Her first petal hadn’t fallen yet. It was absurd to think about it. The first petal would choose to fall with either sinister drama or surreal insignificance.
She was dreading the thought with disbelief in her mind yet awaited it with sick curiosity. It was a little ironic; “curiosity killed the cat”. Her real name meant Silver Cat. No one had called her that for a long time.
Pens’ real name was PerrygOrien and her more frequently used name was Perigan, it was the only one that her father approved of. They were very different girls, both idolised each other.
Kathio was a fair haired girl with bright, cobalt blue eyes and curves in all the right places. She was witty and intelligent in the way of politics and was very able to fight. Men lost line of virtuous sight when she walked into a room, which amused her brother but not her father of course.
Perrygan was slim and tall with rich brown hair and emerald green eyes. She was intelligent in the way of literature and crafts and creativity. Her father was fond of her, she was talented in many ways, but often dismissed her as no important political woman. She proved him dreadfully wrong in that way.
“On what do you ponder?” The fog of thoughts in her mind was split open when she heard Pen talk.
“Nothing.” Kathio said a little too quickly. “I mean… I was just thinking about home.” There was a sour tone in her voice that she didn’t attempt to conceal.
“What? What about home?” Pen persisted.
“There’s more out here for us than where we were born. This wasteland is oppressive, but we can move and we can prove ourselves as you have done.” She explained. Peak crawled around on her lap. Peak was a gift from the desert people, given with the words “he will aid you, Silver Kat.” The white ball of fur was warm and comforting, even if he wasn’t a sign of home which was what other people would think she was looking for.
“But you love home, don’t you?”
“Of course I do!” Kathio objected. “However, I’ve inherited father’s pride. I need to prove him wrong… What?”
Pen was smiling and there was a hint of disbelief in her eyes, and something sparkled just above her lower eyelashes. Perhaps, it was a tear. “Kathio, people listen to you and follow you. You are clever in every word you say.” There were gaps in her words as if she believed them so much that they were hard to say and hard to explain.
“But…”
“Father never had faith in us but you’ve had faith in yourself and others have believed in you. You have been my idol since you were old enough to have your will and it has only developed since then, even if I am older than you.”
“P-Pen…” Kathio stuttered and looked at her squarely. Her blue eyes were narrow and there was a single bead of sweat on the left side of her face. She felt guilty and selfish when she considered how she’d been feeling. “I’m nothing to idolise, I was useless when you needed help the most. I couldn’t even be mature enough to realise that I needed your help… You’ve always been stronger than me.”
There was quiet between both of them. It was only broken when Thargon arrived.
“We are going to start moving again. We need to make sure every one knows what happens if we are captured.”
“Why would we be captured?” Kathio asked, clearing the hair from her eyes but less obviously wiping a tear and the sweat from her cheek.
“We will pass the tower, very closely. With such little time, we can not hope to avoid the base. You will both need to take fake names and have fake life stories that would keep you alive and would get you released. Whatever happens to us, you must make it home safely.”
Pen and Kathio looked up at Thargon. His expression was grim and serious. His face was darkened with dirt and stress. His shoulder length dark hair was tangled and some stuck to his neck with sweat.
“Pen, you are clerk of the river lands. The colour of your hair makes your blood seam purer than Kathios’. Kathio, you are to play the part of her servant and Atheilel has already decided she is to be the medic. We are all on a journey home and Pen is our guide. Understood?”
They both nodded and he stepped back, his features engulfed by shadows.
Kathio routed through her sack while Peak played with the strings. He’d obviously adopted some cat behaviour in his creation. That was probably why the desert women said “we have made him of you, Silver Cat.”
There were few things she could bare and thickets of dark, unknown plants were not among them. She tied back her hair and tugged her hood over it. She’d changed- a skirt would get in her way so she was wearing leggings and boots. Her falchion was sheathed at her hip and she could see the snakes glance at her with golden gazes as the torch light gaze over them when she moved.
Bent over her knees, she was busy tying the shin armour when she saw two feet enter her line of sight. She looked up with her blue eyes already fixed on the figure above.
She could not see who it was for a while but knew, by the wide shoulders, he was a man. He stood as but a silhouette, a dark shape full of shadow. He was as still as a standing stone and she could only stare up. No doubt, it was Thargon checking that she was being quick.
As she focused on him more, she felt a little more uneasy. Completely transfixed by him, she didn’t notice that sparks from the torch had spurted from the stick and fallen onto the reeds. They spread surprisingly quickly, as if purposefully. In the wider light there was gold down one side of his body and something else.
Across his chest, like a network of gold veins was embroidery. It must have been slightly metallic to have picked up more light than the rest of his shirt or perhaps set out a little. The pattern was that of an orb with great flames going in all directions. They were in exact proportion with each other. This was a crest.
“Oh my god! Fire!” Someone called and Kathio shuddered out of the hypnosis. She looked over to her side and the brilliant light was beautiful though only covered a foot square of ground.
