Times Forgotten (Post Two)

Fortunately, though it was still a ways off, the smoke from his men's fire was easy to see over the treetops, the lazy grey streamer drifting up into the crystal blue sky.  They had been lucky that the mountains had blessed them with a rare bit fair weather, something that would soon become a memory once winter fully descended the rocky slopes.  Alec looked up at the snowy peaks of the Thorn Mountains, well aware that their storms are the stuff of legends.  Many men, both friend and foe of the dwarves, had been lost in sudden whips of lethal fury from these mountains.  Survivors would tell stories about how the roaring winds would hurl the snow so hard that any exposed skin would be worn raw in minutes.

He also knew that, despite the untouched look of this particular peak, named Rorrin's Horn after Baldrik's ancient ancestor, the dwarves had many eyes watching them at all times.  Story told that the entire mountain had been turned into a winding network of tunnels and lookouts, masterfully crafted in such a way that the untrained eye would never see them.  Dwarves could be devilishly sneaky creatures when it came to protecting their secrets.  The man sighed and returned his attention to the path ahead of them.

As they travelled farther and farther down into the tree line, leaving that area above which nothing grew, it became harder and harder to pick out the camp's fire.  Soon they were enveloped in a mass of towering, ancient pines that cut off everything but brief glimpses of the sky directly above.  It was deceptively peaceful, the sounds and smells of the forest so serene and seemingly untouched.  Yet any wise man knew that ancient trees often harbored ancient creatures who would fiercely protect their home.  This place was no exception.  Between the unforgiving mountains and the surrounding forest, it was not hard to understand why the Iron Wells remained hidden for so long.

Indeed, even one as experienced with a blade as Alec could feel worry here.  He reached over and checked that his sword was close by and ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.  Even Baldrik had stopped his muttering and was warily watching the surrounding trees.

"You dwarves surely know how to pick a perfect spot to call home..."  Alec tried his best to release at least some of his tension.  There was nothing to be alarmed of.  Yet.

"Aye, we do be knowing the value of our home."  Baldrik still sounded distant, but his eyes were sharp.  "Asides, what we be here for lies 'neath us. We don't be caring too much for what's up here."

The dwarf's ability to insert his disdain for the surface into almost anything he said was astounding.  Alec just shook his head again; "Yes, I know."

They fell back into silence as both were too involved in watching and listening to the forest around them.  Even the horses were listening.  Their ears were flicking wildly, and they hardly made a noise but for the sound of their hooves in the dead pine needles on the ground for there was no paved path for them to follow.  Instead Alec guided his wagon through the woods following subtle markers and clues placed by the dwarves.  Things simple as a fallen tree, positioned just so, or a pile of rocks that, to any untrained passerby, would seem completely natural.  Dwarves could be sneaky, but these were exceptionally so.

"We be watched.  And it aint me boys."  Baldrik's voice was low and gruff.  He still seemed outwardly uninterested, but there was a hint of the tension now built up in the stubby dwarf's body: the tip of a studded mace could be seen sticking out from under the folds of his heavy cloak.

A subtle nod of Baldrik's head directed Alec's hooded gaze to the right of the wagon, off into the dark thicket of trees.  The gloom was so heavy that the man could hardly see anything, but he could almost feel whatever was watching them, lurking just out of eyesight.  The small hairs on the back of his neck prickled.  "Can you tell what it is?"

"Aint no way to be knowin'.  Most men 'er dead that's seen what be out here."  He paused and rubbed a finger under his nose, sniffling heavily before returning his hand to his cloak.  "Though I don't be thinkin' we in trouble just yet. 'Else it wouldn't a showed isself."

Alec supposed the old dwarf had a point.  Part of him found it odd that the tribe of the Iron Well would allow their founder and leader to tread this dangerous path out of the peak.  He supposed that the dwarves in all their secrecy saw move value in keeping their cards close than in a single, albeit legendary, dwarf smith.  It might even have been at Baldrik's command: regardless of how things turned out, the forges would still be burning long after Baldrik Firehammer joined his ancestors in the hallowed halls of the afterlife.

The weapons master continued to glance in the direction of whatever was following them between course adjustments.  He never once caught a glimpse of it beyond a darker shadow shrouded in even more shadow.  He found the sudden silence unsettling.  Besides the creaking of the wagon and the clop of hooves through the underbrush, there was not a sound to be heard.  Any breeze had gone still, birds and forest critters had ceased what they were doing.  It felt almost as if one giant, collective breath was being held in anticipation for what would come next.

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Rustle #3

Rustle Donaldson III strode down the marble floored hallway, his head held high, nodding to the other students as he passed. Everyone in the school knew who he was and he liked it that way. He always had his best friend, Craig, at his side, leading the way wherever they went. Craig had been blind ever since Rustle knew him, but Craig's father had let him live with the family ever since they were both very young. Rustle felt he owed a lot to Craig, so made sure no one picked on him. Because of Rustle, everyone loved Craig.

