Dreamer: The Eighth Key book 1

Intruder

The sky was completely dark when the Ferry came ashore. It was pitch black with no stars nor moon to peek through the clouds. The heavens rumbled dully as they threatened to drop snow or maybe even a little sleet as well as lightning. It was at least ten degrees warmer here, though Diraimeir was quite okay with that. He was fully dressed now in the magnificent coat Chet gave him to protect him from the sun.

No little town had been established on this side of the Ferry. There was only an abandoned house by the docks, and a semi-worn path branching off in several directions could be distinguished in such minimal light. The other passengers parted ways quickly, leaving the nymph to fend for himself. Diraimeir did have a map, though it was a vague one that looked to have been hand-drawn out of memory. The best he could tell was to follow the road that turned southeastward and closest along the country’s coast. If he kept that in view, he would not get lost. “Where did Haun Chet even get this?” He said to himself as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index fingers.

The map was from an old book and likely one of the only maps anyone in Illustrae had a copy of. He was reasonably sure he could not put his trust in it if that were the case. It would mean that it had been surveyed before Gya’a’s fall. That would also mean that the landscape and the roads surely would have changed since then. This map offered no clues to settlements or any landmarks save for the mountains either. At least going south would have been a sure thing.

Diraimeir sighed in irritation as he turned the parchment over in his hands. There, the year mark had been written, almost too worn to read. He managed it, though he had to press his nose against the old paper to do it. 4th Era, Autumn, Year 1443.

That explained it. This map was created in the era of the Goddess’s reign. It was now the eighty-first spring of the fifth era, a full 109 years later. You would think that someone so well-traveled as his Haun could spare something more current. Diraimeir made a sour face before he stuffed the map into one of his saddlebags, walking with Ch’nuino down the lane he chose.

 Eventually, the sky started to clear overhead, opening into a wonderous spray of drifting colors. Beautiful green and purple cosmic rays danced, painting the ground with brilliant sparkles. The northern lights were an incredible sight. Diraimeir could stare at this sky forever.

Despite Cidraedell’s beauty and the spark of wanderlust flickering in his heart, Diraimeir had already begun to regret leaving most of the things he had been forced to part with. Food and a tent being among them. This side of the bay offered even less cover from the elements. The only difference was that it was no longer snowing. Fresh powder made the road muddy and slick beneath his booted feet. Usually, they would have been wrapped in cloth, but Chet saw to some proper gear. He found it all particularly miserable. Juniper and holly dotted the landscape along with soft rolling hills to the east, only offering momentary relief from the wind as he passed by them.

              The Illitar was simply bushed, but he pushed on despite his eyes growing heavy. His pace slowed to a crawl as he made his way up the road until he could find a better place in which to rest. With the steady rise of elevation, he came out into forests and rock in no time. It was still frigid, but there was little evidence of snow upon the ground anymore as tall evergreens created ample cover for them. The trees themselves had been trained and cut to grow like a tunnel over most of the path long ago. Tall enough for a man twice his size and several times his girth to comfortably walk through without worry. The way this was done gave the road an otherworldly glow as the starlight caught what little wetness managed to gather around tree trunks. Otherwise, it was dark but offered dry shelter.

Most people would say that it is unwise to set up camp on a roadway. And perhaps had Diraimeir been anywhere else, he would have heeded such advice. Though he could not this time. He was past the point of being able to keep going on tonight. His stomach ached, and his lips were dry. It was high time he dug out his cantine and a few strips of dried meat from what he was able to salvage.

 The Illitar found a spot that was somewhat hidden from the actual path but was still included under cover of the tunnel of trees. It was a deep laying hollow at the base of a large ancient pine. Sheltered from the wind with a soft bed of pine straw and hidden under low branches, the opening was wide enough for even the mare to fit comfortably. It was perfect. Diraimeir led Ch’nuino to lay under the eaves before he unrolled a blanket from her back and spread it out over her. The small male curled up next to her with their things at his side as he ate. Then he slipped off into the sleep he so desperately craved. Oddly enough, his slumber was dreamless.

The sun had not yet risen when the sounds of the snapping of branches and the crunching of brittle needles, coming too close for comfort, stirred Diraimeir from his sleep. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, for now, staying as still as a corpse. Whatever it was came so close to him that he could hear its brief, shallow breaths. Needless to say, he was scared. Maybe he should make a run for it. There was no reason for another person to be out in the snow lands like this. None that Diraimeir could think of, though let’s be honest. He wouldn’t know anything about ordinary travelers. He hadn’t known to cover up his tracks so that it wouldn’t call attention to him and the mare hidden away. Diraimeir shuddered a little bit but shifted just so, stealing a peek at the intruder.

The man was a Fai. A pale red-ashen skinned elf from the Bardridian Isles to the far south from what he could tell. Taller and bulkier than then nymph, with dirty red hair. The crouched figure had his back turned to the kid, too busy rummaging through Diraimeir’s things to have noticed Diraimeir was no longer asleep. The Illitar had to come up with a plan.

Diraimeir sat up slowly, though he managed to hit his head on the wood above him with a dull thump. He soon found deep copper eyes were on him, meeting his for a split second. When he averted his gaze away, he scanned the contents of his pack, which had been purposefully strewn out upon the snow. Diraimeir gasped, scrambling to get up on his feet. The Fai moved again into his direct view, and he tensed up as that gruff face loomed ever closer to his. Oh yeah, there was no way on the Goddess’s green earth that he had even remotely gone unnoticed at all up until now.

A steady calloused hand encircled his ankle, roughly tugging the small Illitar out into view. Not only out but up. This action prompted the mare that used to be at Diraimeir’s side to spook, kicking up in the snow with a high-pitched whinny.  Diraimeir did the only thing he could think of to give himself an upper hand. A hand full of icy snow and mud flung as fast as his thin arm could manage it towards the intruder’s face. The Fai seemed decently unfazed.