~AN~ Sun, glorious sun! A whole day of sun---I'm finally out of that blue funk I've been in for days. Dear skies above, I love sun!
*ahem* Sorry. On to author business…ha ha! Got you all! I'm so happy that worked!
AC: You mean person, you.
Well sorry, AC, but you know how the whole thing was. Aster was actually supposed to die, but I just couldn't bring myself to kill her---you know how that goes. And yet, whether we like it or not, there's always tragedy in a life; I had to have some somewhere. Glad you people enjoyed both chapters so much…my beta reader and I were pretty much convinced that this story gets better towards the end, and you proved us both right. Thank you so much!
Now about the story in its entirety…as you know, this thing has been put up in chapters because I was on Frankie, our really old computer who took forever to load an internet page…however, after a two-month nightmare of technical stuff, our new PC's back up and running! So, do I just put up the whole story now? I know how much people hate waiting for an author to upload, but I have really enjoyed getting feedback on every chapter: it's helped me improve as a writer, as well as tailor each consecutive installment to what people seem to want. So we're going to do a poll. Shall I continue with the author-noted, single-chaptered, drawn-out story where people get to chew over each installment, or shall I put it all up in one big wham, where people can get the whole story?
I should ask my beta reader, too…hm. Well, I guess I'll get the feedback soon enough. As always, apart from when I'm having trouble with a certain link, please point out any errors or 'could be improved' parts. (Speaking of the link, that thing did finally get up. It's in my author's bio.) Enjoy the show.
Disclaimer: "How come we didn't get to take part in the author's note? So what if we messed up that stupid link?!"---AC
Why is the word pretty so underrated?
In November the leaf is pretty when it falls
The stream grows deep in the woods after rain
And in the pretty pool the pike stalks
He stalks his prey, and this is pretty too,
The prey escapes with and underwater flash
But not for long, the great fish has him now
The pike is a fish who always has his prey…
And it is careless, and that is always pretty
This field, this owl, this pike, this pool are careless,
As Nature is always careless and indifferent
Who sees, who steps, means nothing, and this is pretty.
So a person can come along like a thief---pretty!---
Stealing a look, pinching the sound and feel,
Lick the icicle broken from the bank
And still say nothing at all, only cry pretty.
Cry pretty, pretty, pretty and you'll be able
Very soon not even to cry pretty
And so be delivered entirely from humanity
This is prettiest of all, it is very pretty.
Pretty, by Stevie Smith
Chapter Twelve:
Who Knoweth What The Day Brings Forth
Dawn came hidden in cloud. Low overhanging mist dissipated late in the morning, making the world seem to be a dark, fog-cloaked plain with a ceiling of moving grey. Flashes of light in the distance lit the clouds from the inside, drawing an eerie effect of celestial lace as they jumped from cloud to cloud, never forking down in lightening but threatening to do so soon. Winds blew restlessly across the stones of Nightmare Castle.
Inside the Infirmary, morning was greeted with various moans and grumblings. Many refused to wake, and as wounded they possessed the right to do so if they wished. They took full advantage of this.
Aster was sleeping peacefully, chest rising and falling with steady breathing. Luna slept as well, her rest far more light from experience, but just as healing. Around the two more nightmaren lay, some still asleep, some moaning and muttering as they became aware of wounds that had been forgotten during the night.
Stella moved among them, tsking and soothing as she arranged bedclothes and checked bandages. Varia stayed to the side, mixing a poultice Stella had needed; she wanted to stay as far away from the wounded as she could. Just the thought of the wounds she had helped treat the night before made her want to retch.
Tessa stuck her head in the Infirmary door, eyes searching until they found Luna and Aster. "How's things?"
"Everyone's fine, thank yi'," replied Stella, not looking up from her business of reapplying a bandage that had worked loose during a boy's restless sleep. "And yirself?"
"Fine, thanks. Anything you two need?"
"Breakfast would be nice."
Varia winced at the mention of breakfast. She didn't think she could eat while surrounded by wounded people.
Tessa nodded. "All right. I'll bring some up in a bit. Tell Aster and Luna I said hi." And she was gone.
In the sleeping quarters, Terrance was currently looking for his sister. She had already left by the time he awoke.
Sleepy maren looked on amusedly as he dashed about, checking under beds and behind curtains, calling, "Tessa!"
Finally convinced that she was not somewhere in the room, he bolted out to begin a search of the entire castle if necessary. The ones left behind chuckled and began the business of getting up.
In the youths' barracks, waking up was a mixture of maren begging to sleep, maren getting up on time, and some more mischievous souls creeping over to the sides of their sleeping companions to yell cheerful good morning messages in their ears. This was followed by the sleeping maren either bolting up, ignoring their assaulters, or flinging a pillow. Normal morning routine.
