The Fallen - Chapter 9

The sights, sounds, and smells of Gallia City proper overwhelmed Rachelle.  She had never experienced anything like this – it was so much more than she ever imagined a city being.  Everywhere she looked there were buildings crammed one on top of another.  Vivid colors that seemed to sing to the eye.  Street side vendors hawking meat pies and fruit drinks, ribbons and silks, whistles and drums; anything at all the heart could desire.

And the city folk!  They were everywhere around her and the press of the magic within them was choking her, making her head throb with its presence…  Royan glanced back and at first thought she was simply gaping at the crowds, gawking for all the world like the farm girl she truly was.  But then he noticed her ashen face and caught the panicked look in her eyes.

Rachelle was struggling to tell her own thoughts from those of the hundreds of people pressed around them.  She couldn’t actually hear their thoughts or read their minds or anything so mundane…  What she could feel was the press of their emotions, the urgency of their needs, the intensity of their desires.  It was the magic of their lives made manifest writ upon the parchment of her own soul.  In her mind’s eye, she could see tendrils of life all round her.  Tendrils that seemed almost to reach out to her as a moth to a flickering flame.  Somehow, she knew that were she to allow those tendrils to reach into her she would be stealing something fundamental from these people.  Something they weren’t even aware they were offering…  It was a rich and varied tableau that she couldn’t figure up from down in.  She was rapidly losing herself in the rush and the heat of this experience.

Jumping down from Ghost, Royan pushed his way a few steps back to where she sat astride Bella.  He gently pried Bella’s reins from Rachelle’s clenched fingers and laid a gentle hand on her thigh.

“Look at me, Rachelle,” he murmured.  “Look at me.  You have to ground yourself and shield if you can.”

Rachelle darted a wild-eyed look at Royan and then back at the crowds around her.  Listening to the soft sing-song of his voice, she relaxed imperceptibly and looked down at him again.  Terrified she whispered, “I don’t know if I can.”

“Damn me,” he cursed.  “I should have realized this would happen…  You’ve never been around this many people at once, have you?”

She shook her head dumbly.

“Can you get down from Bella?  Perhaps if you were to walk between her and Ghost and focused on what they were doing rather than looking around you we could get you to the stables and calm you a bit.”

Looking bleakly at Royan, she shrugged.  At this point, she was skeptical that anything would help but she didn’t want to appear ungracious.  Besides…it would be less obvious she was losing her mind if she weren’t seated up on Bella’s back.

She giggled.  There was something about the thought of going stark raving mad while hiding between two horses that seemed hopelessly pathetic and maddeningly entertaining at the same time.  She slid down from Bella’s back and stood between the two horses.

Unnerved by the giggle, Royan stammered, “Umm…why don’t you hold on to the edge of the saddles?  I’ll lead them to the stable.  If Ghost gets to close, just give him a nudge and he should step off a bit.”

Another silent nod from Rachelle and Royan hesitantly led the horses down the street in the direction of what Rachelle could only assume was the stables.  The warmth and the smell of Ghost and Bella actually did distract Rachelle from the press of the bodies surrounding them enough for her to turn her focus in on herself.  The struggle to ground herself was sufficient to keep her from being overwhelmed by her surroundings.

Before Rachelle knew it, Royan was leading them through a high walled gate into a shaded and cool courtyard.  The thick stone walls blocked much of the noise of the streets outside.  There was a comforting smell of horses, clean hay, and manure. 

It was strange, but much of the pressure she had felt out in the streets seemed to abate now that they were within the walls of the stable courtyard.  And there was a hum along the edges of her subconscious that she couldn’t place…  Rachelle breathed a deep sigh of relief as Royan murmured, “We’re here.  The stables I mean.”

“Thank you,” Rachelle whispered.  “I would have gone mad without you there.”

“You nearly went mad with me there…  If I hadn’t brought you here, this would never have happened.  I didn’t even think.  I was taught not to be thoughtless.  I have shamed all my teachers and myself.  I owe you…”

Rachelle impatiently caught Royan off, barking, “Owe me?  You owe me nothing!  If I hadn’t met you, I would still be wandering in the woods wondering where in Aldis I was…  With no idea that I wasn’t in Aldis anymore.  And when I realized I had made a three week journey in the span of a single night, I would certainly have gone made had you not been there to explain to me and calm me…”  Suddenly Rachelle broke down into heart-rending sobs and collapsed to the cobblestone courtyard.

