The Darkfern Lexicon Book 2 - Sanctorium Page 14

  Chapter 13

  Heckler’s Emporium

  Harmony woke and for a long moment mistook the gentle rocking and comfy bunk for home. The thought, unquestioned, quickly evolved into a hope; her journey had been nothing more than a dream, or rather a nightmare… In that blissful moment she was safe and in her own bed, far from the dangers Darkfern offered up so readily.

  She opened her eyes and a realisation slapped her awake; she was definitely not in the ambulance. This wasn’t a dream, an imagining, a fever, something she ate or a concussion; Darkfern was real and she was here. She could have easily given up hope, succumbed to the enormity of the situation and retreated into a helpless depression. She may well have done so were it not for her meeting, Heckler. He had promised to help her. For that assistance she would be eternally grateful.

  Harmony sat up and instantly regretted the decision. Her head swam, whirling at stomach-turning speeds, as a pounding pain erupted behind her eyes. Harmony was reminded of her mother the morning after too much wine and not enough water.

  The swaying movement of the caravan, which only moments before had been calming, was now starting to induce nausea. Why did she feel so ill? All she had eaten were sausages. She forced herself to believe they were just sausages.

  The thought of food made her wretch. She needed fresh air. Fresh, clean air was sure to help un-fog her brain. Slowly and unsteadily she moved off the bunk and crossed to the window.

  The window was covered with little doors, secured by way of a simple latch. She freed the hook and opened the shutters. Harmony closed her eyes as sunlight flooded the dark cabin. The instant the rays drenched her skin she felt a little improved. She even managed to smile.

  Sadly the faint breeze blowing in through the portal was not sufficient to cure her sickness. In need of a heftier dose she made to poke her head out the gap. She wanted to feel the wind in her hair, the breeze on her skin. With her eyes still closed she placed her hands on the little, wooden sill and leant forward. Her forehead connected, painfully, with something across the opening.

  Dazed and confused she opened her eyes. For a moment the brightness was blinding but as her vision adjusted the obstacle came into focus.

  Two metal bars crossed the window; their weave blocked anything larger than an arm from protruding through. Her initial reaction assumed this prevented thieves from stealing Heckler’s goods. However, as she looked around at the room (now lit with more than just candlelight) the carriage looked more like a prison cell than a residence.

  Rough, wooden boards covered the floor and walls. The bunk, a comfort to her only moments before, in truth was little more than a crate topped by a sack of straw and a mouldy, old blanket.

  Muddled, she crossed to the rear door and turned the handle. The exit was locked, as ridged as the metal bars. She felt a flood of panic swell in her stomach. She was trapped…

  “I see you slept well,” Heckler laughed.

  Harmony searched for his voice. Her gaze glanced upon a tiny, retracted partition in the wall. The opening was just large enough for a person to peer through. Heckler stared back at her from the driver’s cabin.

  “What’s going on? Why is the door locked?”

  “I can’t have you running away, my sweetness. I’ve already got a buyer lined up.”

  “A buyer for what?”

  Heckler laughed hard, he sounded genuinely amused. “For you, my sweet.”

  “Me! I thought you were helping me? We had a deal?”

  “Do you feel betrayed?” he questioned.

  “Of course I do! What a stupid question.”

  “You sound annoyed, or is it anxious?” he pondered. “Either is fine really. Then again, if you could spiral into a depression I’d be ever so appreciative. Heck, why not go all out and fly into a blind-rage? Go on lash out! Starting getting angry, girl. You’ve been wronged.”

  “Let me out!” Harmony bellowed. She neared the hatch, meeting his uncaring stare with her own furious glower. “You double-crossed the wrong mundaine, Mr Spinks. When I get out of here I’m… I’m…”

  For a brief moment Heckler’s eyes flashed, lit by a bright glow. He laughed derisively and shook his head. Harmony recoiled as his sour, rotten breath seeped through the narrow opening.

  “You mundaine are so easy to manipulate, and all the more profitable for it too. Go on now, wallow in that fear…burden yourself with misery, feel its weight pulling you down. Let your doubts fester in that pretty little head of yours. The more you hope and despair the higher you’re value climbs.”

  “This isn’t fair! You can’t just take me. I’m not an object. I’m not for sale,” she informed angrily.

  Without answering Heckler slammed the flap shut. She could no longer see him but his cold, malicious laugh continued to reverberate into her cage unhindered.

  Harmony stood still for a long moment. She was in shock, shaken to her core. Heckler was the most duplicitous, immoral, back-handed, yellow-toothed, good-for-nothing, unscrupulous…

  She took a deep breath and calmed herself. Anger would not help her find a way out, unless she planned to kick the door down. She took a sideways glance at the door, sizing up the sturdiness of the barrier.

  Lacking any other plan, Harmony charged at the door. She ran full-force into the blockade without a thought. As her shoulder struck the wood a sharp, metallic, ping sounded. The entire interior flashed white as a force-field activated. The magical barrier repelled her with force equal to her input. Harmony barely had time to squeal before she was catapulted across the chamber.

  “Did I forget to mention the shield?” Heckler jeered as Harmony walloped against the wall separating them.

  Bruised and a little battered, she picked herself up. She limped over to the bed and slumped down. Perhaps now was a good time to give up?

  Her eyes felt hot as she held back tears. She didn’t want to cry, she could at least deny him that iota of satisfaction. One tear snuck past her defences and rolled down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, but as she did another escaped.