She looked back and he was gone.
“You’re just lucky some one else spotted it.” Thargon wasn’t going to make a point of how negligent she’d been. He was quieter than usual. He’d barely mentioned it apart from to say that it was fortunate she wasn’t hurt. “A fire can spread quickly while no one is looking.”
“However, we are in a marsh.” Pen defended Kathio who remained silent.
Everyone was split up into groups of three and Thargon reasoned that Pen and Kathio needed to be under his custody to keep them safe. Kathio suspected it was for something else.
“How did you get distracted so easily, though?” Pen asked.
“I… I don’t know.” Kathio thought she sounded convincing enough. “Perhaps I was daydreaming. I don’t remember.”
“Wow. I wouldn’t have forgotten something like that.”
“Did he say anything to you?” Thargon asked, out of the blue when Pen was about to open her mouth to say something. Her jaw dropped but she stopped with a quizzical expression on her face.
“Wh-“
“No, he didn’t.” Kathio knew what he was talking about.
“Do you know who he was?”
“No. He said nothing and it was too dark.”
“Who are we talking about?” Pen burst in.
They didn’t answer, they only kept walking. It didn’t take long for her to give up. She lost interest in their peculiar silence and foreboding frowns.
Sunday, 12 October 2008
Chapter 5
There was almost sudden cold once they entered the shadows. They couldn’t see the world in colour; it was but grey, black and misty midnight blue. There was nothing that seamed to be alive but the strange plants that gathered at the bottom of the smooth slope, in the centre of the canyon. They were somewhat thin in density around the base of the tower, as if it had landed there from a great height and blown everything else away.
The lands looked burnt and hard. It was a wasteland as far as the cliff. People lived there? It was hard to imagine anyone building the tall tower that stood there. It was nearing the hours of light and a sun was starting to show it’s self at the top of the cliff, behind which it had been hiding. A while behind them, there was a little light and now they began to pick up pace. They wanted to be travelling much quicker while there was light, so the promise of it gave them hope and haste.
The ground was very uneven and they knew it was wet but this would be the first time, in the seaming thirteen hours they hadn’t stopped travelling, when they’d be able to see the ground. At the speed they were starting to move, which was not considerably faster but noticeably, it was as if they were running away from the light not waiting for it.
The pack on Kathio’s back was heavy. She was carrying the armour, breast plate but wearing the shin plates. She didn’t fancy tripping on something she couldn’t see and hurting her legs, she would rather hurt her torso than not be able walk properly.
Her green leggings and shirt didn’t keep out the cold, even if the smoky grey cloak sheltered her a little. She could see Thargon ahead, dimly. A few more soldiers were further on, but she could only see their silhouettes. Behind, she heard Atheilel walking a little more steadily than her but Pen sounded as if she was struggling. She wanted to help her, but she didn’t know how and the comfort of Atheilel seamed to keep her going enough.
They owed everything to Pen. She was the one who knew which direction was home, of course that was a help, but, more importantly, she knew how they should cross their first trial. No doubt would she be treated like the hero she was when she got home. Kathio had never seen so much strength in Pen before. She knew exactly what to do, it had seamed, and even Kathio hadn’t worked out what she’d done.
It was not long before sunlight reached her and then she was warm. A mist seamed to gather in strange swurls of puffs before it spread into wild thickness and they could barely see each other. It was remarkable. In the whole time they’d been walking, they’d been looking forward to the visibility of the day but all the sun brought was so much fog that the darkness was less mysterious and frightening.
Kathio almost thought to stop walking. Then she thought, if Thargon stopped, she would meet him somewhere so carrying on walking seamed safer.
Her legs had grown tired without her noticing at first but it took the first time she stumbled, only, to make her stop. Her legs gave way and her knees buckled. As she fell onto all fours, with her hands and knees soaked, her bag fell over the side of her back and onto some reeds. She looked at the ground below her. The water was murky and dark, but she could see the shape of her face and very few features.
When she lifted her head, all she could see were tiny white flowers.
She was weary and exhausted. Even her arms were beginning to lose the ability to carry her and she hadn’t been walking on her hands, of course. She tipped herself over and onto a clump of moss and reads, where the ground was harder and she could lie without getting wet or sinking. It was then that she let herself drift to sleep. It was then that her surroundings turned dark prematurely without her stopping it from happening.
Two arms came around her and she couldn’t feel the ground any more, only a pressure where her neck and knees were being supported. She didn’t open her eyes again; all she could see were the tiny white flowers and how they seamed so important.
There was a long dark, as she slept, and when she finally awoke she could see clearly in the dark. There was no mist. She couldn’t see her helper; his features were barely highlighted by the dim moonlight from so far above. He did not make a sound. She could feel the strap of her sack against her arm, where it came over his left shoulder.
Peak was sitting on his shoulder, close to his neck. He was sheltered in tresses of blond hair. She felt more assured in seeing Peak safe.