                "Hey Rusty, let's go back to the room," Craig said, using Rustle's nickname, and began tugging on Rusty to make sure he was listening.

                Rusty winked at a girl passing by and she visibly swooned over his dark eyes and golden haired looks. He had that affect on every girl, though Rusty never purposefully  tried to gain their attention when he was near Craig. The guy was already blind, but he had the ears of an owl and usually teased Rusty when he was trying to go for a pretty girl.

                Finally Rusty switched directions, heading down the back hallway that lead to Craig's and his own room. Ever since they went to school, they made sure to have the same dorm room. The school understood that the pair of friends could never be broken, so went through extremes to make sure everything went properly. Rusty loved the outdoors, so they even found a room that was only a short trot away from the back courtyard.

                "You know, Rusty, I haven't heard from dad in a long time. He's usually calling me and telling me about the different business trips he's gone on, or where he is traveling to next in his fancy jet plane or whatever new toy he's gotten."

                Rusty could only shrug, not knowing what to respond to such a statement. He considered Craig's dad as his own dad, but Mr. Krueger never took the time to reach out to Rusty since they left for college. Rusty had expected something like this to happen considering he didn't even know who his own father was, and knew that in general he had bad luck when it came to the father department. He was, however, instructed to take good care of Craig, and that he would. Rusty would never turn his back on his best friend.

                "He got this new boat, you know," Craig continued as if not noticing Rusty's silence. "Apparently it was fixed up by some Captain of the Navy."

                Rusty only grunted as they continued down the quiet hallway. Rusty hated being out on a boat, and Craig knew it. Rusty also knew that Mr. Krueger hated boats as well, but couldn't resist buying something he felt was worthy of his money. He could just imagine how the man would want a boat fixed up by some Captain.

                "I know, I know, you hate boats and swimming, but I thought it would be cool to home and go for a ride on it."

                Rusty knew that Craig was hinting at him coming with, but just the thought of standing in a rocking boat made his stomach become queasy. "I guess if you want to go, we can," he murmured, trying not to say it loud enough where Craig would hear him.

                "That's the spirit!" Craig exclaimed as they turned into their dorm room and shut the door behind them.

                Rusty only sighed and shook his head as he made his way toward the corner of the room to grab a snack to eat. Craig slowly made his way toward his bed, sitting down heavily and throwing his books to the ground.

                "I really don't want to do homework tonight," Craig complained, but continued to open his Ancient Civilization book and started scanning through it, using his finger as his reading guide.

                The night went by quickly with the two taking frequent breaks outside in the courtyard, talking to the other students who were also ignoring their work for a few hours to enjoy the warm fall air.

                Finally the two settled down into bed, Rusty stretched on top of his blankets while Craig settled deep within his. Rusty knew Craig was becoming increasingly worried when his father did not call him yet another night in a row. It truly was very unusual.

                "Maybe I should call him," Craig tried to reason.

                Rusty shook his head. "You know he wouldn't answer this late at night."

                Craig sighed and rolled over on his bed, ignoring Rusty's words but not picking his phone up to call his dad, either.

                Hours passed when suddenly Rusty woke with a start. He could feel the air in the room change, making his hair stand on end. It was freezing, as if the window had been blown open and snow started pouring into the room.

                Blinking in disbelief, Rusty stared at an opaque figure standing right beside Craig's bed. It looked somehow familiar as if he knew who this figure was. He had never seen a see-through person before.

                Craig also woke with a start, sitting up straight, his hands tightly clenching his blankets from fear.

                "Rusty, what is going on?" Craig said, his voice filled with his panic.

                The figure only stood there, standing over Craig's bed, completely ignoring Rusty.

                "Son," the figure spoke, making Rusty shiver. He now knew why the figure seemed so familiar. "Listen closely, son. I was out on that boat. It crashed. Don't worry. I went quickly. Keep close to Rusty."

                As soon as Mr. Krueger had appeared in his ghostly form, he disappeared and the temperature in the room turned back to normal. Rusty felt his body begin to unfreeze, though he felt his panic rise.

                "It was dad! Something's wrong! Dad was a spirit! What's going on!?!"

                Craig threw his blanket off and ran to where his phone sat in its usual place on his desk. Rusty could see the light from the phone as it was flipped open and Craig dialed a number.

                Rusty's panic only grew and he jumped off his bed, yelling in fear, "What's going on? Why did I see dad standing by your bed? I don't understand!"

                Craig turned to Rusty and snapped, "Shut up! I'm trying to call dad's phone!"

                But no one answered. The two stayed up the entire night, side by side waiting for his phone to ring. But both of them knew that something was seriously wrong. Even Craig, who did not see his dad in spirit, felt his presence and heard his voice. Rusty was still trying to understand.

                Before the sun was peaking above the horizon, Craig finally got the call. His father had taken his new boat out to sea without waiting for his hired captain to take him. He had been impatient, and had therefore paid the ultimate price, capsizing out at sea.

