Eternity Calls

When one dreams, like I am now, you often dream not in images and vividity but with a rather peculiar and particular feeling or sensation. You do not realise it, but this follows you from your dreams and into your reality; you continue to feel this sensation. I feel it now. Fire. Heat. Blood and fury. A civilisation petrified. Dust to dust. Evil written in stone. I have felt this before. I feel it now. It will be felt again. Why can I tell you this? My mind is clear till I dream no more. 

My eyes sliced open. Reality welcomed me back with a cold dark stare, the witching hour. What had I just dreamed? My mind felt so empty, as if something valuable had been stolen from its mental vaults. A certain unease swept over me; I knew that I had felt it before, but I could not put into words what exactly it felt like, for this feeling existed beyond the realm of spoken words, in a complex of my mind, under lock and key. Where was the key? 

Sleep came in cruel bouts after that. The childhood surroundings of my old bed-chamber provided little comfort, nor had the soft words of my mother done anything to soothe this restless torpor. I had seen her only briefly when Laerka and I returned from our walk, but in that short moment, it felt as if I had only been gone a week. She never shared my father’s image of me. She did not care what I was, a monster or assassin. Her love came freely, and I did not have to buy it with any show of strength or otherwise. Her kindness was inspirational and certainly aspirational, yet kindness was not a gift that could be afforded to all whom I met. 

 I got out of my tangled bedsheets and walked to the window with borrowed energy. The entirety of Remire could be seen from this window, which faced the outer courtyard; it was the perfect vantage point. It was almost as if my father had planned this room for me, for his assassin. I would not have put it past him; he knew what he was doing; I can accept that now.  

A muffled noise burrowed into the silence of the night. The few guards on watch, spread across the walls, had not noticed it. I, however, heard all. It came again, whimpering between scorning and then a harsh crack. Horses stirred and whined a frightened. That stablemaster! I leapt onto the sill and conformed to the curved arch of the window. I became a gargoyle to the stone. None could see me; none would hear me, none at all. I looked down. The dim stable light was intermittently distorted by the supreme shadows of that sad man. I saw him stalk and prowl and heard the rabid gruel of his poisoned words spitting away from his irregular tongue. The boy’s shadow shrunk and backed away. A second’s passing and his face came into view; it was shrouded in darkness, but the dark had a way of parting for me. I saw on his face a look of terror, a terror most unforgivable. My work would begin now! 

I dressed quickly and lighter than when I had arrived in Remire. A dark cloak, black leggings and a silent pair of boots all made up my nightly attire. Of course, my daggers came too; I reached under my pillow to retrieve them. The castle halls were dark, and few guards remained. My brother and his wife slept in this wing, whilst mother slept above, on the top floor of the Keep; she kept to herself, and none had entered her quarters since the war, since father passed. The rest of the lords in the castle had their rooms below, and I did not want to draw attention to my departure; I did not know who would be watching. There was a window down the hall in an old and disused room. I remembered it well from my younger days, visiting Laerka and sneaking out of the Keep in the deep of night. 

 Eventually, the ancient door came; it was unlocked as I had thought it would be. It opened with a startling yet not overloud creak. Dust flooded around me like the spread of ashes, and the musky aroma of abandonment nulled my senses. Tens of worn chairs were piled atop each other as wood for a funeral pyre. The window was on the opposite side of the room. I walked through this strange cemetery in a long and winding path, avoiding the flipped table headstones and occasional stuffed animal head. Deer and boar seemed to be the most common haunt of this room, which had accumulated and stored a certain chaos of the past. Then I saw a table encompassed by four neatly placed chairs and its centrepiece was nothing short of remarkable – the head of a drake. It had been staring at me for some time now. I began to work up a cold sweat from the sight of this gruesome yet spectacular creature. Red scales, the size and thickness of copper coins, glinted in the left-over moonlight. The creature’s teeth grinned at me in curvature, and its snout threatened with fiery nostrils flared. Atop its head and under its chin were feathered frills that sparsely decorated its draconic face. These drakes could only be found in the northlands far from here. I had never seen anything like it, well, only once, but that was a long time ago. I decided to take my leave from this unexpected sight and made my way once more to the window; the floor felt weak under my feet, almost hollow, so I moved softly. I gazed out to the crumbling terrace and the tiered and sloping roof beyond. The glass pane swayed after me, as I entered the night. 

