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Chapter I: Burnt

The pungent odour of acrid smoke hung heavy in the air as Sybil got on a horse driven carriage. The horses' hooves made a loud noise when they hit the pavement, shattering the deathly silence of the hours of darkness. It was unnaturally still, not a wisp of air. There was something unusual and unsettling in the whole cameo. But it was not the only unusual thing happening. For the carriage that carried Sybil was the only carriage to leave the mansion that night. The only carriage to leave the village, a village that had blazed in fire for six long and dreadful hours. So much bereavement, Sybil closed her eyes and put a reassuring hand on the small figure that sat beside her. Cryndelle was in a state of shock, her green eyes huge as though befuddled.  

In the eyes of the twelve year old child, Morris the coachman could see dread, shock and surprise, an inability to absorb the truth. Perhaps she was too young to understand it all.  It was near dawn and he could see the faintest flicker of sunshine in the sky that rendered the sky violet. The fire had started in the late hours of night, spreading quickly, striking homes of peasants, merchants and even the masters. He felt uncomfortable, wondering how the two had managed to survive a fire so fierce that had left none alive. The thing that made him most uncomfortable was the look of calm and harmony on the woman's face. She seemed to be smiling inwards as she hugged the child close. Surely, no woman in her right mind would be happy at this time, he thought as a shiver ran through his body. The morning sky had a chill today, making Morris's old joints ache. Better get it done with, he thought, besides he'd never see these people again. The horses had slackened their pace and Morris, anxious to drive the occupants of the carriage to their destination, whipped them. He only wished that the time would pass quickly for he knew it was a long road ahead.  They went on with only the chirping of birds to keep them company in the far away distance, and then Morris, out of a sudden desire to break the awkward silence said, 'It sure is weird that the mansion still stands. What I heard was that that’s where the fire started,'

The woman looked up, as though coming out of a reverie and saying the first words that leapt in her mouth, 'Yes, the mansion was built up by stones, though everything inside got burnt.' 'Even the Lord,' Morris said, feeling sorry for the lost lives. He glanced back as he said so and was startled to see naked fear in the woman's eyes at his remark. He could almost see her pupils' dilating such was the depth of her fear. Morris thought perhaps she knew the people personally and he asked so. The woman softly said no and closed her eyes once again. That ended their dialogue. Morris wanted to ask if she'd lost her people, and what of their dead bodies. Whether she had money to spend and warm clothes to wear but he refrained. Even he did not know why he chose to hush himself. Perhaps it was because now he could visibly see another feeling in the poor child's eyes, it was pain. A pain so intense, it rendered Morris speechless. Yes, that’s why he abstained from speaking further.

'There you are 'Miss,' Morris began uneasily. 'This is the town of Grainshville, I hope you like it here,' he called after them as they alighted. Intending to give his horses a little break and earn a nap for himself he stayed a while, looking at the departing backs of his passengers. Morris was always suspicious of women; they had this mysterious thing about them. Mad, he mumbled as he watched the woman get in another carriage with the child. The woman had a burn mark on the back of her calf. Morris could see it as she got in behind the child in the new carriage. Firmly pushing the duo out of his mind, he took a sip of water from his flask. It was an hour from noon and he had a lot of work for today.

Sybil looked out the window for a while, and then shut the drapes of the carriage's window. This time she had opted for a closed carriage. Somehow she wanted to feel more secure, more protected. As though saving herself from some unseen danger. The hooded cloak gave her and the little Cryndelle some comfort. But it was no time to rest for Sybil, not unless she reached the safety of her ancestral village. She closed her eyes as she pictured Sonrayberg and sighed. They would be safe there.  Do you really think so? A small voice spoke inside her brain and she angrily snapped her head. Hugging the child close, she swore to keep harm out of their lives. She warily glanced at Cryndelle. She had been in a state of shock ever since that day. Sybil remembered it so vividly even now, the young master's homecoming, the great feast for the villagers, the gypsy woman's reading. Don’t think about it now, she fiercely told herself as vision after vision of the grotesque insides of the mansion raced across her mind. The few days she had been in the dungeon, after the town had deemed her and Cryndelle as cursed. They were just like vultures and scavengers, those lofty people. Such games they played to feed their nefarious appetites. They got the eternal food that night, burning fire. She had much to thank Cryndelle for that gift of hers. A creepy smile twisted her face and for a moment she looked demonic.

But another fear clawed at her, the young master was still alive. She had heard his agonized moan from behind the door she had locked him in, and then ' I know it's you Cryndelle, help me here and I will not hurt you'. That made Sybil's blood go cold and she looked at Cryndelle, who seemed to be hesitating and Sybil grabbed her arms and shook her head in an emphatic no. The young lord cried out Cryndelle's name for another two times and then was silent. 'Hurry, let's go' Sybil said to the child. With a quick pace born out of terror and fear, she headed towards the entrance door when something happened suddenly. The canister on the grand stairway fell, wringing a frantic scream from Sybil as she tried to cover the child only to find her nowhere.  Alarmed, she turned back. Her eyes widened as she saw the young lord's door ajar up front and swallowing a scream, she raced inside to see Cryndelle sitting on the lord's bed, her eyes huge in shock. She clutched something tightly in her hands, a chain that Sybil had seen dangling on the lord's neck. 'We must hurry child,' she reached for her and it was then she realized that the young lord was nowhere to be seen, no dead body or anything.  'No,' she said out aloud as the carriage came to a sudden halt. Her heart beating fast she drew the drapes aside to see what had caused the halt. Though she did not see anything unusual, she could hear the coachman alight. 'Why are we stopping here, sir?' she inquired in a voice pitched high by fear.

'Don't know what's the matter with these horses ma'am, they seemed frightened. Would it inconvenience you if we stop for a half hour?' he inquired his face apologetic. Repressing her frustration on the delay she sighed impatiently and affirmed. The sun shone brightly in the sky as Sybil decided to alight and buy some supplies for their journey ahead. It would be another two days before they reached home; they would have to make a stop overnight somewhere along the journey. She bought bread, cheese and jam filled buns. Cryndelle seemed to have lost her appetite but Sybil forced some bun down her throat.  Their clothes reeked of the smell of ash. An ash that told a story of burning flesh and tormented cries. She extracted a chain from inside her cloak, it glistened and sparkled in the daylight. Even as Sybil held it, she felt scared. It was a superior quality gold, a thick chain with a gold plate that was inscribed C. Jonathan Denser. She kept it back in her pouch to use for some other time. Soon it was time to get back to the coach.

They travelled in silence and quiet, Cryndelle slept throughout the coach ride but for Sybil, it was a journey filled with nerve racking worries and thought. She had no idea when was it the last time she slept. The idea of closing her eyes for a little while greatly appealed to her but she knew if she managed to get through to her land safely, she will be at rest then. They had been travelling for a good five hours and it was almost twilight as they entered a small dingy village and Sybil spotted an inn for them to rest. With weary steps she entered, highly uncomfortable with her surroundings.  Rowdy men, rough looking and tough gambled and drank in shadowy corners as they casted appraising eyes on the pair. Cryndelle was wide awake now and Sybil spoke to her softly, ' do not look any person in the eye, keep your face down and your head covered. You must not let your head be uncovered.' Her voice shook with fear and tension. Once inside the room, Sybil took out the leftovers and they dined on buns. 'Mama, what place is this?' it was the first time little Cryndelle had spoken today and Sybil smiled at her, her eyes worried, 'It's called Rattesvelt, we are going to sleep here for the night in this inn.' 'Are we going to Sonrayberg now?' 'Yes dear. We'll be there by tomorrow.'