by Olivia Ali
"There a problem here sirs?" He asked, pulling the pommel of his sword into the light as a threat.
"No trouble at all," Dante remarked, letting go of Boris. "We were just...reacquainting ourselves." The guard nodded, turning away slightly.
Dante winked to Boris and he straightened up, giving a wry smile as he did so. The guard turned away and continued his watch. Dante turned to Boris, backing away as he did so in the direction of the inn.
"I'll see you soon...Brethren Betrayer!" He chanted, the ends of his lips twisting into a haunting smile. As Boris keeled over in pain, lifting his hands to his face as though his mark was burning him, he lifted the hood of his cloak again and headed back for the inn. Once a traitor, always a traitor, he thought to himself.
Chapter 21 – Dilu
A week’s travel bought them to the pitiful city of Dilu, an unpleasant looking town drenched in poverty. The town itself seemed ghostly to Tristan as he stepped down from the wagon and surveyed the shabby town houses around them and the long-broken water fountain which lay a few feet away. Something about its structure struck him as familiar, then again this town was full of forgotten memories for him so there was going to be a lot of that. A stable boy stepped over towards Merlin and took the horses as he was handed a few coins.
"Pitiful isn't it," Merlin examined. "Compared to what it used to resemble anyway.”
Tristan sighed as Merlin and Dante began unloading the wagon onto a smaller wooden trolley, the stable boy leading away the other horse. Once the trolley was loaded, Merlin began walking towards the fountain; leading the way.
"Merlin wait," called Dante. "Don't you think it would be better to let Tristan lead the way?"
The old man nodded, stepping aside for Tristan to take the lead. Dazedly, he stepped forward; his feet seeming to lead his body without any direction from his head. Taking a couple of steps forward he stopped at the fountain, took a left turn and proceeded down the street that opened out before him. He wasn't really sure where he was going, he just had a feeling he was going the right way. After about fifty paces he stopped, suddenly unsure of where to go next. Either side of him was an alleyway, both as dark and dingy as the other. He looked around, trying to clear his mind and focus on something other than the alleys. People passed him where he stood dressed in dirty clothes, unhealed scars covering their cheeks, arms and hands. Deciding ahead of him provided too many distractions he looked up at the sky, noticing the tower towards the east, another mirroring it on the west. The western tower was much more overbearing and perhaps the only feature Tristan did not recognise - it was something that hadn't been there three years ago. His feet began to lead him again, this time forward and out of a gate which hung from its posts at the top of the street between the alleys. An abandoned building rested before him, most of the windows of which were bordered up or shattered. It was a rather big building which was probably rather impressive in its heyday. But even in its current state, the building was rather imposing. The trio stepped up towards the steps to a door which was also bordered up by a couple of wooden beams. A sigil rested above them; a blue background with a key on the forefront. The mark itself was the sign of a Keeper Compound, a sign of where Tristan had learnt everything he currently knew about the Keepers and where he spent two years of his teenage life.
“This is it?" Dante asked, his voice breaking as he did so.
"Yes," answered Merlin. "After the Fall the Compound was abandoned and fell into dissolution under the new Estate of barons and lords. They rule this place with a firm hand and a fine-toothed comb...tyrants in their own right. Not that that's a good thing of course...but yes, this is all that's left."
"Dante help me with these beams will you?" Tristan commanded, taking to the top of the steps.
Dante placed the handle of the trailer on the floor and stepped forward to grab the beam with Tristan and pull it free from its nails. They made quick work of it, carefully easing the doors open to darkness and dust that fell from the non-existent ceiling. Merlin stepped into the room that welcomed them, clapping his hands together once and then parting them to light up the torches that were dotted around.
"If it somehow turns out that that there are Keepers still here, my name is Daxon and I'm from Az Lagní like you." suggested Dante in an undertone, being sure that any lurking in the shadows would not hear him.
Tristan stepped into the centre of the room, taking in his surroundings as Merlin and Dante bought in their possessions and shut the doors. He looked around, watching as blank papyrus pages still fell from opened books on the shelves around the room and those that went up and up at least four floors. Parts of the banisters were missing around the shelves and the once glass ceiling above them was now gone, the shattered pieces littering the white tiled floor. A few tables scattered the atrium they seemed to be in, books open upon them and chairs littered around, some of which were on their backs. Two corridors lay at the ends of the hexagonal room leading off into different sections and a door was closed to his left, the plaque above it reading 'Reading Room'. Another was to his right, the plaque reading 'The Elders Library'.
Tristan jumped suddenly as Dante launched forward striking his sword up at the air. He watched confused, what had he seen? Tilting his sword forward a bit more made his sword strike true, a figure suddenly appearing before them with a trickle of blood leaking from a small cut that now appeared on his neck. The figure was that of a man, shoulder length black hair masking a dusty old face that had startling green eyes…just like Dante’s, Tristan thought. The man wore a holed blue tunic which was tucked into brown breeches, black boots protecting his worn feet.