She stayed still, wondering with her arms crossed over her chest and her cloak wrapped over her abdomen to stop it from draping down. A strange notion ran through her head. It felt like when she was a child and her father and brother used to carry her. She fit in his arms better than she’d ever fit in theirs. The strange feeling made her feel less comfortable in her mind and she pushed it out quickly.
It was not long before her eyes closed again and she completely forgot what she’d been thinking until…
She was again on the ground. Her face was turned to the side and when she awoke she was gazing at the shape of her own hand in the dark. A small white creature was curled in front of her neck, under her chin. Peak was awake as soon as she was. He hurried onto her shoulder and entangled himself with her hair.
She was sure it hadn’t been a dream because the clump of harder soil was now thicker and there were fewer reeds around her- she must have been moved. She wasn’t cold now. She wasn’t wet. This was strange. Her sack was the other side of her, and in the position she was lying it was almost behind her.
“Kathio!” She heard a call… or so many that she couldn’t distinguish between them. “Kathio!” They were growing distant and near. They were spreading out. In grey and green, she couldn’t imagine herself distinguishable against the marsh ground so she tried to get up.
“Ka-…” One voice was quite near. She pushed herself into a sit and stared down in front of her- unable to lift her own head much. She rubbed her eyes and looked. “There she is! We’ve found her!”
Her back didn’t hurt as much and nor did her legs, she had a strange feeling that she owed someone something great but she had no idea who.
Suddenly, Ateilel was standing close to her and hoisting her up under the arms from behind. When she was standing, all she could do was turn and hold Atheilel as close as she could as if clinging to life. Peak ran from one shoulder to the other excitedly.
“Come on, Silver-Cat, you’re the only person who’d panic that much. I mean, you didn’t even wake up until we found you.” Atheilel had mischief in her blue-green eyes.
It was the first time Kathio had heard her name said like that in a long time. She was quite surprised that anybody remembered it. “Act-…” She barely knew how to correct Atheilel there. ‘I did actually wake up twice’ was fine but there was the complication of ‘but someone else was there’. She closed her mouth and drew up her dropped jaw.
They’d found a large area of harder ground and decided to rest. There was a fire, the light made the black reeds and moss glow golden, and everyone was gathered in a crescent moon around the flames. They didn’t see anything particularly strange about her fainting on the long journey, even if Atheilel thought it was amusing.
Kathio felt a little annoyed at this, but more confused with herself. If she was angry with Atheilel she could have said a spiteful and unfair comment but she wasn’t. In this journey, they were all even.
“Are we stopped because I fainted?” She asked, feeling as if she was an inconvenience where she’d felt strong before.
“No; we’re all weary, Kathio. It’s not just you.” Thargon put in. “Don’t feel so embarrassed, it’s not just you. Pen is also…” No one needed to mention how Pen was. She was injured before… She was very brave to have come this far, but something drove her like nothing else to move on. It was as if, if she didn’t keep going, she would miss some kind of deadline.
Pen lay on the ground, the other side of the fire. She hadn’t realised, before, how much she admired Pen. Pen’s dark hair was a veil over her face, hiding away her wild green eyes. Pen was always the imaginative one; she was full of her own arts while Kathio was full of wit. Pen wore a grey dress that spread out wider than her own span and rough boots.
What had led them here? Kathio imagined what Morgan would say. It would go something like:
“The bravest of them all, Pen, also had weaknesses. There is not a person in the world who can do everything but Pen was one who did great things with what she could do. Her battle had ended and now it was the journey home that was going to prove perilous. On the way, they met people of unimaginable kinds. The first were the desert women, who gave great gifts and told them of their own powers and fortunes.” Kathio didn’t think of mentioning Peak specifically, as he didn’t play a vital role in this story. Then Kathio stopped thinking about that story and thought of her own, if Morgan told that it would be very different.
“Kathio was given the gifts of beauty and virtue but would never be granted the chance to use them. She would never be able to have the man she truly loved because she was the one who was supposed to bring wealth and power to the family…” That’s how he’d begin and then into the story she would realise that it didn’t matter and that she was insignificant as they travelled so far and yet they didn’t even reach the edges of the world. “So far from home, she could think of her family and wish that all her wishes could never have been wished.” But then she remembered the other part of the story that she couldn’t afford to leave out. This part would charm the children in some strange way that she used to be charmed. They’d fancy that she’d find a wealthy man who could make her father happy and she’d fall in love with him and “live with wild adventure until her very last days”.
This interesting part was what she learnt on the journey to where they’d come from. “It was a seer that told her about her curse. Her father had paid the seer to make a special flower. Kathio was, when she was not even yet born, foreseen to be a powerful and influential girl, if she lived, but would loose her life at a very young age and her father wanted all of his children to live.
“This flower would save her life; this flower would protect and preserve her until she was ready to die of old age. There was a condition. This flower would start to loose its’ petals when the mistresses of fate saw it necessary and once all five of the petals had fallen she would die.
