Part VI: The Great Escape
Chapter 8: Drums in the Deep
Timeline AO 295
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As you’ve seen, Baldur’s foul nature threatened to destroy Hecla too. Consider her case: once a happy princess without a care in the world. Never having known her mother, as a young girl Hecla was once content with just Hacktor and Baldur as her primary companions. Yet when Hacktor left, she felt betrayed – at eight she couldn’t process that her twin had no choice in the matter. Imagine how she felt when her father (who did have a choice!) also betrayed her. Both of the most beloved men in her life had failed her – at least in her mind. In the end, she grew to hate her father. And yet despite Hacktor’s abandonment, Hecla’s faith in her twin only grew over the years of their separation – to the point that the princess vowed to rule the world with her brother – or die trying.
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“Ah, how I love the sound of the drums echoing through the caverns!” Hecla cavorted with her crew as the group trotted their ponies beside a coach that held a royal prisoner inside. “It’s my celebration song!”
The cavalcade of men that rode beside her were all smiles – taking turns laughing with the princess and shouting insults at their captives.
And yet, in spite of Hecla’s happy outward demeanor, what the Drokka princess didn’t say was that the drums also matched the pounding that was occurring inside her head. She harbored a secret the men around her didn’t know – Pain and humiliation fed her growing rage and she she rode, she could feel the eyes of her men on her. Do they know? She raged. But how?
She tried to maintain her composure, to show the soldiers that she was in control, even though every sound in the darkness made her flinch with the memory of her most recent abuse. The caverns stretched into the darkness, to Hecla the stalactites hanging looked like the fangs of some great beast. Her heart began to pound in rhythm with the drums, the sound reverberating through her bones. Her outward demeanor was one of grim determination, but inside, a storm of emotions raged.
What was going on in Hecla’s mind, you ask?
Just this – the princess’ fears about her father were valid — for Baldur had paid her a visit with evil on his mind on the very night she suspected he would. And while Hecla had been prepared to use deadly force to keep Baldur at bay, unfortunately for the drokkina, she’d lost her nerve when the king came upon her — fear had gripped the young woman and she could do naught with her dagger but hand it over to Baldur when he’d held out his hand. After that she’d submitted to her father’s will.
That night King Baldur was more brutal with Hecla than ever before. Hecla endured it all, remembered it all, and allowed it all to burn into her psyche. Only after her tormentor left that night did Hecla’s fear dissipate – at which point she’d destroyed her bedroom in between cycles of abject despair and uncontrollable rage – wondering the entire time why her night terror had so controlled her – vowing again to do something about it in the light of day.
[OK, I’ll admit I may have had a bit to do with Hecla’s crippling fear regarding Baldur that night — perhaps I cast a few fear trinkets her way. But it was all with a purpose. It was time to push Hecla over the edge. She may have thought she was ready for action the night before, but I knew she needed more. Now, at last, she was ready. Now at last, the die was cast – there could be no turning back…]
And do something Hecla had – racing out of Rhokki Pass the next day with an escort of General Ortwin’s Secret Servants – intent on tracking down Gawain and bringing her back to the palace...in pieces if need be.
As Hecla led the capture party, her mind drifted back to her childhood, to the happy moments with Hacktor before everything changed. The memory of her brother’s laughter was a stark contrast to the darkness that had since enveloped her life. Yet the flashbacks to Baldur’s latest assault washed Hacktor’s visage away from Hecla’s mind. She could still feel her father’s hands on her, the overpowering smell of his breath, and the fear that had paralyzed her. As her rage grew, she forced her men to chase the lost queen faster.
The pursuit through The Byways was fraught with tension. Every bump and jolt of the rough road was a reminder of the urgency of their mission. Hecla’s eyes darted to every shadow, yet the oppressive silence of the caverns was broken only by the sound of hooves and the occasional curse from one of her men.
It had taken three days longer than planned for Hecla’s crew to locate Gawain’s party because Baldur’s beloved whore had instructed her crew to take the back roads of The Byways — only to get themselves hopelessly lost. When they finally came upon Gawain and her party, the moment was tense and chaotic. The guards shouted orders, their voices echoing off the cavern walls. The prisoners were dragged from the wreckage, their expressions a mix of relief and terror – yet the would-be escapee had put up little fight.