"Please, don't hurt me!" He begged, his voice coming out in ragged rasps. "I mean you no harm I swear."
Tristan looked to Dante who had gone very still and pale, his eyes staring into those of the man's, a look of shock washing over his face. He stepped towards his long-haired companion, reaching up to his arm and pushing it down so that he lowered his sword, his eyes focused on the man that stood before them.
"Nielson?" Merlin said aghast at last, the man looking to his old friend and a sigh of relief reawakening the stranger’s face. The two embraced each other in a brotherly way, smiles creasing up their old faces. "It is good to see you my brother. You remember Tristan?" Merlin grasped Tristan on the shoulder and the two shook hands, a notion Nielson seemed uncomfortable with, as though he expected a different greeting. Yes, Tristan recognised the man, but anything past that was still a blur.
"Of course I remember him!" Nielson exclaimed as they clasped hands. "It is just a shame he does not me."
"He will in time - that is why we are here. But I'll come onto that later, this man here is..."
"Daxon!" Dante exclaimed before Merlin had the chance to forget. "I'm a friend of Tristan’s."
Dante extended a hand to which Nielson took giving a firm shake. The two shared an odd look as though both recognised the other but weren't sure either way. The look itself only confirmed Tristan’s own suspicions on Dante's link to him, after all there had to be a deeper reason than Destiny for Dante wanting to help him so much.
"It's nice to meet you," Nielson appreciated, releasing Dante's hand and stepping back. "So what are you all doing here in Dilu?"
Whatever Merlin went onto say was lost to Tristan as he felt himself collapse under the force of unseen pressure. His knees buckled and he crashed to the floor, hearing only Dante's voice shout his name as all three of them tried to catch him in his fall. As he hit the floor, his vision blurred to black, darkness embracing him and lulling him into an unwilling sleep filled with dreams of unknown faces.
~~~
It is a unique world the land of dreams. Sometimes you are in complete control of what is going on, other times everything confuses you and there is no making sense of it all. And then there are those dreams that are so real you just can’t break free of them – like you’re there on the other side of your eyes banging on the glass and begging someone to wake yo
u up. But no one can hear you; they just stare over you and watch your eyes blankly as though they believe there is nothing they can do except let you sleep.
That is exactly the sort of dream you dear brother are experiencing right now. You want to wake up but you just cannot, all you can do is relive those memories over and over again with no one being able to do anything to help you out of it. Not even me. All I can do is watch you dream, watch as Dante and Merlin carry you down the left side corridor towards the dorms where you and I and the rest of our brothers spent two years training as Keepers.
Slowly, I begin to follow them and you, down the corridor, up two flights of stairs and into a room right at the end of the corridor. They place you on the bed by the window, the same bed you slept in back then…despite the fact it was already claimed when we got here. That didn’t bother you – but then you always did get your own way one way or another. Reluctantly, they leave you to sleep. They probably think all the familiarity was too much for you and that you just couldn’t process it in your mind. It probably doesn’t help that you haven’t slept in days for fear of what you might see but you must see it my brother or you will never remember.
I, above anyone else, know just how hard this is for you. I, before all of our brothers know the struggles you went through and the secrets you kept. I may not know the secrets themselves but I know the pain they put you through and the promises they made you break. It’s a sad state of affairs really, how you felt you could never share these secrets with anyone, not even the one person you should…and all because of that bloody mark…
Suddenly you jerk in your sleep, your hands clenching into fists as the marks burn red on the tops of your hands. I step slowly over to you – do you even have the mark anymore – I wonder. Does it still plague you so? Part of me thinks it has yet to make its dent on you again, it always had a bad habit of only revealing itself when you stumbled across something you shouldn’t. It made you think you were a traitor. But I guess that’s where The Eye dug its foot in, it too played its part in making you believe you were a Brethren Betrayer. I continue to watch as your face scrunches up and writhes in pain. It is as though your head is about to burst into a million pieces, like the pressure has once again become too much for you to handle.
It isn’t long before you relax again and fall back into a softer sleep. I wonder if your dreaming of her, the her that is standing right next to me looking just as worried as I. She sits by your side, reaching a hand out and resting it above your face, unable to touch you as she longs to. I wonder if, like me, she is as much a part of your world as she is mine…or is she just part of my world where she must remain forever. She is of course dead in body but if her soul didn’t die and she remained here then perhaps there was a chance that…no at least not in this world. Things would be simpler if she stayed dead at least, at least then she would be safe from all the heartbreak of our world, so much of which she had already endured in her life before death.
A weird sensation swamped me as Dante walked straight through me, stopping just before your bed. Having someone pass straight through me was an odd feeling, it was like being sick only the feeling itself was short lived. One minute the urge to hurl is there and the next it’s gone, like it was never there in the first place. It was cold and hazy…but then I suppose I wasn’t part of their world yet.
