Dreamer: The Eighth Key book 1

Distances

Distances

Somewhere far off in a distant part of the realm, a roar from deep within the earth rumbled through rock. It tore it asunder with each echo ringing through the caverns, halls, and canyons like a ravenous cataclysm. It almost sounded like sinister laughter in the gloom, though it was only the cracked scream of a captive. Dust and rock crumbled down like discarded paper, opening to an eerily sick looking star-strewn sky. Its nauseating orange glow almost pulsated. Bu-dump. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Like the erratic flutter, a heartbeat that grew as more clouds overtook the heavens and heavy rain acid-washed downward into the darkness.

Despite all this, another poor soul moved in the deep. Someone whispered soft pleas to the deities above, having long since lost meaning. This figure was adorned in cloth that was so worn; they could no longer be considered clothing. Ashen and crusted burgundy marks painted the form of such a pitiable creature. She stood thin and small from malnutrition, holding at just under five feet. She was blond of hair, curled in perfect natural ringlets. Like many of her kin, her creamy tan skin was covered in patches of iridescent scales, which shimmered in the light as though peppered with silver stardust. Even like this, as the poor wretch she had become, she was a vision. Thistale was her name.

With eyes just as clouded as the sky above her, Thistale snapped her head to the side. She could not see, but she could feel it. Now came her time to leave this place. She did not know why or even how it happened; all she knew was she tasted freedom. The chain around her ankle, having held her captive for more time then she could count, fell away with an echoing clink. That was the only help she was awarded at this juncture. Beggars surely cannot be choosers, though. She was grateful. Even if she had to stumble around in her world of nothingness alone, she longed just to feel the sun’s warmth once more. It had been a long time.

Her movement across the rough rock was destined to be slow, as to be expected. Thistale still felt like she was not alone. There was another person in front of her judging by the sound of it. But thus far, they had not touched nor spoken to her. It didn’t matter. The resulting noise allowed her to find her way out just by listening. The subtility of fabric and footsteps kept her on the right path. Like this, the entire trip took a little less than an hour’s time.

Thistale arrived at an opening in the crags that allowed the sun to kiss her face with radiant light. If only I could see this place. Short dried grasses flourished and scattered around her feet to cushion them. For the first time in an era, she could take a deep breath of fresh air, sinking into her frame to soothe her aching lungs. She was free!

When a warm wind caressed her body, Thistale’s knee’s buckled. Her savior cleared his throat and took her hand as he knelt before her. “My lady, please get up. We have no time to waist. I know you are overwhelmed, but we cannot afford to make my mistress wait. She has an important task for you.”

“Task? What right does anyone have to ask a favor of me?” Thistale swooned, feeling bile build in her empty stomach and churn. After they kept me locked away, they are only willing to free me if I become a servant? Is that it? “Who are you? Where is Mother?” She braced herself upon a stone to keep from falling as a rush of reality swallowed her. That’s right. Mother is gone. Thistale could not remember all of the details. Maybe she only saw what she wanted to see, but she could remember the Goddess and her mother. Didn’t mother stab the Goddess in her sleep that night when the world wept and cried for out for change? But… Why? She was drawing a blank.

“Do not trouble yourself with that. All of this was her will from the beginning. And now, it’s time for her to wake. You must help to usher in a brighter future for all of Sharn. It is time to reopen the Tempid sea and bridge the gap between our nations with those across it.  They say you should never ignore a Goddess’s whims, Thistale. You of all people should know at least that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course, you don’t. You don’t have to worry about understanding it. You just need to do it. Just follow me. Just… Trust me. I have been working on your behalf all these long years. Do not let the fruits of my labor go to waste.”

“I… guess so. How can I trust someone I just met?” She stammered.

“Come now, don’t make such a sad face. Let’s get you cleaned up. You and I have someone to meet before we get to all the details of what is expected of you. She’s already sent a message out for you. But you know, I don’t know how much of herself is scattered.” The man smiled and leaned in. “But you did not know that, right, my Lady?” He pushed his square finger into her chest.

“What do you mean? Look, I am really trying to figure out what you are talking about. Stop being so cryptic.”

“Oh, Thistale! You remember what happened as soon as the Goddess passed, don’t you? Both you and I heard the stories. What’s more, don’t tell me you had forgotten the day when you lost your sight, and she shattered.” Just like when a piece of glass was dropped on tile, the woman flinched. Her savior grinned in spite of himself.

“Sumrian?”

“Who else would be coming to save you? Come on. We have a lot to do. She left us instructions, and it’s not that far. I promise. You just need to watch yourself.”

