Bondage (formerly Escape from the Obstinate Prince)

“Don’t try running away! We have archers aimed right at you,” Lars’s peevish voice announced. He stepped out from behind two armed men.

Eric’s arms were crossed. Ami backed up behind Jack. He’s angry that I stole his clothes.

“Come back to land and no harm will come to you!” Lars called.

“I let the time get away from me and look what happened,” Jack muttered.

“What’s going to happen?” Ami asked.

“We go back I supposed. Can’t win against archers,” he said.

He grabbed Ami’s hand and they waded through the water, back to the shore.

“And what were you both doing in the water, might I ask?” Lars poked his nose in Jack’s face.

“None of your business,” Jack jutted his chin out.

“Guards!” Lars called his minions to come forward. “Take this man and woman back to father’s place. Put the man in the disobedient servant quarters.”

“What’re you going to do with him?” Ami clung to his arm.

“That is not for you to know,” Lars studied his dirt encrusted fingernails.

“I refuse to let you take him,” she said.

“Hah. Do you really think you can stop me? I have armed men, and all you can do is cling to your husband like a scared koala bear,” Lars snorted.

“Koala bears can be nasty,” Ami said.

Her eyes glanced over the men. Three stood behind Lars with bows and arrows, two behind that with swords, and Eric - neither glaring nor approving.

“I have yet to meet a nasty koala bear,” Lars said.

Jack placed his arm in front of Ami to keep her from lunging at Lars.

“Bind them both,” Lars snapped his fingers.

A swordsman pulled out some iron chains and tied up Jack’s hands, then did the same treatment on Ami.

“Take them away!” Lars flicked his hand. “Have the man beat.”

Ami’s eyes widened. “Lars, you-”

“Not another word out of you!”

A guard pushed Ami along, trailing behind Jack. They pushed past the leafy branches and back into the main path.

Today turned out dandy, Ami thought.

The path curved, leading back to the compound, but instead of marching into the servant’s quarters, the guards herded Jack and Ami farther down the path, towards the Master’s extra house.

The door resembled the entrance to a cellar, with a mixture of dirt and sand for a coating.

“What’s down there?” Ami said and frowned. It didn’t appear to be friendly. In fact, it looked hostile.

“You’ll see soon enough,” the guard said.

He took hold of the rings and pulled, the rusty hinges whined from lack of use.

“Go on,” Ami got nudged in the back.

“How long are we to stay in this dinging old place?” Ami turned and asked.

“For as long as the Master wishes,” the guard responded.

“If I happen to fall ill from lack of sunshine, then he shan’t receive the ransom money,” she said and walked down a few stairs and let her eyes adjust to the dim dungeon.

Wooden beams served as cells, metal bolts held them together, and a lock attached to every door.

The guard unlocked a cell and pushed Ami inside.

“You,” he grabbed hold of Jack, “you’re coming with me.”

“What’re you going to do with him?” Ami held onto the beams and peered through.

“Give him ten lashes,” the guard responded.

“Jack!” Ami cried.

“The King will have you hanged for this!” Jack tried yanking his arms from the guards grip.

“He’ll never find us,” the guard with the sword answered.

Ami watched them drag him to the middle of the room.

The door to the musty dungeon opened, surging the cavity with light.

A large, greasy man descended the steps.

Crack, he gripped the whip tight enough that his fingers were white, his knuckles blood red, a black mask covered his nose and mouth, and his head was covered with grease instead of hair.

Does he bathe in oil? Ami scooted into the corner of her dirt cell.

The masked man shuffled towards where the two guards were tying Jack down. He cracked the whip again.

Ami bit her fingers and averted her eyes. She heard the whip again. Jack’s yell died quickly in the dirt cellar.

Ami peeked through her fingers. His back was not yet bloody. She looked away before she could see red stream from his body.

Nine more cracks. Nine more painful cries.

Ami kept her eyes covered until she heard the grate of the door against the dirt.

The guard pushed Jack into the cell. He crumpled at Ami’s feet.

“Jack, are you alright?” she scooted over to him.

He groaned, planted in the dirt. His back didn’t display as much blood as Ami expected.

“Guards!” Ami called. “If you don’t clean his wounds, infection shall set in and he may die!”

The guards walked on.

“Guards!” she banged the cell with her fist, collecting splinters as she did so.“Listen to me!”

Her plea fell on deaf ears, unwilling to listen.

“If you try anything stupid again, I shall lose my patience and kill the both of you,” Lars paced outside the cell that contained Jack and Ami.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jack mumbled.

Ami gave Lars her best glare.

“What was that?” he scrutinized Jack.

“Nothing,” Jack held his head in his hands.

Lars gritted his teeth. “I have a good mind to whip the both of you.”

Light flooded the dungeon. Ami covered her eyes.

