by Olivia Ali
"How does he expect you to know that?"
"It is a gift I was born with. That is why I have the keys. I know what they know. The keys never lie."
"And what do they tell you about Tristan?"
"It is not what they say about Tristan that is important for you to know. For he will come for you in time. It is loyalty who seeks you my dear and he is alive."
"I don't understand."
"Yes, you do, you just don't want to believe. Loyalty is alive...the keys never lie."
I knew what he spoke of, I knew he spoke of myself and my appearance in this world. Whether or not she knew I would probably never find out. Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door and two voices fiddled with some keys intending on punishing the First Keeper for hurting the tormentor.
"You must go now!" Felix whispered. "Both of you must leave this place and never look back."
"But Felix I..."
"Go my dear and quick. I do not have long left...but remember that the keys...they never lie." A tear slipped from her eyes and she kissed Felix on his forehead.
"Be strong!" she whispered, pulling herself away reluctantly and heading for the passageway and disappearing up the stairs.
I stared down at the First Keeper now, my face full of remorse. As the keys jangled in the lock, he looked up at me and right into my eyes.
“Free her!” he said simply. I found it odd that he knew my being here, but then he was the First Keeper.
“Free who?” I asked, feeling stupid for doing so.
“The Daughter of the Storm. She lives brother!”
As the door burst open, Felix faded from me and I found myself in a darkness coupled only by you…the Daughter of the Storm, his sweet and beautiful Dags…
Chapter 32 - Reach Out
When Tristan came too, he was in a little alcove of a long corridor slumped up against a dark wall. He could hear footsteps pacing up and down the corridor, feeling his heart race as they got closer and closer. The guard passed and then passed again a few moments later. He didn't even notice Tristan was there in the shadows. He breathed a sigh of relief, his head resting back on the wall and a sharp pain residing there. Wincing, he reached back to feel where the pain came from to feel a small lump. He must've banged his head pretty hard. Gathering his strength, Tristan rose to his feet and peered around the corner to make sure the guard was nowhere to be seen. Breathing another sigh of relief, he looked up and down the elaborate corridor with sculptures mounted on plinths at intervals, large paintings or tapestries hanging on the walls behind them. The stone floor was covered in a red carpet in the centre that was like a pathway, leading past the doors that lined the corridor around up ahead. He had to have still been in the estate. How much time had passed though, he wasn't sure.
Shrugging his shoulders, he stepped out into the corridor seeing a flash of purple in the corner of his left eye. Darting his eyes to the left, he saw her there - his Dags was stood there staring at him, a quaint smile upon her beautiful face. Tristan gasped, almost unable to believe his eyes; she looked so real. Granted there was a shimmer around her figure making her seem ghostly but she was still there. He smiled back at her and she inclined her head as though asking him to come closer. Looking back over his shoulder, he checked to see that the guard was still nowhere to be seen. Calmly, he stepped towards her, tentatively moving one foot in front of the other expecting her to disappear in the blink of an eye. With each step he took it was like her image strengthened, as though she were becoming more and more real. As he got closer, she stepped backwards and led them down into the ballroom below, stopping halfway down the staircase. It looked different without all the pompous buffoons. He could see the ballroom in all its beauty and glamour.
Leaving Dagnen to watch by the stairs, he stepped into the centre of the room, watching as ghostly women appeared around him dancing in colourful dresses with smartly dressed gentlemen. Smiles adorned their faces as their partner paraded them around the floor. Focusing on their faces he picked out Zhaine, dancing with the girl Brandon had called Alana. Not too far from him was Jacques with...with Gladys unbelievably. Also were Ramien and Romeo, both dancing with dark haired girls and then there was he; gliding his beautiful Dags around the floor. He smiled at the sight of her as he said words he did not remember at first, words that made her smile.
"You don't strike me as the type of woman who smiles a lot." It was as though someone had said them right in front of him, making him remember the words instantly.
"I've not exactly had many reasons to smile if I’m honest." said the voice of a woman he knew to be hers.
"You've been broken...I get it."
"How did you know that?"
"What can I say? I like broken things...I like to fix them.”
"That's...odd..."
"I want to make you a promise...as a friend I mean."
"Well, as a friend - promise me anything."
"I promise to make you smile at least once every day."
Those words echoed in his head as the dancing figures faded away leaving the room empty once more. Turning around slowly, he saw Dagnen on the stairs, her dress changing colour six different times. It went from a purple to a yellow, from a yellow to a pink and from a pink to a dusky red. They were the different dresses she had worn each time she was here with Tristan perhaps. From the red it went to a green and then from a green back to purple. He got the feeling they weren't in order though but that didn't matter, each was as beautiful as the last.