  Harmony had never felt this afraid. Her only real experience of fear was self-induced by means of a book, film or campfire story. That brand of terror was fun, but only because it could be stopped at any time; the book closed, the screen turned off, the story brought to resolution.

  The anxiety she felt now was different; endless and unrelenting in its will to consume her. She was a prisoner, kidnapped and at the mercy of a monster.

  “It’s not fair,” she sniffed. Harmony flung herself, facedown, onto her pillow. She creamed into the cushion, as per her mother’s instructions. “I just wanted to go home! Why must everything be so difficult?”

  Harmony chastised herself for not following Articus. He had tried to guide her away from Heckler, but she thought she knew better. If the wishkamog were with here she could have summoned a saw or even an axe. Sadly she was not that lucky, all she had was her backpack…

  “The backpack!” she blurted feeling a flurry of hope.

  Inspired she launched off the bed and searched around for her bag. It wasn’t on the floor, or under the bed. As she explored the room more closely she quickly noticed a peculiar knot in one of the wooden boards. Curious, she pressed the nodule. The dark-blemish depressed and clicked. Steam rushed around her as the walls and floor began to change. The wooden boards retracted to reveal hidden compartments.

  Cupboards rammed with oddities and shelves lined with jars, bottles, trinkets and reagents filled the prison cell with colour, scent and sound.

  A low, disgruntled chittering drew her attention to a collection of cages mounted inside a tall cubbyhole. Most were filled with strange little critters. Each trapped in a prison of its own.

  A few of the creations were very nearly attractive, though Harmony had now learned not to judge by appearance when in Darkfern. One creature, roughly the size of an apple, proved her point perfec
tly.

  Atop six legs the pink, fluffy critter looked completely adorable. However, as she neared the enclosure the beastie suddenly growled and brandished hundreds of tiny, syringe-needle, teeth. She backed away as it growled menacingly and barked. The varmint was cute but deadly, just as she had expected.

  Harmony ignored the various bottles, potions and ingredients. The names, scribbled in aged labels, were unpronounceable in most cases anyway. She fixedly searched for her bag. At last she pulled open a small door and her eyes fell upon the familiar, blue cloth.

  Snatching up the satchel, she immediately delved inside. Thankfully Heckler hadn’t thought to check her belongings. The cloak, rope, dairy and doorknob were all present. It was the latter of these she sought. Even to her the reasoning for this action was unclear; the need to find it was more of an impulse than anything else.

  Harmony grasped the doorknob. At once the words carved into the metallic surface sounded in her mind. Latro Gradus. She renewed her search, this time looking for somewhere to place the handle.

  High and low she scoured the entire chamber. It was hopeless. The room was obviously built to keep people in. Feeling the familiar creep of despondence, she looked out of the window. Even the landscape seemed mockingly-free from where she stood.

  Lush green meadows glittered with patches of vibrant flowers. Amidst the sprays of colour, white trees, their leaves clusters of crystals, blanketed the sides of meandering hills. The vista stretched of into the dazzling distance. Harmony exhaled, longingly.

  Despite being crammed full of dangers, monsters and villains, Darkfern was undeniably beautiful. Harmony wished she were a poet. She knew her description of this land would not convey its splendour.

  She lapsed into self-loathing again. How could she have been so stupid? With hindsight Heckler’s dupe was lousy and obvious. Worst of all she had discounted her own instincts, ignored her gut reaction.

  In part she blamed the music he played. It was the tune which lured her to his camp. However, it was her own decision to ignore her doubts and climb into his wagon. This was a contradiction to something Rose had made her recite time and time again: ‘never, ever, ever accept a ride from a stranger’.

  All of a sudden a shadow passed by the window. Harmony looked a moment too late. She approached the barred portal and pressed her face against the cold, metal rods.

  Her attention was drawn down to the wheel arch below the window. Perched on the narrow covering was a fat, ginger cat.

  “Meow,” Articus greeted, looking up at her.

  “Hello, Kitty. How long have you been there?”

  Articus surveyed her in a nonchalant manner. He licked his paw and then began grooming his sparkling whiskers. He turned his face away, haughtily lifting his nose into the air. Clearly he was annoyed with her for not following him.

  “Look, I’m sorry, ok? You have every right to be angry with me,” she acknowledged. Articus continued to ignore her; she would have to try harder. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m trapped in here. Go and fetch, Leoracle. Tell him what’s happened. Help me, Articus. You’re my only hope.”

  Her words must have appeased his grump because in a flash of orange-fur he leapt up and shimmied through the bars. He plopped down onto the floor and plodded around, sniffing here and there.

  “No, Kitty. Go and get some help,” she ordered, gesturing to the window.

  Articus tilted his head to the side in apparent confusion. He meowed again and then jumped onto the bed. Harmony shrugged, it was pointless to try and communicate with him. He was as arrogant as he was cute; a typical cat. She had always wanted a cat, but Rose had a ban on pets.

  Her mother believed all animals should be wild, admired from a distance. According to Rose, caging an animal was akin to cutting down a tree or picking a flower. The act went against nature and therefore incurred negative Karma.

  Harmony was pulled from her thoughts as the wagon unexpectedly came to a halt. Muffled voices echoed through the walls. She could hear Heckler laughing, though he did not sound at all jovial. On the contrary, he sounded worried…