Monday, January 19, 2009
Mine Chapter 3, Part one
The wind blew cold on the upswept cliff walls.
Onieda looked down into the valley, taking in the majestic views. This morning she had broken her fast with her family. This afternoon, she was alone. More than alone, she knew she was different than anyone. Her father looked upon her with some sort of reverence broking on fanatical, not with the loving gaze of patriarch. Her once loved brothers disavowed her name. The friends, the servants, to the one had lost their friendly demeanor, treating her with a coldness she’d never witnessed.
And why? Why had everything in her life turned on its side. Everything in her seeming charmed life had changed into something out of a story. Bereft of any warmth, simply because she…
What?
What had occurred? She’d eaten her morning meal, like she had for every day in memory. Yes, it was her birthday, but there’d been 17 before. After the food, she was supposed to have gone on a ride with the estates chamberlain, one of the duties she performed for her father. Inventorying the harvest, the growth. Tending to the needs of the workers.
Yet, when she had grabbed hold of the pommel, and pulled to vault herself into the saddle, just as she’d done thousands of times before, it happened. Instead of her feet leaving the ground, the horse screamed and was suddenly sideways, held up only by the cinch around it, and her hand on the horn.
An instant of confusion, and fear laced her every thought. She let go the pommel, and the horse fell. It lay for an instant, and then bolted. Bolted over the chamberlain. A slight man, he was crushed to death instantly beneath the strider’s hooves. She took a hurried step to lend aid to the bloody corpse, not knowing him already dead, and found herself across the field.
Again, the moment of fear, the confusion, and another feeling raced through her. This time…sickness, both physical and mental played across her. Slowly she turned to look back to where she had been standing a second earlier. The sickness felt like she had first felt riding in the manor carriage, the movement inside not matching the movement outside the small windows. The mental pains resulting from a complete lack of comprehension, “how is this happening?”
She could clearly see the chamberlain laying. Humphrey. From this distance, he should look like a tattered pile of cloth, yet she could easily see every line, every detail. The trickle of ocher running from the corner of his mouth, and eye. The caved in appearance of his chest. The lack of and motion. She knew then that he was dead.
She knew then that she was fainting.