She nodded to him again and he ran up the stairs to follow her as she led them out of the estate. Stopping by the gazebo for a moment, staring as they kissed in his memories, her green dress wrapping around them both in wind. Following her past the gates to the estate, they walked through the town together watching as his memories played out before them and the town came to life to resemble the greatness that it once had. He saw them walking hand in hand past their other memories, looking through the stalls of the exotic market and trying the countless foreign delicacies, dancing in the rain together and kissing on the street corners like no one was watching. As they watched the memories a sweet lullaby played out loud. It was the tune the music box played and the tune she had played in the tavern they were now stood in front of. Looking over towards where she had been stood, she was suddenly gone and panic filled his heart. The memories around him shattered and he shouted out her name over and over again.
It began to rain and he sought shelter under the deck of the tavern. As he neared the door, he heard the lullaby being played from the other side of the door but it didn’t quite sound like a piano or organ. The sound intrigued him and he pushed on the door, entering the light filled tavern and basking in her sight once more as she stood before him in the middle of the inn. She just stared at him as he sighed in relief at her being there standing right in front of him. He felt like he should say something perhaps, but what?
"Happy Birthday Dags!" she smiled as he suddenly remembered what day it was. "I don't have anything to give you except my thanks. That is thank you for making my life back then seem more than perfect. You made me feel loved, wanted, something no one could do at that time.” She mouthed something but her words were unheard to him. He imagined her agreeing or telling him that she loved him no matter what. “In time, I will remember everything we shared but right now there's someone out there that's more important...to both of us. I'll remember her too, and I'll found our Evie."
He could feel himself saying goodbye to her as though he had no control over what he was saying or doing. It was as though these were the words he was meant to say but all he wanted was to snap out of it. A tear slipped down his cheek as he felt the closure beginning to build unwantedly. Tears fell from her face too as she knew he was letting go of her for now.
"You don't have to do this brother," a voice said in his ear. "You don't have to say goodbye...not now, not ever." Tristan looked around but no one was there. The only person there was Dagnen, shimmering in the light
as tears fell from her green eyes. "You can look but you shall not find me brother."
"Why won't she go?" asked Tristan, his voice breaking. "Why won't she be free?"
The voice didn't answer him and Dagnen only stared, more and more tears pouring down her face. He watched as the tears slipped down her face and hit the floor like she was really there and not just a ghostly figure. Could it be? Could she really be there?
"Go on!" The voice said, almost as though it knew what he wanted to do. "Just reach out and touch her. I promise you she won't disappear, not unless you truly want her to."
Reluctantly, he reached out his hand, taking a step or two closer to her. Hesitantly, he reached out to hold his hand by her face, his fingers daring to fall right through her. But they did not. He felt them grace soft skin, a coldness pricking his fingers as he rested them there. Gasping, he let his hand cup her cheek, feeling the tears now upon his hand as they fell from his own eyes too. He could hardly believe it, but it made him so happy he could feel himself warming on the inside. Was she really there…like she was alive? Or was this all an illusion; a figment of his imagination?
"Who's there?" A voice yelled from the back room threateningly as Frankie appeared in the doorway. "Tristan, what are you doing here? How did you get in?"
He didn't answer straight away, watching as Dagnen faded before him, a smile residing on her sweet face. Unable to believe that it had happened in the first place, he tried to make it seem like he wasn't crazy or breaking in to the place.
"The door...it was open," he stammered, pointing in the direction of the door. "I was hoping you were open."
"I knew I should never have trusted Warrick to close up. I am sorry dear boy but we are closed this evening."
"That's okay, I'll be off then. Good night!"
“Good night my boy.”
Frankie nodded to him and Tristan turned to leave, shutting the door behind him and stepping into the rain. Almost instantly it stopped and the only cold feeling was the sharp point which rested at his neck. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he saw the scarred man; Boris the man he had named Tabacious.
"No sudden moves or I'll have ya!" he ordered, holding his sword steady. But he didn't scare Tristan, he never had.
"Oh will you now?" Tristan called his bluff. "You don't have the guts...you're not a killer Boris."
"How do you know that?"
"I don't, but I know you won't kill me. You don't have the nerve."
"Wanna bet!"
In an instant Tristan knocked the sword from Boris' hand as he backhanded it and knocked it to the floor.
"Is that so Tabacious?"
At the utterance of his true name, Boris fell to the floor grabbing hold of his face in pain. Tristan sniggered in response, turning his back on him and heading for the Compound.
"You're not going to kill me?" Boris called out after him as the pain subsided.
"No, it's not just my responsibility...not anymore." Tristan answered ambiguously.
Without uttering another word, he headed in the direction of the Compound at a run leaving Boris to cower, watching after him. He had to find Dante and tell him what happened, not to mention the fact that if Boris had the nerve to strike he would be doing so rather quickly. He didn’t want to give him that chance.
