THE KEEPER
Chapter 7: Dream Keeper
Brienne dreamed of floating in Tarth's sapphire blue waters. Her body felt heavy, lethargic, barely able to move. The dusk settled around her. She heard a mournful cry in the distance. A grey wolf was at the top of the cliffs. The twilight deepened as the moon and stars appeared, brighter than they had ever been before. The wolf howled to the moon.
A snarl drew her attention to the beach below the cliffs. A lion prowled the sand, limping since its front right paw was missing. Jamie, it had to be Jamie. Brienne tried to swim towards it. Her body was a dead weight and her arms had no strength. She tried to kick out with her legs but they refused to obey her will.
The wolf next howl ended with a whimper. The moon was no longer visible. She stopped her attempts to reach the shore and stared at the point where the moon had been. Something shifted and the moon reappeared. Her heart beat faster. The dragon circled above, its enormous size hiding patches of the sky, its silhouette clear against the brightly shimmering stars. The wolf howled again, calm now that the moon had returned.
Brienne resumed swimming, desperate to reach the maimed lion. She couldn't get closer to the shore, no matter how hard she stroked. She gasped and fought the waves, her body weakening with each breath.
"Ser Jamie!" she called but the lion didn't hear her.
A shriek pierced the air. An eagle appeared out of the shadow of the dragon, its silver feathers brilliant in the moonlight, its wingspan enormous and its claws razor sharp. It was headed straight for the lion.
"Ser Jamie, look out!" She tried to scream a warning to the lion but it was too late.
The eagle landed on the lion's back, its claws digging in, drawing rivulets of blood from the maimed beast. The lion reared up on its back legs but the eagle's grip was too strong. The lion roared as the eagle's beak ripped into the its head. The lion shook its upper body, trying to dislodge the eagle. The lion's blood covered the eagle, darkening the silver feathers until they shone almost blue in the moonlight.
The wolf howled again then settled down on the clifftop to watch the death battle between the lion and the eagle. The lion collapsed, trying to roll the eagle off its back. But the eagle held on, digging deeper, until its claws disappears into the lion's back. She tried again to swim to the shore but her body had lost all strength, weak and barely able to float. Brienne looked up at the circling dragon.
"Help him!" she screamed.
The dragon streaked down from the sky. But instead of going to the animals, it headed for her. She screamed again as the dragon's fire hit her, her face burning from the pain.
Then it was the hot afternoon sun, not dragon fire, that burned her face. It was so bright she had to put up her arm to shade her eyes. Thunder rumbled in the distance. No, that couldn't be right. How could the sun be so blindingly hot along with a thunderstorm?
She forced her eyes open. The imprint of Oathkeeper was the first thing she saw, silhouetted in the perfect yellow circle of the sun. She crawled to it, her palms swollen and torn, her knees raw, her lame leg burning and oozing blood with every movement. The thunder grew louder. Another few agonizing efforts later, she was close enough to touch her sword. She looked past it to the parched, flat landscape.
No, not thunder. Riders. A pack of at least two dozen riders on horseback thundered towards the hill. She leaned down to see the clear path of drag marks from her crawl up creating a direct line to the cave opening. She shifted and had to turn her head away when the glare off Oathkeeper's blade stung her vision. She ducked back into the cave and stared in horror at her sword. The polished Valyrian steel shone in the late afternoon sun, a shining beacon to draw every slaver in the Disputed Lands.
She gritted her teeth and forced herself up to her knees. The dirt was soft but she'd embedded the sword deeply into the ground. Her poor positioning and weak leverage didn't help. But she finally wrestled the sword free, breathing hard from the effort. She sheathed Oathkeeper as the thunder of hoofs stopped.
"Skoriot iksos se egros?" called one of the riders.
Brienne recognized the word egros, sword. They had seen her sword.
"Nyke ūndegon nykeā vala!" another said.
She didn't know what that meant but she didn't wait to find out. She began to crawl deeper into the cave. Her only hope was to go in so far in, the darkness would create shadows to hide herself.
She heard the sound of rapid footsteps, of crumbling rock and excited calls. She crawled harder, refusing to accept she'd be caught soon. Then the cave opening was filled with men. Someone caught her lame leg and pulled. She grunted with pain as she fell flat onto her face, the pommel of her sword digging into her stomach. Someone grabbed her by her short hair and laughed. The others joined his laughter. The horses outside screamed. The men turned when a tremendous thud shook the ground.
"Zaldrīzes!" someone shrieked.
Grown men didn't shriek, Brienne thought. There was only one thing terrible enough to make a man shriek as if he'd just seen a demon. Truly seeing a demon with blood-red eyes and fire in its mouth. Then the demon, the dragon, roared and the cave filled with fire. Brienne closed her eyes as the cleansing flames washed over her. The time seemed to go on and on, endlessly.
