THE MALFORMED REALM

Chapter 6: No Rose Without A Thorn: Part 2

Beatrice was on the verge of passing out. At least she thought so. It was difficult to breathe the thin mountain air to begin with, but with the cloth wrapped around her mouth, it had become even more challenging. And coupled with that, they had been walking for so long, all the energy she had in her seemed to be depleted.

But she could notice one thing. The landscape was now changing and there were fewer and fewer trees in front. They were definitely coming to a habitable place in all probability.

Even if that were a news to relieve her- she would finally get a chance to rest- another worrying thought made rounds in her mind. What about Jonathan? Orlando had went out of his way and had stupidly started a fight, one which was strikingly clear he could not win, with so many foes against him. But somehow even when he was lying facedown on the ground with five or six people holding him from all the sides, he was smiling. It only became clear a few moments later why. Jonathan was nowhere to be seen.

Either it was extremely stupid on Jonathan's part to run away in a place he knew nothing about, or maybe they had a plan, Orlando and Jonathan. Either way, it did not improve her situation immediately, so all she could do now was- walk...walk...and walk a bit more, till she reached this place where she was being taken to. And she could at least say now, that she was close.

The trees now finally cleared the view and she could see the sky clearly in the front; walking a bit more, and now all around her. She could make out the outlines of the other hills through the haze of the mist as well.

A lone protrusion of land stood out in her front view, close enough to appear as clear and with colour (unlike the silhouettes of the others). A hill connected with theirs by means of a bridge, the same kind they had encountered while winding up the mountain. But she thought the term 'hill' wasn't suitable to describe it. It was not conical, rather cylindrical with it's stony skeleton exposed. Eons of denudation, like Jonathan had said. The outgrowth of green sat atop it like a cap, and there in the centre was something...manmade. White. Pristine white. What was that material? No stone she knew of was that smooth.

They were now making the journey through the bridge. All this time Beatrice had not looked down, but now that she did- her heart quickened in it's pace and it became even more difficult to breathe. Her vision was becoming blurry. How high up were they? This uncanny perspective did not bode well with her. She gulped, closing her eyes, only opening then when she felt her frantic heart calm down. Just look straight ahead. We're almost there.

When she finally made it to the other side, she felt her body give in and she fell on the ground, panting for breath. Surprisingly, her harnesses were released and life flooded back into her with the fresh intakes of air, unhindered.

She looked at the others to find they were all free now, sitting on the grass.

She crept her way to Orlando and he hugged her close to his chest. She pulled in Mary and Grace as well and they rejoiced in their closure for a fleeting moment.

When she let go of the others, she looked upwards at the unknown faces. A few had gone inside the building, so it was a thinner crowd now. Beatrice said sternly, "Whatever you all are upto, I feel the need to tell you that we are not the ones you want here. Whoever wronged you is still out there. We-" she said pointing at her group with a gesture of her hand- "are just visitors. And you have not made a very good impression of yourselves by taking us hostage in this manner."

"The elders would be the judge of that," a girl the same age as hers replied with a blank expression.

Adults are here?

Beatrice looked puzzled. "But Jonathan said Anabel had said to him that they lived isolated from the adults, the same way as us. That for some reason we children are made to stay away and that there are many such villages of children out there." Beatrice did not know what to make of this.

"I had my doubts about that girl from the moment Jonathan spoke of her," Grace began, seething with rage. "Something seemed off about her. And see now?! She tricked him! And now we are all trapped here. She fed him lies, leading him to believe that there was hope." Grace looked very hurt as she made the last statement, her face scrunched up, leading Beatrice to guess she almost wanted to believe Anabel's words as well, to live in that beautiful lie, because the truth was too hard to accept.

"I just hope he's alright," Mary prayed.

"I would break his bones if he doesn't make use of the opportunity I gave him," Orlando muttered.

Beatrice elbowed him.

Orlando tried to explain: "No seriously! I am too generous to give him an opening like that! He should at least make good use of it."

Beatrice just shook her head and eyed the entrance of the shiny building. After a moment, she could not hide her curiosity. "What is this stone that the building is made of? I have never seen the likes of it. It is so shiny." She was bedazzled, to say the least.

"Marble. We find great amounts of it while digging. And please acknowledge with respect. It is a temple," said a boy around the same age as Mary, or a bit younger. Probably younger.

She heard footsteps increasing in intensity as some children came out of the temple. They had objects with them. Among the objects something shone. Something long and metallic.

They are probably going to cut wood to light a fire. It is getting colder. At least that is charitable of them.

More footsteps.

Some dark-robed entities came out. Those hands...

Beatrice was certain. These were the adults they were talking about. Oh! Now she remembered. Jonathan had said certain old men visited Anabel's village from time to time. These must be the same ones.

They pulled back their hoods.

Beatrice's heart thumped in her chest at the sight.

Ghostly pale. So old. Beatrice felt like they were as old as the mountains. She was totally horrified, and quickly turned away.

"Well, well, well. You little rascals finally show yourselves, hm?" The voice of the old man was very uncomforting. It was like a flute but out of tune. Croaking, like a dying frog.

He brought his face extremely close to Orlando's, with a huge smile on his wrinkled face, cheeks folded so deeply, you'd think they were cut in between.

"We are not who you're looking for," Orlando muttered bravely keeping his gaze fixed back at the age-old oddity.

Something changed in the air. It got quieter till Beatrice could only hear her breaths and her heart beating. A deathly quiet enveloped them, muting the world all around. No, Orlando. Get away from him! But she could not bring herself to say it. Where was her voice? Her lips quivered.

"Marvelous!" The man shrieked all of a sudden. He clapped his hands and took a look at all of them. "Put the apparatus away, my disciples. There would be no need for them."

They seemed to be taken aback. "Are you sure, sires?"

"They are blessed," he said in a deathly whisper, then grinned, one that Beatrice feared would not leave her mind the whole night.

"They are the chosen ones! The Dark Aura emanates from them."

Everyone around gaped at the old man who now stood at the centre, wildly rejoicing in the fact he had stated. Rapid claps echoed all around as he slapped his palms vigorously.

Beatrice had stopped breathing.