Hecla dismounted and approached Gawain’s carriage, her face a mask of cold resolve. “Did you really think you could escape?” she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. Yet beneath her harsh words, a part of Hecla knew she envied Gawain’s attempt at freedom.
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Although it had taken longer than estimated for Hecla and the SS Guards to locate Gawain, in truth, there was never any worry on Hecla’s part that they wouldn’t find Baldur’s bride. After all, even though The Byways offered a nigh uncountable number of pathways in every direction, Hecla had the advantage of knowing Gawain’s goal.
And yet the Derkka princess was not so easy to find as first thought – for it was originally assumed by Ortwin’s men that Gawain would flee along the main byway as that was the fastest way out of Rhokii Pass…and the safest. And yet all the initial searches led to naught.
This caused Hecla to be frustrated – and she berated her men for their failure at the time. The SS lead guard had flogged his men, forcing them to scour the side roads too – for besides the main byway there were many subterranean roads that led to The Siq from the royal palace as well as all the other Drokka realms beneath the mountains. After all, the famous Drokka Byways were a labyrinth of narrow, twisting paths, their rough-hewn walls covered in moss and lichen. The dim light barely pierced the gloom, making every turn a potential trap.
Hecla was surprised that Gawain’s crew would have attempted a journey through the lesser-known paths – for while the Drokka had built a masterwork of roads throughout their kingdom, some were more travel friendly than others and unlike some of the more popular routes. The one Gawain’s party had chosen was sparse of conveniences; it was largely just a military road to and from the western border — roughly finished and little tended, the path was strewn with boulders, bumps, and debris — all of which surely must have victimized Gawain’s party if they’d been traveling at breakneck speed. In the end, it was the poor condition of the road which stopped Gawain – as evidenced by the fact that one of her eunuchs had a broken ankle when they found them, and both wheels on Gawain’s rikpull were broken.
“You had no chance of navigating The Byways.” The SS Commander had spat at the foundlings when they first found them.
“Stupid of you to have e’en tried.” Another guard had chimed in, manhandling one of the eunuchs. “By Baal, e’en we get lost out here sometimes. And we ain’t cursed mongrels like you fools.”
The Secret Servants reveled in their power over the captives, their laughter echoing through the tunnels. They handled the captives, shoving and pulling them with little regard for their comfort. Their taunts were filled with malice and dark humor, each word a knife meant to wound, and even Gawain was targeted. “Look at the royal whore now,” one guard sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Think you can escape our king’s wrath, do you?”
Hecla had looked the other way while her men continued mistreating the Derk servants, before they forced Gawain and her maid into the coach. While that was going on, Hecla let the soldier’s thoughts run through her mind, I wonder, should I let myself get lost in The Byways? Could I escape Baldur that way? Yet she quickly dismissed the idea. I’m no coward. I’ll never solve my problems that way.
Her thoughts oscillated between longing for Hacktor’s return and the harsh reality of her own isolation. Why did you leave me, Hacktor? she thought, the pain of his absence cutting deep. I need you now more than ever. But even as she wished for her brother’s protection, she steeled herself with the knowledge that she had to be strong on her own.
Changing her focus, Hecla glared at Gawain, now back in the coach, “I’ll give you some credit, Royal Slut — at least you had the brains to figure out a few things in the time you were with us.”
When the forlorn Gawain didn’t reply and the SS guards didn’t seem to understand, Hecla had explained, “She knew that, given my father’s focus on trade instead of war, and his repeated efforts to reduce the size of the our armies, they’d run little risk of meeting anyone on this path.”
“Indeed, my Princess.” The commander had concurred. “And yet, their attempts to be sneaky almost cost them their lives.”
Hecla had laughed at that, “Perhaps we should have left them all to rot?”
[Rather than take them prisoner, Hecla’s men had dispatched with Gawain’s eunuchs at the capture site and simply tossed their bodies with the remains of the wrecked cart at the side of the road. There’s something to be said for traveling light, eh?]
As they prepared for the journey back to the palace Hecla joked with the Secret Servants, “Gawain’s a bigger fool than I thought did she actually think she could escape Baldur? Ha, my father was never going to let her go.”
But to herself the princess had lamented, Alas, he never lets anyone go.
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The Apocrypha of Azazel 