Dreamer: The Eighth Key book 1

Annun

-Night fell not an hour prior. Yet a deep sleep rushed over the pair, as it seemed to do for the whole of the woods. Almost as if they were under the influence of a unique enchantment. It had already been rather quiet, but the sounds of wildlife ceased altogether.

A tall, slender woman bathed in softly radiating white light stepped before the sleeping duo from out of a thick blanket of warm fog. Her movement made no sound. No rustling of the leaves or snap of twigs underfoot. In fact, her form disturbed nothing at all in her passing save for the Illitar.

 The woman resembled the one from Tathlyn’s story, though she seemed different from it too. She was translucent, a ghost of her former self whom not even the skittish mare seemed to register. As she neared, she bent low over Diraimeir and began to whisper to him in a language that had not been spoken in these parts for at least a few centuries. The voice was quiet yet echoed into his sleep-addled mind like gentle music playing from far away. The sleep song elongated the night.

“Quvich, stim tiniim, shinquo. (Oh rise with the sun.)

Quiash ovoichinich’j, tiniim, pah’h. (Fall with an evening star.)

J’s th’d Jhi’ioshinich’j, inich, do’ op. (Glittering gold in the deep.)

Pshinqu’ stich, ichst painsh: Had’ du, inich ro’op. (A prison so fair, a lady in her keep.)

Taiesh, stim tinh’h qui’inh’h, shvich. (Oh, will water still run.)

Quish’ shkh, tinh’h duoi, shajo. (And will storm yet rage.)

Oduoqu quinhvosh, tiniim inich, imosh. (With silver in her eyes.)

Imoad imosh, imoaj : Qurinoqu vohvoi, hst’t. (Hang her head low the velvet skies.)

Quimo, khadu i’imosho, hadu p’ stshovosh. (May she there forever lay.)

Quimad’ st’t, inich, I’inkho asush’ stqu’qu. (In shadow and across time.)

Hop’qu, tiniim ah’h atadu evshichod. (With all left burned away.)

Quih’hichogu’gu sust’kho, st’ p, ichinjimi ovosh: Hinjimi, tiniim st’ p, dadu. (Come stillness of the night, with the light of day.)”

The sorrowful feel of such a tune seeped within Diraimeir. As his eyes adjusted in the newly found light, he took in the fair face hovering mere inches above his own. Both fear and awe swallowed him. The apparition smiled kindly, kneeling before the nymph as she gently lifted his chin tenderly with her translucent fingertips. She did not speak any farther in his presence. There was no need to do so with his attention entirely on her. The woman coaxed Diraimeir to rise as she did in one fluid motion and the softest rush of wind. Once he was on his feet, she beckoned him to follow behind into the brush.

Luckily for Diraimeir, Tathlyn was already aware of the Avsha (or at the least her likeness). He was closing in on her in a measured crouch, eyes glued on the nymph. Truth be told, she didn’t seem to be bothered by the Fai or his antics whatsoever. Instead, she smiled warmly at Diraimeir. Maybe she felt the Fai was beneficial. Her host could be protected during the descent into the old city should they be exposed.

Instead of climbing over the crumbling stonework, the spectral figure led Diraimeir towards an overgrown path that even he had to duck down low to enter. From here, it was slow going. Tree branches and vines had to be forcibly moved out of the way, the perfect task for that old sword. Even though it was clearly of ancient make, the blade was impeccable. The still sharp edge was able to cut through the foliage easily, showing no signs of having ever dulled, let alone used. Diraimeir found it quite easy to wield. The stone that once surrounded the walkway had crumbled into fine rubble in many places, littering the trail. Any slight misstep here would send the Illitar tumbling down into tall beds of nettles. Diraimeir did stumble from time to time though Tathlyn was only steps behind, able to steady him before he could fall.

Diraimeir fell back slightly when he was aware of Tathlyn. He figured Tathlyn knew these things better than most. “Angering the dead can have unfathomable consequences, so I won’t fully interject,” Thatlyn whispered. “Clearly, she wants you to follow her. We must go with caution, though.” He helped Diraimeir get over a large fallen tree before he continued. “She hasn’t stopped me from tagging along, and I don’t feel she means any harm. I am beginning to think you are right.” Tathlyn was still skeptical in allowing Diraimeir to go deep into thief infested territory on his own.