“The seer told Kathio that she had little time until the first petal would fall. It was only on the journey back on her adventure that the first would fall. She told her that the flower would perish and the spell would be broken if her ‘virtue’, or ‘honour’, was lost, because that is what kept the Mistresses of Fate on her trail. The act that would free her from the spell could only be performed with the man she truly loved or another petal would fall and she would be much closer to the curse having its’ complete control.”
Kathio was quite impressed at this telling of the tale, even though she was sure that Morgan would find some way of making it much more elegant and he might use the words “the curse could only be broken by ‘marriage’ to her true love.”
This line of thought continued through what was supposed to be a night but it seamed like two nights and Peak was asleep and still so the thought could be thought without disruption.
The lands looked burnt and hard. It was a wasteland as far as the cliff. People lived there? It was hard to imagine anyone building the tall tower that stood there. It was nearing the hours of light and a sun was starting to show it’s self at the top of the cliff, behind which it had been hiding. A while behind them, there was a little light and now they began to pick up pace. They wanted to be travelling much quicker while there was light, so the promise of it gave them hope and haste.
The ground was very uneven and they knew it was wet but this would be the first time, in the seaming thirteen hours they hadn’t stopped travelling, when they’d be able to see the ground. At the speed they were starting to move, which was not considerably faster but noticeably, it was as if they were running away from the light not waiting for it.
The pack on Kathio’s back was heavy. She was carrying the armour, breast plate but wearing the shin plates. She didn’t fancy tripping on something she couldn’t see and hurting her legs, she would rather hurt her torso than not be able walk properly.
Her green leggings and shirt didn’t keep out the cold, even if the smoky grey cloak sheltered her a little. She could see Thargon ahead, dimly. A few more soldiers were further on, but she could only see their silhouettes. Behind, she heard Atheilel walking a little more steadily than her but Pen sounded as if she was struggling. She wanted to help her, but she didn’t know how and the comfort of Atheilel seamed to keep her going enough.
They owed everything to Pen. She was the one who knew which direction was home, of course that was a help, but, more importantly, she knew how they should cross their first trial. No doubt would she be treated like the hero she was when she got home. Kathio had never seen so much strength in Pen before. She knew exactly what to do, it had seamed, and even Kathio hadn’t worked out what she’d done.
It was not long before sunlight reached her and then she was warm. A mist seamed to gather in strange swurls of puffs before it spread into wild thickness and they could barely see each other. It was remarkable. In the whole time they’d been walking, they’d been looking forward to the visibility of the day but all the sun brought was so much fog that the darkness was less mysterious and frightening.
Kathio almost thought to stop walking. Then she thought, if Thargon stopped, she would meet him somewhere so carrying on walking seamed safer.
Her legs had grown tired without her noticing at first but it took the first time she stumbled, only, to make her stop. Her legs gave way and her knees buckled. As she fell onto all fours, with her hands and knees soaked, her bag fell over the side of her back and onto some reeds. She looked at the ground below her. The water was murky and dark, but she could see the shape of her face and very few features.
When she lifted her head, all she could see were tiny white flowers.
She was weary and exhausted. Even her arms were beginning to lose the ability to carry her and she hadn’t been walking on her hands, of course. She tipped herself over and onto a clump of moss and reads, where the ground was harder and she could lie without getting wet or sinking. It was then that she let herself drift to sleep. It was then that her surroundings turned dark prematurely without her stopping it from happening.
Two arms came around her and she couldn’t feel the ground any more, only a pressure where her neck and knees were being supported. She didn’t open her eyes again; all she could see were the tiny white flowers and how they seamed so important.
There was a long dark, as she slept, and when she finally awoke she could see clearly in the dark. There was no mist. She couldn’t see her helper; his features were barely highlighted by the dim moonlight from so far above. He did not make a sound. She could feel the strap of her sack against her arm, where it came over his left shoulder.
Peak was sitting on his shoulder, close to his neck. He was sheltered in tresses of blond hair. She felt more assured in seeing Peak safe.
She stayed still, wondering with her arms crossed over her chest and her cloak wrapped over her abdomen to stop it from draping down. A strange notion ran through her head. It felt like when she was a child and her father and brother used to carry her. She fit in his arms better than she’d ever fit in theirs. The strange feeling made her feel less comfortable in her mind and she pushed it out quickly.
It was not long before her eyes closed again and she completely forgot what she’d been thinking until…
She was again on the ground. Her face was turned to the side and when she awoke she was gazing at the shape of her own hand in the dark. A small white creature was curled in front of her neck, under her chin. Peak was awake as soon as she was. He hurried onto her shoulder and entangled himself with her hair.
She was sure it hadn’t been a dream because the clump of harder soil was now thicker and there were fewer reeds around her- she must have been moved. She wasn’t cold now. She wasn’t wet. This was strange. Her sack was the other side of her, and in the position she was lying it was almost behind her.
