprise her when she was lead through a large, empty “lobby”. 

The man finally stopped as they entered a smaller room, which was probably supposed to be a kid’s bedroom. 

There was a woman sitting on a soft looking bed, her shirt already gone and her undergarments the only thing remaining. The man shoved Emmeline roughly into one of the two chairs. “You will Read her now,” he ordered her. 

“Don’t be so rough, Harlan. She’s just a girl,” the woman scoffed at him. 

Emmeline was grateful that the woman thought she was even human, but the older lady still had an odd appearance. She had short, dark hair and her leggings were torn. Worst of all was the long scratch that went from the bottom of her left eye to the right corner of her mouth. Only soldiers had scars like those, but women weren’t soldiers. 

“And you’re just a test,” the man called Harlan argued back. “The girl needs to be deemed trustworthy.” 

“She probably has a name,” the woman rolled her eyes. “And I am not only a test - I’m your wife!” 

“Ex wife,” the man argued. 

“You didn’t file the papers,” the woman spat. Then she turned to Emmeline and asked, “Do you have a name, darling?” 

Emmeline thought for a moment. If she told Harlan and this woman that she was Echo from the Travelling Circus they might return her and at least she could escape the circus easily. Or they would kill her, but the woman seemed kind enough - despite her rocky appearance. 

“I’m Echo,” Emmeline said quietly. 

A deep silence filled the room. “Echo, like the circus Reader?” Harlan wrinkled his nose and then shook his head. “Never mind that, just do the Reading. This isn’t official, not yet. My wife will test you and see if you’re trustworthy - tell us her past. Then I have a customer waiting.” 

Emmeline nodded, biting back her fear. She could feel the thorns in the skin around the base of her neck but she knew Harlan would hurt her if she tried to remove them. 

The woman laid on her stomach, her markings all shown. Emmeline touched her skin apprehensively and the visions took her away. 

A tiny, dark haired girl running down the street. She trips and falls, scraping her knees. The girl sniffles once, a small tear dripping down her cheek. Then she looks up and sees the small crowd of children starting to gather around her. Two of the boys point at her. “Little Miss Soldier is crying,” one of them laughs. The girl wipes her eyes and stands up, stepping closer to the boys. “I will be a soldier one day, just you wait and see.” The boys laugh and Emmeline takes a moment to fume as they turn and laugh harder. Then she grabs one of them by the wrist and as he turns around she socks him in the nose. The boy screams and the other kids run away. 

A young woman is standing in a row of people, her hair shorn short and her expression determined.  An older man with graying hair is striding back and forth, a whip at his side. “Only three of you can be selected for the Royal Guard.” He walks back and forth, back and forth, his whip dangling. The man selects two of the others - and the entire row except for the woman is male. But she stands strong. The man is pacing again, looking at everyone’s face. He stops at her and the woman stifles a smile of hope. The man looks like he will praise her but instead he slams his whip across her face. “The Royal Guard is no place for a woman. Go home and tend to your garden.” 

Emmeline fell backwards into the hands of Harlan, who sat her on the chair and slapped her across the face. Emmeline bit back a scream but she kept quiet. 

“What did you see?” Harlan asked her, his brow wrinkled. Emmeline tried to speak more but the thorns combined with the shock of coming out of a Reading made her tongue thick and her words slurred. 

Harlan seemed to understand and he plucked another thorn out of her neck. Emmeline regained control of her muscles and stared up at Harlan. His wife was still on the bed, flipping herself over and pulling her shirt back on. 

“I saw… I saw her,” Emmeline began gesturing towards the man’s wife. She couldn’t lie - not if she wanted to live. “She was with some boys and they made fun of her for being a girl and crying. And then she was told she couldn’t be a Royal Guard, and then you yanked me out of the Reading and I didn’t finish it.” Emmeline couldn’t help but spit the last part. 

“She’s right,” the woman mumbled. “Everything she said - all accurate.”

“Janie, darling, we can’t know for sure-” Harlan said, still bitter that Emmeline had been disrespectful towards him. 

“We know for sure she’s the real deal,” Janie rolled her eyes. 

“She’s a little brat, that’s what she is,” Harlan grumbled. He grabbed Emmeline’s arm and pulled it hard, using his free hand to shove another thorn into Emmeline’s neck. She felt herself go numb again, although she could still move a little. “We have another person to Read.” 

He stood abruptly, dragging Emmeline behind him. 

They left the room and went straight next to it. Just as Harlan was about to open the door another smaller girl with an apron appeared. She wasn’t girl really, more of a young woman. But she was definitely Harlan’s servant because she curtsied to him.

“Sir, there’s a new person in Room 13. He says that he needs to be Read immediately,” the girl explained, out of breath. 

