Woman of Sorrows-The Black-Veiled Woman

An Unknown Reality

The leader took his shackled hands and attached a chain to the chain of which connected the shackles. He gave it a firm tug, ensuring he was secure. Satisfied, he nodded, then raised a hand, obviously the command to mount their horses, and swung up on his own frothy bay gelding. He held fast to Thane's chain, even as he gathered his reins. He was no fool; he was well versed in the skill. Once his men were aboard their horses, he thrust his right hand forward, the hand not holding Thane's chain, and pressed his heels against his steed. The beaten, heaving horse took a moment, then stepped forward at its master's request. Any spirit or will he once had was beaten out of him long ago, broken by years of use and misuse. Thane did not pity himself, he pitied the horse forced to bear the burden of such a master, one who did not understand the intricacies of such a beast. One that could become so great, so loyal, but instead was reduced to such drudgery. They had stripped away the very soul of that poor animal, taken away the thing that set it aside from any inanimate object. They broke its spirit, instead of having worked with its fire, they chose to douse it. Just as they had with an entire race of people.

As the horse began to amble forwards, Thane stepped forward as well. He was not going to make the guards' jobs harder. He had nothing against them. They were acting upon orders, they did not know whether he was guilt or not. They did not care. They had no say. They only did as they were told, very likely in order to make a living for their families. Still, some seemed to relish in the pain of others. Even if they took pride from his pain, his misery, he saw no reason to spite them. To hold anything against them. They were misled, and, perhaps, cruel, but he would not hate them for it.

The people of the town had gathered around, watching with interest as the black-haired man bowed his head, led away by guards of the Rasonphel divide. Some whispered and pointed, laughing at him.

"Look, we have found a rebel in your midst. A man who tried to hide his identity from you. Who looked to cause you harm. We saved you from him. He will be treated fairly in accordance with his crimes," they announced, lying to the crowd in order to prevent an outcry, a panic, at the thought the Rasonphel would simply kidnap members of their families if they saw fit.

Solemnly, Thane shook his head, just a little. The grey of his hair and the lines of his face were obvious in the fading light. Glancing down, his eyes fell on the glimmer of Chalandra's ring, which he always wore around his neck. He found strength from it, whenever his strength did fail him. He took a deep breath, yet never a thought of ill will passed towards his captors of the village folk crossed his mind.

"I wished no one ill. I did not intend to bring harm to anyone, though they have striped my life from me. I harbor no hate," he muttered to himself.

A young woman in the crowd saw him whispering something to himself, yet she did not step forward. Though some mocked him, many saw a certain gentleness in his face. A kindness, one that seemed to contradict Rasonphel said about him. He meant no harm. He was simply a refugee in a terrible war waged upon an entire people. One that brought about their end, and their demise.

When finally the guards saw fit to leave the town, he raised his head a little. He had not wanted to meet the gaze of prying villagers. He wanted to be let be. For a time, they passed between paths carved amidst the pine trees. The night was quiet, with only the hoofbeats and snorts of the horses to break the silence, save for the occasional song of a cricket or the call of a night lark. The world hardly moved. Not even the wind dared to stir. It was simply silent, as though the world itself was tensed for some kind of consequence for the capture of him. Though he never viewed himself highly enough to have such a thought occur to him.

After nearly three hours, by tell of the moon, had passed, a great stone wall came into view. It was carefully built of interlocking stone blocks, designed to keep enemies out, of about ten feet in height. They veered around the backside, travelling alongside it for a brief spell. When they came upon a wooden gate, crisscrossed with iron bars to reinforce the wood, they passed through with only a nod to the gate guards. The path here was well worn, from travelers coming and going multiple times every hour. This place was well travelled, that much he could tell. Inside the compound, there were several buildings. The main building was constructed of interlocking stone, obviously built as a failsafe in the event of combat. The height of it only rose several feet above the wall, though he suspected, correctly so, that it dug into the earth beneath it. To the right, there were a dozen or so small wooden houses, which he assumed were the barracks for whatever army they were attempting to raise here. To the left was the horse stables; there were three large wooden buildings.