by Olivia Ali
Stepping up one of the four entrances onto the gazebo, Tristan came to face the woman in the centre; Dagnen who quietly shook her head to each that stepped up, her sublime shoulder line quivering after each one made the salmon pink dress shudder with her. It was as though she was uncomfortable in the dress, like she thought it was beyond her plain - Jane appearance - at least that's what she used to call it anyway.
Looking towards the ever-shortening queue, Tristan spotted his Dagnen again, watching him from the side-lines as a support for him remembering almost. Near the end of the line, he spotted his brothers along with himself all eagerly awaiting their turn...actually it looked more like they were all mocking Tristan about how he would get rejected by the woman he was slowly falling for. Each of his brothers stepped up to her but none such made it to take her arm leaving only Tristan and...Charles.
"Good day my lady," Tristan announced as he stepped up beside her, Dagnen's brother Xavier overseeing the possible match. Xavier was a tall man and stocky. He had brown hair that framed his forehead, a slight stubble upon his chin. He wore robes of gold and green that split at the waist with a brown belt and black leggings with boots covering his feet. Tristan glowered as he stepped up, of course he was going to try a lot harder than his fellow Keepers.
"Good day," she said without even smiling. This must have been before they danced in the rain because part of her still seemed broken; more broken than she had ever been.
"Tell me, would you be so kind as to accompany me to this here dance?" She didn't answer him, but it looked like a slight smile was beginning to pinch the ends of her lips. "Fine suit yourself..." Xavier cleared his throat; an indication that either he was not meant to be stalling like this or because his comment was inappropriate. He was right to judge, the man was the First Keeper after all. "But if you don't dance with me...well...you'll have to dance with Charles..."
Her eyebrows rose and she turned around quickly causing a sniggering smile from Xavier. As Dagnen heard it her smile came into full bloom as she realised she had been duped. Yes, if she didn't accept Tristan she would have to dance with Charles, but it was the fact that he used her discontent for him against her without even knowing it existed. Collecting herself quickly, she took his hand, watching through the corner of her eye as Charles stormed into the estate with Xavier leading the newly matched pair close behind.
Just as those before, the scene soon faded too and once again light changed to dark, bringing with it the rain from before. Looking back towards his Dags, he followed her back through the town and towards the gate of the Compound which stood tall and proud over the town of Dilu. Stopping behind her, he watched as a pair danced in the rain towards the shelter of a nearby alley. Taking a step closer, he saw himself take his chance and kiss the girl, breaking away quickly.
"I'm sorry," he blushed, something he didn't even know he was capable of doing. "I don't know..."
Before he could finish his excuse, she kissed him back; a longer more heartfelt kiss than his, her hands resting upon his neck as his took to her hips. It was then that he realised it was one of those moments of impact Merlin had spoken of when they first discussed him remembering his past. All his defining moments with her would be the impact that he needed; the will and motivation to remember.
A tear slipped down his cheek and he watched as his Dags faded before his eyes, the tears too falling from her own. He watched the couple as they continued to kiss, smiles beaming across their faces. As the rain cleared, they disappeared and the sun began to rise over the present. Tristan spied a ladder that led to the roof of one of the houses. Climbing it to the top, he came and sat a while to watch the sun rise on the horizon near the new Estate. A sense of completion reached him then and he thought about the last three years and what he had spent them doing. Right then, everything looked so strange to him; as if he didn't belong even here in Dilu. Like back home; something was out of place and the worst thing was that he felt that there was somewhere where he did belong but he just couldn't find it. All he could hope for was that he soon would find that place alongside his daughter wherever she may be.
Tristan watched intently as the colour of the sky changed before his eyes; the dusky purple becoming lighter and lighter the higher the sun rose over the horizon to the right of him. The beauty of the sight warmed the young Keeper and bought him a sense of temporary peace as he tried to put the thoughts that clouded his mind at the back of his worries. Successfully managing to clear his mind, he became aware of someone climbing the ladder - it was probably Dante finally leaving the Tavern so he relaxed a little as not to cause a worry.
"Mind if I take a pew?" Came a voice that wasn't Dante's. Turning around, he was shocked to see that it was no other than Basso.
"Bass," Tristan said in disbelief.
"I take it you weren't expecting me?"
"Honestly...no..."
"Well I suppose after my attitude earlier...do you mind?"
Tristan shook his head and Basso slumped next to him. The man was only in his forties yet his bones creaked as though he were much older.
"I want to apologise for my very childish behaviour. I don't think I expected you to become the same as you were then so quickly."
“I don't understand?" he spoke honestly, Basso really wasn't making a lot of sense.
"Back when you were...well...yourself; you were an arrogant little shit." Tristan sniggered. "You were! So cocky and full of attitude...like you thought you were better than everybody else."
"Surely Percy was worse?" Shortly after saying the comment, he pulled a pulled a face - he didn't even know who Percy was yet the comment had been made anyway, causing a similar snigger from Basso as though he were right.