Royan had never been good with crying women – he was an only child and his mother was one of the most emotionally reserved people he had ever met.  He had never seen her cry in all his days.  When women wept – he stared dumbly.  He could hear footsteps approaching, but continued to stand and stare at Rachelle’s prone form as if it were the only thing in the world.

A soft voice scolded, “You daft fool!  What are you doing standing there and staring at the poor lass?  And what have you done to make her blat like that in the first place?  I keep the stables shielded to keep all the stray emotions from the folk in the streets from unsettling the poor steeds – and here you come, dragging an emotionally distraught little duck right into the middle of my courtyard.  Honestly boy…I thought you knew better than to toy with young women?”

Royan turned guiltily to face the woman berating him, “Cyera!  I didn’t…  I don’t…  It’s just that…  I was trying to get her up to see Duncan, and it’s just too much…  Damn!  You know I’m not very good with this sort of thing.”

Cyera laughed aloud and replied, “That’s an understatement, my friend.”  Pointing at Ghost and Bella she added, “Why don’t you take these fine chicks into the stable and start seeing to their needs?  I’ll see what I can do for your friend here.”

Relieved to have someone else take charge, Royan headed towards the open doors of the stable, determined to do something helpful.

Cyera knelt on the cobbles beside Rachelle’s sobbing body and gently touched her shoulder.  “Ducky?”

Rachelle remained unresponsive, sobbing and gasping for breath as the tears wracked her body.

More firmly, Cyera prodded Rachelle.  “Ducky.  You have to stop this.  You will make yourself ill.  Now sit up and tell me your name if you please.”

Something in this strange woman’s tone of voice reminded Rachelle of Mistress Evangeline – perhaps it was the quiet tone of command, the underlying expectation that she would be obeyed, that was so reassuring.  Rachelle slowly forced herself upright and sat upon the cool cobbles looking blankly at the woman speaking to her.  Her face was strong and gentle at the same time, her hair long and golden with unruly curls cascading around her face.  Her eyes were a clear and shining blue that almost seemed unearthly.  She seemed very young to have such a strong presence.  Rachelle continued to cry softly, but the wracking sobs had ceased.

Cyera was astonished when the girl lifted her head.  She had assumed the shining silver of the girl’s hair was indicative of age, but this girl appeared barely out of childhood.  Perhaps of an age with Royan – adult in body, but still a child in her heart and head.  Royan would have been horrified to discover she thought of him so, but that is the way of the young.  Her thick fall of hair was pin straight and seemed to shine as if lit from within.  Her eyes were the startling amethyst of early spring irises.  Her features were delicate, almost ethereal.  She was petite enough to carry one of the Sylfaen bloodlines, but Cyera could feel none of the Sylfaen about her.  With her own mixed heritage – her grandmother had been half-Sylfaen – she would have been able to sense kinship had there been anything to sense.  The child was almost otherworldly – and clearly terrified.

“Much better, ducky.  Would you gift me with your name?”

Rachelle valiantly fought against her tears and sniffled, “Rachelle, ma’am.”

“Ma’am, is it?” Cyera smiled.  “Why don’t you call me Cyera, ducky?  You make me feel positively ancient calling me ma’am like that.”

Rachelle nodded and sat silently watching Cyera and was astonished to see the woman sit and calmly watch her back.  Rachelle was uncertain what this meant and averted her eyes.  Like a child, she picked and poked at the cobblestones to hide her nerves.

Within the stables, Royan was settling both horses into stalls, removing their gear, brushing, feeding, checking for burrs, stones, etc.  The stable hands watched silently as he went about these tasks while carrying on a non-stop monologue.

“What was I thinking?” he berated himself.  “The poor girl hasn’t been out of the farmlands of Aldis, much less out of Aldis at all and you trot her into Gallia City as if it’s a walk across the park.  Or a neighbor’s field.  The town square.  Or whatever.  Never mind that she has all these newfound Gifts and the she hasn’t the slightest idea what to do with them.  Oh, sure – that Evangeline of hers taught her some simple Craft, but that won’t help her in a city like this.  I can’t even imagine what it must have been like.  All the skill and diplomacy that I’ve had pounded into my head for the last 19 years – all for naught.”

