Chapter 2: Arrival in Doranelle

I must have passed out at some point because it is night when I come round. Either that or I’ve been moved to a darker place on the ship. The rolling motion of the casket confirms that we are still at sea. I can’t hear the sounds of the crew, but that doesn’t mean anything. I try to avoid gagging from the stench inside this casket. My own blood and sweat, coupled with the remnants of Maeve’s piss, mix with the strong smell of the iron. It’s overpowering my other senses.

I try moving my hands. The iron box permits me some movement, but only enough to ease a sore muscle or move the heavy chains resting on my torso. My shredded back protests at any form of movement, but I suppress my cry of pain. I need to explore my prison. I need to see if there’s any way to freedom.

It’s a forlorn hope. Maeve has had years to prepare for this event. She wouldn’t be so careless as to leave any weakness I could exploit. I lift my hands as far as I can reach towards my mouth. The chains on my wrists pull taught as my fingers touch the mask in front of my nose. The right side of my mouth, and the lower part of my right cheek, are clear of the mask, but an iron leaf fastened to the ornate vine on the left side of my face covers most of my mouth. I feel around the leaf, trying to work out how it is fastened, but I can’t find any means of detaching it. I explore the inside of the lid as I lower my hands to my side. I can’t find anything to offer me hope. I drift off into a restless slumber.

Another spray of warm smelly liquid wakes me some time later. More piss, but it has a different smell to Maeve’s. This time I turn my head away and refuse to drink. Whoever is outside must hear my movement inside the casket because I can hear a low chuckle.

“Are you comfortable, your majesty,” laughs a male voice. Cairn! “Make the most of your rest. It’ll be the last one you’ll get for a very long time.”

I resist the temptation to tell Cairn what I think of him. I remember the lesson I learned from the slave mines of Endovier. Speaking is a form of submission, and I must hold out long enough to let Rowan and my friends escape. Once Maeve realises I no longer hold the two wyrdkeys I had in my possession, she’ll return to Eyllwe and pursue my friends. But they’ll soon go their separate ways. Each with their own pre-arranged task towards defeating Erawan. Even the mighty Maeve will stay well clear of Erawan until she has the wyrdkeys in her possession.

Ironically, my capture means that I’ll live a while longer. Maeve isn’t the only being who had been waiting centuries for my birth. Legend says that only one of Mala’s line can create a new lock for the wyrdkeys. Only then will the latent power of the wyrdkeys be silenced, and Erawan and his dark minions can be banished forever. I’ve no idea how to create a lock, but more than one of my ghostly ancestors demands that I do. To achieve something which they failed to do in their lifetimes. And my reward? Death. To rid this world of the wyrdkeys’ power, I must willingly sacrifice myself. Failure will surrender everyone living on this world to Erawan’s dark powers, despite what Maeve believes.

Cairn doesn’t linger. He gains his pleasure from watching his victims squirm and bleed. He’d like to lay his whip across my back once again. But the iron casket deprives him of that freedom as much as it deprives me of mine. I’m left alone to my own thoughts.

I can hear my next visitor approaching by the sound of chains being dragged across the floor. A prisoner of some sort, or is there another reason for the chains? A small hatch in the lid of the casket opens, admitting slightly more light. I hadn’t detected the hatch before and it is only large enough for someone to reach into the casket. A piece of bread is tossed into my prison, landing on my chest. I quickly move my hands to catch it, but fumble as my heavy chains hinder my movement. The hatch closes immediately and the sound of shuffling feet dragging a chain recedes. I feel around for the bread, and finally locate it soaked in whatever fluid it has landed in as it rolled off my chest. I’m too hungry to bother with the state of my food, and I devour the bread before my mind persuades me otherwise.

For three days ... as far as I can judge ... the routine is the same. The stench in my prison is almost unbearable. To add to my woes, I’m having to lie in my own waste. My trousers are beyond salvation, although that will be the least of my worries when we arrive in Doranelle.

I’ve humbled myself into drinking my captors piss when it is sprayed into my face. Once in a while I think it is actually fresh water that I’m being given, but it could simply be my mind playing tricks. The pain in my back has eased, although I don’t fool myself into believing my wounds have healed. The bleeding feels as though it has stopped, and whatever blood I’ve been lying in has dried solid onto my back. I’ll have yet more scars across my back to join those acquired during my time in the mines of Endovier.

Finally the rocking motion stops and I detect a different set of sounds around me. It seems as though we’ve arrived at a port, and Maeve’s party is preparing for the overland journey to Doranelle. Sure enough, something is attached to the top of my prison just above my head. A rattling sound is soon followed by the casket tipping upright, causing me to slide onto my feet. I brace myself for the pain across my back, but I only feel a slight twinge as my body slides a few centimetres downwards. I feel the casket swinging about as though it is being hoisted out of the ship’s hold. The motion stops abruptly as the casket lands with a loud clunk. I’m once again lowered until I’m lying on my back.

It doesn’t takes me long to work out that I’m lying in a wagon. The sudden jolts and assorted sounds tells me that we are travelling along a road. There follows four more days of the same routine I experienced on the ship. Only this time I’m given clean water to drink each time we stop.

I’ve become so used to the regular pattern of our journey that I don’t immediately realise when we reach our destination. Suddenly, I feel the box being lowered to the ground. To my great surprise, the lid of the casket is opened, and I’m blinded by the light. Maeve is there looking down at me. She holds a cloth over her nose to shield her from the foul smell.

“Clean the girl up,” says Maeve to one of the Fae around her. “I’ll not have my palace polluted by this filth. Bring her to me when you’re done. Don’t let her out of this box or you’ll regret the day you were born.”