It had a carving of trees on the face. A pristine river flowed out from the center of the coin where the trees were concentrated, and a dragon encircled the rim. Matt slowly scrutinized it as he turned it to the other side. The edges smooth and the design on the underside was exquisite. The castle that he had seen many times lay embossed in the center. The river flowed out from the castle’s main gate and another image of a dragon encircled the outer edge.
“Where did you get this?” Matt asked while gazing at the coin.
Jake sat forward with clenched fists, “Matt, you’re not going to believe this,” he began, his eyes darted back and forth as though he was looking for someone else in the room.
“Try me,” Matt deadpanned as his eyes narrowed on Jake. He stopped turning the coin in his fingers.
Jake spoke of how he began to think of this land and the castle. He believed his focused thoughts allowed him to dream of the place each night—as he wished—and as time went on, he became more and more aware of actually, physically, being there. Jake spoke of exploring the plateau, speaking with other warriors, and the battles fought against creatures that would attack from below the plateau: a forested area that seemed to be a shelter and staging point for the creatures.
He spoke of his decision to explore the castle further a few weeks ago. The courtyards flourish with plants and gardens; the foliage is like nothing he’d ever seen before. Just beyond the smaller courtyard, which lies just beyond the second gate, Jake discovered the entrances into the heart of the castle itself.
A maze of stone hallways; some with high ceilings, and some with low rounded ceilings that reminded him more of tunnels than hallways. Two separate corridors branched off that led to the individual towers, one on either side of the castle. Stone stairwells that lead to the upper chambers which have no bannisters.
Jake described how he explored the interior until reaching a long hallway with guards at the end, safeguarding a large door with an incredible carving of a forest and deer on it; however, the guards would not let him pass beyond the doors.
He spoke of finding a corridor that led to the lower level of the castle. A maze of passageways led to different chambers and rooms that seemingly were hewn out of the bedrock by hand. And, somehow, he stumbled upon a room, hidden within a room. Mostly unguarded, yet two castle sentries would come down to the lower level and walk past this particular room, but at different intervals that he hadn’t been able to figure out.
His last visit, prior to last night’s battle, he entered the hidden room. A simple large rectangular stone that stood a few few feet out from the main wall, gave an appearance of the end of the current room. All he had to do was walk to the wall on the stone’s left, around the huge stone slab and turn to the right to enter. It was lit with a dull glow. Not from any candle or other light source, but from the mounds of gold coins—one of which Matt now held in his hand.
“What the—”
“I know, right?” Jake sat back, smiling, pleased with himself on his discovery.
“How did you bring this back?”
“I grabbed a handful, but I think the rest slipped out of my grasp. Anyways, I was holding this in my hand when I woke up.”
Matt rotated the coin in his fingers again while his mind and emotions revolved in cadence with one another. Overwhelmed by the thought, yet his right side reminded him with a continual dull ache that the likelihood of Jake bringing back a gold coin, however inconceivable, was possible. While Jake rocked back and forth in the office chair, hands in his lap with his juvenile grin spread wide, Matt continued to gaze at the coin.
“Know what?”
“Hm. What’s that?” Matt looked up.
“I weighed it on the scale in the evidence room,” Jake told him with his brows raised, “this thing is right at 10.36 grams.”
“It’s heavy for how small it is, that’s for sure.” Matt sat back in his chair as he tossed the gold coin back at Jake.
“I’m guessing, and I still have to figure it out, but I think that’s about a third of a troy ounce.”
“I wouldn’t know, Jake.”
“Matt, three of these little things…” Jake leaned forward again, glanced over his left shoulder like he was being watched, and held up the coin—pinched between his index finger and thumb. “A couple handful of these babies and you could pay off your house.”
“Jake, I’ve got two things that come to mind.” Matt took a deep breath, not knowing how his friend would receive what he was about to say. “One is professional…the other personal.”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
“Brother, what did you do with those illegal fireworks you confiscated last Fourth of July?” Matt’s eyes fixed on his friend’s eyes. “I am sorry I’m bringing this up now, but for some reason I just thought of it.”