“Kathio!” She heard a call… or so many that she couldn’t distinguish between them. “Kathio!” They were growing distant and near. They were spreading out. In grey and green, she couldn’t imagine herself distinguishable against the marsh ground so she tried to get up.
“Ka-…” One voice was quite near. She pushed herself into a sit and stared down in front of her- unable to lift her own head much. She rubbed her eyes and looked. “There she is! We’ve found her!”
Her back didn’t hurt as much and nor did her legs, she had a strange feeling that she owed someone something great but she had no idea who.
Suddenly, Ateilel was standing close to her and hoisting her up under the arms from behind. When she was standing, all she could do was turn and hold Atheilel as close as she could as if clinging to life. Peak ran from one shoulder to the other excitedly.
“Come on, Silver-Cat, you’re the only person who’d panic that much. I mean, you didn’t even wake up until we found you.” Atheilel had mischief in her blue-green eyes.
It was the first time Kathio had heard her name said like that in a long time. She was quite surprised that anybody remembered it. “Act-…” She barely knew how to correct Atheilel there. ‘I did actually wake up twice’ was fine but there was the complication of ‘but someone else was there’. She closed her mouth and drew up her dropped jaw.
They’d found a large area of harder ground and decided to rest. There was a fire, the light made the black reeds and moss glow golden, and everyone was gathered in a crescent moon around the flames. They didn’t see anything particularly strange about her fainting on the long journey, even if Atheilel thought it was amusing.
Kathio felt a little annoyed at this, but more confused with herself. If she was angry with Atheilel she could have said a spiteful and unfair comment but she wasn’t. In this journey, they were all even.
“Are we stopped because I fainted?” She asked, feeling as if she was an inconvenience where she’d felt strong before.
“No; we’re all weary, Kathio. It’s not just you.” Thargon put in. “Don’t feel so embarrassed, it’s not just you. Pen is also…” No one needed to mention how Pen was. She was injured before… She was very brave to have come this far, but something drove her like nothing else to move on. It was as if, if she didn’t keep going, she would miss some kind of deadline.
Pen lay on the ground, the other side of the fire. She hadn’t realised, before, how much she admired Pen. Pen’s dark hair was a veil over her face, hiding away her wild green eyes. Pen was always the imaginative one; she was full of her own arts while Kathio was full of wit. Pen wore a grey dress that spread out wider than her own span and rough boots.
What had led them here? Kathio imagined what Morgan would say. It would go something like:
“The bravest of them all, Pen, also had weaknesses. There is not a person in the world who can do everything but Pen was one who did great things with what she could do. Her battle had ended and now it was the journey home that was going to prove perilous. On the way, they met people of unimaginable kinds. The first were the desert women, who gave great gifts and told them of their own powers and fortunes.” Kathio didn’t think of mentioning Peak specifically, as he didn’t play a vital role in this story. Then Kathio stopped thinking about that story and thought of her own, if Morgan told that it would be very different.
“Kathio was given the gifts of beauty and virtue but would never be granted the chance to use them. She would never be able to have the man she truly loved because she was the one who was supposed to bring wealth and power to the family…” That’s how he’d begin and then into the story she would realise that it didn’t matter and that she was insignificant as they travelled so far and yet they didn’t even reach the edges of the world. “So far from home, she could think of her family and wish that all her wishes could never have been wished.” But then she remembered the other part of the story that she couldn’t afford to leave out. This part would charm the children in some strange way that she used to be charmed. They’d fancy that she’d find a wealthy man who could make her father happy and she’d fall in love with him and “live with wild adventure until her very last days”.
This interesting part was what she learnt on the journey to where they’d come from. “It was a seer that told her about her curse. Her father had paid the seer to make a special flower. Kathio was, when she was not even yet born, foreseen to be a powerful and influential girl, if she lived, but would loose her life at a very young age and her father wanted all of his children to live.
“This flower would save her life; this flower would protect and preserve her until she was ready to die of old age. There was a condition. This flower would start to loose its’ petals when the mistresses of fate saw it necessary and once all five of the petals had fallen she would die.
“The seer told Kathio that she had little time until the first petal would fall. It was only on the journey back on her adventure that the first would fall. She told her that the flower would perish and the spell would be broken if her ‘virtue’, or ‘honour’, was lost, because that is what kept the Mistresses of Fate on her trail. The act that would free her from the spell could only be performed with the man she truly loved or another petal would fall and she would be much closer to the curse having its’ complete control.”
Kathio was quite impressed at this telling of the tale, even though she was sure that Morgan would find some way of making it much more elegant and he might use the words “the curse could only be broken by ‘marriage’ to her true love.”
This line of thought continued through what was supposed to be a night but it seamed like two nights and Peak was asleep and still so the thought could be thought without disruption.