Thistale pushed long ringlets of gold away from her thin face. She felt… Both glad and frightened that Sumrian was the one to free her from this wretched place of ash and volcanic rock. Once, long ago, they had been inseparable. As she recalled, it was by his benefactor’s prodding that caused her captivity. She was framed, was she not? Thistale furrowed her brows in thought as the half-elf pulled her up a hand-carved, uneven stair. Climbing upward sharply, she had the most challenging time not scraping her toes on the ground. Sumrian seems almost too insistent. Too needy. There were things she still needed to understand about this entire endeavor, but by the way he was acting, she didn’t figure it was anything good.

Thus far, her horrible luck seemed to continue on. Something told the Draconic that whatever end was in store for her would not be enjoyable. That horrid feeling swelled up from the pit of her core, radiating out toward every fiber of her being. An internal warning, I’m sure. Still, Thistale followed. It was either that or return to the dark, solitary world below.

Joyous voices found her honed ears within minutes of climbing, and the pair emerged from a corridor. Had Thistale really been this close to civilization all this time? Her expression soured even more so. Unbeknownst to her, she had only been a few miles underneath Holt’s peak, the bustling capital city of Bardridor. Thousands of people passed overhead daily. In fact, the woman had not even surfaced on just any typical dirty street. The corridor led into a grand manor with all the finery and comfort that Bardridor had to offer. High, fat pillars of polished ashen marble held up a domed canopy of cut dusty pyrite capped by a ring of moonstone inlay as its molding. On either side of the expansive room, staircases spiraled upward in a full arch and disappeared. Drop pendant lighting hung like a grand chandler in the center of the room, mimicking oversized raindrops falling in the soft light of the dawn.

              As soon as her dirty feet hit smooth cold stone flooring, Thistale knew her so-called “higher purpose” was pulled by the hands of the wealthy. Sumrian led her up another flight of stairs and down a wide hallway before pushing open a door near its end. “My lady, this is where you will stay until we are ready to depart. This is Anmarite. She will aid you with all of your needs for now. The Mistress needs you to become presentable. As soon as you are ready, please meet with us down in the gardens for counsel.” With that said, he turned on heel and left Thistale to gussy up. Whatever that was meant to be.

Anmarite was full-bodied, as pretty as the stone in which she had gained her namesake. Curly light brown hair tied in a poof of a bun at the top of her crown brought out the vivid coloring of her cold spring green eyes. A delicate sheer dress sparsely covered her vibrant caramel skin though it did manage to hide all the necessary things. Bright colors suited her. To Thistale, she appeared to be very kind. Anmarite sighed slightly as she gently placed a hand on either of Thistale’s arms, guiding her around the room. “The bath is already waiting for you. Be careful now. We would not want you to trip.”

Thistale had not been afforded the chance to protest as she was pulled away. And, for a split second, she swore she could see. Not the things around her, but she could have sworn she saw a glimmer of  Anmarite at her side. The draconic shook her head a little bit. After all, that was quite impossible! She must have imagined it. At least that was what she told herself. 

The quarters that they came into was grander than any other Thistale had the privilege to pass through by far. Nobility in Bardridor held cleanliness above most aspects of daily toil, so it should not have come as that much of a surprise. This would explain the utter extravagance of the bathhouse. Lacquered red and gold paint, along with more moonstone and copper accents, brightened up the space around a large basin built into the floor. Sparkling subtly like that of Thistale’s scales, it was carved of the same pearly moonstone the domed roof had been chiseled out of. The tub was shallow, though, with three steps that surrounded the entirety of it. Milky mineral-rich water filled it to the brim, naturally filtering down from a volcanic hot spring just above the building itself. Holt’s Peak, the city she had found herself in, was full of them.

With aid, Thistale undressed and slid carefully into the warmth of the earthen smelling water. She allowed the salts and flecks of silver material to soothe her tired frame. Oh, what a difference the soak had made! The grime of her captivity in the lightless halls lifted itself away and vanished, giving Thistale’s skin life anew. Anmarite was quiet as she entered the water, wading toward the Vale so that she could help scrub her to perfection. Though Thistle was fully capable of doing it herself, that was just how things were done. The soft, nostalgic hum of a lullaby accompanied the rhythmic washing. The women eventually exited the waters to dress in the most beautiful silks the country had to offer. Thistale only had to wonder what the reason for such dotage was.

For her, a floor-length turquoise evening gown with silver facets had been prepared. The back was cut into a sharp V, lined in lace. With that, layers of pinned flowy tool mimicked a cape and a train. Her golden ringlets were pinned up to fall to the left side of her face. In the end, she could have passed for someone of the utmost importance. Thistle was lovely.

                                                                        *

The gardens were, more or less, just as stunning as everything else. It was not a garden in the way of flora and fauna. That was just not capable in this region of Sharn. Too much ash was in the air, stifling the sun’s rays on a daily basis for that. And even during the few times of the year the ash did not fall, too many volcanic hot spots sprung up out of the earth to support anything but shrub grasses and charred trees. Not even those existed this close to Mount Tomnas. This garden was a cavern of natural rock formations and crystals, the bulk of it being spongy looking andesite. The ceiling was the main focal piece. It sparkled like a million fires above with the aid of thinly channeled magma, twinkling when one took even a single step in any direction. Some of the formations mimicked that effect like columns covered with evening fireflies.