“Oh wow, Matt! That was months ago.”
“I know, and I honestly was going to speak to you about it shortly afterwards, but I had that civilian rider with me that day when I walked into the patrol room and found you with the box of it all. I never saw a report or evidence sheet regarding them.”
“Oh, I remember that guy. Did he like the ride-along?”
“Yeah, he did. But…” Matt shifted in his chair, “…look, I’m probably not a good sergeant Jake, else I would’ve touched base with you on this months ago—”
“Matt, you’re one of the best damn sergeants in this whole office.”
“Well…thanks, but I…I don’t feel like I am.” Matt looked down at the desk then back up. “However, Jake, please tell me what you did with them.”
“Well, boxed ‘em up, took them home, and let the kids, destroy them.”
“That was wrong—”
“Oh come on, Matt! Evidence was going to toss them anyways,” Jake protested with a sweep of his right hand like he was directing traffic.
“No,” Matt said firmly, “and this is your sergeant speaking. It isn’t right that we confiscate someone’s personal property—I don’t care if it’s legal, illegal, or whatever—it’s not right to take private property and then use it for our own personal entertainment.”
Matt took a deep breath. “When you confiscate any property, you will book it into evidence. Always. And, do a report. Evidence will take it from there. And as far as fireworks go,” Matt’s brows were furrowed by this point, “I know for a fact that the evidence techs soak them in a water and then toss them out. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Jake replied while looking down.
“Thank you.” Matt readjusted himself in the seat. After realizing he had slightly scowled at Jake, he softened his expression and said, “Brother, I don’t think this is a good idea.” He pointed at Jake’s left hand.
“Seriously? Think about this, we cou—”
“Jake, this is your friend talking now,” Matt noticed that Jake had leaned halfway across the desk during his plea, “dream or no dream, I don’t think it’s a good idea to have this thing.”
“It’s a dream, Matt! I can’t explain it but what if—”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do here, but Jake, we should figure out what’s going on here first before snatching stuff like this.” Matt kept waving his finger at Jake’s hand.
“And how do you plan on doing that?” Jake’s head tilted slightly with a sullen expression.
“I don’t know.” Matt sat back in his seat and looked up to the ceiling. “Maybe, I’ll do what you guys do, think a lot about going there or being there, and once I’m there, walk right up to this Yeor guy and say, ‘what the hell?’”
“Ha!” Jake finally sat back himself, then lurched across the desk again, “That dude is kinda scary!”
“I know it,” Matt said, leaning on the desk with his arms now, “he’s got eyes like clear polished emeralds, but he’s spoken to me and I do feel a peace when he talks to me. Hard to explain.”
“No kidding, his eyes are crazy green, but he’s yet to say one word to me. Although,” Jake continued as he fin
ally relaxed in his seat, “he seems like he’s everywhere there; some sort of important guy.”
“Yeah.” Matt pondered the thought. “Still, you should take it back. Doesn’t feel right, brother.”
Jake looked down at his left hand while he twirled the coin, and nodded.
15
THE LAND OF ONEIRON
Matt busied himself with approving reports, answering emails, catching up on briefs from the DA’s office and command staff, and answering a few miscellaneous telephone calls that trickled into the office around midnight.
Jake spent his shift patrolling through the county’s subdivisions, and handled nearly all of the few calls that trickled into dispatch: a couple of barking dog complaints, a horse that got out of its pen that decided to wander around on the highway, and a dispute that involved one neighbor grumbling about the guy next door, who plowed snow onto his property line from across the county road.
When Matt arrived home after the shift, he reflected on how grateful he was to be able to visit with Alie one more time before she went home at the end of her watch. She was going onto her scheduled days off, so he wouldn’t see her again until next week.