A cloud of dust stormed into being from the impact of my feet. The hollow scream of my other-worldly entrance resounded quietly throughout the courtyard, like a whisper’s echo. Ahead of me were the stables and inside a storm was brewing. The wind reported their noise to me and dutifully disguised my coming. The smell of horses and Garik became all the more pungent. I edged around a streak of light, that splayed across the floor from a window, and then hugged the wooden wall close. The stablemaster’s words and the boy’s none became clear to hear. “Miss him. Miss him, do you? Well, you have me now, and I’m here to stay. That ‘dear’ Vance of yours is gone. He’s dead. Six feet under! You hear me? What – what was that, that dirty face you just pulled at me?” I heard an impact, a heavy slap. “I ought to send you to the Temple; that would sort you out, you – you disobedient wretch. Then you would come crying back for me. Wouldn’t ya…? Come on then, answer me.”  

Then a small voice of courage sparked up like a fire half stoked, “Even – even those in the Temple would treat me better – than – than you!” 

“What did you just say?” I heard Garik ask with a genuine surprise intermingled with disgust. I heard all the air vacate his lungs and then in one depraved breath, he screamed, “How dare you? Out – get out. You will sleep with the dogs tonight. You can get lost for all I care. Hell, why don’t you go and drown yourself in that precious lake of yours? Go on, see if I care!” The heavy doors flung open, and the sound of a light body being thrown onto the hard ground hit me. I waited for the doors to close before I moved around the corner and to the boy. He was whimpering, a bundled heap on the dust-fed and manured ground. A surge of emotions suddenly came to me. I saw in him my shadow and heard in him my echo. My angry heart felt his every injustice with pure and unconflicted empathy. I wanted to help him, and not because he was a charity case or a pursuit of divine atonement. I was looking at a shattered reflection of myself, and the shards were threatening young-blood.  

I rose to my feet and stood tall. I hoped that the stablemaster would see me and I hoped that it would put the fear of eternal damnation into him. With every step closer to the child came deeper anger and sorrow; it had been a long time since I had felt like this, since I was a boy. Back then, my world was ending and, even to this day, that world had never been returned to me. However, Arangar had been a fine man, more than a father to me, and we made a new world to live in together. This boy, he was not living; he was in hell, an endless nightmare, and no one seemed to care. His tear-filled eyes opened, and for a moment he stared at me but then he seemed to disregard me and continued in his woefully woken slumber. He tried to sleep because he could not bear the reality that he now found himself within; he did not believe it; his mind would not let him. Yesterday, I thought this child was scared at the least, but now I saw that the scars ran far deeper, below the surface, hidden. He was not merely scared or pained; those emotions were but pleasant memories, for he was now broken; he was teetering on the edge of destruction. I offered the boy my hand, and after a minute’s stare from his expressionless eyes, he finally grasped hold. I heard his voice croak softly, “Where are we going?” 

“To the lake!” I replied. 

The water lapped once more onto my feet, unchanging in its rhythm. A boat was moored and swayed softly in front of us. I picked the boy up and placed him on one side; I got in the other and took hold of the oars. We glided gently into the open water, releasing a wake which permeated across the grand lake. The both of us were comfortable, and even bonded in our silence, but as time went on, the harder it became to speak without words. He needed to talk. “What is your name?” I asked and waited before giving him mine. “I am Leer, the King’s younger brother.” I saw the boy’s eyes widen slightly.  

“Jon,” he quickly replied. 

 We both looked out to the lake for a moment before I drew my eyes back to him. “Your parents?” 

“In the lake,” he said dryly.  

“My father too…” I thought for a while before summoning up the issue at hand. “You know Jon; it’s not right for that man to treat you so.” I saw his eyes water again. “I understand how you feel; I know what it’s like for your world to be thrown into chaos. I know the anger you feel. I know the suffering – I know.” 

Suddenly, he broke out into an angry rebuke, “Why did you bring me here? To tempt me with death? There is nothing in this lake but death. Maybe I should just listen to him; maybe I should just let myself sink.” 

“Death is a release unlike any other – quick and ultimate; I do not disagree, but the man who longs for death simply misses the point, for he is already dead; he fears those who have their life figured out, but let me tell you that none does! I have spent my whole life, since childhood, dealing death, and I have saved the kingdom before, and I must do so again, but not once have I even begun to understand my true meaning here, and that is what it’s all about – meaning. It is easy to neglect this, to forget about the ‘why,’ but for every good soul, there is a purpose, and life should be best spent in pursuit of this.” I let my hand fall to the water’s edge and stirred for magic. “I brought you here, Jon, because death surrounds us, thousands lie beneath us, either resting on the bed or passing on into Eternity, but even in a place where death is all, there lies true beauty.” I saw his estranged face become one of intrigue. “You see, every so often, the lake changes.” 

“Changes! How?” his swollen voice lowered as he spoke. 

