Ehren heard her scream. It was a bloodcurdling scream of agony. That was when he knew she was awake, if only briefly. He watched Askel scramble clumsily through her rooms. He followed numb. He’d only heard a scream like that once and it had preceeded death, the death of his little sister. When he made it to her room, Askel was kneeling beside her bed with her head in his lap. Red stained her pale hair pink and Askel was kneeling at the edge of a pool of it.
“Uncle!” he shouted paniced.
His uncle bustled into the room. At the sight of the pool of blood, he snapped into action.
“Son, I need you to lay her down and move back,” he told Askel.
Askel, to his credit, did as he was told.
“Where is this bleeding coming from?” his uncle muttered to himself.
“Her back,” Askel croaked. “Check her back.”
“Whatever for, son?”
“The scars on her back, check them.”
His uncle sighed but nodded his assent.
“Ehren help me turn her over.”
Ehren did as he was bid and once Akira was on her stomach they could clearly see that many of her scars had reopened.
“Mother of God,” his uncle whispered. “There have to be close to 400 lash scars here. And they all came from the same place?”
Askel nodded numbly.
“Call for a stretcher,” he ordered. “I need to get her to the sick bay.”
“Uncle, shouldn’t we stop the bleeding first?” Ehren asked cautiously.
“If I had wanted your opinion, Ehren, I would have asked for it!” his uncle snapped. “Now, do as I told you!”
Ehren called for the stretcher and followed as Akira was taken from the room. As they were moving her to the sick bay she began to stir.
“Kira?” he asked quietly.
“My prince?” she replied weakly. “I thought it had all been a very good dream.”
“It was no dream, mon petite pirate,” he told her taking her hand gingerly.
“My back, it burns,” she groaned.
“I would imagine it feels worse than that, my lady,” his uncle interrupted.
“What would you know about the feel of the lash on your back, my lord?” Akira asked wryly. “I’m sure you could take 150 lashes easily but more than 200 less than a week after those 150, I doubt many would be able to take that.”
“And yet you did,” his uncle replied.
“I took them, yes, but they very nearly killed me. Gave me blood poisoning for my troubles.”
“Why were you punished?”
“I was singing to ease another’s homesickness but it wasn’t a hymn. The second time, I refused to bend to the Mother Superior’s will and called her a hell-hated scut.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
His uncle gave her a long look then burst out laughing.
“She didn’t take kindly to Shakespearian insults, I take it?” he laughed.
“Well, I think she might have let me off with just a back-hand but I called her hell-hated on top calling her a scut. To her it must have sounded like I called her a slut, I suppose. Plus I called her, a godly woman, hell-hated. That’s probably the ultimate insult for a nun.”
“Well your sense of humour is certainly intact.”
“Had to find something to laugh at in that hell hole.”
“Indeed. Now, tell me what the hell happened.”
“Nothing unusual. Pulled myself from my terrors of that place, sulked a bit then went to stand and that’s when the problem started. Went to stand and pain, white-hot pain like I’ve never felt before, shot up my legs. Knocked me out it was so bad and that, sir, is saying a great deal.”
His uncle took this information in and as she explained his frown deepened.
“Master Arrhenius?” Akira asked. “Is something troubling you?”
“From what you describe, my lady, it sounds as if your scars have opened,” his uncle replied. “That, however, doesn’t make sense.”
Askel coughed. Until then, neither he nor his uncle had paid him much mind but Akira’s eyes constantly sought him out.
“Master Arrhenius, it isn’t unusual for her scars to reopen like that,” he told them. “In fact, it’s happened before.”
“Kel, it was only once,” Akira protested.
“That you remember,” Askel returned. “The other times you were sedated because mum and dad were afraid you would hurt yourself or one of us, unintentionally of course. The doctors were baffled by it when we told them the lash marks were scars.”
“No wonder I remember very little during those years,” Akira mumbled to herself.
“I beg your pardon, but years?” his Uncle Arrhenius asked dumbfounded.
Both Askel and Akira nodded.
“I was in the hospital for several months fighting blood poisoning and when I came home I began fighting the terrors. By that time, the lash marks had finally begun to heal. Now anytime a terror comes, they reopen.”
Akira closed her eyes.
“Well, from what you’ve told me this is old magic. Very old indeed,” his Uncle Arrhenius said.
“Yeah, I know,” Akira sighed. “The Mother Superior said something whenever she whipped me but I never could hear what she was saying.”
His uncle began moving around the room quickly. Finally, he turned to both of them.
“Out, both of you,” he ordered.
Ehren was about to protest when Akira spoke up.
“Go, both of you,” she said with a tired half smile. “I’ll be okay.”
They nodded and slowly left the room.
“Are you ready, my lady?” he heard his uncle ask. “Because this will not be plesant nor will it be easy.”
“Nothing in my life has ever been easy, Master Arrhenius,” she huffed. “Just do what you have to do to stop this and if you could help me with the terrors, I’d be most grateful.”
“If you survive this, you shouldn’t have any trouble sleeping anymore.”
He was just about to turn back when the door slammed in his face. He went to open it and found it locked. It had never been locked in all his years. He thought about pounding on the door but the set of his uncle’s face told him that any interruptions would likely be deadly, for both of them.
The light was fading from the sky by the time his uncle opened the door again. Ehren looked up from his position on the floor beside the door. His uncle sighed deeply.
“She’ll be okay now,” he told them. “It took longer than expected. The curse was embeded deep within each of those lashes.”
“How many were there?” Ehren asked hoarsely, not exactly sure he really wanted to know the answer.
“At least 500, though I didn’t count,” his uncle sighed again. “Where is her brother?”
“He went to bed hours ago,” Ehren replied.
His uncle nodded.
“You can see her now, but I suggest you let her rest.”
With that, his uncle disappeared. Ehren watched him go, then stood and went into the room. He closed the door behind him more out of habit than anything else.
She was laying on her stomach on fresh sheets. Her left arm was tucked beneath her head and her face was turned toward him. Her right arm dangled, seemingly useless, off the side of the bed. Her hair had come undone hours and hours ago. It now lay neatly brushed down her back. Her back was wrapped from her waist to her shoulders in thick white bandages that were already showing signs of blood. The rest of her body, save for her feet, was covered by the blanket draped over her. Even here, even now bloodied and exhausted as she was she was beautiful to him. Through the whole process, he hadn’t even heard her scream. He sat on the floor by her cot. He took her right hand in his and it was only then that he noticed the bandages on them. Her hands were bandaged from just above her wrist to nearly her finger tips. Ehren sighed in relief. She was bloodied and bandaged but she was okay.