Silence Reigns

Chapter 3

Erielle thanked the handmaid and shut the door to the bedchamber. She surveyed the room, wondering who had slept in it last. Fingering the gown she had borrowed from the guest wardrobe, she eyed the bed. Its plush covers and quilting looked so inviting after the long ride and excitement in the street, but she knew she would rather prick needles in her skin than have a nightmare in another house. Especially with her sisters just on the other side of the wall.

Instead, she padded to the window, eased the shutters open, and stepped out onto the roof overlooking the street. A few feet separated her roof and the roof under the window to her sisters' room. She sat; the dark had settled silence over the street now, and she started at the difference from earlier, when chunks of stone hung in the air and defiant shouts ricocheted off the building walls. Now an eerie silence had stretched over the dark of the street, the broken ground the only sign of the tumult. A sunset-orange flag waved weakly in the wan wind.

What would have happened if the Landoness family had not gotten them in the doors? Or if the guards had not surrounded them in time? As it was, two of the guards and even Lydia had been wounded by the debris and were in the infirmary. Erielle had gone to visit her maid, relieved when she was told by the nurse that the wound was shallow.

"I am sorry this happened, Lydia," she had told her maid.

Lydia had shaken her head. "No, my lady, better me than you. I'm washable."

"I think this demands more than just washing." She had smiled and tenderly stroked the woman's face. "But I admire your bravery."

Erielle sighed, then wondered how many times she had sighed in her life. It must have been innumerable.

It was like music, the wind—a soft lullaby to Erielle's ears. As the hours stretched into the night, she felt her eyelids gaining weight, sinking despite her efforts to stay awake. Sleep whisked the roof, the manor, the street away, and she was lost in dreams. Unrelated images flooded her mind, mixing together: she stood alone in the broken street, an orange flag waving, and the light was grey.

It was silent. No breath stirred the trees in the square, and not a soul strolled on the streets. She turned in circles, confused, but suddenly, there were people. People without faces, dressed in black, appeared out of nowhere and surrounded her. They chanted in a strange dialect, but as the words morphed into common tongue, she could make out broken pieces of the Anthem.

Color of blood...

They circled.

Fear the sight...cry no tear...

Their faces became visible. But Erielle cried out in horror as the face of Edom of Landoness appeared on every one. His eyes burned. She cowered on the ground, pleading, hating herself for the way she sounded. The many Edoms converged on her, pressing closer and closer until she was in a ball on the dusty street, and she couldn't breathe.

But as soon as she ducked her head to escape a hand reaching for her, all the forms vanished. Erielle was alone again.

She lifted her head, her ears ringing from the silence. Her relief was replaced by apprehension, for she looked upon the ground and saw a tiny statuette of a horse. Its black mane and tail flowed freely from a sleek ebon coat, and its eyes shone. It was hers. She had loved it as a child. Hollyroad, she had named him. She meant to reach out to touch it, but she couldn't move. Somehow, her body was pinioned in place. Nothing she did freed her.

"Help!" she screamed, but nothing came out.

Finally, she stilled. Involuntarily, her eyes roved the street with wary watchfulness. The silence permeated her head. When she glanced back at the street, Hollyroad had disappeared. But under the gate, in the middle of the street, she saw a tiny black horse statuette. Erielle squinted, wondering how he had moved on his own.