I watched as she rose back up from the chair and Dante took it over. He looked over you with concerned eyes, cocking his head to the side as though he were looking right at her. Next, he looked to me, staring into my very soul. Could he see us? It wasn’t surprising if he could – after all he had been a part of our world for so long he probably still had some form of connection.
“I feel your pain,” he said, still looking right at me. “The sorrow of having to watch those you love without them taking a second glance at you. But it won’t be long now, you’ll be here again soon.”
Looking back at you, he rose to his feet again and promptly left the room. She remained by your side, but I was still shocked at how someone from your world could see us, could connect with us. But was he right, would we soon return to your world? I could only hope and pray, for part of me feared that the call of the shadows was too strong and soon I would be back in that dead world of rotting flesh and darkness.
Chapter 22 - Voices in the Dark
Ash spurted from the ground like a geyser, fumes enveloping the grey around him. Tristan was crouched on the floor next to a crater that had opened in the ground where the ash rained down from. He looked up, a stinging sensation itching his eyes as he did so and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Struggling to his feet, he noticed a dark figure through the smoke. Squinting slightly, he could just about make out a man; about his height and with short hair. Something about him was familiar though, it was in the way he stood tall and proud, that way he held himself so majestically like a leader watching over his troops on the battlefield as the enemy rallies its troops on the horizon.
Taking his eyes off the stranger for a moment, Tristan surveyed his surroundings, noting the sheer deadness of everything; from the spindly trees that rose above him to the hay like grassland which he stood on. Even the birds that flew overhead were skeletal in their being and were like no birds he had ever seen before. Something stirred behind him and he looked back to see a black cloak of some form disappear behind a tree. Looking back towards the figure he saw him brace himself before diving into the geyser like it were some form of escape. The action itself startled Tristan, unsettling him greatly - so much so he almost didn't notice the Fader that was stood right behind him reaching out to touch...
Turning just in time to see its ghastly shadow, Tristan jumped back away from the Fader, it's snarling sending a ringing noise through his ears. It grabbed again, forcing Tristan closer to the edge of the crater, his foot balancing right on the edge. Now he saw why the figure jumped, because there was no escape and death was the only escape at the bottom of that crater. But then if this was a Fader before him then he was in a place worse than death. He didn't have time to consider his options as the Fader grabbed at him again. This time though his balance wasn't enough to save him and he fell clumsily into the crater, the smoke enveloping him.
The wooden flooring hit hard as Tristan collided with the floor. It had felt like he had been falling forever; the rush of it all had begun to feel boring and despite the tough landing he was rather glad to be back on the ground. Stiffly, he rose to his feet, scratching sawdust from his hair as he did so. He wasn't sure where he was, it wasn't a place he recognised in the slightest; it was just a square wooden room with five beds sprawled around with some desks and a bookshelf. Deciding it was probably irrelevant anyway, he headed for the door, surprised to find that he passed straight through it as though he were a ghost. It was rather a satisfying feeling. It made him feel on top of the world; but that too showed his immaturity. Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he pressed on down the corridor he now found himself in. As he seemed to near the end of it, he could hear shouts and cries. The air around him began to feel hot and sticky making it hard to breathe. His vision became hazy, a reddish tinge eating away at the colour. Pressing on forwards, he came to an atrium covered in smoke which surprisingly didn't obscure him further. Then again, his presence in this world was more ghostly than real so it was no surprise. People were running about everywhere, some passing right through Tristan and others disappearing on the spot. And then, someone appeared at the head of the room. Amid people running to escape it seemed strange for someone to be coming into the building, especially when that person was him.
A younger him that is, maybe by about three years. He was little more rugged round the edges but was no different from what you'd expect. There was something different about his demeanour though, it was the way he walking through the smoke recklessly, like he had nothing left to lose. He followed himself down another corridor and past the faces of many a fading Keeper. They walked past without fear, his o
wn mission already clear to him as he turned and stopped before a door, the plaque above it identifying it as 'The Reading Room'.
And then it struck him, he was in the Keeper Compound at Hasaghar, watching his own fall from grace come flying back to him with brute force. He tried to shout to himself, warning him not to go any further; to turn back and go back to his daughter. But his shouting fell upon deaf ears and all he could do was watch himself enter the room and fall once more.
The room that opened out before them was circular in shape, giant pillars stretching up to the top of the room to a glass ceiling which was probably on the verge of smashing into a million pieces. Arches stretched out from the columns forming platforms where the Keepers would stand to hear the prophecies be read at the podium which stood opposite them, a man stood behind it staring menacingly at them. Without even knowing who he was, the man seemed to strike fear into Tristan's very core. He stood tall and imposing, a striking figure with dark hair that was swept back to the base of his neck. His face was well chiselled and cleanly shaven with eyes that were almost red in colour. A green robe covered his stocky body and flowed behind him as he stepped down from the podium to face Tristan.