Living with your memories

Knocking, knocking down my walls.

4th ☾

A Vow of Revenge

"Cassandra, look at this," said my mother, handing me a silver locket.

Carefully holding it in my hands, I opened the locket to see what was inside. I saw my portrait on one side, but the other one was empty. "Isn't this your locket, Mother?"

"Your grandmother gave it to me when I met your father. I recently saw an old friend who is a painter, and I asked him to make a small portrait of you. From now on, this necklace is yours," my mother answered as she got the locket out of my hand and placed it around my neck.

"Why?" I asked.

"I hope you will meet a good man someday. And when you found him, put his portrait on the other side. This way, you two will always be together," my mother told me.

"You mean we'll never be apart? Like you and Father?" I innocently asked.

"Yes, dear, it will be that way," she said, smiling, her chestnut hair flowing wildly in the air.

Then after saying those words, she slowly disappeared. Her facade gradually faded towards the blinding light. I tried to reach for her, staggered and held back in place.

"Mother! Mother! Where are you going?" I called out. But in a moment too soon, she wasn't there anymore.

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"You'll wake her up. Shhh. Shhh," the voice kept on saying.

Dazed, I opened my eyes and pulled myself up. My breathing was uneven. I put my arms around me, hushing my fears down. The nightmares had never stopped. I wiped away the sweat beads covering my forehead with my soiled dress. I lost count on how many days had passed since I last took a bath, and I smelled horrendous. If Ira were here, she'd pour a bucket of cold water on me.

I wondered what happened to Ira. But even if I wanted to, I knew better now not to endanger her as well. As Bryce had told me, even crooks like him weren't chased by the royal guards. It would take a lot for that to happen. And I knew Bryce still doubted if I was telling him the entire truth. Only time could tell that I wasn't fooling him.

But time left for... who?

By now, the castle was already informed that I was alive. Whatever this seal meant, they knew that I possessed it. What exactly did they want from me? From this seal? Who was I to be chased by the most powerful man of the land?

Adjusting the sling for my broken arm, which the healer of Bryce's group said was going to be healed soon, I tidied my hair, only to realize that no one cared what I looked like around here. Putting down the broken hand mirror that Bryce gave me as a consolation for joining their group, I settled to dusting myself and tidying the wool blanket that had been my preferred company for weeks.

Spoiled brat, Bryce usually called me, as I crawled into my tent and slept from the time the sun had risen to the hour it had set. It was almost a miracle that he hadn't kicked me out yet, or dropped me from the top of a cliff in annoyance. I'd better get some perspective before Bryce would really call it quits with me.

I heard footsteps coming my way. "Are you awake now, your royal highness?"

"No, come again tomorrow," I replied from inside crowded the tent.

Bryce opened the door of my tent. "What do you need today? More sleep? You will grow taller than most of us here if you'd continue sleeping all day."

"I'll try not to," I said back, uninterested.

"Wilson! She's driving me nuts. Get her to do something other than sleeping," Bryce said, giving up and letting a humongous man take over the situation.

Bryce surely knew how to brag. In truth, the greatest group of bandits was composed of five people: the most wanted thief of Incantasi, the leader himself; a massive guy, who was no shorter than six feet; a snob sorcerer with long and slick black hair; a boy around my age, who got a flaming hair color; and a man in his mid-twenties who dropped out from The Healer's Academy a few months ago. But I must say that Bryce's choices were vast and handy.

I looked up, facing a man mostly composed of thick muscles and colossal bone structure. Trying to get on my good side, he flashed a crooked smile, showing his uneven set of teeth. In turn, I wanted to crawl back to the farthest corner of the tent.

"Wilson, you only scared the child!" Bryce complained.

"I try, boss," Wilson replied, shrugging his shoulders. Turning his gaze to me again, he added, "Maybe you want to come out and meet everyone?"

"It's finally time. Don't you agree?" Bryce said, snapping his fingers.

It was the first time they'd seriously decided to bring me out like this. I hesitated at first, but I came out of my tent. I could tell that they wouldn't leave me alone if I wouldn't cooperate.