He shared with her the conversation he had with Jake. She promised that she wouldn’t tell anyone, which was something of a relief. Not only was she someone he could talk to, but she was becoming more of a confidant of late. She agreed that the gold coin seemed a bit odd, and it just didn’t feel right to have it toting around in real life. But how to return it? And why was all of this going on anyway? Neither of them had answers for any of it.
Matt didn’t stay up long after his shift had ended; rather, he got to bed within 30 minutes after coming home—went through a shortened routine of doffing his uniform, brushing his teeth, and checking the news on the Internet.
News. Lately, it seemed he read more and more of the same old thing: some country shooting missiles at another, a suicide bombing in some other place, one leader ticked-off with another, or a mass shooting somewhere. He swore to himself that he was going to stop looking at the news—it always seemed to bring him down and make him feel heavy with despair. He could usually shake it off though, reasoning it as someone else’s problem, and if the media really wanted to know what was going on they should ride with him for a shift during the busiest time of the year: summer.
He lay in bed looking up at the ceiling, his fingers interlaced behind his head; he centered his thoughts on the dreams of late, and the unnerving events from the night before. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw Alie being sucked out of the window by some unseen force, pulling her straight up off her feet and into the blackness beyond the stone sill. And with each time, his eyes popped open as she disappeared into the night. With a quick shake of his head, he began to replace the nightmare with the thoughts of the plateau, Yeor standing beside him, and Alie drifting by. He let out a small gasp as he recalled the scent of her fragrance as she descended the slope before him. The vision caused him to freely close his eyes and smile as he centered his thoughts on her.
He didn’t know what caused him to open his eyes again, but the daylight blinded him. His hand cupped over his brows, squinting against the glare, he realized he was standing in the dispersed straw pile he had landed in the night before. He quickly stiffened his back and looked forward to see the castle in front of him, and Yeor striding toward him as though his arrival was expected.
“Good day, Sire,” Yeor said with a slight bow as he halted several paces from Matt.
Matt, staring at this man whose brilliant green eyes were a wonder to behold, simply stood speechless. He slowly dropped his hand as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight. His breath quickened as he tried in vain to reconcile that he, was actually present…in his dream.
“I take it Lady Aletha awoke? We found no body this morning,” Yeor said without shifting his gaze from Matt’s eyes—fixed, unwavering, and full of intensity.
“Um…yeah…yeah, she woke up and…and yes, she’s fine,” Matt stuttered and nodded.
“Good. We were all worried for her. And you, Sire?” Yeor’s eyes turned to his arm.
“I’m okay, thank you, sir.” Matt looked at his arm, now without a bandage and a bright red line that revealed the flesh had closed up and the tissue had begun to heal. “How is that possible? I was bleeding like crazy just a while ago.”
“Ah,” Yeor tilted his head back, “so many questions. They all do at this juncture. In short time, my Lord, you will be cognizant of all. Come now. Bartholomew has been eagerly awaiting your arrival.” Yeor held up his left arm carrying his staff as an invitation to walk beside the sage. Yeor’s other hand, palm open, waved in the direction of the castle where they were to walk.
A young man, just a little shorter than Matt, was running toward them from the castle’s main gate. Bartholomew, an eager servant of the King, began whooping and hollering in his excitement as he ran.
“He has been almost too much at times for this old man,” Yeor said with a grin, wink, and a nudge of Matt’s shoulder.
Matt glanced at Yeor, whose eyes were now fixed on the young man running wildly toward them. Matt looked around the knoll they stood upon. A cleared area in front of the castle’s entrance; the same clearing wound its way around on both sides of the citadel’s rock walls. The grass beneath their feet was immaculately cut and tended.
Matt looked behind him. The knoll descended gradually into a wooded area past the clearing. He took a deep breath. His lungs expanded and he stopped walking. The air was fresh, clean, and exceptionally clear. No longer squinting, he took a step back when the young man practically slid on his knees at his feet, holding onto Matt’s heels and kissing the tops of his shoes.