Some of the young ones were already gone. Chaotica's loud, cheerful presence was obviously missing. Those who worked in the kitchens had to get up early; however the boon of not having many fighting classes made up for that. A kitchen worker only had to know enough to defend themselves, and no more.
Heckler, perhaps a bit disappointed at his friend's non-presence, consoled himself by going around and waking up at least five other teens by yelling in their unsuspecting ears.
"YOU GONNA SLEEP ALL DAY?!"
"WELL GOOD MORNING TO YOU TOO!" was often the oh so cheerful reply, and the disgruntled row of maren he left behind him certainly looked willing to give him a good morning message that involved getting smothered with pillows. But that was Heckler.
Reala woke early.
He had a busy schedule, and he couldn't afford to loll about in bed for half an hour. As soon as he was aware of his surroundings he sat up, stretching to work out the slight stiffness that had settled in his muscles, his long black mane of hair spilling over his shoulders in disarray. He flipped a stray white bang, one of the few white streaks that ran through his locks, out of his face and looked to the window.
It was dark out, but he could feel it was morning. The clouds had not cleared up. Rolling over, he planted his feet on the floor, stretching some more as he got up and walked over to his dresser. The scene, had it not been played out by a pale ghost of a creature in a room that was decorated with black iron and crimson cloth, would have been almost mindlessly idyllic.
He stared at his reflection as he tucked his hair into his floppy, wrestling with a small strand or two that refused to be contained. His cold, ice-blue eyes stared back.
'Another day, another dollar,' he thought quietly, letting his hands drop as the strands finally stayed. 'Another training run, another fighting lesson, and another step closer to the Waking World.'
The crooked mouth reflected in the mirror curved into a smile. 'Another step closer to perfection.'
NiGHTS woke late.
He was refreshed, but it had taken all night to become so; dashing back and forth between Mystic Forest and the castle with wounded maren had exhausted him.
He sat up, purple hair spilling over into his face, blocking his vision and making him pause to patiently work out the tangles that had formed. 'I need to work on that,' he decided. 'Mental note: Tie back hair before bed.'
He glanced at the window, fingers combing through his shoulder-length violet hair. Clouds obscured his view of the sky, and the whole picture was decidedly gloomy. There was no visible patch of sun anywhere.
Finally his hair was in some semblance of order, and he rolled over, getting up and walking with a quick step to his mirror. He stared at his reflection as he put his floppy on, trying to force his wayward hair into it. Violet eyes stared at violet eyes.
He winced as his shoulder made known a still-sore muscle. 'I need to work on my endurance, too,' he thought. 'If I'm going to be part of this campaign, I'll need to be strong enough to survive.'
His thoughts flashed back to the night before, and the scene that had opened up in front of him: a raging stone monster, surrounded by wounded and terrified maren. All of them, excepting Luna, were only teens.
He sighed. These children were not fighters, at least not yet. They needed more time. Time to grow and learn, and to teach themselves how to survive, just as he was. They needed time!
'Reala is pushing them too far ahead,' he thought hopelessly. 'Too far and too fast. Why can't he see they're only children? He's too caught up in this whole thing to see that he's expecting too much! They should be allowed to work at their own pace!'
He paused, turning this statement over in his mind. 'But then, Wizeman's the one who pushed Reala into the whole thing in the first place…so…it's Wizeman's fault…
'And if it's Wizeman's fault, then he doesn't know what he's doing.'
His body tensed, and he half expected to be suddenly struck dead by a lightening bolt for daring to sound so blasphemous. But nothing occurred, except for the low sound of wind moaning about the castle. NiGHTS was too caught up in his musings to notice. New thoughts that he had not dared express before were coming to light.
'Really, he doesn't. He's pushing them all too far, and he doesn't even notice---either that, or he doesn't care. What kind of person doesn't care about those he's created? And what can he do, really, that makes us so afraid of him, anyway? Why are we so afraid of what he'll do if we rebel? What can he do? Kill us? That'll happen anyway, sooner or later…dying I mean…'
Finally he continued getting ready for his day, moving slowly in his thoughtfulness. He had much to think about.
Jackle never fell asleep.
He lay shivering on the floor of the cold cell, his eyes wide and staring unfocused at the darkness in front of him. His pulse was far faster than normal, and his breathing was heavy and feverish. He was murmuring to himself.
"Dark, so dark…see saw, Margery Daw, Jacky has a master…cold, cold, so very very cold and dark…star light, star bright, first star I see tonight…cold…a secret, a secret, a secret no one knows!"
A soothing warmth flowed over his mind, and he thought he felt a cool hand pressed against his sweating forehead, pushing back the invisible locks of short hair. Jackle, can you hear us?
