Eliza's Shadow (15 page)

The subtle pulse of the book vibrated against my
fingers causing my skin to itch. I slipped my bag around my shoulder and
dropped the book inside before retrieving the house key.

With a bit more effort than usual, I freed the
lock and stepped into the dark loft. The soft whir of heated air ran through
the large exposed pipes along the ceiling and walls. I crossed the room to the
couch and pulled the cord of a ceramic lamp. Yellow light pooled across the
floor in a blurred circle below the shade warming the cavernous room. I sank
into the couch letting my head fall back against the cushions and closed my
eyes.

The room was still and silent aside from the
general creaks and groans behind the walls that all buildings emit when
everything else is quiet. I made up my mind. Jane would be home in an hour and
I intended to be safely in bed before she arrived.

I scanned the room calmly, inspecting each dim
corner before carefully opening the bag at my side. The book sat idle at the
bottom of it. I reached into the bag and carefully removed the book with
trembling hands.

“Alright, I guess we should get about it.” I
muttered under my breath before summoning the courage to lift the cover.

The old binding creaked and a soft sigh drifted
through the room. My spine stiffened. I searched the room fearfully for an
intruder but it was once again still and silent. I glared into the dim corners
but became distracted as the pulse of the book quickened, vibrating against the
tops of my thighs. Then the pages began to flutter first forward then in
reverse, finally resting on a page toward the beginning. I focused uneasily on
the script before me.

Chapter
One: The Discipline of Mind Manipulation

The paper of the book was a mottled creamy
parchment, its quality organic in nature an appropriate match to the
handcrafted leather cover. The elegant script stretched across the page in
neat, precise rows though it could only have been produced by hand and quill.
The letters inscribed in deep maroon ink sharply contrasted with the ivory
parchment. The overall effect reminded me of dried blood on fabric. Considering
the age and unknown origin of the book, I shuddered at the thought of what
materials had been used in its production.

The dense script spread down the page seemingly
devoid of all parenthetical and grammatical rules. At first glance, the words
appeared to stream for lines on end, capitalizations popping up at odd
intervals free of punctuation and paragraph division. After deciphering the
first line, I stared at the page in contemplating its meaning.

what lies Behind
the eyes commands the hands, the Heart guards the key, an unwise tongue may be
silenced forever

Without warning, a curtain of deep blue dropped
before my eyes. At once, I felt the sensation of free falling into oblivion.
The couch, the floor, the book in my hands disappeared replaced by a strong
rush of wind forcing my arms above my head and pushing me up, though my stomach
confirmed I was falling down. My hair whipped around my face lashing my eyes
and cheeks. My body hurled wildly through space. I opened my mouth to scream
but only heard the deafening whoosh of air rushing passed me.

With a heavy thud I landed on a hard flat surface.
My body slammed to the ground as if I had been shoved out a third floor window.
Gasping for air, hazy dark circles hung in my eyes obscuring my line of sight.

“Up wench, no time for wallowing.’” A brusque
voice shouted in my ear. The language intonations were clearly English but
coarse, entirely unlike Ren’s graceful diction.

The pain radiating up my arms dulled and beneath
my hands I felt a cool slimy surface. Dank air laced with the scent of hay and
filthy human accosted my nose. A set of worn leather boots came into view before
my face. I scuttled backward putting distance between my face and the tips of
the boots. Rough hands gripped my arms and yanked me from the ground nearly
ripping my shoulders out of their sockets. Distant cries and an unpleasant
metal clanging rang in my ears.

“That’s right, no use struggling.” The rough voice
said.

Adrenaline shot through my system, my mind raced.
Where was I?

Callused palms wrenched my hands behind my back. Cold
metal squeezed my wrists. Shackles? I desperately scanned the room for clues.
The room appeared to be a small rectangle roughly ten feet long, possibly
fifteen deep. Large gray stones unevenly cut but flush, lined the floor and
walls. Flat gray light filtered in through a narrow window near the ceiling on
one of the walls. A small portal sealed with a crude wooden door stood on the
opposite wall with a thick metal ring for a doorknob. Moisture seeped from the
walls forming slimy green rivulets draining to the floor. Dirt laden hay was
strewn across the grimy floor.