Avsha’s call grew with each unsteady step, becoming denser and more substantial like the very air was a thick haze bearing down upon them. Tathlyn fell back as the neared the looming city, followed at a slight distance, keeping Diraimeir in his sights. Close enough to give the spirit space but also be able to pounce at the slightest provocation. Diraimeir would not be left to the whims of anything malicious as long as he could help it. Knowing so helped the boy relax.

The pathway became a long, steep stair that twisted down the hillside towards where the stream by their camp ended. At the edge of the city grounds, it dipped into the earth by ways of an old, deep cistern. Here stood an ornate, gated tunnel which must have once served as a hidden entrance. Probably used for the safety of the former royal family or, at the very least, smuggling things into the fortress in its hay-day. Compared to the rest of the building above, the tunnel was remarkably intact. Much of the original stonework was unscarred and left untouched by fire or warfare, having been overlooked mostly in part because of its sheltered location. Great roots broke through parts of the tunnel’s interior, though, aiding in holding the ceiling up and keeping potential looters at bay.

The gorgeous wrought iron gate stood halfway down the hall inside the tunnel and became a twisted and rusted heap in time, making passage close to impossible. Luckily, it left a gap just large enough to squeeze through near the ceiling. If one were careful, with just a little bit of effort and some skill, it could be done. Diraimeir, not the most graceful thing when it came to climbing, found it quite taxing. The metal snagged his tunic with a jerk, and he tripped. The thin fabric ripped all the way to the nearest seem as a sharp piece of the gate ran across his skin just hard enough to breach it. Diraimeir hissed softly, popping back up to his feet. It’s just so dark… He could hardly even see his hands if they were right in front of his face. The rest of the darkness was trekked through by having a hand trail the cold, damp stonework for the sole purpose of keeping himself from taking another tumble.

It was simply impossible for his eyes to adjust to this sort of darkness. So much so that when the pathway in front of them suddenly dead-ended, Diraimeir ran face-first into the wall. The resulting yelp of pain echoed overhead in the empty space, and he rubbed his poor nose grievously.

Tathlyn, who was not far after him, managed not to collide with Diraimeir’s back and the wall. As the Illitar stood there rubbing his aching face, the Fai had the good sense to pat along the wall before them. “There’s a door here.” He muttered, trying not to laugh at the boy’s expense. Tathlyn could feel a gap between two thick slabs of wood. Its hinges. A thin semi-circular handle rusted by age. And finally, a distinctive keyhole. The question was, was it locked?

Tathlyn pushed Diraimeir protectively behind him with a bow of his arm. “Stay behind me.” He whispered. Who knows what was beyond… Ash-red colored hands found the handles. One. Two. Three.  One hefty pull. Then another. And once more as the old wood groaned and creaked but surrendered to the Fai’s whims. The stone gave way to a vast circular courtyard that flooded them with the moon’s welcoming light.

 The courtyard was open to the sky above, within a tower of moss-covered stone that had to have been at least five stories high or more. A massive tree of soft pink stood in its center, surrounded by deep burgundy hued roses and peppered with leaves of gold and red. Other similar yet smaller trees had been planted at equal distances around the lawn’s perimeter, filling the space with the heavenly honied scent of maple. Like syrup and fresh-cut grass together. Directly across from the door they just came through sat a grand stairwell of some sort of greyish purple granite. It climbed up at least two flights before meeting with a balcony and another set of double doors.

These doors were much different than the first. Much more delicate. Silver, mixed with a studier metal, was expertly fashioned to create two beautiful doors. They sat side by side, forming into decorative leafy vines. They were left standing without signs of decay, though they certainly needed a good polish. Once, colored glass must have rested between the gaps in the metalwork. But those had long since fallen and shattered into colored dust. An old tapestry still hung as an awning over the balcony. Though it did have several tears and was sun worn, the pattern upon it was still somewhat visible. Silver thread still sparkled within, being the only string left in the torn parts to be still intact. Its makers used a thread comprised of actual silver, which caught the moon’s light like dew on a spider’s web.

A feeling of calm washed over the two of them as they came around the left side of the center maple. “What an enchanting place…” Tathlyn muttered, placing a palm on one of the still-thriving trees. He glanced over at Diraimeir and then toward where the specter should have been, though she’d gone some time ago. Tathlyn suspected that she went deeper inside already. He could still feel her presence lingering around them, suggesting that she was both everywhere and nowhere. Perhaps there was more truth to that old tale then what I thought. After all, it was supposed to be only a story with no credible facts. A story which had probably altered with time as it was told again and again as most stories did when they fell into fable.

