In Dreams: Red

The Keep

The walls of the castle grow before my eyes. The gates are closed, and I know that means barricaded on the inside as well because the walls are built that way with two sets of gates, intended to be opened only from the inside. The inner gates open inwards, the outer open out. It was intended to be a frustrating design for those attempting to break in. The outer doors closed seamlessly and for all appearances, one would think they opened inward, which meant those who tried to break in were often trying to force the doors inward against the direction they opened. It generally kept invading armies busy long enough to be picked off one by one by archers on the walls, and since my father made sure the hinges and doors were properly maintenanced and replaced when necessary, they usually did their job quite well for a good period of time. If I knew my father, as soon as he had news of an attack, he'd had everything checked over and reinforced again, just to be safe.

I hear a scout on the wall shout for the gates to be opened and the slow grumble of the mechanized weight system used to open the inner set of doors, and then the second set kick in for the outer gates. A secondary set of precautions, the inner gates always opened first, so that the armies within had time to prepare an attack before meeting the invaders if they needed or wanted to go out and battle. We rein in the horses and wait for the gates to open far enough to admit us. When the opening is large enough to admit the first horse, Phineas calls us forward again and we race through, entering the castle single file. Phineas circles the group in the training courtyard and as all the horses come to a halt, the group begins to dismount. Orders and instructions are being shouted from man to man and the gates begin to swing shut.

“My Lady.” Phineas touches my elbow to get my attention. I restrain my first instinct to attack and wipe the grimace from my face.

“Yes?” I reply, turning.

“The corpse? And what of the other men you left with? Also the one says he is your prisoner-yet he came in with a knife in his hand and no bonds, wearing your father's colors?” Phineas questions me. I look over the men and horses and the prisoner catches my eye. He's still watching me intently, which unsettles me in some way I can't quite identify.

“Yes he is the prisoner, I don't have the time now to explain all that has happened. I really need to see my fa..” I am cut off mid-sentence by a relieved cry.

“Kennice, my daughter! You are all right!” My mother cries. I grimace. “I saw you ride in from the wall, your red cape flying behind you as beautiful as a flag! I was so relieved to see that cape!” She grabs my shoulders and pulls me to her tightly. Her heavily perfumed blonde hair swirls around my face. The smell reminds me of my childhood, falling asleep on her lap and instantly calms me.

“Kennice-what of your other men?” A gruff voice asks. I feel myself stiffen. I struggle to gently remove myself from my mother's arms to answer my father's question. He stares at me, dark eyes dangerous and troubled. His dark hair is pulled back into what I referred to as his warrior's braid, only when there was trouble or he was to be very busy did his hair go back into that braid. Frankly, I hated it. That was always the hairstyle I saw before he whipped out a weapon to torture me with, or as he would call it, training. I drop my eyes and take a deep breath, willing away the tears that are building up with a stinging pressure behind my eyes. I know I will break down into tears if I try to speak. I take another breath and clear my throat.

“Well?” My father demands. He disapproves of tears. Considers them a sign of weakness. All of the concentrating I'm doing to not cry only makes the threat of tears all the more real. Unsteadily, I begin to speak, trying very hard to control my voice, not to show my weakness to my father. It takes quite a few pauses to gather my breath and shove the emotions back to get through it all.

“I'm afraid I have some very bad news, Lord.” I begin. Internally, I'm scoffing at calling him Lord. What kind of father won't even let his daughter call him 'father'? “Silas..” My voice weakens and chokes with tears. I try to control myself, clearing my throat, but a tear betrays me, rolling from my downcast eyes. “Silas and several others were... executed.. in an ambush on our way here.” This last is lost to the constriction of my throat and the words get stuck.

“Sir!” Reginald salutes my father. “What report, if I may interrupt my Lady Right Hand, that I must inform you: Silas, Ogden, Berton and Weylin all lost their lives in a cowardly ambush and robbery attempt as we were bringing the prisoner here. They died honorably and well, though their bodies were not recoverable. The rest of the men will arrive here in a day or so as per your orders, sir. Might I be allowed to dispatch messengers to the families of the brave dead? And might I request your permission to discuss the cowardly group that waylaid us, sir?” As he is saying this, Reginald discreetly steps in front of me, politely bowing to my parents and then softly reaches behind him to briefly clasp my hand in his. I squeeze his hand once to show my appreciation and he allows my hand to drop as he moves away with my father. “Also sir-about the prisoner and the corpse.. You will never believe this sir, and might I recommend you ask my Lady Right Hand at a later time to recount her story about it, but the prisoner is the most dangerous sort of..” Reginald's voice fades as they walk out of earshot.

“Kennice?” My mother's soft voice and gentle hand interrupt my thoughts. I turn to look at her and there are tears in her eyes. “Is it true? Is Silas no longer among us?” She asks me softly. Her tears spark my own again as I nod quietly. She hugs me tightly.

“May the Gods carry his soul safely into his next life and bless him as he has blessed our family.” She murmurs softly.

“Mother, I want to personally inform his family before word of it gets to them. Are they here, within the walls?” I question her and she nods in reply.

“Yes, they are on the south side. May I come along? I would like to hear more about Silas' last deeds, and I do know you will be quite busy for a while, it might be my only opportunity to find out what has happened firsthand for a while.” She requests.

“I would be glad of the company.” I respond and she clasps my hand in hers. We begin walking towards the south of the castle while all around us is a buzz of activity. I can't help but feel the gaze of the prisoner on my back once more.

While we are crossing the courtyard, my mother sneaks glances at me. She opens her mouth and starts the beginnings of several questions.

“What..” She then pauses and flaps her hand as if to dismiss it, before beginning again with “Silas..” Again the hand flap and a new question.

“How did..” She shakes her head. I know she's curious, and I have a good idea what she is trying to ask.

“What is it mother?” I ask, trying to suppress my exasperation. I desperately do not want to be answering these questions. She shoots me a frustrated and hurt look.

“Never mind.” She says, waving her hand again.

“No, it's obviously important.” I reply.

“It can wait, not important.” She answers dismissively and I bristle. I hate how she does this, almost forcing you to tell her or do what she wants by acting hurt or like she doesn't want you to do it in the first place. Manipulation.

“Is it about Silas? And how he died? And everything else that happened?” I growl and she widens her eyes as if surprised I had guessed it. I nod my head, suspicions confirmed.

“It's not important right now, it can wait.” She tells me again, but I can see the curiosity and anxiety in her face. I sigh. It's a raw sound, even to me, and my mother stops, looking at me, studying my face. I'm not certain what she sees there, but I see her arm come up as if to hug me. I step backwards quickly. I know that hug will make me break down into tears again, and I need to be strong to get through this. I see disappointment and hurt pass quickly across her face as her arm falls back to her side. She regains her composure almost immediately and gives me a sad smile, squeezing my hand instead. I shake my head at her.

“It's just that I can only do this once. If that. I'm trying my hardest to get through this without more tears. The sooner it's over the better I'll feel. I'm not sure I will even be able to get through the whole thing.” I start off strong, but by the end of my statement, my voice has already started to crack. I shake my head again, as if I can shake the thoughts away. My mother squeezes my hand again, a sad smile still on her face.

“Ok, let's get this over with.” I say quickly and we continue on our path.