                Craig had then thrown his arms around Rusty, weeping for hours while Rusty sat in numb silence. Mr. Krueger hadn't even said good bye to him in ghost form. He truly was an unwanted son, but knew his role was to be a protector for his best friend.

                "Don't worry, everything will be okay," Rusty reassured him.

                Another semester passed and the two were back home for the summer. Craig had never been the same since that night his father came to visit the two in the dorms. Craig became obsessed with the afterlife, knowing that something was out there, something that needed solving. Rusty wanted nothing to do with it, but unfortunately had the knack for seeing these spirits and being able to keep Craig from danger in the different run-down buildings they had been to.

                Rusty felt like Craig was searching for his father, trying to find his spirit again and talk to him one last time, but Rusty knew that his father had already moved on. However, he didn't have the heart to tell Craig that his father was beyond gone. Instead, he helped Craig find more and more evidence of otherworldly activity, which seemed to make him happy.

                Rusty had also fallen from being the most popular to just another body moving through the hallways. Craig seemed to throw people off with his internal pondering, even making Rusty want to run away a few times, but he knew he couldn't abandon Craig. So instead, he just kept his head down and pretended not to care that he was no longer the center of attention.

                "Rusty, this summer I have lined up all different places for us to visit and capture more electronic voices from ghosts. I know you can see them, so just keep letting me know they are there and I'll do the talking!"

                Rusty wanted to groan at the news, but kept silent. The house was only a reminder of the lack of life that had come from Mr. Krueger, so at least they were getting out of the house.

                "And look, Rusty, Nana Jean gave me this letter and told me the story of a nurse who committed suicide, not knowing that a man she saved left a love letter for her! Isn't that great? This nurse must be still lingering around! Maybe we can find where she lived and talk to her!"

                Rusty knew that this would be their first stop for the summer, so prepared for the adventure. There would be many more to come, so he knew better than to ask to sit out this one time. Craig had asked some others to come with them to help with the trip. Rusty didn't know how to handle the equipment, after all. He was never good with technical things.

                Several days later, the group had finished their research and headed toward a rundown farm a few hours from their home, ready to communicate with a ghost that may still be hanging around. Rusty had his doubts, but he continued on with the group. It was dark out by the time they reached their destination, but that didn't matter to any of them as they laid out the equipment in all the rooms.

                Once finished, they all sat in a wide circle in a small room, waiting for any change in the atmosphere. Finally, Craig asked the open air, "Is anyone in here?"

                Rusty scanned the room before his eyes came to an almost see-through girl curled up in the corner, openly weeping.

                "Did you hear that?" they all seemed to exclaim at once.

                The girl looked up suddenly, her eyes fearful and almost close to madness as they locked into Rusty's eyes.

                "A dog?" the girl's voice asked, sounding as if it were traveling across an entire ocean before reaching their ears. The next moment she was gone, as if the energy had been sapped right out of her.

                Craig shivered as he held out his device to capture any sounds a human ear could not hear. "Dude, did you hear that?" he asked the group. He could feel the group nod and murmur their agreement.

                Craig reached over and pet the top of Rusty's head in excitement. "You really are my seeing eye dog, aren't you? You see everything, even ghosts! This is going to be an eventful night!"

                He patted the retriever's head once more and grinned at his fellow group members. He couldn't see Rusty look up at him, but he could feel the dog's excitement as he panted and swished his tail.

                An interesting night indeed…

A Horrible Dream (Post Fifteen)

The steady drip of water is what brought her out of her dream.  She sat up, her thoughts fuzzy and thick.  Lethargy was set deep in her muscles like she hadn't moved in a week.  The room was dark and deathly silent.  She couldn't hear any of the normal sounds of the cabin and that struck her as odd.  Normally the old walls creaked or the trees were heard rustling outside.  Now there was nothing.

Sam looked around, her head refusing to make sense of anything.  She felt numb.  There were dark forms on the floor and the smell of turned earth in the air.  The cold stone slab beneath her felt rough on her skin.  Why there was a cold stone slab, she didn't know.  She shivered, rubbing her arms, suddenly aware that she was naked.  Where she was and how she got there was a mystery to her.  The last thing she could recall was going upstairs to close the crawlspace but nothing more.  Everything beyond that was hazy at best.

As feeling seeped back in to her, she realized that she was sore.  Her shoulders felt like they had been twisted in their sockets and her hands felt raw.  Sweat covered her and burned as it seeped into what had to be hundreds of cuts all over her body.  Some of them seemed to form patterns but she couldn't make them out in the gloom.

She jumped back onto the slab with a gasp when she went to stand, shocked by the clammy wet mud that her feet found on the floor.  It finally struck her that she was no longer in the cabin.  She slowly stepped back into the mud, intent on one of the mounds on the floor.  Kneeling in the dark, she reached out and touched it, recoiling when she felt the smooth skin of a person.  Rolling the body over, she fell back into the mud with a scream upon seeing the wide, glazed eyes of Jack staring back at her.  The other mounds became apparent as bodies, none of which were moving.