Chapter 3
Months before:
Pen leant forward over the veranda wall, her elbows resting on the smooth top and her clenched fists under her chin. Her green eyes surveyed that which surrounded her. Beyond the three foot wall was just the vast green lands of her home. The river-lands were woven into by silver lace, tinted with silver light near the ends. The sun was low in the magenta sky, and falling slowly into the black pool of the horizon. Some clouds hung near the edges, making a hem of violet and lilac, smoked with indigo.
By day, there were farm carts and horses along the cobbled paths and there were hundreds of people who walked to the gates. Often, there was a whisperer who sped through the entrance to the main hall. All news was of Kalondu, lately. There was no peace for them any more, not since she was eight years old.
There was quiet now, wide and infinite over the region. A few birds darted from the rare trees as far as she could see. Beyond the land below the castle were forests and the sea. These were the fertile lands belonging to the most rich of kings whose’ adversaries were few and, usually, frightened. There was a breeze, a light drifting of air that picked up her bark brown hair and the pleats of her white dress. The long sleeves were thin and fitting and the design made great use of what little cleavage she had.
Her delicate features were settled and still and her eyes were distant in thought, as she gazed into the distance. A mauve moon lay in place of the sun and showed as a dim crescent. Her lids fell, her eyes closed.
“Pen…” His voice echoed a little in her mind. It was a quiet whisper, soft and remote. “You can hear me, can’t you?”
“I can, but every part of me wishes I couldn’t.” When she opened her eyes, what had been white silk was now red satin over her body. She could see the patterns of auburn and scarlet as if they were in sheer opposition yet the colours lay so near. A long shawl lay over her shoulders and, as she moved slightly, the colours glided up and down- gold sunlight on the deep red.
“There’s nothing wrong with being able to see me. It’s your choice, you choose to be here when you like.” He was behind her and before her was no landscape of green and grey but a sun setting and a sea. She was staring down a cliff, a vertical fall below her. The rocks were the colour of primroses, the colour of the sky playing surreally with the tones of the earth face. The waves were midnight blue and black with highlights of rose in peaks here and there, the pattern constantly rocking rhythmically.
She couldn’t tell whether this was how he saw her, in this dress, or whether it was how she fancied seeing herself. There was always something unreal about it and it was strange how, whenever she wanted to turn and see who talked to her, she would wake up and be in the same room she’d been dreaming in.
“You’re a demon, of course there’s something wrong with seeing you. If I told a seer he’d say I was cursed.”
“I’m not-… I’m your daemon, your guardian. Don’t be afraid of me.” He sounded frustrated at this, but kept being patient. “I’m also a person and I will meet you one day.”
She could hear him coming closer but was very conscious that there was a cliff in front of her, so there was no where to go, and if she turned around everything would be gone so she stayed completely still.
“How can I believe in you if I can never see your face? How could I ever meet you if every time I tried to look at you I woke up to discover that you can not possibly exist?” She asked.
“You can not see me because you don’t believe in me.” He explained. To her, this was a paradox and something she’d heard too often in a tale. You can only ever see what you know has to exist; only those who still believe may see magical things. However such was not true in the tale of Bran and Rhiannon. “Wait a while… here… for me. This place is real, and you really are here.”
At this, she half scoffed. It was not possible and she knew she couldn’t be there. She must be sleeping and it was night, why wake herself up? The flashes of scarlet danced across the crimson in the satin of the skirt as the wind pulsed at it. The sensation of it licking her ankles was real, because there was also a breeze in the real world. She could feel it because it was there. This didn’t prove this place was real.
Her senses gradually opened. There was warm on her cheeks and the ground was soft. The air was thick yet light. She could hear her own breath, that of him and no birds or leaves. She could hear the waves and the flapping of her own skirt.
“How can I make you believe that this place is real?”
“Prove to me I’m not dreaming because, no matter what my senses tell me now, I still don’t believe that I’m not.” She said confidently that he was wrong.
“How can I do that? Only you have the will to believe.”
She was silent. She did neither challenge nor support him. She didn’t suggest a thing and there was silence. Her dark hair drifted over her light skin. Streaks of bark brown crossed her green eyes by the influence of the wind. She wasn’t waiting nor ready, she was just there and maybe there was a thought deeper than thought that had brought around this dream or maybe-…
She felt him behind her. She almost shuddered with the shock and her eyes widened. His hand drifted up her arm to her shoulder and then to her cheek. He caressed her skin and she didn’t need to see his hands. She turned immediately and didn’t see the inside of her chamber but rocks, grey leaf shapes standing in the ground, and in front of them was him.
His iris of violet was set in lilac and his pupil was a thick line, like a cats’. His aquamarine skin was tinted where she didn’t block the last of the red sunlight. He wore a black jacket to his waste with green lining. He was about a head taller than her and staring at her from under jet black hair, curving down his forehead.
Inside his iris was deep, deep purple and she could see streaks of darker colours within the soft colour. She couldn’t believe what she was looking at. Perhaps the fact that it was unbelievable that made her believe that it was real.
“Who are you?” She asked when she was finally able to speak.