"Hear you," he whispered. "Ding dong dell, Pussy's in the well…"
Concentrate on the sound of our voices, Jackle. Just concentrate.
"Try…ing…"
Jackle, we can help you. Open your mind to us and let us heal you.
"Open…my mind?…"
Please, accept our help. Allow us to enter.
"Don't…know what…you're talking…about…"
All you have to do is concentrate just a little, Jackle. A very little. Just pretend that your mind is a door, and you're opening it to us.
"Why?…"
We can heal you, make you strong again. All you have to do is accept us in.
He closed his dilated eyes, panting. 'Okay.'
Within his mind he pictured a door, a small wooden one. It looked a lot like the one that led to his study. He reached out for the doorknob, his hand shaking for an unknown reason; somewhere deep inside he felt hesitation. His trembling fingers touched the knob, but he couldn't bring himself to turn it. He felt as if he were about to let someone into a secret chamber, a sacred place that shouldn't be desecrated so.
Please, Jackle, let us in. Let us be your friends.
'I…'
Trust us.
His fingers gripped the doorknob tightly, and he opened the door.
Instantly a feeling of peace washed over him, almost as if he had stepped into a sunlit room. He took a breath and dropped, allowing his mind to fall into the hands of whoever had entered. The voices sounded pleased.
Thank you, Jackle. Now just rest. We will heal your mind.
Pulses of comfort spread through his head, as if they were trying to gather together the shattered memories and broken thoughts. He lay still, allowing them free reign of his mind, falling into a sort of dormancy as their healing balm smoothed out his crumpled thoughts.
The warm feeling came upon the shattered remains of the memory the hands had torn apart, and he felt their sympathy. Oh, Jackle, that must have hurt unimaginably. Here, let us put it back together for you.
Slowly the warmth pieced the shreds together, laying them down carefully in their proper positions and then covering them all in its heat. He could almost feel the tears mend, and the memory was clear again.
He sighed in contentment, happy. The warmth spread itself out, coating his mind in its peace, and the voices whispered softly to him. Now just rest, Jackle. Rest and heal. We will stay with you.
Deep in the earth, lying in a tiny cell, a demi-maren fell into contented sleep. And
a warmth watched over him.
Chink looked up. "There he goes again."
"What?" His brother looked at him quizzically.
"That crow."
Chank brushed his shaggy green bangs out of his eyes to stare at the soot-colored bird currently flying along the wall. "What about him?"
Chink shook his head. "That crow's come around twice now. It's like he's looking in the windows for something."
His brother blinked, looking back at the crow with new interest. "Well, that's strange."
"Very."
Yards along the wall top, the next guard also noticed the bird. Hist's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 'I wonder what that crow is doing.'
His companion was staring out at Mystic Forest, and never noticed Hist's object of interest. He wrinkled his nose. 'Look at the fool. He never saw something fly right under his very nose. If the rest of the guards are like this, we aren't in good standing.'
The crow continued to fly about the castle, circling the walls and peering in the windows as he passed, ignoring the guards on the wall that pointed at him and murmured; he was too busy searching to bother acting like a normal crow. He was searching desperately for his master.
"Anyone seen Jackle?"
Gillwing looked up hopefully at these words, but apparently no one knew the answer to Puffy's question. The High Seekers' table remained silent.
Around them, nightmaren chattered happily, all doing their part to maintain the normal amount of breakfast noise. Currently there was a bit more talking going on than usual, and of the more serious sort; rumors abounded. Rumors about a monster that brutally attacked a training mission, of a moving boulder that lurked in Mystic Forest, about a sudden harshness on Lord Reala's part. Even less detailed rumors wafted about concerning a certain demi-maren's strange absence; whispers of screams heard coming from Lord Wizeman's throne room, and Lord Reala seen exiting alone. Chink and Chank had not spread their story, but when asked they told what they had seen. This strand of a tale soon wove into the rest of the whispers, creating a complicated and constantly changing tapestry of rumor. No one knew exactly what was going on.
At the High Seekers' table, the leaders were quiet. They, unlike the masses, knew a bit more about what was going on; they knew a golgoth had appeared in Mystic Forest and had attacked twice, meeting its death during the second attack, and they knew that Reala had become more strict, focusing all of his energy upon being the general Wizeman would approve of.
They were less clear on what had happened to Jackle. He'd remained with Wizeman after a short report with Reala, and hadn't been seen since. Gillwing was immensely worried.
Reala ate silently, ignoring the chatter around them to focus on eating. The rest of the leaders were quiet, each busy with their own thoughts. Finally Gillwing spoke up.
"Do you think he went out on a walk?"