From the floor she noticed something above her.  Two little purple orbs floated there in the dark, like gems being lit from behind.  Something about them felt so wrong, but so very inviting, like she had seen them before.  She looked away for a second, but when she looked back they were gone.  Nothing but the gloomy shadows remained.

She stood, wrapping he arms around her chest both for warmth and to cover herself.  She was shivering, the cool, clammy air quickly chilling her.  She wanted to cry but something prevented her.  Suddenly she felt someone behind her, standing just close enough for her to know they were there.

Sam realized that she couldn't move, her body frozen in place.  The only movement she could manage was the soft shivering of both fear and cold.  Whoever was behind her moved closer, touched her, pressed against her.  The contact was warm, almost searing hot on her skin.  She tried to recoil but couldn't.   Inhumanly dark, rough arms wrapped around her shoulders and grabbed her head, turning it to one side.

"The lineage lives on..."  The whisper of a thousand voices echoed in her ear.  The creature's sickeningly hot breath rolled over her and her stomach started to churn yet she still couldn't move.  It held her for a moment longer, making no more sounds.

Then, as quickly as it came, she was alone.  Her knees buckled and she fell into the mud, curling into a protective ball.  Tears flooded to her eyes and she sobbed silently, still unsure of what had happened.  She spent a long time there before she tried to stand again, suddenly needing to find a way out.  Something was still there with her, watching and waiting as she stumbled around the bodies of her friends towards the only tunnel out.  It could be heard slinking along, the mud slopping around it as it moved.

Sam tried her best to keep moving, to ignore it, but it was no use.  It was getting closer with every step.  She turned, unable to keep her nerves any more, but stopped in silence when she found a small girl there, standing silently in the dark.  Her dark hood shrouded her face, but she couldn't be more than five or six years old.

For some reason Sam felt the need to help the girl, comfort her.  "How did you get down here?"  She knelt down and reached her hand out, "Don't worry, it'll be okay..."

Suddenly the girl's face shifted into that of a grotesque grin, her eyes blazing with purple flames.  She laughed before leaping at Sam, easily pulling her to the ground.  In seconds, everything faded again.

When Sam next awoke, she was in her chair in the cabin.  She was still naked, but all of the mud, cuts, and scrapes were gone.  Instead there was just a small gold chain around her neck, a tiny black amulet hanging from it.  She looked up and both her parents were there on the loveseat across from her, holding hands and smiling mechanically at her.  Both wore a matching gold chain and amulet.

"wha-What are you doing here?"

They just looked at each other before turning back to her, still smiling.  Behind them, on the stairs, there were two little purple orbs buried in the shadows.  Sam tried to scream but realized she had no control of her body.  Instead, she stood up from the chair and moved to kneel before her parents.  Their faces had begun to change, deep crags and rifts splitting the flesh.  Still they smiled, both placing a now-clawed hand on her shoulders, and saying "Welcome home, daughter."

Closed Eyes - 14

Cece shifted uneasily, smoothing the gaudy dress over her hips. Loyie simply stared at the closed door, her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes dancing like fire. King Xvenaad's expression could have been carved from stone. 

Finally the king tore his eyes away from the closed door to look at Cece, who couldn't seem to find a comfortable position to be standing. She constantly shifted, which was not quieted when the king's cold eyes fell on her. 

"I hope for your sake that my son is not correct," Xvenaad said in his gravelly voice. "I trust you, Watcher. You have been around for much longer than all of us and have seen things none of us would wish to see in your place. But that does not mean I trust the prophecy and its outcomes." Although his words were for Loyie, he did not look at the small woman. He continued to watch Cece, as if she would suddenly grow fangs and claws and attack. 

Loyie stayed quiet for a long moment. She seemed to be taking in the sight of the king and Cece, weighing and measuring each in turn. "Prophecy is not always what it seems. It is neither good, nor evil, but is simply a message of what will come to pass based off those that are good or evil. The best anyone can hope for is that it speaks of a positive outcome, not the death of us all." 

Xvenaad sighed and finally turned away from Cece, rubbing his temples. He no longer looked so imposing, but rather a man with too much responsibility and too much weight upon his shoulders. 

Cece felt compelled to place an arm around the large man's shoulders and assure him that everything would be just fine, though she felt silly just thinking it. Why should I make anyone in my dream feel better? I'm getting waaay too into this dream! 

Instead, Cece simply said, "King Xvenaad, I have no intentions of hurting your people, no matter what this prophecy says. I simply just have to find a way out-" 

"- of everyone's bad graces," Loyie said over Cece, finishing for her. 

Cece felt her jaw drop incredulously, though she was too stunned to interrupt once Loyie had started. The woman didn't even seem fazed that she had spoken right over the top of Cece! 