"It's good to be out, isn't it?" The one called Wilson fondly looked at me as I cautiously stepped forward. His eyes were tender and it deeply contradicted his intimidating look. Spending a few weeks with them, Wilson kept on treating me like I was his long-lost daughter.

"I think," I said, unsure. In front of me, the greatest group of bandits stood in a circle. This not only made me feel substantially small, but powerless as well. I was an odd piece in their chess game.

"Oh, look who we have here. So this is who I wanted all of you to meet. Err... what is your name again?" Bryce gave me a feeble glance.

"Cassandra," I murmured in a low voice.

"Right, Cassandra," Bryce said. "And she has a surname! She told me when we first met. Wouldn't you believe that? Only Janshai here has one, right? Oh, and Anthony. Precious creatures. All right, I'm boring you already. We have no need for her surname anyway."

"And?" I heard one of them say disagreeably.

I glanced up, stealing a glance from the man with slick black hair. He was not as huge as the one called Wilson, but he was tall. And from his stance, you could say that he was more knowledgeable, if not further arrogant, than the others.

"We have to take her in for a while," continued Bryce.

"When did we start to be an orphanage?" the tall man pointed out, evidently peeved.

"You are too loud, Anthony. The child could hear you loud and clear," Bryce reprimanded him.

"That's the point. I wanted her to hear," said the one called Anthony.

"I'm sorry, he doesn't have half emotions as normal people do," Bryce said to me, apologetic.

"Coincidentally, I could also hear you loud and clear, Bryce," said Anthony, throwing me a meaningful look. As our eyes met, his cold stare penetrated me like frost dug into my skin. "Just make sure that it will only be for a while. We've been keeping her for days. I could smell danger in her. We all know that the palace continued their search for her, whoever this child might be."

"Easy with that, Anthony. You're frightening her," said another one that appeared from the woods. He was quite small compared to the others, probably around my height. He was the one with flaming red hair. He playfully chewed a tiny piece of wood in his mouth, steadily walking forward. He smiled and put down the bunch of woods that he was carrying near my tent, before he joined the group. He stood beside me. With an extended hand, he said, "Hey, no need to be afraid. I'm Caspar."

"Cassandra." I hesitated for a moment if I should shake his hand. In the end, I just gave him a pat on the hand.

"What the..." Caspar fell down on his back, laughing. He roared with laughter, tightly clutching his stomach. "Where did you pick up such a cute kitten?"

What?

Turning to Bryce, who was on my right, I asked for confirmation regarding Caspar's notion. Bryce saw me looking. He patted my head and said, "Aren't they wonderful?"

"He called me a kitten," I replied disdainfully. Speaking of wonderful, Anthony surely wasn't. He walked out right after staring at me like he wanted to undo my entire being with his own magic spell.

"I'm hungry," concluded Caspar, after his episode of sheer bliss.

"I have food ready. Come follow," said Wilson, heading to the main camp.

"Let's go. Let's go." Bryce pushed me forward. "You don't want to miss Wilson's specialty. Fish and porridge. A feast!"

I didn't comment. Feast in my old house meant meat and side dishes. Wilson handed me a bowl of salty porridge and a small, smoked fish. But since I hadn't eaten on a regular basis these past weeks, I was starved.

"Take it slow, child. There's more of that," said Wilson, patting my back when I choked on the food.

"Sorry..." I wiped my mouth, still with my soiled dress. I didn't realize I was this hungry.

"It's all right. Here, have water." Wilson gave me his wooden canteen.

I took it, drinking up. "Thanks."

"You really have a liking to kids, don't you?" Bryce said to Wilson.

"She reminds me of my daughter. I miss her awful lot," Wilson replied. So that was why he was always looking out for me. I wondered where she was now. But I didn't get enough courage to ask, worrying that I would intrude a forbidden story.

After I hastily finished the food in my hand, Wilson eagerly gave me another bowl. He smiled at me, showing off his uneven set of teeth once more. I tried smiling back at him. He seemed to be delighted by it.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your parents," Wilson said.

