Into the darkness and the unknown, the carriage glided and fell across troubled stone and sod, down a path laid out through the forest, and by way of terrain where one finds no road but the one the horses plod out themselves
Gwendoline tried to be strong as only shadow cradled her face. She held tight to a book of love and adventure and tried to tell herself that those stories always began this way
Her mother in the seat next to her spoke nary a word, but Gwendoline heard an orchestra of emotions running through her. Fear, Regret, Sadness and at times, Calm. How Gwendoline prayed that the latter, that her mother would be able to hold onto it in time.
She was a Dreamer, her mother had told her as she cursed herself for not having realized the fact sooner. Dreamers could never exist in the realm of the living. They were just too dangerous a thing to let live, seeing things that no one is meant to see.
Even now, her uncle prepared a funeral for her. A horseback riding accident it was to be. Great sorrow would beset the town’s folk who knew her, but they could never know the truth. They could never know that she had been a Dreamer and that her uncle had spared her life. Mother told her of one safe place in all of Trima. The only safe place for one like her. A network of interconnecting caves called the Jagged would be her new home. Even the name frightened her beyond words.
She drew a breath as the carriage came to a sudden halt. After many days escaping through the night, mother had said that they would reach their destination that day, so Gwendoline knew that they had arrived.
As she exited the carriage, high trees rose around her, no stables or walls or servants there to greet her, only darkness and the thumping of her own heart. Her mother urged her around to the other side. She could only comply as she stumbled across rising root.
Torchlight she beheld in the distance. Someone now walked at slowest pace to meet them. Yellow flame bounced and flickered about as they grew closer, causing the trees trunks wide and misshapen to cast horrific shadows across the land.
A warm glow at last fell upon her face. She pulled her hood tighter around her cheeks to block the frigid breeze. Gwendoline never wanted to leave her mother’s side.
Three men stood before her. One, an older man dressed in a gray heavy forest cloak, with hair white and untamed. He smiled at her as he neared them, but fear raped her face, until a calm rushed through her as she felt the peace, tenderness and genuine concern that he carried with him.
Beside this man stood another man, a bit younger, perhaps having seen twenty five or so harvests. Armor covered his body from a heavy iron helmet to the plates across his toes. Broad shoulders rippled with definition. At his hip rested the hilt of a mighty sword. She could see in this man protection, and absolute devotion to the older man. As she tried to catch his eye, he looked away from her. She felt fear running through him.
Just behind them stood another, much younger perhaps even her age a little older or maybe younger. In him she found only trepidation, perhaps some insecurity yet a strange determination she could somehow admire. His head held a full gifting of thick black hair cut in a straight line all the way around the front of and presumably the back of his head. She found him a funny sight. She hoped she had not happened upon another Dreamer. And in that moment she understood why someone would wish her strand cut. If even such a fleeting thought, or essence thereof, could be known by another, what shame would she carry from this life into the next.
She put it from her mind. She did not wish anyone harm. This was to be her life. These were to be her family from that day forward. Her home would no longer be a small brightly lit castle upon a hill, but a dark lifeless place she had yet to see.
Gwendoline cursed her forgetfulness as she reached into her coin purse to pull out the gift for her mother. In all of the rush surrounding her escape from the Castle Flannigan, she had not even in a passing moment remembered the ruby ring she had tucked so caringly into her coin purse. She placed it upon a waiting finger, before looking away into the darkness. “Father died this day so many harvests past.” She turned back to catch her mother’s gaze. “Now I must leave you as well. Remember we love you. Remember it always. Remember that Father said rubies brought out the flame of determination in your eyes.”
Gwendoline smiled as she stepped away from her, grasping her book yet tighter, trying to draw comfort from one thing she found familiar. Her mother said nothing with the greater distance made. She had found her calm. She would heal in time. Could she say the same for herself?