She kept her eyes closed until she could no longer feel the heat, no longer hear the screams of the terrified men. There was one final roar then a blissful silence. She opened her eyes and looked around. The men were gone. The walls and floor of the cave had turned a glistening black, as though the dragon's fire had roasted the dirt. The late afternoon sun's rays reflected against the shiny rock, making the tunnel unnaturally bright.
Grunting with the effort, she raised up on her hands and knees. Her skin pulled tight, hot and sore, as it did when she burned it after a day in the Tarth sun. While her skin hurt, she could no longer feel the pain in her damaged leg. She looked back to see the deep gouges were closed, no longer bleeding or burning.
She also had no clothes. She stared, uncomprehending, at her naked leg and foot. Slowly she sat back with her legs underneath her, breathing heavily. Her skin pricked and protested, as if the dragon's fire had burned away too many layers, leaving behind raw flesh. She raised her hands, palms up, to look at them. Like her leg, the torn skin had burned away, the blood and dirt gone. She brushed her shaking fingers against one knee. It was no longer bloody but still raw and sore.
She shifted and Oathkeeper fell to the ground beside her. The Valyrian steel shone as brightly as ever. She picked it up by the pommel. Her hand was so weak she could only raise the end, the tip dragged in the dirt. The cloth strips Podrick had so carefully tied on to hide the distinctive design were still in place, as was a finger's length of the leather sheath and a portion of the leather belt. The small pouch that held the Golden Company token was also intact.
A pile of fabric lay crumpled by her knees. She released the sword, letting it tumble to the dirt, to examine the bits of cloth. It was her shirt and breeches, burnt, charred remnants that had fallen off her body when she'd picked herself up from the floor.
An odd little chirpy sound came from within the cave, like a little bird but longer and deeper. She looked hard into the darkness where the unnaturally bright reflected light could not reach. Were there birds inside or something else? Birds that could resist dragon fire?
She tried to rise but her body was so weak the effort caused sweat to bead above her lip. She'd had fever dreams before but never as odd at this one, she realized with jarring clarity. Most fever dreams were short and disjointed. This one felt startlingly real. She could hear her blood pound in her ears, feel the prickle of dirt under her legs and even smell the acrid scent of smoke and burnt cloth.
"Who's there?" she called.
Her voice sounded odd, as though she were hearing it from a great distance. Why was that? She was right here, beside herself. The chirping sound came again, closer and echoing, as though several birds were calling to her.
"Show yourself!" she ordered.
The chirping came closer still, louder and higher pitched. Something moved in the shadows beyond the fading sun's reach. She shifted from her knees to sitting on the ground, her back against the wall, her knees pulled tight against her body. She winced as she felt the rough dirt bite into her back, feet and buttocks. Why was her skin so sensitive in her dream? And why was she naked? She'd never dreamt of herself naked, didn't give a thought to the wrongness of her body, too broad and strong to be a woman's, since she had finally accepted she would never appeal to others.
Something hopped out of the darkness. She looked down and stared at the tiny creature. Vaguely, she was shocked by how unshocked she was to see it. It looked like a miniature dragon, with small webbed wings, a head the size of a plum and tiny horns no bigger than her fingernail. It was…almost adorable. She leaned closer to look at it and another baby dragon appeared next to the first. Others joined the two who were staring at her with the same confused, wonderous expression she was sure was on her face, too.
Soon there were five little dragons gathered into a group, so close together they appeared to be leaning on each other. They were larger than kittens but smaller than fully-grown cats. Brienne smiled. Podrick would be happy to see them. He'd hoped for dragons no larger than cats. The little dragon-cats danced around her, flapping their transparent wings and coughing, unable to fly or breathe fire. That would also make Podrick happy. Tiny dragons, small enough to hold his arms, who didn't fly and couldn't breathe fire, were nothing to be afraid of.
The first dragon to appear, a dark brown with red markings on its webbing and spines, moved closer to her. Brienne slowly extended her hand. The little creature sniffed her fingers then hopped onto her palm, chirping loudly, its weight surprisingly solid for such a small thing. The rest of them moved as a pack. They all crowded around her, rubbing against her legs and sides. They felt shockingly warm, as though fire burned in them, even if they couldn't breathe it out.
"Why are you here?" she asked the small creature sitting on her hand. "Are you my guide?"
The little creature nipped her fingertip.
"Or am I to be your dinner?"
The baby dragon flapped its wings and began to crawl up her arm. Its little claws were delicate pinpricks against her tender skin. Immediately another dragon, this one dark blue with light blue markings, took its place. The others hopped up, too, clawing up her legs, as though fighting to be as close to her as possible. She tried to shift away from them but her body was too weak to obey. Soon she had a baby on each shoulder and the other three sitting on her upraised knees. They all began chirping at once, as though trying to communicate with her.
"Is this my destiny?" she asked the small creatures. "Am I to be your first meal? Was this why the Gods of fire and water wanted me to come here?"
Slowly she wrapped her arms around her legs, giving the little creatures more room to settle against her. The baby dragons responded with more odd chirping and flapping of useless wings. Then they snuggled in, as if they couldn't get close enough to her.