“Aye, that should hold ye. Filthy witch.” The
voice muttered as my unpleasant captor stepped from behind me and came into
view.

Frozen by surprise and disgust I stared at the man
in my presence. He wore a ragged shirt and pants made of a fabric akin to
burlap. The poorly fitting pants were secured to his waist with a tattered
rope. His boots, misshapen and worn looked elegant compared to the rest of his
attire. A stringy mess of dark greasy hair hung to his shoulders. His face and
hands were covered in a layer of grime, dirt jammed beneath unkempt nails and
smudged across his cheeks and forehead.

As he moved, his pungent stench wafted up my nose
triggering my gag reflex. I heaved violently forward but was jerked upright by
the chains on my wrists. I gagged and vomited onto the stone at my feet.

The man cackled. “Pretty one aren’t ye now?”

His wolfish eyes traveled across my face and along
the length of my body. A lewd sneer crossed his face revealing an incomplete
set of scummy yellow teeth. He lifted a grubby hand to his face and rubbed his
nose before scratching himself inappropriately. Then snapped his rotten
mandibles like a rabid dog and turned to leave slamming the thick wooden door
behind him.

Coughing and choking on the foul air, I
instinctually struggled against the chains sucking my wrists like the tentacles
of a sea monster. It was the slicing pain of the shackles that finally
commanded me to the present. Small streams of blood slid down my forearms. I
gazed upward squinting in the dim light to find thin red lacerations at the
edge of the metal bracelets. I’ve got to get a hold of myself, I fumed.

Tears of rage welled in the corners of my eyes and
before long, steaming tears dampened the sides of my face. How could Ren do
this to me? Fury brewed in the pit of my stomach. No wonder he told me not to
worry about studying. I would learn or I would die.

My present setting shed light on the origin of my
primer. Not quite ancient but considering what I knew from history class about
Medieval forms of punishment I might have been better off in countless other
spaces in history. Furious again, I stamped my feet hard against the stone
floor. The pounding sent painful vibrations up my legs.

Regaining control of myself, I sucked a breath of
dank air deep into my lungs. Despair was not an option. Instead I forced myself
to review the facts at hand.

The man had called me a witch, which would have
been a crime in those days. I reasoned that I must have been captive as a
prisoner charged with the crime of witchcraft.

The lesson was
The Discipline of Mind Manipulation
. I had
successfully performed it once before and convinced Jane to forget but
convincing my foul captor to let me go would certainly be a challenge. Panic
throbbed in my chest as I considered whether I would be able to execute such a
feat.

A small rustling sound in the shadows beneath the
slit of a window disrupted my thoughts. I turned toward the noise and stared
defensively at the dark wall. To my surprise, a small dirty foot stepped into
the light on the stone floor. A gasp escaped my mouth and it disappeared again
into the shadows.

“No, don’t go. I’m sorry… You just surprised me.
Please don’t be afraid.” I begged of the small foot.

In response, the little foot reappeared followed
tentatively by a second little foot.

“It’s quite dark in here and I can’t see anything
but your feet. Are you able to come closer?” I requested carefully of the
little pair of feet.

“Yes ma’am.” A child’s voice responded. The boy
stepped out from the dark and shuffled slowly toward me. His eyes cast to the
ground.

The boy’s tiny stature suggested that he could not
be older than six or seven years old. He wore tattered pants that ended in
ragged hems just below his knees. A dirty blouse that looked to be several
sizes too large hung loosely on his slight frame. His shiny disheveled hair
reached just below his chin. The small boy’s uncared for appearance invoked
pity and a strong sense of protectiveness in my heart.

“Hello.” I tried my best to sound comforting.

“My name is Eliza. What’s your name?” I wished I
could kneel closer to his level in order to better meet his eyes.

The boy’s face remained angled toward the floor
but I could see that he was trying to peek at me without lifting it.

“My name is Benjamin.” He mumbled shyly, a small
smile lit his face like a candle.