“It’s not important.” He tilted his head at her, and the strands of black hair swayed to the lower side of his forehead with the movement. “Now that you believe, what is important is what I can do for you.”
He was incredible. She’d never seen anything like him; his dark, almost blue, skin was something she’d never imagined before. He half smiled at her and a dimple pressed into one of his cheeks.
He reached out to touch her cheek again, but half way there he reconsidered and his face became very serious as his hand fell by his side again. “I need to show you something, but you must not question a thing… If I don’t show you, I’m afraid that the events that would lead you to me might never happen.”
“What kind of thing do you need to show me?” This was one of many questions that swirled in her head. This was the most relevant, but the one that took up the most room in her mind was ‘Is this real?’ It couldn’t possibly be, could it? This place couldn’t be real, because she shouldn’t be able to blink and be in a different place. This person couldn’t possibly exist.
“The future.” He said, plainly.
“If you show me the future, wouldn’t that change what is going to happen?” She frowned.
“Do you believe in fate, Pen?” He asked, out of the blue.
She considered it for a while, staring at him but focussing on the question. “I think I do… but I don’t believe in the stories that they tell us… “
“Fate is not the journey, but the destination whatever path you choose takes you to. Fate means that you will always arrive at the same place.”
“But then… how could it be that we’d never meet, even if it’s a possibility.”
“Your part almost ends at one event, but we meet afterwards. After that event, it is your choice. Unlike many, Pen, you exist outside of fate and you can make your own… You’re different, Pen…”
She didn’t say a word. She didn’t believe this part of what he was saying, it couldn’t be true because it didn’t make sense and he must have been leaving something out.
“We’ve run out of time.” He said hastily. “I will wait until the next time we meet… Keep dreaming and we shall meet again.”
He flashed his dark hand almost an inch away from her eyes and she instinctively blinked and in that short millisecond she was on the balcony. Her forehead rested in the nook of her bent elbow. Her other arm was dangling over the edge wall. She lifted herself up and the white silk moved across her body as she twisted around.
She felt absurd that she’d believed it. Could any such place or any such person be real? Some dreams feel like they’re real, even if- looking back- it seams that one should have judged reality a bit better. In a dream, you could believe that you could fly, swim under water without breathing and walk through flames… but this dream had no such content…
“Pen?” Atheilel was standing in the doorway. Her dark hair was draped over her fair shoulders in long curls. “Your father needs to speak with you.”
Pen leant forward over the veranda wall, her elbows resting on the smooth top and her clenched fists under her chin. Her green eyes surveyed that which surrounded her. Beyond the three foot wall was just the vast green lands of her home. The river-lands were woven into by silver lace, tinted with silver light near the ends. The sun was low in the magenta sky, and falling slowly into the black pool of the horizon. Some clouds hung near the edges, making a hem of violet and lilac, smoked with indigo.
By day, there were farm carts and horses along the cobbled paths and there were hundreds of people who walked to the gates. Often, there was a whisperer who sped through the entrance to the main hall. All news was of Kalondu, lately. There was no peace for them any more, not since she was eight years old.
There was quiet now, wide and infinite over the region. A few birds darted from the rare trees as far as she could see. Beyond the land below the castle were forests and the sea. These were the fertile lands belonging to the most rich of kings whose’ adversaries were few and, usually, frightened. There was a breeze, a light drifting of air that picked up her bark brown hair and the pleats of her white dress. The long sleeves were thin and fitting and the design made great use of what little cleavage she had.
Her delicate features were settled and still and her eyes were distant in thought, as she gazed into the distance. A mauve moon lay in place of the sun and showed as a dim crescent. Her lids fell, her eyes closed.
“Pen…” His voice echoed a little in her mind. It was a quiet whisper, soft and remote. “You can hear me, can’t you?”
“I can, but every part of me wishes I couldn’t.” When she opened her eyes, what had been white silk was now red satin over her body. She could see the patterns of auburn and scarlet as if they were in sheer opposition yet the colours lay so near. A long shawl lay over her shoulders and, as she moved slightly, the colours glided up and down- gold sunlight on the deep red.
“There’s nothing wrong with being able to see me. It’s your choice, you choose to be here when you like.” He was behind her and before her was no landscape of green and grey but a sun setting and a sea. She was staring down a cliff, a vertical fall below her. The rocks were the colour of primroses, the colour of the sky playing surreally with the tones of the earth face. The waves were midnight blue and black with highlights of rose in peaks here and there, the pattern constantly rocking rhythmically.
She couldn’t tell whether this was how he saw her, in this dress, or whether it was how she fancied seeing herself. There was always something unreal about it and it was strange how, whenever she wanted to turn and see who talked to her, she would wake up and be in the same room she’d been dreaming in.
“You’re a demon, of course there’s something wrong with seeing you. If I told a seer he’d say I was cursed.”
“I’m not-… I’m your daemon, your guardian. Don’t be afraid of me.” He sounded frustrated at this, but kept being patient. “I’m also a person and I will meet you one day.”
