Quondam

The sky was dark. Not a single star, nor moon to brighten it. And for once, the forest was utterly silent.

For thieves, and assassins these hours were gold, the darkness, the quiet, it brought out the worst in people. It made their prey nervous, panicky, and made it all the simpler for a quiet enough figure to sneak up behind them and steal a coin or slit a neck.

But for those that did not belong to any of the three parties, however, the darkness was an entirely different monster.

She stood as still as possible, left hand clutching on to the trunk of a rotting tree, while her right roamed blindly in front of her, attempting to find some semblance of familiarity. She fought to hold down her panic, clutching her tattered skirts tightly she tried to breath. Deep, even breaths, in, out, in, out. Her eyes moved wildly around her, but all that she could see was darkness. This was no good. There was absolutely no way that she would be able to find a way out of the forest.

Her dress was a testament of that, when she had realized that she was lost she had torn strip after strip from her canvas skirts, tying them to tree branches every which way. But it was as if the forest was eating them up, or perhaps it was eating her. For each strip that she had triple knotted onto the trees branches was never seen again.

She had heard tales of this forest, ‘Demon’s Woods’ the old women at the market called it. Told her that it was full of strange, dark, magic and even though their tales of slaughter had made her nervous, she had never before believed them. But now, having experienced its peculiarity firsthand she couldn’t help but doubt her first conceptions.

Hesitantly she stumbled to the ground of the tree’s roots, curling herself up, and attempting to bunch as much of her legs as she could under the tattered cloth of her dress. She wasn’t sure if the night was cold, or if it was her fear but she could have sworn that something cool had touched and crawled up her neck. She froze.

She had heard of the insects that crawled in the night. Vicious red scorpions, shiny emerald beetles that would run through your ears and into your brain, worms with 14 rows of teeth. If any one of the creatures found her in the night, it would be a certainty that she would not see the sun again, but she could do nothing. And so, she left herself up to grace, and hoped that dawn was not too far away.

ooOoo

There was something cold and sharp pressed against her left cheek. For a moment her brain did not understand why there was such a thing. But then her heart picked up to a vicious beat, as if there were stampeding horses in her bloodstream. She had overslept, missed the breakfast calling. The master had come to kill her.

Her eyes flew upon, as her hands pressed together, preparing for her to beg and grove-. It was not the master that stood above her. The master’s sword was heavy, and rusty and ugly, more of an ornament that he wore around his bulging belly to display that once, over a hundred years ago, his ancestor had aided royalty, this sword was long, elegant, clean and had a sharp gleam as a weak ray of sunlight flashed upon it.

“What kind o’ idiot sleeps in the Witch’s Woods?” The owner of the sword’s voice is deep, and rich with a distinctly gruff accent that shows lowborn descent. She’s silent, until he presses the sword harder against her. “Speak.”

“Please m’lord.” Her throat is scratchy, and her words barely above a whisper. “it was a fools mistake, I got lost searching for m-master’s supper, he w-wanted mushrooms he had never seen before” she sputters at the end before her voice fades completely.

Suddenly the blades gone, and she sees a face that is much more youthful than she originally expected. His skin was smooth, with the exception of a shadow along his strong jawline, with dark wavy hair escaping from under his cloak’s hood. She did not think that his man could be but a few summers older than her, and yet there was something in his eyes that told her he had seen more than what should be seen from someone just passed boyhood.

He peered down at her, with dark brown eyes.

“A slave girl, huh? Who’s your master?” he spits out the word as if it tastes sour on his tongue, and his eyes flash dangerously.

“L-Lord Carlton Silverton, m’lord.”

“Stop calling me that, I’d rather be dead than any sort o’ lord in this kingdom.”

“M’ apologies m’-“ He flashes me a dark look, “sir” He turns away as if the sight of her makes him curl in disgust.

“You’re a far cry from the Silverton estate, girl, but if we leave now we should get there before noon”

He turns from her, then and immediately begins to make his way through the shrubbery. He’s almost out of sight before she comprehends what he just said. Hastily, she stumbles to a standing position, her legs are asleep, but she trips her way towards him grabbing whatever she can in order to remain upright.

“Shut up, girl” he roars back at me, “you’ll wake everything in the forest, and if you do I’ll leave you here to rot.”