"Ah Percy; that good for nothing know it all. I suppose you're right but he was more subtle than you. You were very outspoken and had an answer for everything...even if it wasn't necessarily the right one. Of course, that kind of attitude didn't go down well with me and as you can imagine I'm sure, I spent a lot of time and energy trying to drag you down a peg or two. But by the looks of it...it didn't pay off so to be honest I should've quit whilst I was ahead."
"That bad, was I?"
"It's not a bad thing to be confident Tristan. I just think there is a difference between being confident and acting like an arrogant pig. But I suppose that's where our views differ I'm afraid. The reason I walked out was because I didn't want to start all that berating again especially when you are as unstable as I have been told."
"I'm not unstable I'm just...unpredictable..."
"Why?"
"I doubt myself..."
"You...doubt...please?"
"Yes, all the time. It's like there's this whole new character trying to break out from inside of me. And even though I know I need to let it free because it's who I am...it’s like I'm afraid to and I don't know why...but I am."
"Fear isn't something to be ashamed of Tristan. Fear is what makes us human...it’s what gives us a purpose to be better than we are. So therefore, we must find the courage to overcome our fears and beat them to the ground. I learnt that the hard way!"
"How?"
"You might not know this Tristan but I have a brother. He's not a very nice man...wasn't even."
"He's dead?"
"Yes...but don't apologise...like I said, he wasn't a very nice man. He dishonoured my father, who; as you should know, was a First Keeper in his time and a man highly looked up to by the Keeperhood. When he died, I lost all guidance, and I was so young that I was afraid I would turn out just like my brother. So I didn't live so to speak, I just plodded along as though I didn't have a choice in the matter."
As heartfelt as Basso's little story seemed to be, it only sounded half true. It was like he had rehearsed it a thousand times for a play at the theatre or even a lie to tell as a sob story for the pity of others. "Don't make the same mistake...don't die inside when you should live.”
There was a long silence between the two after he'd finished his le
cture, but it was more awkward than sentimental. Tristan didn't really know what to say in response to him especially as he didn't believe a single word of it. He'd definitely been working on that speech; surely?
“Right," sighed Tristan, a bemused look on his face. "I best get back to the Compound; Daxon will be wondering where I am." He got to his feet and patted down his clothes as though there was dust on them.
"That Daxon, he's a good friend isn't he?" Basso assumed, turning to face him.
"Well yeah, these days he's practically family." To be fair, that was true.
"How do you know him?" Dante was right - perhaps Basso was onto him.
"I know him from the Smithy, he worked with me there."
"And he's with you why?"
"His brother died, so I suggested he should come and get some space from it all. Besides, he knows me how I am now and that's kind of helpful."
"I guess so."
"Anyway, I'll see you back at the Compound later?"
"You sure will!"
Smiling vacantly, Tristan headed for the ladder and returned to the ground. Looking back briefly, he turned in the direction of the Compound still going over the story Basso had told him. Surely, someone can't simply put those words together on the spot like that? He had been telling that story for years no doubt and whether or not parts of it were true he did not know. In fact, whatever part was the truth had probably changed so much in each version to increase the amount of pity that it was no longer true. Pushing the thought to join the others at the back of his mind, he pressed on with Basso watching after him...not that he knew his old teacher was watching, there was too much on his mind to focus on what was going on around him.
Chapter 27 – Light Pinched Darkness
"Sorry there lad!" Grunted a man who collided with Tristan as he walked into him like he hadn't even seen him coming.
Tristan looked up, immediately taking a step back from the abnormally large stranger.
"You okay there mate?"
The two made eye contact and it was like the man was suddenly very afraid, his near invisible eyes coming into sight as they widened in shock. The dark eyes of the man seemed to strike right into Tristan, the scar down the man’s right side of his face twitched causing a burning sensation in his left hand before spreading all over his body. The scar seemed to spell out a word in runes Tristan had never seen before, either that or he just couldn't read them. The man shook his head and walked away, mumbling something under his breath as he did so. The man left Tristan with an unsettled feeling, his stomach somersaulting making him want to wretch. His throat went dry and his ears began to ring. Whoever this man was, he certainly had an effect on him. Trying to forget about him, Tristan closed his eyes; if he'd known the man, he would've recognised him...surely...but then there was something about that scar on his face...
"I'll see you later Frankie!" Dante yelled as he stepped onto the deck in the early morning light, catching a glimpse of Tristan standing by what looked to be an old thatcher’s mill with an odd look on his face. His skin was pale and his eyes wide, as though something had scared him silly. "Tristan?" He called out, but no answer came. He didn't even acknowledge his name being shouted. What on earth was up with that boy?
As he called out again, all life seemed to drain from Tristan's face and his body went limp. In one swift movement, he crumbled to the ground as his eyes rolled into the back of his skull, something Dante was beginning to see all too often. Rushing over, he slapped his face a couple times, trying to wake his friend to no avail. In all the commotion, Dante almost didn't notice Frankie running over with another man to see what was going on.
"Quick, bring him inside!" The other man urged, looking around as though to make sure no one else was around. Gathering him into his arms, Dante followed the man with Frankie close behind.