Royan broke off his tirade long enough to thump himself on the thigh with his fist.  “Damn!  How could I have been so careless?  Not only did I put her in danger, but I put everyone is the City in danger.  What if she had gone mad?  What if she loosed her Gift in imagined self-defense?  She could have hurt herself or someone else.  People that I am responsible for…  What am I thinking?  I have to stop expecting her to go mad at the drop of a hat!  What kind of way is that to think?”

Having settled the horses, Royan cleaned the tack and started putting it away.  He opened a drawer and found ink, a quill, and some rough paper.  On it, he neatly wrote Rachelle of Aldis and tacked it above an empty cubby.  Into the cubby, he settled Rachelle’s saddle and the rest of Bella’s gear.  Into a cubby labeled Royan Gallian, he placed his own saddle and Ghost’s tack.  You wouldn’t know if from the outside, but use of this stable was reserved for the Royal family.  Later in the day, Cyera would send the stable hands up to the Castle proper with Ghost and Bella and all their gear.  It was just easier to leave the horses here, close to the City Gates, than to try and force their way through the late afternoon crowds.

Out in the courtyard, Rachelle abruptly asked Cyera, “Why don’t I feel so bad in here?  Where did all the noise and color and…stuff go?”

Cyera smiled at the girl, “You’ve noticed a difference then have you?”

Rachelle nodded and watched Cyera, waiting for an answer to her question.

“I keep a shield around the stables.  It helps to keep the horses calm.  Animals pick up emotions from humans and as you experienced, our fair city is full to brimming with stray emotions.”

Looking speculatively at Cyera, Rachelle wondered, “So is that something everyone knows how to do?  Shielding?  Because I don’t…and I don’t know how I will survive here if I have to be immersed in all that noise while I am here.”

Shaking her head, Cyera explained, “Ahhh, ducky.  No – this is not something that everyone knows how to do.  I’m a special case.”

Smiling, Cyera pulled her curls off her face, turned her head, and exposed one softly pointed pale pink ear.

Rachelle gasped, “Your ear!  But…you seem much too large to be an Elf.”

Cyera burst out laughing and admonished her, “Ducky!  What an awfully forward thing to say!  Number one, they prefer to be called ‘Sylfaen’.  Number two, what exactly do you mean by ‘too large’?”

Rachelle blushed and looked shocked.  “Oh…  No!  I’m sorry!  I didn’t mean to offend.  It’s just…In Aldis they talk of Elves, Sylfaen, as being tiny little creatures – not man-sized at all.”

Cyera shook her head and explained, “Nay Rachelle.  True Sylfaen are nearly human sized.  I am admittedly built larger than a pure blood, but my bloodline has been watered down by intermarriage with humans.  Pure bloods tend to be more akin to you in size.  I thought perhaps at first that you were Kin, but I couldn’t sense anything Sylfaen about you.  My sense of you is very different from anyone I’ve ever met.”

Rachelle nodded sadly and admitted, “I know nothing about my family.  I was found as an infant in the mountains by a kind and good woman who cared enough to raise me as her own.”

Rachelle’s immediate curiosity satisfied, she went back to studying the cobbles.

Back within the stable, Royan looked up and noticed that all the stable hands had stopped what they were doing and were blatantly staring at him pacing and muttering to himself.

“Ha!” Royan blurted.  He was mortified to have been caught behaving so irrationally.  The stable hands scattered at his outburst and Royan flushed crimson.  “Perhaps I am the one who should be worried about going mad,” he muttered to himself.

Figuring he had shirked his responsibility to Rachelle long enough and at the same time devoutly hoping that Cyera had calmed her, he headed back to the courtyard and discovered the two women sitting silently in the middle of the courtyard.  Cyera was watching Rachelle carefully.  Rachelle was studiously watching the cobbles.  She seemed extremely interested in the cracks between each cobble.  Could this day get any stranger?

Royan walked quietly up to the pair and hesitantly cleared his throat.  Cyera looked up at him and winked.  Royan figured that must be a good sign.  Or at least a not-so-bad sign.  Rachelle wasn’t crying any more at least.

Cyera stood and held a hand out to Rachelle, “Come little ducky.  We’ll get you up to the Castle.  I’ll be coming along to see you safely shielded.  Duncan keeps the Royal apartments shielded as well so no need to fear.”

Rachelle gratefully took Cyera’s hand and followed her towards the courtyard gate.  Royan was left to follow in their wake.