She can’t form the words to answer.

ooOoo

As promised the sun is nearing its highest point in the sky when she begins to see the end of the forest. The man had remained in front of her throughout the trek, and not a word had passed between them. They exit the forest, at the very spot where she had entered, and she half expects him to leave her then and there, but he continues to lead her onto the dirt trek and further more until they come upon the wrought iron gates that lead into the estate.

There’s a single guard manning the gates, he’s suited up in obnoxiously shiny armor that’s much too big on his tiny frame that the helmet falls into his beady blue eyes while he peers at them through the gates bars. The other slaves call him Rat. For a while he pretends that he doesn’t know her, until his thin lips curve into a vicious smile.

“Well, what do we have here? Master Silverton was furious yesterday when he found that one of his slaves was missing, and the cook too. Thought you, ungrateful little wench took off on him He paid a pretty penny for you y’know, despite your ugliness.”

He eyes the right side of her face which she has carefully covered with her oily dark hair, he smirks. Before turning to look at the man standing next to her.

“And what do we have here? A boy, ha.” he chortles, “don’t tell me, you got an ugly babe cooking in the ove-“ his voice squeaks off a the end as the man unsheathes his sword and hovers it just above one of Rat’s eyes.

“Open the gate boy, and you can keep your eye.”

There’s no more talk from the Rat. He hastily pulls the gates open with an awful screech. The man walks in as if he owns the place, one more glare at the Rat sends him scurrying away, and once again it is just the girl and him alone as they walk the path towards the Silverton Estate.

The estate is certainly quite a large house, with gleaming white walls, embellished by silver designs on each and every brick of the place in accordance to the family’s name. She would not blame the lowborn man if he is a little impressed. But his face remains completely stoic as he smoothly climbs the steps towards the giant wooden doors.

She’s nervous. This is not the entrance for slaves, and she has never before walked through it, but she doesn’t dare tell that to the man. He raises a worn fist and sends three sharp, successive knocks on the door. They’re loud, and she can imagine them echoing through the mansion. It doesn’t take much time before the door is swung open, with another one of the master’s slaves.

She’s glad to see a familiar face, Arthur is what he is called. She sees his eyes light up in recognition and what looks to be fear as he beholds her before quickly shifting back to the man.

“M’lord, good day to you. I must thank you humbly, it seems that you have managed to bring back one of our own.”

“I request a presence with Carl Silverton” he doesn’t even acknowledge Arthur’s previous statement.

She’s scared again, why does the man want to see the master? Has she truly done something terrible? She does not know.

“I’m sorry m’lord I’m afraid he wasn’t expecting you, and the master does not take visitors unless they have called before.”

She wants to tell Arthur to stop calling him m’lord, doesn’t want the man to be provoked any further.

“I must insist..”

“I’m sorry m’lor-“

Arthur looks at him up and down with a careful eye and she’s petrified now that the man is going to slit his throat. Arthur is not bad, no certainly not, but he is much too proud to be a slave. The man is done with Arthur, it’s obvious in the set of his jaw, and in one smooth motion he pushes himself passed Arthur, throwing him to the cold marble ground, and steps into the front foyer of the Silverton estate.

“M’LORD! You, Exit the Silverton estate immediately! You have broken all the rules of etiquette, made fun of the Silverton name!”

Arthur is furious, and in any other situation she would have almost found his lowborn accent attempting to use such big words slightly humorous, but this just makes are all the more scared.

“What is this yelling, you foolish, idiot of a slave?!”

It’s the master, and he is furious. Descending in a fit of billowing silver robes, a fat, bulbous man, clips down the staircase, otherwise known as Carlton Silverton, the very last of his family.

She had heard from the rumours of the other slaves, that the reason he had no spawn was because he was barren, a fact that had caused him to be relentlessly tormented his entire life by his brothers until he killed them and stole the family title for himself.

He’s yelling some more, but his voice is so loud and it echoes through the building and she can’t catch what exactly he’s saying. That is until he catches sight of the terrifying man standing in his foyer.

The Silverton’s have never been known for their observational skills, for the master takes no heed on the fire burning in the man’s eyes or the way he carries himself. All the master sees are the man’s worn clothes, and how hard-worked his hands are.

“And who are you? Another commoner? A slave? I’m sure we could find work for you somewhere.”

“Lord Carlton Silverton, last of the Silverton family name.” the man’s voice booms over the master’s, completely drowning him out.

“I bring a message from the Shadow Queen.”