"Lay him down in the booth over there!" The man was certainly very authoritative for such a weedy looking figure. As Dante laid him down in the back corner on some leather corner seats, the man disappeared into the back room that lead to the cellar.
"Who is that?" Dante asked Francis in an undertone.
"That is my son; Warrick," answered Frankie, thankfully not taking offense to the question. "He was the town healer before the Keepers left but now, he...moonlights shall we say. The guards make him charge the people but they can't afford it...and apparently, he needs some form of license or something. All codswallop if you ask me though."
"I hope you weren't talking about my medicine father!"
Warrick came back into the room now with a bowl of water and a fresh cloth, the cork head of a vial sticking out of his waistcoat pocket. As he set to work checking Tristan over, Dante sat back with Frankie watching him work. He couldn't help but wonder what was going on in Tristan's head to cause him to pass out such as he did.
~~~
Light pinched at the darkness that shrouded his sight. All around me I could hear raised voices of panic and footsteps thudding against the ground. As lights turned to colours, colours turned to figures and figures into people, my sight came back to me. I looked down, catching sight of my brothers own body fall to the floor
Trying to concentrate on anything but the possibility that you were in trouble, I focused on the faces of the panicked voices; noticing Dante lift your body and carry it off with Frankie and another man I didn't recognise. Basso was still on the rooftop of the thatcher’s mill, watching but not making himself known to anyone. How strange? Choosing to ignore that for now though, I looked around, fearing I was being watched. Surely someone couldn't see me? I was Greater Faded now! Looking over his shoulder to the pathway that led down the side of the walled gate of the Keeper Compound I saw another figure stood in full view as though he had taken great enjoyment in watching what he had just witnessed.
The man was familiar to me, but the name of the man escaped me for the moment. Instead of thinking of the name, I took in the man's appearance. If he was someone I did indeed know, I got the sense they looked different from how I remembered him, like his whole appearance had changed since the last time we had met. The man was rather stocky and looked as though he'd lost a lot of weight over the last couple of years his midriff seeming more baggy than stocky. The cheeks of his face were flabby as well, his tanned skin seeming to droop down. His eyes were a dark brown, in fact they were more of a maroon in colour, a red spark just glinting in the early morning light. He sported a spiked-up hair do that was a mousy brown colour, his eyebrows heavy and dark casting shadows over his worn eyes. The attire of the man was somewhat slumpy, a patchy jacket covering a dark blue shirt with ties at the chest leaving a couple of hairs bare. The shirt was messily tucked into brown breaches that clutched at his waist as though they were far too tight. On his feet were thick black boots that gave off a pirate impression. I pictured him making a good first mate with a green parrot sitting on his shoulder but perhaps even the role of a pirate was too law abiding for the man.
Apart from old scar upon his face as the only identifiable feature, there was nothing individual about the man - but then even the scar from this distance didn't seem all that distinctive. He seemed the sort to be dealing with dodgy people in dark undercurrents of the cities...like a pawn shop owner maybe.
The ends of the man's lips tilted upwards as he sniggered at the way Tristan's body was being carried off and spat on the floor before turning on his heel and sauntering off down the way. You’ll be okay with them brother!
I decided to take advantage of my new found freedom in this world of colour, and follow the man into a darkened passageway and a small building in between two seemingly abandoned town houses. Like the man, the hut was rather shabby looking and had a barely visible red handprint on the door that was so worn by now it might as well be part of the door. Fiddling around with some keys, the man heaved open the door, which looked to be heavy, and disappeared inside of it.
Half expecting it not to work, I stepped up the wooden steps to the shack and held my breath
, easing myself through the door as though I were a ghost; the feeling of transparency unsettling me a little and sending butterflies fluttering about my stomach. I shook the feeling off, and turned to see the man had stopped dead in his tracks and was staring at the darkness towards the back of the hut by a staircase. He looked suspiciously at the gloom as though he expected someone to be stood there. But as I stared into the same space, I realised there was a figure there and as he stepped out my mouth fell open aghast.
"Whoever's there I'll have you know I'm highly skilled in...dismembering people..." The man wasn't very good at making threats and was just making it up on the spot.
"You don't even know what that means!"
A voice glowered as it came into light, the torches suddenly sparking as the scared man clicked his fingers revealing a cloak underneath the staircase that looked to lead to some sleeping quarters. The room we were in now came into view, revealing a counter just in front of the staircase with a marble top. The walls of the room were rather bare as were the many shelves on the back wall as though the place hadn't been occupied long. It wasn't much of a house so to speak and was more of an establishment of business.
"I demand you reveal yourself immediately foul trespasser!" Threatened the scarred man again as he straightened up trying to make himself seem more fearful but obviously it was not working, a quiet snigger sounded from the stranger.
"Now now, I don't think that's how you greet an old friend now do you...or should I say brother?" The trespasser's voice was slightly high-pitched for a man but was also unreadable in terms of tone, as though the man underneath the hood gave nothing away leaving everything to the imagination.