She stared at her little companions, nonplussed. "All of my life, I've been rejected because I didn't match people's ideas of how I should look and how I should behave. Perhaps I needn't have bothered with the human world. I should have entered this cave and found all of you."
A grey dragon with light blue markings nipped at her thumb. She used the same thumb to stroke the little creature. The dragon arched its long, serpentine neck, as though the act gave it pleasure. Brienne repeated the gesture and the dragon responded again.
"You remind me of my father," Brienne said. "He also has grey hair and blue eyes. I have the same eyes. I've been told they're my only redeeming feature."
The dragon tilted its small head, as if listening to her. All the dragons were calm now, their heads resting against her, their small wings drooping. Her voice seems to soothe them so she continued.
"I don't know how long we'll be together. Sometimes my dreams repeat night after night and other times the same dream continues when I'm trying to solve a puzzle. We may meet again and again, little ones. I am Brienne of Tarth. What should I call you?"
The dragons didn't answer. Not that she expected they would. The Gods wouldn't have made it so easy as to send her dream guides who spoke the Common Tongue. Still, they watched her, as if they expected her to continue talking to them.
"Very well. Shall I name you all then?"
She tried to shift her aching arms but the three little ones flapped their wings and coughed at her. She sighed and left her arms as they were. She'd endure far greater discomfort in the real world. Dream dragons were nothing in comparison. The two on her shoulders stirred but didn't shift from their comfortable places. The blue and grey dragon chirped quietly.
"Alright, you're first," Brienne agreed. "I'd like to name you after my father but he still lives, thank the Gods. Perhaps I should name you after my mother, Allyna?"
The dragon turned its little head away, as if in disdain.
"Is that too lady-like for you?" Brienne smiled and relaxed, safe in the rapidly darkening cave, protected by five tiny dream dragons. "I'm no lady, either. Very well. Then I shall name you after both my parents, Allyna and Selwyn of Tarth. Do you like the name Allwyn?"
The dragon – Allwyn – looked back at her and chirped agreeably. The dragon on her right shoulder nipped her ear, demanding attention.
"You wish to be next?" She tucked her neck briefly to cuddle the dragon. "You were the first to approach me. Brown with red markings, born to be a leader. I knew two such leaders and swore myself to them both. Your coloring matches King Renly and Lady Catelyn. Rencat? No, that's too simple for one named after such honorable people. You shall be Catren."
Catren flapped its wings and coughed before settling back against her neck. Brienne turned to look at her other shoulder. This dragon was a dark blue with the same pale blue markings as Allwyn.
"You're as blue as the waters of Tarth that took my brother. He never had the opportunity to be a great man. I'm sure he would have. He'd have been the heir my father deserved." Even in this dream world, the ache of loss roughened her voice. "I hope you will achieve the greatness my brother was denied. His name was Galladon. I'll call you Gallan."
Gallan didn't respond, other than to blink its small, red eyes at her. Brienne choose to believe the look was calm acceptance. Her arms were tiring so she put them down. Allwyn hopped down and snuggled against Brienne's side, then closed its beady eyes and became still. Catren and Gallan also relaxed, tiny heads buried against her neck, ready for sleep. The two remaining dragons were still alert, sitting on her knees, watching Brienne.
"So, you will not rest until our task is complete, hmmm? You are both great knights who will not waiver from your duty? That's good." She first looked at the green dragon with deep orange markings. "I have a great warrior in my lineage. Ser Duncan the Tall was one of the most noble knights of his time. His sigil was a green tree with a shooting star on an orange crest, your colors. Shall we call you Duntal? No, that doesn't match with the others. How about Serdun?"
As if he understood her, Serdun flapped his wings and laid down on Brienne's other side. Only one dragon remained, alert and watchful. He was silver-grey with nearly white markings.
"I've run out of distinguished members of my family." Brienne stroked the little warrior with gentle fingers. The dragon arched its neck but did not waiver. "I do know of another great knight. Ser Jamie's idol was Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He carried a magical sword called Dawn, which choose its own wielder. The sword is milky-white, like your markings. Will you be as strong and as steady as Arthur Dayne, Ardayn?"
The little dragon took proudly to its new name, standing tall and straight, refusing to succumb to sleep like the others. Brienne continued to stroke the small creature until she felt the heavy pull of sleep behind her own eyes.
"Will you remain on guard duty, Ardayn? Will you warn us if danger approaches?" Her voice sounded far-away again. She was fading from this world. "Good-bye, little one. I hope we meet again, in another time and another dream."
Her last image before the darkness overtook her was of the tiny dragon, a miniature warrior from days long past, glowing in the last rays of the sun, casting a shadow so long it seemed it could reach back into history and touch the heroes of old.
Translations:
"Skoriot iksos se egros?" (Where is the sword?)
"Nyke ūndegon nykeā vala!" (I saw a man!)
"Zaldrīzes!" (Dragon!)