I didn't respond. I looked around the main camp instead. There were scattered sleeping bags. Blankets. And in the middle, that was where we were sitting, moving closer to the fire. The weather dropped a few days ago, and the wind was starting to sting.

"Do you know what we are?" Wilson asked me, a hint of worry in his eyes.

I shook my head. "Not that much. Bryce told me you guys were the um... greatest group of bandits?"

Wilson heartily laughed. "Yes! We're definitely bandits."

I smiled, amused that he seemed to be proud about it. Logically, I knew I should be frightened. But somehow, with their warm smiles—well, except for Anthony—I didn't feel like running. In a kingdom where evil dominated, perhaps the world suddenly turned upside down.

Mother would always say, "This is just a book, Cassandra. At the end of the day, the world will tell you that this is only a book. Things are not always as they seem. Emotions alter situations."

"So what do you guys do?" I asked Wilson. We were the only ones who remained seated around the fire. The others had already left. I was genuinely curious about what they did for a living. Did they kill, steal, or terrify the villagers? That was what Ira told me about the bandits, or the ones I'd read in storybooks.

"Um..." Wilson said, stalling with the words.

"Do you steal?" I asked forwardly, surprised why those words needlessly came out of my lips.

"Yes, but we only steal from aristocrats. Cassandra, we are the other kind of bandits. We don't steal from those who done no wrong," Wilson explained, wiping his brows.

I nodded, and asked him again, "Do you kill people?"

Wilson didn't answer. Instead, he patted me again on the head, carefully brushing my hair. "You look a lot like my daughter."

"I do?" I repeated, noticing the change of topic. So they did kill people. Would they kill me, too?

"Yes. She had the same chestnut hair and emerald eyes. If she got the chance to grow up, she'd look like you," Wilson said, his voice breaking midway. Tears started to form at the corner of his eyes. I watched as he furiously wiped them away.

I held his hands, figuring that it was the right thing to do. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"When you older, I tell you the reason why chose to be bandits. Here, have more water," Wilson said, filling his wooden water canteen.

I looked at his face as he battled out the sadness that was taking over him. He feverishly wiped away the tears that streamed down his cheeks with his arms. A big man with a soft heart. I knew that there must be some good reason why they had all ended up this way. Like the way I was brought here.

A little later, Bryce appeared with Caspar, who was carrying a dead deer on his shoulders. Triumphant smile conquered both of their faces. I suddenly felt nauseous from the sight of blood dripping down from its body. And as soon as they started to tear the deer apart, I headed back inside my tent.

And the moment that I was alone again, my mind kept on playing everything that had happened. I found myself crying once more. No one bothered to make me stop. They knew it was pointless. I let myself be drowned in the tears that soothed the pain and agony in my heart.

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The days passed again in a blur like that. I wept and mourned for my father and mother. I cried for the confusion I was going through. Wilson left food and water outside my tent door. I forced myself to take them, knowing how much it cost them to gather the food. I tried not to think of the bloody deer as I swallowed each bite. I tried not to think of my parents drowning in their own bloods. Throwing up made me sick and nauseous.

Janshai, the healer—who I rarely saw, unless he was attending to my broken arm—wasn't fond of me as well. It made sense that he had some form of apprehension towards me. Healers were like sorcerers. They also possessed the gift. Janshai could sense what Anthony had seen in me. The difference they had was, in order to learn the craft of healing, only one advanced Learning Center offered the course, The Healer Academy. Sorcerer apprentices were often taught by old sorcerers, or they joined The Signet Guild, after completing the basic Learning Center course.

Then one day, as I was crumpled down in my tent, I heard Anthony's voice from outside, asking, "How long are we going to stay here? We already finished our mission days ago. You know the guards almost found our hideout the other day. My magic can't divert them any longer. We need to move."

"Lower your voice, Anthony," Wilson hissed.

"Maybe it's best to move to another place," the voice belonged to Janshai. "She's alone. We can't abandon her despite the threat she posed."