The king did not seem to notice Cece's shock as he glanced up at Loyie, nor did he seem to care that Loyie had finished Cece's sentence. "I'm afraid my son has already done much damage, but there are ways to ease the men's minds. We cannot afford anyone wasting any time watching over this… guest of ours," Xvenaad said, as if unsure what Cece's status was within their makeshift village. "We are waging a war to get back what we lost, not to stare at a strange girl that could possibly be a viper in our den. We have no choice but to quiet what we can." 

The Watcher simply nodded and bowed her head. "I will make my rounds and ease concerns as I go. I will also make sure Cece stays under my watch. It will be easier to keep an eye on the girl." 

Xvenaad shook his head and stroked his chin in thought. "No Watcher, you cannot interfere if she does start anything to hurt our people. I will find a hut to put her in where more than one pair of eyes can watch over her. 

Cece planted a fist on her hips and glared at the two. "I am standing right here!" she nearly growled, though she felt surprised at her own forceful tone. She would never say such things if she were truly in front of a king and a strange woman who seemed young yet so old at the same time, but it was her dream, and she could no longer stand the thought of those two controlling everything! 

The two stopped speaking for a moment, eyeing Cece out of the corner of their eye. The king looked slightly surprised, but neither spoke. 

"Good, now, listen!" Finally something is going as it should… "I will not be treated as a prisoner or a child. No one needs to watch over me. I will be fine and dandy without you two sending anyone to stare at me and make sure I don't scare all the children at night."  

Giving the two her best glare, she spun and stalked out the door. 

Hands clenched in frustration, Cece began wandering around the small village, her jaw set tight. She ignored the frowns from the fierce men honing their weapons or standing guard around the camp, and she ignored the indignant sniffs from the women. Even the children avoided her. 

Why the hell can't I just wake up? This is so ridiculous! It went against Cece's nature to keep thinking so negatively, but she truly was getting tired of this dream. As much as she wanted to believe that this all was just in her mind, she hated how real everything felt. The sticks and hard packed dirt under her slippered feet, the cool breeze brushing against her face, all felt more real than any dream she had ever had before. Probably why I'm in such a bad mood. This place is exhausting! 

Cece shivered and stomped on, not paying any mind to the direction she was headed. It felt good to wander about as freely as possible and not have Bramaad's hard green eyes peering at her so accusingly. 

"You know, muttering to yourself doesn't help people feel more easy around you," a warm voice said, interrupting Cece's thoughts. 

Startled, she stopped mid-stride and blinked up at the tall man standing before her, a lazy hand on the hilt of a rather long looking sword. He also wore the leather armor with the embroidered eagle and sun, though it was over his heart, rather than on his right arm like the majority of men she had seen. Despite the smirk on his lips, his eyes held a deadly cast that made Cece take a few steps back from this man. 

Not wanting to talk to anyone, Cece clamped her mouth shut and turned away from the tall man. Maybe not the smartest thing I've ever done, turning my back on a man with a big sword, but if I hear one more comment on me bringing death to these people, I'll- 

"It is also rude to turn and walk away from someone trying to engage in a conversation with you," the voice said before Cece had only gone a few steps. 

Grinding her teeth, Cece turned and gave the man her best stage smile. "Please forgive me, sir, but I'm not in a very conversational mood, at the moment." 

The man shook his head and grinned at Cece as if her smile had been genuine. "Well, I'm afraid you can't be wandering about the camp. If someone else gets a hold of you, you may as well be one of the Grivnogn. Better you be properly escorted, and I volunteer my services." The man swept a flashy bow that made Cece roll her eyes. How much more can my mind really come up with!? Now I have a flourishing swordsman! 

"I don't even know who these 'Grignogn' people are, but I'm certainly not one of them, and I've no need for an escort," Cece said firmly, only slightly pleased that she had pronounced the strange name without too much hesitation this time. It seemed easy enough to catch on their strange pronunciations once more practice was involved. 

Straightening from his bow, the man slowly frowned down at Cece. "So you truly do not know of our land," he murmured, more to himself than to Cece. 

Cece sighed heavily and glared at the man. "No, I do not know of this stupid place! I wish I'd just wake up and let it all be over with! I just want a good night's sleep with Patrick by my side." 

 

The man's frown deepened as he watched Cece warily. Instead of questioning who Patrick was, or why she felt she hadn't gotten any sleep, the man said in a formal tone, "Well, then I should start from the beggining, if you truly do not know. I am Dravin, son of Heswisx, high Seat of Liowq, and First Commander of the Kreesh men."

 

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The Times Forgotten (Post One)

"It's too damned cold out here." The old dwarf shivered further into his fur-lined cloak and pulled his scarf up over his knobby nose.  His stubby toes were wiggling in his old but sturdy boots as they dangled over the wagon's seat edge.  His companion just looked over and chuckled at the grumpy dwarf before turning back to the reins in his hands.