“Hello Benjamin. It’s nice to meet you. This place
is scary. I’m glad that I’m not alone in here.” I said softly working hard not
to frighten him. He was not shackled but his spindly limbs and swollen belly
protruding beneath the ill-fitting blouse indicated he had been poorly treated.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Eliza.” His face rose
to meet my gaze and the smile spread. He stood awkwardly rubbing his bare toes
against each other. His fingers fidgeted nervously at his sides.

Aghast at the idea of imprisoning a small child I
suddenly wondered who else might be lying in the shadows of the cell.

“Benjamin, were you alone in here, before I
arrived?” I asked nervously.

The smile fled his face and his eyes fell to the
floor.

“Yes, my brother was here but he’s been gone for a
long time.” His high voice caught in his throat as he spoke. When he didn’t
raise his face, I realized he was quietly crying.

“Oh Benjamin, I’m sorry to hear that.” Not wanting
to upset him further by probing into the circumstances of his brother’s
departure I decided to change the subject.

“Why were you put here?” I asked cautiously.

Benjamin’s narrow shoulders heaved before he sniffled
and wiped his eyes.

“I’m a thief, ma’am.” He said. His head tilted to
one side as he hesitantly peered at my face.

Thief? Well, that sounded like a strong crime for
a small child, I thought. Then considering the brutal time period, I accepted
his confession.

“What did you steal?” I asked. By the looks of
him, I had an inkling of what he might say.

Weak as he was, Benjamin sank to the ground and
sat cross-legged before me.

“Bread. My mum passed and we had eaten all that
was left. My brother and I snuck into the Lord’s kitchen and stole it away!” He
said with a bit of excitement. It must have seemed like a clever game to him at
the time.

“We ate the bread behind our cottage before anyone
found us but still, we were caught.” He hung his head again and from the sound
of his voice, I wondered if he might cry again.

It was heartbreaking to imagine two children left
on their own to starve. Tears welled in my eyes as I absorbed the image of
little Benjamin on the floor at my feet.

A rattle behind the door fractured my
concentration. Benjamin turned toward the door and an expression of sheer
fright obscured his sweet face. A rush of panic rolled through my body and I
broke into a cold sweat. My mind raced. I couldn’t leave little Benjamin in
this cell but could I take him with me? I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to
twist our captor’s mind to permit my own escape much less free Benjamin as
well. Despite my doubts, I knew I had to try. Benjamin had been left behind by
everyone he loved and he needed me. As the slow slide of a bolt release thudded
behind the door, I braced myself for attack.

Focus
. I frantically tried to remember how I felt when I had
captured Jane’s mind but the memory seemed distant. I had only been vaguely
aware of my actions at the time. I needed to fully control the process but I
had no idea how to do it. What I did know was that I needed to get my captor’s
attention and focus intently on the message I wanted him to hear. How to infuse
that process with magic was still a bit of a mystery.

The door flew open and banged loudly against the
stone wall. Though I knew what to expect, the sight of the wretched man still
turned my stomach. Here goes nothing, I thought gathering courage.

The light was too dim to see the man’s face
clearly and his heavy brows guarded his eyes. As he lumbered toward me, I
focused intently on the dark holes where his irises should’ve been and
frantically repeated a message I hoped would penetrate his thick skull.

Let us go. Let us go. Let us go.
The command echoed in my head like
a scream in a cave.

As the man plodded heavily toward me, the panic in
my belly swelled to my chest constricting my lungs. It wasn’t working. I
couldn’t see the man’s eyes and no connection had been made.

My vision narrowed as my grip on the situation
spun out of control. I fought viciously to reclaim control but just as I
regained focus on the man’s face, he stepped into the sliver of gray light
seeping through the small window. He wasn’t looking at my face at all but the
ground making my task impossible. My heart twisted and I blinked back tears of
frustration.

With his wolf eyes cast to the ground, the man
mumbled to himself shuffling past me and out of my line of sight. The chains
behind me clanged and I was forcibly tugged backward. The man’s rough hands
manipulated my wrists. He snorted and grunted with pleasure, likely at the
sight of my self-inflicted wounds. Then like slipping off a tight shoe, the
shackle released my wrist.