Tathlyn took up the lead once more, only staying a step or so in front of the Illitar as he climbed up the old stairs, testing their ability to hold weight. Diraimeir hurried past him as soon as they met with the landing. The intricate doors before them stood as a testament of time. Or more accurately, of what wonders the ruins hid from the rest of the world for these last long years. Diraimeir leaned in to look through one of the gaps in the silver. “There is not much to look at, Tathlyn. It’s too dark.” He frowned softly.

Diraimeir corrected his posture, looking over his shoulder at Tathlyn and sighed. “Got that lantern still?”

With a little ingenuity, Tathlyn fashioned an excellent torch out of sticks and a strip of the old tapestry tightly wound over them. Being who he was, this was not his first time constructing something from rubble.

“Hold this.” He muttered, thrusting the torch into Diraimeir’s hands as he scouted the ground for stones. Particularly pyrite. If not, he was positively sure he still had a few small pieces of flint on his person he could make do with. The friction of either could spark a fire by skilled hands.

Diraimeir seemed confused by the torch. “What’s all this then?”

“You wanted a lantern. We have one, but that is all the way back at camp. It’s not like I can create one out of thin air.” Tathlyn said. “So, quit bellyaching. You can help me look for something to light it with.”

All the stone nearby was much too hard to strike together. Useless. The flint it is then. That’s such a pity. I was saving it for an emergency. I’ll have to make sure I pocket some more the next time I came across any. “Hold that still for me.” He instructed, striking the rock pieces together close to the torch in swift, scraping motions. After a few tries, the kindling and the cloth caught a spark of ablaze. Tathlyn took to the bundle out of the boy’s hands and blew over it gently. It encouraged the fire to grow. Tathlyn made a gesture with his chin for Diraimeir to open and enter the hall when he was sure it would stay alight.

The door eased open without so much as a squeak of sound. Even the dim firelight, the grandeur of this hall and chamber was not to be missed. Compared to the courtyard, it was clean and ideally kept. Picturesque statuettes of fae folk sat upon solid marble pedestals. The largest of them lined the main run of the floor, which had been constructed of a turquoise tiled mosaic depicting the angry sea and held up the ceiling with beautifully crafted hands. A large, unlit hearth ended the run before splitting off in troughs to line the edges of the back wall. Tathlyn checked the wood remaining within for dampness. It wasn’t in too bad a condition considering where they were. Rotted out, sure, but dry. How curious. It’s almost like These were prepared in waiting just for us. He mused. Tathlyn lay the torch within the fireplace till it caught, sending the fire slowly down to each end of the room. The chamber burst with the light of the spreading blaze and warmed it instantly.

Diraimeir tipped his head back in awe of the newly revealed vaulted ceiling, painted to resemble a stormy sky. “How pretty.” He mumbled, brushing past Tathlyn. Benches of marble rested up against the walls at the same measured distances between the pedestals, almost like an amphitheater. Though even with all these details, it seemed like this shouldn’t have been where this chamber ended. Tathlyn shook his head. He expected to end up in a bedroom or maybe even a throne room. Not this. “Doesn’t this room seem… odd to you?” He asked, interrupting his searching to glance at Tathlyn. “There is nothing here... Not for all this.” Diraimeir gestured to the room in general. “It’s like a place of worship, isn’t it?”

“Were you expecting a treasure room or something of that nature?” The Fai replied, having the same sort of feeling.

“Well, yeah. Why would she lead me here if this is all there was to see?” He scoffed with a dismissive wave of his hand. Disappointment clouded the boy’s face. Tathlyn could understand that considering that the last time Diraimeir had found himself in such a situation, it ended up insanely lucrative.

“Your Haun once told me that things are hardly ever what they seem. Rooms like these in the older places of the world tend to hold secrets and hide them well. You just have to have the wits to find them. Anything worth looking for is never so easy, so don’t give up just yet.” Tathlyn replied, trying to encourage the boy. “Think. If you wanted to hide something, how would you go about it?”