Lars turned to glare and the intruder who dared to interrupt his speech.

“We have gotten the King’s and Queen’s agreement for the ransom!” a young man flew down the stairs with a group of papers in his hands.

Lars looked at him. Then at the couple. “We move out in five hours.”

Lars followed the messenger boy back up the cellar steps and into the light. The door squeaked back into place.

Silence filled the dungeon. That was, until the thunderclouds rolled over the small island. The wind could be heard, rushing through the trees; the rumble of thunder reverberated through the dungeon.

The rain could be heard, pelting the rich vegetation of the island, and assaulting the dirt and sand ground.

Ami felt a blob of water splash onto her hair. She scooted backwards until her back was against the dirt cell wall. A drop fell in front of her face.

Another drop — one second. Sixty more drops — one minute, Ami counted the steady dripping water droplets that flew in front of her face. The drops started dripping faster, and showed no signs of stopping.

The dungeon was a leaky one, and didn’t hold up very well when the tropical rainstorms hit. She wondered if they were in danger of the whole thing collapsing. She didn’t voice her thoughts.

The clouds rumbled. The rain continued. Jack slept on.

An hour passed. Another hour passed.

Jack slept with a grimace on his face. Though he was asleep, he couldn’t escape the pain of his raw, exposed flesh.

The hours ticked by, and Jack received no medical attention.

Ami imagined all of the fatal diseases seeping into his skin, festering his bloodstream, and Death poking a hole through his heart. She flinched.

You care, Ami stopped breathing for a second. You care about Jack. You care about what happens to him.

She looked at Jack’s face. His eyebrows furrowed and his mouth pouted.

If he dies, he’ll die without ever knowing his Savor. He’ll be forever condemned with no second chance, she shivered at the thought. And it seems it would be my fault for being such a bad example. I’ve been snobbish. I’ve been a brat. I’ve acted selfishly. It’s no wonder Jack doesn’t think it’s so special to have a relationship with God.

“Father, please don’t let him die in this awful place. I promise I’ll try my best to be a good witness for you,” she bit her lip. “Or rather, use me in Jack’s life. I need Your help.”

Jack hadn’t twitched since he got dragged into the cell, hours earlier.

Ami crawled around the dripping rain and sat at Jack’s side.

“Jack?” she gently nudged him.

He barely moved. She waited a minute.

“Jack?” she poked him once more.

His eyes squeezed shut before they opened a fraction. “Ami?” they closed again. “Is my back torn open or is pain a figment of my imagination?”

“It isn’t your imagination,” Ami ran her fingers through his hair. “Your back is bloody and if it doesn’t get treated before the blood flies get to it, then I shudder to think what will become-”

“That’s quite enough scary news for one day, thank you, Ami,” Jack rubbed his face.

“Lars wasn’t going to send anyone to treat you,” Ami said. “I don’t know if he plans to either.”

“If I dunk in the ocean’s salt water, I’m sure that will ward off any blood flies,” he said, his eyes closed.

Blood flies were oversized insects with a suction tube instead of a mouth, infallible sensors instead of eyes, and spawns of the devil.

They fed off human blood, and occasionally animal blood. It was their life main source of nutrition, energizing them and allowing them to live another decade or two — no one was very sure how long the sucker’s could live, as no one wanted to be around the vile creatures and test it.

A clamor from above derived Ami’s attention away from Jack.

The patter of rain grew into a thunderous roar when the door opened. Rain pelted through the open cellar door and drenched the steps, allowing them to turn muddy.

Several men stepped down, their feet splattering mud onto each other’s boots.

Ami studied the faces of the newcomers. Two of them, Ami recognized as guards, she recognized Lar’s attire before she even saw his face, but the last man descended slower, cautiously, as if he were afraid of slipping on the gooey mud.

His face was not an old one, but weathered from harsh winds, tropical storms, and the scorching sun. His hair was light brown with streaks of blonde, watery eyes and a tall stature.

He looked to be a little older than forty years and strangely like…

She recoiled. The Master was the father of Lars. Lars never mentioned his father.

Both guards used a combined effort to close the cellar door behind them.

The Master and Lars walked towards the cell. “Change of plans. We’re going to wait out the storm before moving,” Lars muttered. He avoided the Master’s eyes.

The man looked down at Lars, appearing to be neither angry or applauding. He shook his head before he spoke, “I’m sorry that there has been such a terrible mistake as to having your precious husband whipped,” he glared at Lars, “and these guards are here to take the both of you into my house and into my best room. He will get medical attention as soon as we can afford it. I assure you that my nephew will not be so rash in the future.”

His nephew? Ami tried to mask her surprise. That’s his uncle? Then does he even have a father? Where are his parents? Why didn’t he ever mention his uncle?