Chapter 33 - Famous Last Words
Dante had been waiting for Tristan back at the Compound for nearly three hours now. It had gone midnight and there was still no sign of him. For god’s sake what was he playing at? He could've gone out looking for him admittedly but with how frustrated he seemed to be getting at his situation perhaps it was better to let him do it alone, to let him go with the flow of whatever was happening. It would be nice to just know where he was though so he could sleep at least. Why did he care so much? Then again, Tristan was family now. Sighing heavily, he slumped down into a chair and gulped down the last of his ale before throwing the tankard down on the table rather aggressively. This was getting ridiculous!
"Refill?" Dante looked up to see Nielson stood at the other end of the table with a full flagon of ale.
"I think I've had enough don't you?" he replied calmly, realising the frustration that was now building within him.
"That's debatable," he poured some ale into Dante's tankard and leant back in his chair, looking him in the eyes with a knowing look. "My brother would always get like that after a couple."
"Like what?" So he talks about me then? That had to mean their past was all water under the bridge. "Towards the end he had a lot of anger build up in him and his drinking only made it worse. I don't blame him though, after everything that happened, I finally see the light."
"Tristan said he betrayed the Keeperhood...is that true?" Dante was prying now – he had to find out what Nielson’s feeling were towards him.
"Daxon how much do you know about the Keeperhood?"
"My father only told me the basics if I'm honest with you. I was born a Keeper and neither he nor my mother were so it was a bit of a shock for them if I'm honest." He was surprised at how easy it was to lie to his own brother.
"I see what you mean. Well to put it simply, my brother got involved with the wrong people. They lead him astray, he and his friends. At the last minute they did turn against their corrupted brothers...but it was too little late and the Keeperhood banished them to the Land of the Faded."
"Was it not awkward...you know...sticking with the Keepers after they did that to him...your brother I mean?"
"At the time...I believed they were right to do it," Nielson looked down, trying to avoid direct contact with Dante's watery eyes. "I thought he deserved it!" Dante rose from his feet and stared out the window, sipping from his tankard and trying to hide the traitorous tears that were falling down his cheeks.
"And now?"
"I forgive him."
More tears followed those he wiped away and he felt his heart shatter within him. How long he had waited to hear his brother say those words.
"You know when they banished him, I was asked if I wanted to say anything to him. I told him I would never forgive him and that I was disgusted and ashamed to be his brother...to call him my blood. I remember those words as though I had spoken them only yesterday. Call them what you will; my famous last words. I regret them! And I only wish he knew that."
"He does..." Dante blurted out unintentionally.
"How would you know?"
"The dead are always with us," he replied quickly, trying to keep his voice together for the sake of them both. "They hear everything we think about them. I'm sure he knows if you forgive him or not."
"Oh I forgive him...but I'm afraid the Land of the Faded is not as simple as death. It is a torturous place that would make him always remember what I thought of him."
A silence passed between them, giving Dante the chance to sniff and wipe away the rest of his tears. The relief and happiness he was beginning to feel was replaced by a growing anger against his brother for the way he treated him, for not helping fight what happened to him back then.
"I only wish that I could have a moment with him, you know, to tell him I'm sorry. That I was wrong, and I forgive him."
Dante smiled again at Nielson’s words, he had waited an age to hear those words and they made him feel more alive than he ever imagined himself being. It was as though even if he didn't manage to help Tristan remember, his second chance would be worth it if only to hear those words.
"I trust you are the same?"
"Sorry?" Dante swung around, the suggestion catching him with his defences down.
"Your brother? I trust you have plenty of words you wished you'd said to him before he died?"
"Oh yeah..."
Nielson inclined his head as though he wanted to hear the details. Maybe he was on to him? But as much as he wanted to embrace his brother once more, what if his forgiveness was just a pretence to impress Daxon? He couldn't risk it...could he?
"I'd tell him I wished I stopped goading him and paid atten
tion to him more. Maybe that way I'd have had more of an influence on his life and he wouldn't have been such a grass."
Now he spoke the truth, tempting Nielson's recluse with spite in his words to see if it would bring on a rage. A thousand years or so of pent-up rage against his brother had led to the feelings he would now express subtly as his character, to see how far his forgiveness stretched.
"I'm not sure I understand." Nielson pried calmly.
"I was a bit of a rebel when I was younger if I'm honest," Dante came to sit back at the table. "I used to go places I shouldn't, do things I shouldn't and the only reason I got caught half the time was because he grassed me up. So I wasn't exactly very nice to him and if affected our relationship when we were older. We weren't close in the slightest."
"So I guess we both need second chances."
"Sounds like."
"Want to hear something ridiculous?" Dante inclined his head in Nielson's direction. "I had you written off as a fraud...I thought he was covering for you, Tristan I mean."
"Why would he do that?" Dante froze. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready to come clean to Nielson yet.
"I'm not too sure...like I said…ridiculous..."
That's it, he couldn't hold back any longer. He was going to tell him. Nielson's eyes twinkled and he felt himself thinking that perhaps he already knew but was waiting for confirmation. Either that or he had tears in his eyes from his earlier confession. As he was about to say something though, who should form in the entrance way - Tristan of course…fucking Tristan!