The Illitar narrowed his eyes a little bit, mulling the room over judiciously but missed a lot of the finer details. Tathlyn smiled faintly, following suit. This room could not possibly go elsewhere. Unless… Yes. That’s it. Tathlyn’s eyes traced the pattern of the waves on the floor, noticing it was fashioned into a spiral if one were to look at it from above. The flooring dipped inwardly slightly, though unless you looked for it, you would never have noticed it with how subtle the dip was. Time must have bowed it even farther, giving away the fact that it was not meant to be entirely flat. In the very center of the waves sat a small square stone, cut so that there was a noticeable gap between it and the other parts of the flooring. It was a sea blue gem surrounded by onyx tile, and it served as the eye of an angry whirlpool. It was a switch. Tathlyn was sure of it.

CLICK. Diraimeir, having the same thought cross his mind, stepped upon the stone. At first, nothing happened. Tathlyn blinked, his face looked dopey before he came to the boy’s side and huffed, stomping down on the rock again with all his force. As much as it seemed it would help, it was entirely unnecessary. The sound of stones grinding already began by then, groaning under their feet and shook the foundations of the room itself. The floor opened little by little as it shifted into a steep rampway. Slick from condensation and moss, both Diraimeir and Tathlyn tumbled down into the dangerous depths under the old city. Diraimeir braced himself for whatever impact was to come though he found none at all. The slide like path grew less steep as it went to the bottom. Like what covered the majority of the ramp itself, he landed in a bed of thick squishy moss. Right on top of Tathlyn.

Tathlyn grumbled to himself before he pushed the Illitar off him and stood to look around. That explains it, then. This hallway has an entirely different feel to it than the corridor above. It was well lit by iridescent pinkish-white crystals mimicking soft lamps. On either side of where they landed were shallow channels carved into a smooth polished floor, carrying clean water swiftly off to deeper destinations. Its trickling echoed in a soft, soothing manner that gave the space a serene feel.

 The Fai helped Diraimeir on to his feet before he allowed the Illitar to lead the way down the strip. Door after door they passed, all seeming unremarkable. Only one doorway stood out at all, though Diraimeir almost passed it by. It was Tathlyn that stopped the nymph from continuing initially, tugging him back before the room could be bypassed altogether. This door was different. Cracked open with the slightest sliver soft light spilling out from it, they just HAD to check it out.

As most of the castle under the ground, this area was exceptionally well preserved. Old flowers, dried with time, still sat in vases just inside the door’s frame. Soft, plush carpeting ran from the entrance all the way to a throne chair made of ivory and tan-colored stone in the fashion of great white wings in flight. Even the paint upon the walls, though faded, had not begun the process of peeling itself just yet. All of this had nothing to do with the gasp that escaped Diraimeir’s mouth. “Look…” He managed to squeak out as he pointed towards the throne and shook Tathlyn’s shoulder excitedly. There, sitting as perfect and as pristine as a picture, sat a woman. She was frozen in the same pink crystal that lit the way down. The duo recognized her immediately. She could have only been the specter.

She looked just like a doll encased in delicately clear rose quartz.  Avsha had long black wavy locks that fell down over her pale features like a blanket. Her cheeks and lips were still rosy with her last breath. Her silver eyes were half-lidded as a gentle, loving smile greeted them. Had she not been in the stone, Tathlyn would have thought she lived still. This queen of old was adorned in silver and white from head to toe. A magnificent tiered, winged crown and a gown with a jeweled bodice that spilled forth like a cascade of fabric marked the story of her origins. Though she was somewhat slumped on the throne, it looked as though she was ready still to rule. Both Diraimeir and Tathlyn had to take a few minutes to take her in.

                                                                                      *

After what seemed like hours, the Illitar took a few steps forward. Slow and steady. His hand stretched out carefully towards her lap, where the ball of light that illuminated the room originated. Tathlyn tried to grab and snatch Diraimeir back towards him. When that utterly failed, he sighed with annoyance. “That could be dangerous. Be cautious.” He whispered in a harsh, unbelieving tone.

“Shh. I will be alright. She said it wouldn’t hurt me. It was meant for me.” Diraimeir replied softly. Diraimeir placed his hand over the quartz, finding that his fingers were able to sink straight through the crystal. It allowed him to grasp the light and pull it back through using both of his hands.