She glanced at Jack. If his expression was anything to go by, he was surprised as well.

“Guards. The Prince and Princess need to be evacuated. Please move them,” Lars’s uncle said with a smooth hand gesture.

The first guard jammed into the lock, twisted, and it fell to ground. The second guard, the one who had the privilege of whipping Jack, yanked open the cell door. “Up, up,” the master said.

Ami stood, and grabbed Jack’s arm. With combined effort, Jack teetered to his feet. He held on to Ami’s shoulder, whether it was for physical or morale support, she wasn’t sure. Possibly both. She didn’t put a supporting arm around Jack, for fear that she would touch and infect a wound.

The master, who still had not offered his name, turned around without a word. The first guard, with dark hair turning gray, hurried up the steps to open the door of the cellar.

The wind made the task difficult, and when it was finally opened, the wind flew by in a flurry.

Ami shivered. Jack grimaced. They stretched their stiff muscles and hobbled to the steps. They walked slowly, battling the wind, rain, and leaves.

Though the process was agonizingly slow and drenching, the party of six ended up in the master’s house with the door shut behind them and the rain outside.

The inside of the master’s house looked like a cross between rickety and marvelous. The floor was made out of a strange glass, opaque, and appeared yellowed by the sun — although how the sun reached the inside of the house, Ami wasn’t sure.

“Servants!” the master clapped his hands twice.

Marie and another girl Ami had seen only once before, scuttled into the room, careful to avoid the master’s eyes.

Marie looked up at Ami and their eyes met. Marie looked slightly irritated. Ami looked away.

“Put my guests in the west wing, and make sure this man’s wounds are tended to,” he smiled to the servants the way a snake would a mouse.

“Yes, Master,” the older servant girl curtsied. She turned to Jack and Ami. “This way.”

They followed the girl up a spiraled staircase and through the labyrinth of halls and doorways.

After five minutes of walking, they reached their destination. They stood in front of a double doored room. The doors were made of wood, intricately carved with leaves and wood fairies. The wings of the fairies looked almost as if they were moving in a slow way — the way the ocean would roll one wave over another.

The servant yanked open both doors and ushered the two royals inside. “It’s a bit dusty, as no one uses this room anymore. The master doesn’t have it cleaned like the other rooms.”

She walked to the windows and yanked open the curtains, scattering dust into the air.

Jack started coughing from the dust. Ami eyed him. Should I do something?

“Are you alright?” Ami cringed. He was still coughing. He breathed in sharply and shut his eyes. “I think I’ll be alright.”

“Go ahead and let him lie down,” the servant girl told Ami. “The master should send up someone to tend to his wounds soon. Just let him rest for now.”

“Thank you.” Ami helped Jack to the big bed. The servant girl turned to leave. “Wait!” Ami let Jack flop onto the side of the bed. “What’s your name?”

“Rosie,” she offered a dim smile.

“Thank you, Rosie.”

Rosie left the room, closing the two doors behind her.

Ami twirled around and looked at Jack. The blood on his back was dry, but he was still in danger of blood flies.

She fell onto the bed, beside Jack. “Are you awake?”

“Mmm,” he mumbled into the sheets.

She glanced to her side. A washbasin and a pitcher sat on a stand, a clean towel draped over the side. “What do you think of the master?”

“Mmm,” he responded.

Ami turned to her side so she was facing him. “Do you feel quite miserable?”

“Yuhhuh.”

“Did they whip you that hard?” she wrinkled her forehead.

“No, I just like sleeping all day.” He turned his face so it wasn’t buried in the pillow, but instead so he was looking at Ami. He had mud splatters on his face and on his eyelashes.

“I’m sorry.”

They lay in silence for awhile. Jack slipped in and out of consciousness. No one came to treat his whip marks.

Ami was almost asleep when she heard a buzzing sound fly past her ear. She jerked up.

A fly, red in appearance, with specs of black fuzz, hovered through the room in a zigzag pattern. If the blood fly managed to pierced Jack’s skin with it’s mouth, Jack would likely be infected, or worse, die.

She shuddered. “Jack!”

He jerked at the sudden loud noise. “What is it?”

“Blood fly!” she squealed and swatted at the fly; it was too fast and easily avoided Ami’s hand.

Jack groaned in a way that reminded Ami of defeat.

She persisted in slapping the air, always missing the blood fly.

This continued for a few minutes — Ami groping at air — the fly meandering out of danger.

The fly eventually disappeared from the room and Ami relaxed on the bed. “That was exhausting.”

“Thank you,” Jack’s voice came out in a whisper, too weak to exert enough energy to say more.

She smiled at him, even though he couldn’t see. She sighed and looked back up at the ceiling.

Before Ami had a chance to close her eyes, the blood fly reappeared — this time with four more of its kind.