"What if she was sent by the king himself?" Anthony said back. "Even if that's not the case, how long are you going to keep that girl around? Clearly, Bryce, you don't intend to take her back with us."

Where?

"Anthony, I know how much you disagree with me with this one. But we'll think of a way. I can't leave her. I just can't. Until she's ready to face the world again, we'll take her with us," said Bryce.

They must have thought I was sleeping, since it was all I did. I put my hands over my ears. If I stayed with them, they'd get caught. My presence here had already put their lives in danger. As expected, the royal guards didn't stop looking for me.

When I heard their footsteps drifting away, I got up. I couldn't stay here any longer. They had no use for someone like me. I couldn't even look at a dead deer.

Slipping away quietly, I made sure that no one saw me as I ran to the woods. Using my memory, I followed the trail that Bryce had taught me to use. I paid attention to him at that time, because I knew one day I'd be lost again and he would not be around.

I wanted to go back home. Home? Did I still have one?

I wiped the tears that fell down my already damp cheeks. But what if the guards were still at my house? The question dawned to me, instantly sending shivers down my bones. I refrained from running and pondered on what I was supposed to do.

After several minutes of thinking, a thought came into mind. There was another way to our house. I used to a climb a tree and jump around the wall whenever I stayed up late outside without my parents knowing. I could make use of it.

Changing tracks as I was getting near our house, I stealthily walked around. I took note of the guards on our front door. Looking at my right arm, I was nervous that climbing a tree would make it hurt again; I was afraid to force it. But Janshai told me it was now as good as before. I just had to trust his word on that.

I breathed in, pulling my soiled dress up and tying it in a knot above my knees. I climbed up the tree at our backyard. My arm didn't scream out in pain, so that was a good sign.

Mindful of the guards' number, I stayed still for a while to see if there were also guards inside our house. But after several minutes, our house was as still as the wind. I stood on the brick wall surrounding our house, and then I reached for a sturdy branch from another tree in our backyard. I noiselessly made my way down the tree, scanning the place. Nobody heard me.

I opened a kitchen window, and I was glad that it was left unlocked. Relief flooded over me when I saw that there were no guards inside the house. I hurried to my room and saw the mess it was caught in. And among the pile of clothes, I saw the locket that my Mom gave me when I was seven. It was shimmering, the glinting sun reflected on its surface. I picked it up and put it around my neck.

My room had its own bathroom. Without making a noticeable sound, I soaked a dress in a pail of water and cleansed myself with it. Choosing a neutral colored dress, I changed the worn-out one I was wearing. I could have done something with my hair, like wash it. But I didn't want to risk it. Tying my hair in a braid, I left my room and didn't take any change of clothes with me. I had to come out lightly as I came in.

Looking around the empty house that had once been my home, I'd realized that there was no more reason for me to stay here. I didn't know where I would go, but I knew that I would do everything in order not to get caught.

As I was about to climb up the tree again, I noticed two tombstones on our lawn. There were no tombstones there before, and a strung in my memory told me whom they were for.

Frederick Montfort

Adelaide Montfort

I read the inscriptions. At least they gave them a proper burial. And as heart shredding as the memories were, they all came back to me. My throat tightened, and a single drop of grief flowed from the corner of my eye. I didn't wipe it away. The wind took it, as it stung my face and I became numb.

I remembered the times I had with them. How my father would come home after a long day of tedious work in the field, and my mother would give him a rub on the back afterwards. I loved watching their smiling faces as they talked about their day. Then my father would call me and let me sit on his lap. And he'd tell me stories. It was how I had lived the last twelve years of my existence—those blissful moments that would be forever embedded in my heart.

"I won't cry anymore. I promise that not a single tear will escape my eyes from now on. I will be strong. And with my own hands, I'll make them pay for what they did," I whispered through clenched teeth in front of my parent's grave.

I slipped through the garden and put a single flower on each of their tombstones. Let the king and his guards know that I would be back. A lump got caught in my throat, but I got a hold of myself. I couldn't go on crying and let myself be killed meaninglessly. I needed to be strong. And in front of their graves, I swore that I would avenge their death.