"Come now, you can't say that this is anything you've never experienced before!"  He cast out a hand to gesture at the forest around them, barely white from the season's first snow.  "It's hardly cold enough to see one's own breath!"

"Aye, I feeled it afore. Dun mean I liked it."  He grumbled some more while continuing to huddle back into his cloak.  "Asides, I aint no damned surface creature."  He pounded his fist on the side of the wagon before hastily withdrawing it into his warm coverings and grumbling all the louder.

"My, if you keep scooting back into that cloak, I fear that you will plain disappear."  He reached out to pat the surly dwarf on the shoulder, still chuckling.

"I din ask ter be out here.  I din ask ter come. Aint where I'm posed to be."  His long, braided, fire-orange and grey-streaked beard waggled from under his scarf as he complained, almost like it had some life of its own.  The charms and binders woven into it clanked and chattered with the movement, the metal and stone sounding sharp against his gravelly voice, already muffled by his scarf as it was.  "I'm apposed to be at the forges.  Fire and steel are apposed ter be in my hands."  It was easy to see the dwarf's thick hands flexing under his cloak in remembrance of their tools as he spoke.  His eyes stared off distantly.

"We shall be back in the halls of the Iron Well before you know it.  Have no fear.  I understand this is not what you wanted."  He patted the dwarf on the shoulder again, only this time sympathetically.  The gruff creature hardly noticed.

Indeed the old dwarf had been the last one wanting to undertake this journey.  He had spent the last two hundred of his three hundred years among his brethren deep in the caverns of the Iron Forge, bending steel and stone to his will, shaping some of the most beautiful armor and weapons the land of Airins Gale had ever seen.  So good were they that some said they rivaled relics from the Times Forgotten, pieces created by beings of old using magics that had long since been erased from memory.  This was Baldrik Firehammer, the most renowned smith any land had seen in generations, and he did not take lightly to being pulled from his home among the fires.

His companion, a weapons master known as Alec the Blooded, had been sent with ten of his best men to escort the smith to the city of Gaewyn, the capital of Airins Gale.  The king, Haethryn of the Golden Steps, had requested an audience with a member of the Firehammer clan to thank them for their support in his war of ascension.  Since he first lit its fires, Baldrik had almost never been seen to leave the Well. That the new king was able to force the old dwarf out was just a show to help cement Haethryn's title.

"Had I knowed he's goin ter pull me out, I'da never sold tha fool boy me blades.  I can't stand none o' these politics.  Leave a nasty taste in me mouth."  Baldrik briefly pulled his scarf down and spat over the side of the wagon before covering his nose again, still fuming.  Alec watched him grimly, knowing full well that the dwarf was known for his anger and hot words, but not able to easily accept slander against his king.  Still, he kept his mouth shut.

For a while the only sound coming from the two was the constant grumbling and moaning of the dwarf.  Alec had decided it was best to leave the smith to his misery since nothing seemed to lighten the mood.  Instead he paid full attention to the woods around them.  His men had to camp a ways down the mountain face due to the dwarves' fear of drawing attention to the exact location of the entrance to the Iron Well.  So he knew that he and the smith were vulnerable in the time until they joined back up with his troop.  Baldrik could fetch a pretty penny on any day and he had made plenty of enemies in the ascension of the Golden Steps.  It was well known that his clan's work had enabled Haethryn to win the war.

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A Horrible Dream (Post Fourteen)

Suddenly the world came back to him.  It was still pouring rain, harder than it had the entire trip.  If it wasn't for the headlights, the car would have been lost behind a curtain of water.  Instead the beams waved eerily in the deluge, shining bright onto the side of the house.  He took a quick look back at the closed door and ran, more to get as much distance between him and the house than to get out of the rain.

Beth threw the door open as he came near and he jumped in, slamming the door shut behind him.  "Where is she?  Where is Sam?  She's coming, right?"  Beth was doing her best to stare through the glass, distorted by the rain as it was.  There wasn't much to see.

"No.  No, she... She's not.  I don't know where she is.  Something's not right.  Something about her is not right."  He did his best to wipe the dripping water from his face, but it was of little use.  The others just stared at him in silence, not sure what to say or what to do.  He shuddered, cold from the rain and just shaken to his core.  "We need to go."  Marla hesitated behind the wheel, not wanting to leave Sam. "Go!"  She jumped at his harshness and threw the car into reverse.  He sighed and leaned his sopping head back against the seat, closing his eyes and gulping air.  It was only now just hitting him what he had experienced.  It made no sense.  It terrified him.

"Are you okay?"  It was Beth.  Her hand found his shoulder and he looked at her, though didn't really see her.

"I'm fine.  I just need to catch my breath."  He was still reliving the house.  The creature at the bottom of the stairs lurked in his mind, its swaying causing his head to throb and his stomach to churn.  Resigning himself to the fact that Sam is gone was difficult.  She was right there in front of him, just sitting there.  He couldn't explain what had happened.  It all seemed like a dream. Just a horrible, horrible dream.