“My Lord!” exclaimed the young man.
“What the—” Matt began to exclaim as he hopped backward; cut off by Yeor’s intervention.
“Bartholomew, please rise. I told you he would not be one for such obsequiousness and deference once he entered into his cognition.”
“My what?” Matt said while watching the young man who had just been groveling at his feet get up and dust off his clothes, all the while smiling like a small child. Matt held up his palm toward Yeor as if he were attempting to halt traffic, “And…stop with this, Sire, Lord, and whatever stuff.”
“Fine then,” Yeor stopped walking, leaned back, and roared with laughter. Turning to the young man, “Bartholomew, give us a little time together. I will do my best to explain. Go on ahead and ensure all is ready when we arrive.”
“Yes, at once,” Bartholomew replied eagerly and after a long bow toward Matt, he turned and ran back up the hill to the castle’s main gate.
Matt watched Bartholomew dart off. The swiftness of the man appeared surreal with his curly, dark brown hair flowing behind him. The curls created a mini vortex of sorts when Bartholomew ran and Matt stood mesmerized as he watched them spin and bounce uninhibited behind his neck. He noticed that Bartholomew’s eyes were also a brilliant green, although not as piercing or soul-searching as Yeor’s.
“Matthew,” Yeor began to speak, and touched Matt’s shoulder, “a feast has been—”
“Yeor…is it not?” Matt interrupted.
“Correct.”
“Where am I?” Matt asked, refusing to take another step. Without allowing Yeor to reply, “Am I dreaming?”
Yeor moved his staff from his left to right hand, then placed his palm on Matt’s right shoulder. From all the years of arrest control, defensive tactics, and dabbling with various martial arts, Matt recognized the spot immediately where Yeor’s thumb was now situated over: the brachial plexus. It was the spot at the recess in the front of the shoulder where if enough pressure is applied, can cause a crippling electrical pulse to the side of the body that it’s applied to.
“Forgive me,” Yeor said with a slight grin. Yeor squeezed his fingers behind Matt’s shoulder, while applying pressure with his thumb. The pressure was quick, yet jolting.
Matt yelped and twitched his rig
ht side down and away as pain erupted in his shoulder. He slowly readjusted his posture while rubbing his neck. Yeor took up his staff in his left hand again.
“If you were dreaming, Sire, you would have woken by now,” Yeor patiently explained.
Matt stared at the sage, and scanned the lines in his face that had been etched by untold years, all the while rubbing the feeling back into his shoulder. The sharp, instantaneous pain had been replaced by a dull ache, and a tingling sensation down to his finger tips.
“I’ve felt pain in my dreams before,” Matt protested as he moved his arm in a circular motion.
“Not like that. You, like all else, remember very little—if anything—of your dreams,” Yeor countered, while taking a more authoritative posture. “Dreams are merely involuntary images, emotions, and sensations. I acted with my own volition, and you, Matthew, felt the force of my action. This is not a dream: you are here, cognitive of your surroundings, and fully aware of your senses.”
Matt sighed, unable to fight against the internal struggle any longer, and the unseen upheaval within—swirling emotions and undercurrents that screamed that what Yeor was telling him was true. Struggling with the unbelief of the possibility of waking up in a dream or another place all together was difficult to wrap his head around, and yet Yeor stood in front of him. His shoulder, feeling better, was slightly sore where the sage had dug his thumb into it; and he felt the warm air and a slight breeze around himself.
“Okay…so…where is here?” Matt slowly began to capitulate.
“Ah you, my friend, are in the Land of Oneiron, and this castle, plain, plateau, and the surrounding woods is your domain: The Fjord Domain,” Yeor said proudly. A wide smile immediately formed at the prospect that his student had finally understood a new found concept. “You, Matthew, are a warrior here. And…you are our King: you have been so since you were a child.”
Shadows of Reality (The Catharsis Awakening Book 1) Page 11