“Tell him to wait,” Harlan spat. “We have other customers.” 

“Sir, he threatened to tell King Gray about our business,” the girl said quietly. “He says he has close connections to the king.” 

Harlan paled. “Tell the man in Room 4 that I’ll be with him in a bit, we have more urgent matters.” He then grabbed Emmeline’s arm tighter and dragged her the opposite direction. He threw open the door labelled 13 and stepped inside, clutching Emmeline tightly to him as he shut the door softly. 

Emmeline turned, expecting to see a man with a crown or a sharp spear. 

She was met by surprise. 

Beckett, Newt, Forrest, Coral, and Clara will are standing beside the bed, their weapons levelled at Harlan, ready to fight. 

Emmeline didn’t have time to react, Harlan shoved two more thorns into her neck and as she fell limp he wrapped an arm around her neck and held a knife to her throat. Emmeline gaped for breath as Harlan’s grip tightened. “Don’t move,” he ordered. 

Emmeline’s legs had gone weak from the thorns and she buckled. Harlan lost his grip on her and Emmeline tumbled to the ground, rolling hard. 

Newt dashed straight towards Harlan, holding his knives to Harlan’s throat. The man dropped his own knife and it clattered to the floor beside Emmeline. Coral kept her bow pointed at him and Newt remained still as Clara rushed towards Emmeline, forcing her into a sitting position. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Beckett asked, right at Clara’s side. 

Emmeline tried to open her mouth and tell them about the thorns but her mouth didn’t work. Clara ran her tiny hands over Emmeline, searching for wounds that weren’t there. When her fingers grazed Emmeline’s neck she froze. 

One by one, Clara plucked the thorns from Emmeline’s neck and feeling slowly returned to the older girl. 

“Get me out of here,” Emmeline groaned, her voice weak. “Please.” 

She felt weak and helpless, and Newt was staring her like she was an injured animal. Which perhaps she was - injured, not an animal. 

“I’ll be sure to report this to King Gray,” Beckett said, shooting a glare towards Harlan. 

Emmeline felt glad that Beckett was standing up for her, but she wished that she had managed to escape by herself. At least then she wouldn’t be so helpless. 

“Let’s get you out of here,” Clara mumbled, helping Emmeline to her feet. She used the younger girl more for support than she wanted to, but Emmeline was happy she didn’t have to be carried out. 

Harlan didn’t cry out as Newt kicked his knife away and removed his own knives from the man’s neck. 

Emmeline kept her head down as Newt and Forrest lead them out of the room and into the lobby with the staring people. She kept her head down as they made their way outside where their horses were waiting. 

Coral handed Emmeline back her weapons, but Emmeline was just glad she was alive. 

She leaned against Newt as the horses began to travel and closed her eyes, letting the rocking motion bring her peace. 

Emmeline was still exhausted by the following morning. They had rode all night to get as far away from the Slavers as possible. 

She didn’t even care that Newt didn’t give her answers at first. 

She woke as the sun was rising, her body on the ground next to a small creek. She felt disgusting but Emmeline was smart enough not to go run around in random creeks - especially not until she found her friends. 

They weren’t far away, a small campfire started between them. Clara and Beckett were asleep on the ground, and Forrest was polishing his sword. 

“Finally awake?” Newt called out from his spot near a tree. “It’s been four years…” 

“Try nine hours,” Coral interrupted, patting the ground next to her for Emmeline to come and sit. “And Newt’s been watching you like a hawk.” 

Emmeline smiled to herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

“Hey, I was making sure she didn’t get taken again,” Newt protested. “She’s mine now, all mine!” He grabbed Emmeline’s arm and pulled her close to him, causing him to trip and fall straight on him. Newt rolled her off playfully and Emmeline had to pick the grass from her hair. 

“Oh, so I’m property now?” she joked, crossing her arms. 

Newt shrugged and Coral laughed. Forrest simply sighed, but he was smirking too. Emmeline felt better now that she was safe, so she wasn’t afraid to start asking. “So … how exactly did you find me?” 

“It’s kind of a long story,” Coral began. 

“We woke up, our minds blurry for some reason.” Newt moved over so Emmeline could actually take a seat near the fire. “We thought maybe we had all fallen asleep due to some attack, but then Beckett noticed you were missing. We had no idea where you had gone.” 

“It was actually Newt who thought of the Slavers,” Coral admitted. “He started freaking out when he saw there were no tracks - I guess the Slavers were experienced.” 

“You thought I was freaking out?” Newt raised an eyebrow before sending a pointed glance at Forrest. “Forrest was extremely upset when he found your quiver and bow lying on the ground. He started raging and slicing trees like they were the ones who had taken you.” 

