Anna spat venomously as she was forced through the undergrowth of Vespenland. Her wrists were sealed together by a coil of wire, the metal digging cruelly into the flesh it crowned. What made her plight worse was the presence of Kiran. She just knew her nemesis was enjoying the little situation, and he had watched her hands being bound with the utmost pleasure. She retorted spitefully at the guards' attempts at justifying their actions, shrouding her own terror in black humour.
It seemed an eon before they arrived at their destination, and Anna stumbled unceremoniously into a Minocian shack. To her chagrin, Baron Samsca was already there. The hut itself was veiled in a choking gloom, brought on by the clouded spores of the mushrooms growing all over the moldy room.
Samsca was madder than she had ever dared to fear. He stood up to face her, cradling a mushroom as if it was a small white cat (although why that seemed so clichéd to Anna, she had no idea).
As if the events in that abysmal shack could not grow more eerie, the air was cut by a shrill and most unpleasant sound - Anna wished it was otherwise, but the unfamiliar rasping from Samsca's throat could only have been laughter.
He even spoke to the mushroom he cradled. It did set Anna thinking whether it was customary for elves to name every mushroom they came across. She made a mental note not to hire any elven cooks as she liked her mushroom soup nice and impersonal.
And then he made the sickening punishment apparent. The men began to board up the windows, and realization dawned on her like the morning after the night before (a night in which much grog had been consumed) – she was to be shut up with the mushrooms overnight.
The Baron explained with a tone of what could only be described as orgasmic glee, that when they returned the next day Anna would either be converted to the mushroom ways, or perish. She did not relish either prospect, but she could not see any way out of the situation. They were armed, and she was not.
As the door slammed shut behind them, she was plunged into darkness, or darkness near enough. Accompanying the sick feeling in her belly, a new well-blow-me-down waltzed pointedly in – the funi sprouting from floorboards and bedsheets were emanating with a sickly green glow, providing just enough light to remind her of her horror.
She huddled down, cradled her head in her arms, and sobbed.
That is, until some inconsiderate bastard started chopping down the door.
As the dust cleared, the hulking figure of her greatest foe stood in the doorway. She would have preferred to see the entire Yewish army, armed to the teeth and holding up placards with various Anti-Anna slogans upon them.
He raised an axe between his hands, and brought it swinging down towards her. The last thing Anna-Maria Boon would ever see was Kiran’s blank face, staring deathly hallowed (as well as half-blood princely, phoenix orderly, and fiery gobletted) into her eyes.
That is, the last thing Anna-Maria Boon would ever see, until a few seconds later when the axe came to rest gently at her feet.
She didn’t understand, but that was a bit unfair as he didn’t give her a lot of time. Bustled out the door in a frenzy of relief and fear, Anna tightened her grip on the axe he gave her each time Kiran stopped. Fearing it was all a macabre trap, she did not leave her back turned for any moment.
But as the weird journey extended, her horror turned to sheer puzzlement. Why had he saved her? Why hadn’t he killed her? What did he want?
He was as cryptic as he was cruel, and Anna could tell she wouldn’t have her answers yet.