“It shows its true colours!” I said, as we floated towards the middle of the lake, the moon high above us. Rapids soon formed and took hold of us. Flickers of light danced beneath the surface before the spiralling swell swept it all up into a single blue glow. A faint tinted mist started to bubble from the water and enveloped us. The boy in front of me, too, began to change. He became invigorated with all the energy and wonder to be found in life. I saw him laugh and smile. He waved his hand through the bright water and pulled it out to watch the glowing drops run down his fingers and the pale trails they left behind. 

“How does the water do this and how – how does no one in the city notice?” he asked in a quiet disbelief. I smiled, remembering asking my mother the same thing many years ago. 

“As far as I know, the moonlight both triggers and conceals this phenomenon. You see Jon, back onshore the moonlight is so bright that its reflection overpowers the glow of the water. Not many people know about this, so don’t go telling your friends.” 

“Won’t be a problem. I don’t have many,” he sighed. 

“It must be hard working in that stable all day, let alone with that man.”  

“It is. I hate him, and I hate this life. It just feels like I’m getting nowhere and I know I’m only a boy, but when will it ever end? I guess it’s like you said – I just want meaning.”  

“We will find it, son.” 

Just then, it all changed. The tranquillity was taken, replaced by a rumbling that came from the deep. Our boat rocked harshly. Something was coming, something big. Yet then the waters calmed and the light blue faded back into the inky blackness that had come before, but unlike the black of night, this dark expanse brought me no relief; my mind objected, revolting in vile contempt. Fear soared on high with wings of terror, that as my heart did beat. I had felt this before and would do again; it was terrifying. 

“What was that?” asked Jon. 

“I don’t know, but it’s gone now; it has to be.” Yet then fire appeared in the corner of my eye. I looked across to Jon, who had already darted his gaze to this enigma. Then I looked down, and to my side, and for what I saw, I had nothing. My speech was speechless, my breath was breathless, and most of all, I had lost my mind to this thing beneath the water.  

A single amber orb with a black and red peppered slit down the middle was floating beneath the surface. Its size was greater than our entire boat. It was an eye, and for what seemed like miles rested not the darkness of the lake but the navy scales of a behemoth reptilian monstrosity. I looked on in a horror which had, as a sculptor, carved my face into the very image of fear. Yet the boy, he was calm; he was too calm. His nerves were almost unnatural. Had I not seen his fear of Garik before, then I would have thought him to be utterly unafraid of all things, but yet there he was, smiling at this beast. He put out his hand to reach for it. “Jon,” I hissed at him, but he was too lost in allure to notice me, and I was too lost in my fear to stop him. His hand became humbled on a single enormous scale and, upon this touch, the beast lifted a distant nostril out of the lake and puffed a storm of water into the air. The shower scattered all around us, and a thousand lunar filled droplets delighted laughter from the boy. The creature let out soft sounds which resonated under the water, causing the bottom of the boat to vibrate and the surface of the lake to become painted with perfect diamond ripples. Jon continued to laugh, as a child often does when in the midst of wonder. This serpent of the water closed its eye slowly and then opened it once more, a farewell to both of us but mainly to the boy. It then submerged itself until its golden globe was but an eerie ghost fading into the dark and icy embrace of the lake. Then it must have dived, for we heard that same rumble once again and the boat swayed violently in its wake with waves crashing down upon us.  

Soon the water settled, and the blue luminescence returned, to an extent. However, the night was coming to a close, and the moon had moved on. I swivelled the boat around and started rowing for the distant shore; my arms moved with all the energy of a dead man. Jon and I were both silent, the difference being that he was beaming with joy and wonder, and I was drowning in a confused and dazed horror. “So that’s where the dead go…” I murmured to myself.  

Jon ignored me, “What was that thing?” he demanded with excitement. 

“A monster,’ I breathed, biting down to restrain the tremble of my lip. 

“In the lake!” 

“Yes.” 

On the journey back to the city, Jon seemed like a different boy; he spoke to me freely and longed for me to tell him the tales of my adventures. I told him a few. I spoke of the mountains of Midheart and their treacherous landscapes and mysterious inhabitants. Something awakened in him at my mention of the Iron Scouts and their most isolated fortress; there was a gaze in his eyes that was not entirely present; he was dreaming. I went on to satisfy his imagination. I told him of the ancient courtyard that sat in between two great buildings of a long since forgotten architecture and of the formidable walls that slept soundly for hundreds of years. Of course, I did not neglect to mention the view to the south, towards the Golden Isle. I told him that the Isle was only able to be seen as the sun came up, when the Emperor’s tower became a thin black ghost upon the horizon.  

Jon’s gaze came back to me when I mentioned the Golden Isle. “Things are getting worse with the Empire, aren’t they?” he asked; I was taken by his candour on the subject. 