"It was horrible wasn't it?"  Jack's voice sounded dry and cracked, so small in the tiny pace of the car.  He looked at Jack and found his hollow eyes staring back, unwavering with the sway of the car making its way down the long, unpaved drive.  "The voices.  They don't stop."  Jack's gaze seemed to withdraw into himself, his eyes glazing over as he sunk back into his own personal nightmare.  Eventually Jack swiveled back towards the front, still muttering about the voices.  Beth had gone silent as well, her hand still on his shoulder, her fingers absently squeezing.  The real touch felt good after what he had seen in the house.

Suddenly Marla screamed and the car hit something then swerved off the gravel road.  They slid sideways through the mud a ways before the car came to a stop facing the opposite direction.  The four sat silently, eyes wide and breathing heavily.  Beth started asking around if everyone was alright.  Jack slid down in his seat and was holding his head.  He was visibly trembling now, his hands clamped tight to his ears.

Marla turned to him and tried to help him sit up.  He refused and pulled deeper into his curl.  "Jack, what?  Are you alright?"  She pulled at his hands but he shrugged her off and turned away as best he could.  He was mumbling something under his breath and there was blood starting to run around his hands.  "Jack, sit up so I can see you!  Are you alright?"  Marla was more forcibly pulling at him but he continued to refuse.

"Make it stop."  It was quiet but his voice was audile now.  Marla stopped and asked him what he said.  "Make it stop."  He repeated it over and over again.

"Jack.  Alright.  I stopped.  Jack, what's wrong?"  Marla seemed to be at a loss her; voice was soft and quiet.  She rubbed his back, but even that seemed to make Jack cringe.  Still he continued muttering.

Everyone jumped when Beth let out a scream and pointed out the front of the car.  Except for Jack, their gazes all followed her finger out the windshield and into the rain.  Sam was there, standing in the eerie glow of the headlights.  Her hair was down and partially covering her face, the rain making it stringy and heavy.  She was wearing a simple white dress now, stained on the chest by something dark.  Her hands hung limply at her sides and her one visible eye was half closed and lazily staring at nothing in front of her.  She continued to sway, just as before, but the rain and distance made it impossible to hear if she was still humming.

At that moment Jack sat up screaming, "MAKE IT STOP!"  His hands clawed at his ears, the skin now ripped and gouged as his fingers worked.  He turned to the door and fumbled with the latch, throwing it open and bolting from the car into the dark, wet woods.  His screaming echoed into the distance.  Marla called after him but was unable to get out due to a tree pinning her door shut.

When they looked back, Sam was gone.  "Wher- Sam.  Sam's gone again.  Where?"  Beth's eyes were wide and her breathing was rapid as she swiveled to look out all sides of the car.  She turned back towards the front of the car and sank into the seat, her shoulders slack and head down.  "I just want to go home."  Her soft whimper could barely be heard.  "I want to get out of here."

"I know.  We all do."  He put his arm around her and pulled her shaking form close.  She leaned into him and continued crying, burying her head in his shoulder.

Marla was still freaking out about Jack.  She ripped her seatbelt off and scrambled over the center console of the car, cursing when she banged her knee on the gear shifter.  Then she was out of the car and running off into the woods after Jack, whose screams could still be heard, albeit faintly over the rain.  Beth had picked her head up and was staring after Marla, her eyes wet and heavy with tears.

He looked past Beth and out the window behind her.  There were two purple orbs glowing faintly in the dark woods, unmoving and menacing in the distance.  He placed his hand on the back of her head and gently pushed it back down into his shoulder, comforting her.  She hugged him tight.  Jack's screams had stopped now.  "It'll be alright.  We'll get home.  Don't worry."  He continued talking to her softly, promising her that there was nothing to worry about, all the while watching the orbs.  This all had to be just a dream.  A horrible, horrible dream.

Closed Eyes - 13

"Father," the prince began, trying to get the king's attention, "here is the-" 

"I wish to be left alone for a private meeting," the king said quietly, interrupting the prince, but not looking up at anyone. Cece gulped at how dangerous the man sounded. 

Everyone who had been milling about in the hut, whether they were writing, reading, or frowning over what looked like a tattered map, stopped and bowed one by one to the king, though he never acknowledged them. Everyone left without a word. 

Finally, after a long stretch of silence that even the prince was unwilling to break, the king looked up with a grave expression. He let the piece of paper fall from his fingers before he clasped his hands together and regarded Loyie. 

"Watcher," he said in a gravelly voice, "my son seems to think there is a major threat in our midst. Is this true?" He barely glanced at Cece, as if she were nothing. 

Loyie bowed her head and gave a small curtsy. Cece at least knew that the deeper the bow or curtsy, the further below station you are from the person you are bowing to. She wasn't sure, but it seemed as if Loyie were only a small step in power below the king himself. 