Quite the group awaited the two of them. Politicians were seated around a natural stone table at the cavern’s center. All of which quieted when Thistale was seated. Anmarite was the next to speak, shocking her. Wasn’t she just a servant? Sumrian! What did you drag me into this time? Whatever it is can’t be good. I bet you are around here somewhere, with that stupid smirk you always have on your face. I bet you think this is funny, you jerk.

 “Gentlemen, I thank you for your prompt attendance. This is the final piece of the puzzle we have been discussing. If she is willing, then she will be a great asset to Bardridor’s fate.” Anmarite motioned towards the Thistale with a wave of her hand and a satisfied grin. “As Sumrian has no doubt told you already, she is the path to obtaining the remaining Keys. I do hope you will show her the same respect that you have shown myself these long years. And I would so hate to remind you all that Bardridian states the blessed are superior and will be treated as such.” The woman placed her hand upon Thistale’s shoulder, causing her to jolt and sit up straighter. Thistale thought Anmarite was a mother scolding children that she knew where up to mischief. Anmarite commanded them. Unlike Sumrian, Thistale felt an almost innate fear with the soft-spoken woman the second she opened her trap. She had only known her for an hour or so, but she was already reeling. Disgruntled looks, including her own, were hardly hidden from Anmarite.

              It was clear now that Anmarite held a lot more power than she initially let on. A dark smile rushed across her lips as her grip on Thistale’s shoulder started to dig into her skin. “I have called you all here for this reason. You all will aid me, and Lady Thistale, in our task to retrieve the other Key’s. Show me where your loyalties lay.” She demanded, her gaze boring down on them as though she dared them to disobey. Thistale could feel it. She swallowed heavily.

To be frank, Thistale was stunned. She had thought Anmarite was of her own class when there she was, the acting matriarch Sumrian must have been referring to. Anmarite must hold the highest seat in the city. So… Who is this other “She”? Surely it would not be the Goddess, could it?  Her questions were not about to be answered now. Not in front of these pompous and pious idiots. She’d already made enemies just by her mere presence. Untouchable… But not at the same time. Thistale sat, nodding to various opinions and suggestions, keeping her input to herself lest she be made a fool of.

“This is ridiculous. Why should any of us support this criminal? Or you for that matter, Lady Anmarite? The last time I invested in you, I lost many things. I do not think this will bear any better results.” A man slammed his hand on the table. Thistale snapped her head in his direction. “And you expect me to bend to that abomination? Her life should have long since been forfeit.”

“Here. Here.” Another agreed, along with three others.

“How much more of our wealth and our sons are you willing to waist on your ambitions? What have you to say about my boy never coming home after you promised there was nothing dangerous about what we were doing?”

“Enough! You all are just cowards! Our lady has only done what was best for everyone! For the glory of Bardridor!” The arguments continued, giving Thistale a headache. She had to resist the urge to rub her temples.

“The glory of Anmarite, you mean.”

“If not for her, our nation would have long since fallen into ruin. You know it to be true, and you still turn your back? You have profited on her success as much as anyone else here.”

              Thistale could feel Sumrian in the vicinity as she tuned out the other voices, yet he also said nothing. How unlike him. He’s always been the type of man to mouth off the first chance he got. I have to wonder, who is pulling strings now? Anmarite? She sounds as disliked as I am. Maybe even more. Thistale had begun to feel as though her presence was the sole trigger for the attitude she had heard around the table as her fate, and Bardridor’s was discussed. Thistale shifted uncomfortably, losing herself to her own thoughts. Her fingers stroked the base of her chin. A nudge to her shoulder came before she figured out that the very man in question was now addressing her.

“Is there something wrong, my Lady? You look unwell.” The whisper found her ear over the other voices filling the room. Sumrian must have been right behind her the entire time. How embarrassing.

Her sightless eyes blinked in recognition of him. “Not at all. I am fine. I just…” It was not wise to say that she didn’t understand the going-ons around her. “I think I may have stayed in the bath for too long. I was a little dizzy, but it passed.” Thistle forced a smile, sitting up with a little more poise.  

The man bent low over her shoulder, whispering just loud enough for anyone listening to hear.  A slightly snarky “I will explain things later” was muttered before he left her and took his place at his mistress’s side. “My lords! Let us not forget what is to be gained here. Not just for us, but all of Bardridor. The wealth and the power Anmarite has bestowed upon each one of you alone is worth more than the small sacrifices we are asking of you now. All of you lost something dear to you before you united under Anmarite. I should think you would like to regain it all back and more! Others are on the move; I assure you this. We just need to be quicker!” None of it was as easy as the smooth-talking Sumrian made it out to be, Thistle knew that much.