113Chapter Fourteen: A Sea of Troubles
"Save me, Eugene!" A voice calls out to him. The voice belongs to the girl with brilliant green eyes and golden long hair. She is standing on the edge of the castle battlement and the wind is whipping her hair about her ankles. He tries moving towards her but it is like swimming in quicksand. When he finally reaches her, her face has changed to be one that resembles his mother, gaunt, eyes staring blankly ahead.
"Save me, Eugene," the old queen says.
"Mother!" He tries grabbing her hand and instead the hand that held him are grey hands that belong to sneering faces and the whispering voices. He can hear the words thrown freely at him even as he walks among the crowd, open and breathing.
"Don't leave!" They beg.
He's too much of a fool to realize that he is a coward.
What you don't know won't hurt you, he keeps saying to himself.
They are wrong. It is hurting him. It haunts him every moment he has, in his waking hours and in his sleep. In troubled dreams that end with terrorising nightmares.
The sneering faces and their whispering voices extend their thin, bony, grey arms and all are clamouring for him. They get caught of him and start to pull him into their thorny embrace. The temptation to give up and surrender is overpowering.
"Wake up, Rider! Wake up!"
He can't breathe. He gasps and struggles for air. And with that, the spell of the pull into oblivion is broken.
It seems that in the attempt to wake him from his extended sojourn of the mind, one the Duckling thugs has thrown a bucketful of water onto his face. Some of it has gone to his nose and lungs and make him retching for air. He is coughing and spluttering, instantly pulling himself up from his bed, fully awake.
"Are you trying to drown me?" He sputtered to full consciousness.
"Yes we are," says a man who's standing arms akimbo in front of him. The man has a sharp appendage in place of his hand.
"What's the rush, Hook Hand?" Flynn asks.
"The Lost Princess's Memorial is beginning in a few hours," Hook Hand reminds him anxiously.
"Oh crap! How long have I been asleep?"
"The whole of yesterday and you kinda slip in and out today."
Flynn gets on his feet and the floor seems to rise up to his face. Vladamir holds his shoulders in his large hands.
"Sorry to wake you but we kinda think that you not attending the Lost Princess's Memorial will be dangerous to you."
"So you admit it, you care for me?" Flynn winks at them.
"Come on, git!" Vladimir slaps him on the back to make sure that blood starts flowing in his body.
"I need a guard's uniform," Flynn requests. Hook Hand throws a pack at him.
"I guess you would."
"Thanks, guys."
There is an awkward silence as Flynn slings the pack onto his back. The thugs are reluctant to say anything, and it is as if they are waiting for him to say something. The silence is deafening. Flynn gives in.
"Whatever happens, the Duckling thugs must go on."
The words come out as cheesy as he thought they would be but there is no other way of doing it.
"Nothing's gonna happen, Rider," Hook Hand says, in true Duckling thugs fashion.
"Let's just hope so."
As Flynn is trying to get on the horse he feels that his shoulder weighs him down like lead. But it is nothing he hasn't felt before. He tries swinging his right arm freely and is able to do so with his jaws clenched. But there are worse injuries, he muses half gratefully.
"Yah!" He yells to the horse and their journey starts. The sun is on its halfway mark in its celestial path in the evening sky. If nothing goes wrong, he will reach the castle just before sundown. He wishes that the Duckling thugs had woken him up sooner. Or is that what they had been trying all day long? And if they had, will he still make the choice to attend the Lost Princess's Memorial as someone else instead of Prince Eugene? Or will he abandon the search for the girl with golden hair and green eyes for the safety of his masquerade as Prince Eugene? As he rides, he is still thinking about the choices that he has.
o-o-o-o
King Marke and Queen Ygraine of Corona watch from the balcony of the guest chamber. Without a word, their eyes scan the palace ground that has started receiving the visit of its people. They are the common people of Kingdom Elinsore who share their neighbours' sadness. In their hands, are lightweight contraptions made of paper and matches. There are vendors selling refreshments and lanterns for those who came unprepared, but the noise of the crowd is low, respectful of their guests' lament.
"I wish they didn't have to do this," King Marke says in a low voice.
"One last time, dear. One last time."
"And the Royal Guards failed to bring the crown. The damn thief. I can't believe they fell for his trick."
"The crown lost its meaning when we lost our daughter. "
"They should've caught the thief the very first time rumours about his existence surfaces, then this won't happen."
"You want to spread the blame, Marke? There's plenty to go around. You might as well stop."
"Sorry."
"Besides, one of the rumours I heard is that Flynn Rider steals from the rich and give the loot to the poor. "
"And you believe that?"
"I don't know. I guess I want to believe it. It's comforting to know that the gift meant for our daughter is given to those who are in need instead of being an exhibit that reminds us of our sorrow, forever."
"If you think of it that way, yes. It is a little bit comforting," King Marke sighs.
Together, they watch the sun sinks closer to the horizon.