A sound like a long last breath could be heard on the air, accompanied by a chilly burst of wind. Within the crystal, the body’s eyes shot wide open, gaping lifelessly at the Illitar. It might have been a play of the light, but he could have sworn that smile grew wider just for him. “It is done.” A feminine voice echoed around the chamber.

Diraimeir looked down at what he held now: A sphere of the same quartz covering the body. Perfectly smoothed out save for runes carved into it in Old Annun, dense with energy. How curious…

Creeeeeak… Diraimeir’s gaze snapped upwards, watching as thin lines etch themselves in swirls outwardly from where he had retrieved the stone from. The crystal casing shattered before the nymph could react to it. The body from within lunged forward at him.

 Deathly cold palms pushed the stone deep into his chest, where it then vanished with an imposing boom. It shook the foundations of the castle as Avsha faded then into a pile of dust. The tremors did not stop after that, either. Chunks of the ceiling began to shower down upon them, prompting Tathlyn to snatch up the stunned boy and make a break for it. The whole place was coming down as far as they knew. Tathlyn did his best to get Diraimeir safely down the hall without getting hit by the larger pieces of falling stone periodically dropping down from above. He was not fast enough. They nearly got crushed thrice over. “Snap out of it, kid.”

Fate would not abandon them to perish just yet. Diraimeir circled his Fai companion in his arms, hissing painfully as the spot where the sphere had been pushed into his body began to boil. Quickly, see-through wings manifested out of the Illitar’s back. With a rush of speed, he took off clumsily, hitting the wall at first. Diraimeir was able to push off on a straighter path through the way they came in when he regained himself. Directly up. Right through the reception room and out through the courtyard into the skies above as the corridor and parts of the old palace entirely collapsed in on itself in a plume of dust.

From up here, Diraimeir could see the layout of the complex as well as the cratered valley it stood watch within. The meager camp was not far from the destruction now unfolding as it was, though it was out of harm’s way. As the first signs of the sleepy morning sun crept up over the horizon, it cast dark shadows over all the things the light had yet to touch. Still, it made it easier to spot Diraimeir’s mare in the woodlands below.

 He was only aloft for a few clear minutes, turning course to dive back down into the forest in a free fall. Tathlyn screamed b****y murder even when, at the last second, Diraimeir swept up for a proper landing. Well, as good as a landing that one could have with no flight experience. It ended in another uneasy tumble into the mulched greenery a few feet outside of their campsite.

The wings shattered and vanished without so much of a trace of their existence shortly after. Diraimeir picked himself up and wiped himself clean of dead leaves and mud, chuckling all the while. “Not bad, eh?”

“… You have got to be joking. What happened down there? How? Why?” A million more questions muddled towards Tathlyn’s mouth, getting scrambled before he could formulate any more of them efficiently.

“I just knew, I suppose. It’s almost like the stone told me what to do. We ended up just fine. In fact, better than I expected. You know what they say.”

“No. I don’t. What do they say?”

“Geez… I don’t know, Tathlyn. It was just an expression… Look, that’s not the point. I heard the whispers of that woman in the stone... She told me that she had been waiting for me for a long time. The artifact she bestowed was hers to protect and hers to give. When the sphere entered my body, I could feel her holding me tightly. It felt like I was home...

I think the stone had been a piece of her for so long that it became a part of her, like a crystalized piece of her soul. Her power. That crystal was the sole thing holding that place together. She said it was meant for me and that she wished I had come sooner. Then maybe, she and her people may not have fallen the way they did.”

“What was the sphere? I have seen many things in my lifetime, Dira. I have never seen anything like that before. Never.”

“An Or’ stone. It was once used to aid in deciphering visions and things like that. I read about something like it when I first came to my Haun. A part of the second or third of his lessons, I believe. It’s a powerful stone. A piece of the Goddess’s magic that can manifest itself in many ways. It’s supposed to take years of practice to be able to use one. By the way, did Haun Chet tell you anything about why we are supposed to go to Cree before I left?” He asked curiously. All signs point to me being more important to this world then what I can fathom, but I still don’t grasp much about my fate. Why would someone be waiting for me for hundreds of years only to give me such a gift? Nothing about it makes sense.

“Not really. I was told to get you there and to make sure you did not get lost on the way. The secrecy of your people could rival any Fai.” He rubbed his sore butt. “I suspect all will be revealed in due time.”

“You must know something. What am I?” Diraimeir looked down at his open palms, feeling the energy in them tingling.