The Silence

Whether the silence emanated from the rider and the beast or existed only in their wake through the stunned astonishment of the crowd, the effect remained the same. In the otherwise noisy bazaar outside the capital city’s walls, a disturbing silence reigned wherever the two passed. Strays sat on their haunches, heads cocked at an angle, eying the great beast with cautious eyes. Barkers dropped their arms; wares hanging limply in gripped fingers. Knuckles turned white. Mothers beaconed children indoors with hand signals known only to that matronly order and obeyed only by children of a certain age, or grown ups bearing considerable fear. Into that vacuum of soundlessness, the shouts and cries from other parts of the bazaar sounded distantly. Echoes of the once pervasive sounds present here, where the rider and her mount progressed diligently.

Neither’s gaze wavered from their forward progress. The beasts’ slitted eyes, narrow black bands halving green circles, the same hue of the rider’s hooded eyes. Hers glowed in the darkness of the crimson hood. The shadow of its cowl dropping down to a sharp point at her equally sharp nose. Pink puckered scars ran in criss-crosses along the skin that could be seen, hinting at a patchwork borne by the violent and long suffering. The beast’s skin, by contrast, was smooth and clean. Where there was fur, it was lush and full of prismatic colors. Where there was scale, it shone metallically in the bright sun. Where there were feathers, they absorbed the light into their blackness almost turning the great wings and shoulders into opaque shadows along the beast’s flanks. Its forked tongue flickered from between sharp. white, triangular teeth.

Their passage toward the gated walls of the great city continued. The beast stepped easily over beggar and piles of wares alike. It’s clawed pads leaving deep impressions in the dirt of the hard packed paths, cracks radiating from the ovoid prints. But with each step there was only silence, not the crunching of dirt or the crumbling of stone. Just a deep, ominous silence. Guards clanged their spears against their shiny brass and steel shields to alert their brethren, but no sound issued. Some stopped and stared at their equipment. Others dropped them both, reeling back as if they were strange creatures ready to strike them a deadly blow. Those brave souls who remained redoubled their efforts in strength and cadence but to no avail.

The duo continued through the streets, their path as direct as the haphazard buildings and hovels allowed. They neither destroyed nor confronted any obstacle. Townspeople simply moved out of the way, mouths open in awe or fear, both having such a kinship as to be indistinguishable at times. The beast’s easy movements bent around stalls and building corners with a serpentine action that never touched but reminded viewers that it was by choice, not accident. And in their passing, the silence persisted, eyes, unblinking, followed their progress until hidden from view. Then and only then the sound returned, but it was muted, a pale imitation of the usual bazaar. Hushed whispers and strangled voices quickly apologizing for urgent business in another portion of the city. A portion as far from that path as they could imagine.

The streets grow less populated and steadily more opulent as the rider and beast left the crowded gates of the city and bazaar. Space steadily grew around the buildings housing residents and business as they neared the towering inner walls of the castle keep and gardens. Alleyways expanded into medianed walkways and then lush avenues. Structures rose from two story replicated architectures to brightly colored facades and ornate walls in stylings of far away lands. Through these changing habitats, the populace grew more refined and cleaner in their appearance. Shopworkers and children were replaced by servants and ladies scurrying about the streets on errands. Each, lord and vagrant alike, stopped and turned at the sight of the duo accosting their pristine streets.

Unlike the lively outer city, the area surrounding the castle, outside the Keep walls, was deserted. It was not desolate but simply empty of people. Statuary, grand and towering, stood immovable guard in the richly paved streets beneath the high keep walls. The rider stopped at the edge of the avenue. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but thick stone path beneath impenetrable wall. Both curved off into the distance encircling the Keep. The beast rippled it’s back scales and fur. The rider’s hand gently rested on the beast settling some unspoken disturbance.

While large, the 30 foot replicas of rulers and heroes past were dwarfed by the magnitude of the fortifications. The commemorative plaques beneath them too small to be read by the rider. And even smaller yet were the tiny specks of men’s heads atop the battlements. Little dots dancing along the upper edge of regal banners bearing the kingdom’s raptor clawed crest. Ahead of them, 2/3rds the height of the wall, above a set of large reinforced doors, massive enough to allow the grandest of land behemoths through with room to spare, stood tribute to the Lady of the Kingdom.