"If your son is speaking of our guest, Cece, then he is a fool, as I have told him before you summoned me here with the girl." 

"Father," Prince Bramaad broke in, sounding more defensive than anything, "Watcher Loyie apparently does not understand how dangerous this guest actually is. I say we put her in the cage where she'll have no chance to do us harm!" The man's rigid face made his words all the more threatening. 

King Xvenaad lifted a hand to stop his son from rushing on. "Bramaad, you must learn to think before you speak so foolishly. I will not have a son of mine taking the throne sounding as you do. We are not taking back what is ours just so you can lose it by acting like a child." 

Bramaad snapped his jaw shut and glared at Cece, as if it were her fault his father was berating him. She wanted to wilt under the glare, but squared her shoulders instead, wanting to show the prince she would not be timid around him. 

After a moment of silence, the king turned his attention back to Loyie, "Tell me, Watcher and Guardian of Prophecy, is this guest of ours part of the prophecy that states, 'The one born of Sa'dei'Feyier will wreak destruction and will bring death to the people.' Or is she an innocent with a bad memory?" 

Loyie's eyes seemed to look far away and was silent for a long time. Finally, she whispered, "As the Watcher and Guardian, I cannot interfere with those tied directly to the prophecy, no matter which prophecy they are fulfilling." She paused, though no one said a word. Even the king seemed to be leaning in to hear what the small woman had to say. "Even though Cece is tied to this prophecy you speak, all I may say is that it is not what it seems." 

"Father," Bramaad nearly growled, "put this woman in the cage where we can keep an eye on her. The Watcher just admitted that she is part of the prophecy! How can we trust her? She will bring death to us all!" His green eyes burned with anger and hate as if he had never seen anything worse in his life than Cece. 

King Xvenaad took a deep breath and stood straight, squaring his shoulders and turning his full attention on his son. "I should throw you in the cage until you learn to listen, boy," the king said, clearly disgusted with the prince. "Go tell the captain you want an extra long watch tonight. Maybe you'll learn to listen closely, then." 

"She is dangerous!" Bramaad said, gesturing toward Cece as if by pointing her out she'd suddenly turn into a panther about to attack them all. 

Unable to take it any longer, Cece took a step forward and said in her most commanding tone she learned to use on stage, "May I speak?" though it was more of a demand, than a question. She did not wait for the king or prince to nod before she continued on, "I am not a danger or a threat to you and your people. I do not even know where I am or what this place is called. I do not know how to use a weapon, so I cannot harm you physically, I am not sick, so I cannot bring you disease to kill off your men, so what else would I do in order to bring death and destruction? I can hardly look at my own blood without feeling light-headed, let alone another person's." 

Bramaad took two steps forward, bringing him within inches of Cece's face. His breath was warm against her skin, but she did not take a step back. "Never underestimate anyone," he whispered, "especially ones that claim they can do no harm." 

"Enough!" Loyie's voice came sharply and was enough to make Prince Bramaad take a step back from Cece and blink in surprise. "I have seen a thousand times a thousand men die because of actions like yours. You are too brash and claim the wrong people as the enemy. I have seen fools die more often than not. You know how long I have lived, Prince. Do not think I would be foolish enough to let someone as dangerous as you claim anywhere near my presence." 

"But you cannot interfere, Watcher. That is why it is your title. You cannot interfere with anything that deals with the prophecy! So if someone so dangerous walks right into your path and decides to bed with you for the night, you could do nothing about it!" 

Loyie let a small smile twitch on her lips. Her pale blue eyes held a dangerous glint that told Bramaad he had gone too far. Even though the cold look was not directed at Cece, she still wanted to shrink into the corner of the hut and hope that Loyie never found her there. Even the king pressed his lips together and watched Loyie with a wary expression. Prince Bramaad licked his lips and did his best to tower above Loyie, though her presence still made her seem much taller than the prince. He certainly seemed sorry he ever even opened his mouth. 

Finally, Loyie said in her quiet voice, "There is always free will, prince. The prophecy does not go so deep as to explain day to day what must and what must not happen. The prophecy is not a diary. It is a foretelling of an event of what will happen, what must happen, but not when or how, or even the who until it is upon us. I can tell you that this girl is tied to the major thread of the prophecy, but it is not what it seems. For once, Prince Bramaad, use what bit of a brain you actually have." 

Prince Bramaad's jaw clenched. He seemed to want to say more as his gaze rested on Cece. It was a cold look, one that made her want to shiver, but his green eyes finally seemed more forgiving somehow. Finally he turned toward the king, who had stayed quiet, seeming to observe the events unfolding, and bowed deeply. "I will tell the captain that I would like two extra watches of duty for the next two weeks, King Xvenaad." 

Without another word, the prince left the hut, making the room seem much larger now that only three people stood within its walls.

 

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