“It’s always been bad, ever since the war and, even then, the fighting never really stopped; it just changed.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Intrigue and conspiracy, plots and politics – these are all aspects of unseen conflict, and when the tensions get too high, then they can boil over and become all too visible. I have reason to believe that this critical point is imminent and that war has become inevitable. Yet that is not the biggest danger; you see, traditional warfare alone is not enough to defeat this mountain kingdom; the Emperor must seek victory in another way, by crippling us first and then waging war.” 

“But how will you figure it out? Where will you start?” 

“The murders! And it just so happens that all the cadavers are being held by the Temple – the cursed pillar that holds up the entire Empire.”  

The boat hit the sand, and the boy clambered over the bow, not wanting to get his feet wet. I splashed down into the shallow water and waded towards him. He looked at me with a glimmer in his eyes, a conflicted sheen of awe washed in pain; he did not want to go back. I knelt in front of him and told him of what was to happen. “I don’t want to leave you with that man but I must, for now.” I saw his eyes begin to well. “I will not let him hurt you.” 

“For how long must I wait?” 

“For as long as my horse remains there; use her as your timepiece and fret no more.” He nodded slowly. “And Jon,” I grabbed his shoulder. “Mention that monster to no one! That information in the wrong hands has the power to undo an entire culture, and then what will we be left with? The Temple’s tithe?” I laughed softly, failing to hide the seriousness in my voice. Again, he nodded. Then we walked back to the Keep, a long and slow walk. When we reached the walls, we stopped; I held out my hand to his. “It was good to meet you, Jon.” 

“And you.” He smiled as he shook my hand. 

The courtyard was busier than before; soldiers came from every angle, and servants darted seemingly from wall to wall. I stood still in the midst of it all, the eye of the storm. Then his eyes met mine – Garik. He stood against the stable door, as silent and as still as me. His face was anger. He did not even notice the skittish boy approaching; he just stared at me. Smoke billowed through his nostrils and then through his open mouth, as his sharp teeth latched onto a pipe. His eyes had not moved; they were bloodshot and even from this distance I could tell; they stood out like red flames of fury. This look had been given to me by a thousand men; it was the stare of death and, so far, none who granted it to me had lived to look again. But there was something about this man that had managed to relegate all of my teachings, to be calm in the chaos; for he evoked something in me, something darker and more profound than usual, a black brazier of anger. I felt his gaze falter and then crumble and scatter; my leer had found him. But it was more than that; I felt power, unlike any other. When the boy had reached the stable door, I raised my arm to my chest and then let it fall to my side; I felt a strange and forceful jolt in my hand, and then the door slowly swung open, commanded from afar. The stablemaster and the boy hatefully looked to each other, yet they shared the same surprise. I too stood shocked, and my lungs began to ventilate to this anomaly in my actions. Before they could look back, however, I was gone.  

The mires of my mind opened up to me, and I stepped into the familiar plane which existed beyond the mortal realm. Yet for the first time in my life, I could see it clearly, and I could traverse it at my own pace. I was in a corridor. There was writing on the walls and in a form so complex that my eyes burned at the sight of it. The ground was laid with a clear stone that had every consistency of glass, but the expanse of it? Through this floor was the shimmer of an inky liquid, so dark, yet so soothing in its wake. Ahead of me, down the hall, was the exit. I saw this image every time I had come through this plane, for it was the only way out. I saw the blurred and obscured shapes that made up my room in the Keep, so close yet so incredibly far away. I had seen this exit, this light in the darkness, a thousand times in passing but I was here now, and nothing was pulling me towards it. That’s when it came to me; I had never looked back. What was behind me? A sea of sparks washed over my body, at this apprehension. I turned slowly. Head twisted back. But something stopped me. I fought against it. My muscles began to spasm, and my neck started to crack. Just one glimpse, I needed! I fought harder and harder until it felt like I was going to break, and then finally, something gave, and my entire body turned around.  

My eyes worked no longer; the light had gone out in an instant. The beat of my heart stopped. My breath stopped. I had seen nothing!  

My body was recoiled and flung itself down the dark corridor, and all I could hear was that silent scream that always followed me back into reality. Except this time, it was no longer silent; it was deafening, and it was chasing me down.  

I fell into reality with a surreal speed. I landed on my hands and knees, which cut across the old wooden floor. Splinters made themselves at home in my skin, but the pain was swiftly forgotten before that blood-curdling sound; it was loud, too loud. I had lost control, because of that man; I knew it was because of him. This was a new level of power, and I could not control it. I smelt blood; my nose ran red! My body collapsed on the floor, and I felt weakness. The darkness came to greet me again.