She could hear him coming closer but was very conscious that there was a cliff in front of her, so there was no where to go, and if she turned around everything would be gone so she stayed completely still.
“How can I believe in you if I can never see your face? How could I ever meet you if every time I tried to look at you I woke up to discover that you can not possibly exist?” She asked.
“You can not see me because you don’t believe in me.” He explained. To her, this was a paradox and something she’d heard too often in a tale. You can only ever see what you know has to exist; only those who still believe may see magical things. However such was not true in the tale of Bran and Rhiannon. “Wait a while… here… for me. This place is real, and you really are here.”
At this, she half scoffed. It was not possible and she knew she couldn’t be there. She must be sleeping and it was night, why wake herself up? The flashes of scarlet danced across the crimson in the satin of the skirt as the wind pulsed at it. The sensation of it licking her ankles was real, because there was also a breeze in the real world. She could feel it because it was there. This didn’t prove this place was real.
Her senses gradually opened. There was warm on her cheeks and the ground was soft. The air was thick yet light. She could hear her own breath, that of him and no birds or leaves. She could hear the waves and the flapping of her own skirt.
“How can I make you believe that this place is real?”
“Prove to me I’m not dreaming because, no matter what my senses tell me now, I still don’t believe that I’m not.” She said confidently that he was wrong.
“How can I do that? Only you have the will to believe.”
She was silent. She did neither challenge nor support him. She didn’t suggest a thing and there was silence. Her dark hair drifted over her light skin. Streaks of bark brown crossed her green eyes by the influence of the wind. She wasn’t waiting nor ready, she was just there and maybe there was a thought deeper than thought that had brought around this dream or maybe-…
She felt him behind her. She almost shuddered with the shock and her eyes widened. His hand drifted up her arm to her shoulder and then to her cheek. He caressed her skin and she didn’t need to see his hands. She turned immediately and didn’t see the inside of her chamber but rocks, grey leaf shapes standing in the ground, and in front of them was him.
His iris of violet was set in lilac and his pupil was a thick line, like a cats’. His aquamarine skin was tinted where she didn’t block the last of the red sunlight. He wore a black jacket to his waste with green lining. He was about a head taller than her and staring at her from under jet black hair, curving down his forehead.
Inside his iris was deep, deep purple and she could see streaks of darker colours within the soft colour. She couldn’t believe what she was looking at. Perhaps the fact that it was unbelievable that made her believe that it was real.
“Who are you?” She asked when she was finally able to speak.
“It’s not important.” He tilted his head at her, and the strands of black hair swayed to the lower side of his forehead with the movement. “Now that you believe, what is important is what I can do for you.”
He was incredible. She’d never seen anything like him; his dark, almost blue, skin was something she’d never imagined before. He half smiled at her and a dimple pressed into one of his cheeks.
He reached out to touch her cheek again, but half way there he reconsidered and his face became very serious as his hand fell by his side again. “I need to show you something, but you must not question a thing… If I don’t show you, I’m afraid that the events that would lead you to me might never happen.”
“What kind of thing do you need to show me?” This was one of many questions that swirled in her head. This was the most relevant, but the one that took up the most room in her mind was ‘Is this real?’ It couldn’t possibly be, could it? This place couldn’t be real, because she shouldn’t be able to blink and be in a different place. This person couldn’t possibly exist.
“The future.” He said, plainly.
“If you show me the future, wouldn’t that change what is going to happen?” She frowned.
“Do you believe in fate, Pen?” He asked, out of the blue.
She considered it for a while, staring at him but focussing on the question. “I think I do… but I don’t believe in the stories that they tell us… “
“Fate is not the journey, but the destination whatever path you choose takes you to. Fate means that you will always arrive at the same place.”
“But then… how could it be that we’d never meet, even if it’s a possibility.”
“Your part almost ends at one event, but we meet afterwards. After that event, it is your choice. Unlike many, Pen, you exist outside of fate and you can make your own… You’re different, Pen…”
She didn’t say a word. She didn’t believe this part of what he was saying, it couldn’t be true because it didn’t make sense and he must have been leaving something out.
“We’ve run out of time.” He said hastily. “I will wait until the next time we meet… Keep dreaming and we shall meet again.”
He flashed his dark hand almost an inch away from her eyes and she instinctively blinked and in that short millisecond she was on the balcony. Her forehead rested in the nook of her bent elbow. Her other arm was dangling over the edge wall. She lifted herself up and the white silk moved across her body as she twisted around.
She felt absurd that she’d believed it. Could any such place or any such person be real? Some dreams feel like they’re real, even if- looking back- it seams that one should have judged reality a bit better. In a dream, you could believe that you could fly, swim under water without breathing and walk through flames… but this dream had no such content…
“Pen?” Atheilel was standing in the doorway. Her dark hair was draped over her fair shoulders in long curls. “Your father needs to speak with you.”
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