“It’s my Curse,” Forrest mumbled, looking down. 

Emmeline guessed his Curse probably did effect him a little bit. Earlier someone had mentioned something about him having anger issues - but it seemed surreal at the time. 

“Beckett coaxed Ibenily out to speak to us, but she was super weak and distracted. We barely managed to grasp your direction from her panicked speech,” Coral explained. “We hopped on the horses and followed the vague directions until we found an abandoned mansion that we assumed was the Slavers. Newt had the idea to pose as customers to get us inside.” 

“Well, thanks,” Emmeline mumbled. She ran her fingers through the tangled strands of her hair. It had always comforted her to run her fingers through her hair, but the action did little to soothe her. “Did we go off track?” 

Forrest shook his head. “Not too much - maybe half a day. The mansion wasn’t far from the Sky Plateau, so we’re relatively on track. There’s just one problem.” 

Emmeline could guess, she saw the nearly empty satchels. Their horses were not burdened by the extra weight of food. “We need to visit a village,” Emmeline decided reluctantly. “And the Sky Plateau is the closest one.” 

Coral nodded. “We tried to hunt, but there aren’t any creatures left. All we found was this at the sight of your kidnapping.”

Coral handed Emmeline a scrap of fabric, maybe an armband. It was black with tiny white letters than Emmeline could barely make out. Baelle? “Baelle?” Emmeline voiced out loud, sounding out the name. “Is that a common name?” 

“No, I’ve never heard of it,” Newt shrugged. Then he held out the leather bound book. “Flip to the next page.” 

Emmeline obliged, turning the heavy pages. The next page was some sort of entry in cramped handwriting. “What is this?” Emmeline asked, but no one answered. She began to read. 

The Patron Goddesses cannot effect a Cursed, Blessed, or Normie of another Patron Goddesses country. However, several other Goddesses have been born of thought from the Patron Goddesses. Also known as “Rogues”, these Goddesses do not rule over any lands. Bitter because of this, many Rogues resort to causing havoc. A notable Rogue is Baelle, child of Ibenily herself, Goddess of Witchcraft. Baelle has resented her mother for many years now and has not been heard from in a century. But rumor has it that she whispers in the ears of kings and queens, telling them ideas for warfare. Baelle is not to be trusted and if she has her way, there will be a war between Green and Silver that will destroy all of the land, leaving her Patron Goddess of everything. 

“Who was this written by?” Emmeline asked when she finished. 

“We assume that Ibenily wrote it for us to give us a name for our enemy,” Newt explained. “Baelle is obviously her daughter and our biggest threat, especially if she’s the Goddess of Witchcraft. Baelle is mostly likely the one who possessed me.” 

“So she’s just jealous?” Emmeline raised an eyebrow. “Sounds kind of dumb to me.” 

“Wouldn’t you be mad if your mother ruled a kingdom and you were smothered by her power?” Coral suggested. “Rogues don’t get worshipped either.” 

Emmeline sighed. She had to give Coral points for her explanation. If she was a Rogue she would probably want a war too. Ibenily probably had so many daughters that she couldn’t pay attention to all of them. And that bitterness would surface in Baelle, she would definitely want an uprising. 

“Sounds kind of familiar,” a voice said from the other side of the fire. Beckett was sitting up, his eyes half closed. “Child of a Ruler, but has no kingdom themself?” 

“Do you want a Kingdom?” Coral asked him. “It seems like a lot of work for a kid.” 

“Excuse me, child,” Beckett smirked. “I am over a century year ago, older than time itself. My mother is Queen of the Silver Kingdom and my father is King of the Green Kingdom.” 

“Was,” Emmeline corrected. “Besides, your mother was a princess, not a queen. And just because you’re ‘a century old’ doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re stuck in the body of a thirteen year old boy.” 

“Yeah, but I could rule a kingdom. If both kings die I could own both kingdoms,” Beckett pointed. 

“That would start a war - which is what we’re trying to prevent,” Newt sighed. 

“And you’re thirteen,” Coral emphasized. 

Beckett rolled his eyes. “And Emmeline stinks? Are we going to insult each other?”

“Hey!” Emmeline cried out, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She knew she hadn’t bathed in what felt like forever, but Beckett was being cruel. 

Beckett shrugged. “We all bathed in the creek. I’m just telling you that so you can go clean yourself off too. I wasn’t trying to be mean.” He sighed, staring a the ground. Emmeline let her shoulders relax. 

Deep down she knew Beckett was a kid who had little experience with others. He had grown up in the Temple of Purity, alone and forgotten. 

“I’ll go wash off,” Emmeline said at last, getting to her feet. 

She would wash off the dirt. She would wash off the blood. 

She would wash away her worries.