The Colorless Land

Chapter 7: The Man in the Black Cloak

Jolette kicked and struggled. She tried to shout and scream and yell at the stranger, but the hand across her mouth was like steel, gripping her so tightly she could barely breathe. She tried to bite it, but her mouth could not open. She tried to stare at their attacker, but her head was impossible to turn around. All she could see was a black sleeve in the corner of her vision.

Next to her Edmian sat frozen in shock. She gritted her teeth. Something had to be done, and it had to be done by her. Her hands did nothing against the one on her face, large and harsh and merciless. In her panic she remembered the knife in her pocket. Her hand closed around the hilt. But before she could pull it out, their attacker abruptly let go of their faces and dropped them down to the ground.

"Not a sound," he whispered, crouching between them and pinning them down, the dark silhouette of a man against the dim light creeping in from outside. "You're much too exposed here. One wrong word, and the entire village will be coming for your hides."

Jolette spluttered and coughed, pushing and kicking to no avail. "Let us go!" she hissed. "Who are you? What do you think you're doing?"

"Shh," replied the man, a twinkle of eyes coming to rest on Jolette's face. "I'm trying to protect you. Who I am isn't something that should be discussed where the walls have ears."

Jolette fidgeted with her knife. "You're pretty damn violent for somebody who's trying to protect us!"

"It's the fastest and quietest way. Shush." His hand darted over to grab Jolette's arm before she could pull out her knife, pinning it across her body. "Be quiet. I think someone's coming."

Jolette gritted her teeth. "Who cares!" she shot back. "There are no Colorless People here, right? Let us go–"

"Colorless, no." The man's hold tightened on her wrist. "But there are enough people working for them. And if I understand anything about what you spoke of, you have more enemies than you know."

Footsteps approached, and Jolette fell silent. She was unsure why. Part of her wanted to scream and shout and get people's attention to get this man off their back, this man who was questionable at best and a danger at worst, but his words held her back. If what he said was true, then they couldn't risk being spotted by anyone else. Besides, for better or worse, he knew too much about them now. If he was an ally, all the better. But if he was an enemy, it was best not to do anything that would make him want to harm them even more.

As if understanding her thoughts, the man abruptly let go, standing up and slipping out of the empty stall, the shadow of his large black cloak shielding them from prying eyes. The footsteps entered the stables, and a beam of lantern light abruptly fell into the darkness. "Who goes there?" asked an old man's voice.

"A traveler," said the man, suddenly sounding perfectly exasperated with the villager's suspicious tone. "Who else? Is it not custom among the people of Firland to bring horses to the stables yourself when servants are scarce?"

The old man hesitated, then gave a huff. "Sometimes," he said. "But what are you doing here? I heard whispering, and...and voices!"

"I heard only one voice, and that is my own," replied the man. "What, am I no longer allowed to speak to my horse before I leave it for the night?"

"There was more than one voice!" the villager huffed, marching closer. "I heard it with my own ears! Who were you speaking to, stranger?"

Jolette held her breath. Next to her Edmian lay motionless, only his eyes darting around, as if searching for an escape. Her hand crept through the shadow to close about his.