Worked into the stone of the wall, larger than the width of the doors and extending down around them was the story of the lady. Her hands open and welcoming. Her face tipped down and slightly to the left, eyes hooded by a deep cowl. Her sharp chin almost touched her chest where the clasp of a raptor’s claw bound stone worked robes . Where the folds billowed out to fall down the wall and encompass the doors were crafted the people’s hopes and dreams for a better life. The terrors beyond the city walls etched around the periphery of her garments. Lining the base of the wall, encompassed in the arc of her protective gesture, the expectant faces of all those who came here to escape the chaos gripping the rest of the world. Surrounding her head and drifting off into the upper reaches of the wall were birds flying, angels bearing swords, dragons reared in defensive flight, and rays of light.

The rider’s eyes followed the art from the now closed and portcullised entry up past the images of escape, up past the beneficent visage, up past the heveanly defenses, past the parapet, to the Keep’s landing. It was too far for any normal eye to see, but the king stood at that raised platform, fingers' clutching the railing, knuckles bulging against the metal of multiple rings. His lips quivered and tears openly ran down his face. Behind him the shadows swam and rippled. Inky lengths stretched against the light. They reached and mingled with his own shadow and a delicate white hand slowly closed on his upper arm. From the depths of robes purple in their blackness with faint lights like those of a cloudy night sky with no moon, a sharp chin of the same paleness and the hand with rich full lips appeared. Those lips moved against his ear. The king’s hands relaxed, his shoulders gathered back straightening his previously hunched posture. He turned abruptly walking through the shadowed figure as if they weren’t there and returning her once again shadow.

The rider and beast continued forward from their brief contemplation of the art and what lay beyond. Voices from unseen alcoves called out. They continued to the door. Warnings replaced hails and finally ultimatums were drawn, and still the two continued forward. Arrow, javelins, and spears sprang froth from the walls like startled birds from a summer tree. For an instant if the world had frozen in place, the air was so filled with wood and metal the rider could easily have stepped from one to the next in a makeshift ladder to the top of the wall. But this was no children’s story and their was no way to stop time, so the rain of impending death showered down on beast and rider. The beast lifted its chimeric head, serpent and cat eyes wide in defiance, beaked maw large and gapping in a roar devoid of any sound. The projectiles splintered and shattered, pieces of them ricocheting off the invisible barrier raised by the beast’s cry. Around the rider and beast in a perfect circle the width of the doors themselves lay the remains of the assault. Broken weaponry lay scattered like trees after a tornado. The circle of their protection lay just an arm’s reach from the great metal grating of the portcullis.

The rider dismounted, her steps soft and silent. She moved confidently to the barrier. A few more errant shots bounced off the protective shell ending their short flights among their spent brethren. She stopped at the edge of her domain. One armored knee dropped to the ground and she touched the fine sand with the tips of one, long fingered hand and brought them back to her face. Her tongue tasted the residue and a frown spoiled her fine features. She stood and stepped beyond her barrier. With her emergence onto the splinters and shards of projectiles, a new volley launched. The rider’s hands lashed out, large and forceful in their motions. Fingers snapped into various positions, palms open and flat pointed up above where the attack originated. The weapons reversed their trajectories, not turning, but simply going backward along the arcs then had come. The yelps and howls of guards echoed down from above, but no more arrows fell.

The metal of the portcullis was cold to the touch. She reached through the cold metal to the wood beyond. A sharp snap sounded as her fingers neared the wood. The rider snatched her fingers back and placed them in her mouth, sucking on the tips. The wood danced in the distorted light of the discharge, slowly returning to the look of old weathered lumber. She shook out her hand with a swift snap and again her fingers danced through various configurations. Her arm movements were slight, now confined, secreted in the depths of her cloak. The great doors danced with color. It radiated from the seam where the buttressed metal met and grew out in snaking lines to wrap around metal rivets and loop through hinges. The rider drew her elbows in holding two fists before her breasts. A bit of the lights of the doors condensed and funneled out of the door into a swirling mass hovering before her face. She flicked a wrist at it and the ball obediently drifted to her right shoulder and waited, the facsimile of a trained bird.

She turned and gave her great beast a look. It yawned and rolled it’s eyes. None of them opened as it did multiple circles and finally curled in on itself into a giant mound of slumbering monstrosity. The rider made a soundless snap and began walking the wall. Her right arm outstretched, the ball of light hovering just before her. Little tendrils of energy flickered out in various colored arcs and touched the wall. Where it did, the same shimmering as the doors appeared and slowly faded. As she passed a multicolored trail stretched behind her for a few feet. With sure, even steps, the rider continued to walk the wall. Tiny dots hopscotched and leapfrogged above those regal banners, keeping pace and watching. And in her wake, slowly from the almost invisible seams between the stones, darkness crept and slid along the wall.