Puffy and Clawz met each others gaze and sniggered. Gulpo, floating in his bowl, rolled his eyes. Reala looked at Gillwing with a cold gaze. "No, Gillwing. I do not think he is out on a walk."
"Morning, all," greeted NiGHTS as he sat down and began to serve himself.
"Good morning," replied Puffy politely. Gulpo acknowledged him with a blink.
Clawz nodded. "Hi."
Gillwing's eyes lit up eagerly. "Hi, NiGHTS!"
NiGHTS smiled at Gillwing's cheerful greeting and the others' less than enthusiastic welcome, then turning to Reala. "Heya, Reala."
Reala nodded silently, and continued eating.
NiGHTS' expression faltered briefly, and he looked back down at his dish. For a moment no one spoke.
Finally Puffy broke the uncomfortable silence. "So you fought a golgoth yesterday?"
"Wasn't much of a fight---more like a ten-second dash!" laughed NiGHTS, slipping back into his usual cheerfulness. "But yeah, I did. Gigantic brute, I tell you."
"I thought we were talking about the golgoth, not Gillwing," murmured Clawz, evoking a smile from Puffy and NiGHTS.
The sly insult passed right over Gillwing's head. He looked at NiGHTS, his expression suddenly anxious. "Have you seen Jackle?"
"Jackle?" NiGHTS' face turned thoughtful. "No, can't say I have…why?"
"He's missing," replied Gillwing simply.
NIGHTS raised an eyebrow. "Missing?"
"Now, we don't know that, Gill," interrupted Clawz. "I personally am of the opinion that the idiot is cavorting about in Mystic Forest somewhere. The fool's slept outside before, you know."
"Mystic Forest?" NiGHTS looked disturbed. "I hope he wasn't near the golgoth…"
"I doubt it," cut in Reala shortly. "I saw him in Wizeman's throne room only a short time before the attack supposedly happened. He was not attacked by the golgoth."
Gillwing looked relieved, as did NiGHTS. Then the first-level looked over to his brother, another unsettling suspicion touching the edge of his mind. "You saw him in Wizeman's chamber?"
"Wizeman requested our presence," replied Reala. "He had Jackle stay when I left. That was the last time he was seen."
NiGHTS looked down at his plate, his thoughts suddenly taking a new turn. 'I wonder…no, of course Wizeman wouldn't keep him in there that long! He must be hiding somewhere…'
He centered his attention back on his food, his voice carefully calm. "I'm sure he turn up sooner or later, Gillwing. Don't worry."
"If you say so," said Gillwing doubtfully.
" 'Mornin, all!" Aniline sat down, flashing the table a bright smile before helping herself to the food. Assorted greetings welcomed her.
"Where were you yesterday?" asked another of the students, this one an archer.
"I was running a training route through Stick Canyon," the scout in training replied. Her eyes lit up. "Guess what---Corbeau says I'm almost ready to start running routes on my own!"
"You're lucky you weren't in Mystic Forest," remarked Heckler. "Good for you about the going on your own, by the way."
"Thanks." She bit into a strawberry before asking, "But what did you mean about Mystic Forest?"
"You didn't hear?"
"No---what's up with the Forest?"
The collective table all looked at her. "You don't know?" "You haven't heard?" "Didn't someone tell you?" "She doesn't know!" "Don't you know about it?"
"I already answered that." She blinked, the pink diamonds painted over her eyes becoming whole before they were split again as her eyelids opened. "What's up? Did I miss something?"
"Did you miss something?" Heckler laughed his harsh laugh. "Understatement of the year, here!"
"Knock it off and spill, Heckler!"
"A golgoth," he replied calmly, and began spreading a roll with butter.
She blinked again. "Golgoth? What are you talking about?"
Heckler took a bite of his bread before replying. "Y'know the rumors about a golem?"
"Who doesn't?"
"Yeah. Well, turns out that it wasn't a golem like the four said---they had their ancient creature knowledge mixed. It was a golgoth. Far as I can figure out, a golgoth is kind of like a horse and a golem is a pony. Big stone thing, little stone thing. Get it?"
"Uh, sort of." She stopped. "Wait, there was a big golem going through Mystic Forest?"
"A golgoth. And yeah, it was. It attacked Miss Luna's training mission."
"It attacked them?" repeated Aniline in a horrified tone. "Was anyone hurt?"
"At least seven or eight. Word is Aster nearly died. Then NiGHTS came out of nowhere and killed the brute." Heckler took a drink with the smugness of a storyteller who'd had a good story. Aniline's face was filled with shock.
"I had no idea…is Aster okay?"
"She's alive, and they say that's a mercy, but her left eye's blind now."
"Blind in one eye…" Aniline trailed off, staring at her plate. It had been so long since anyone had been attacked---that was all over now, wasn't it? The Taming Age was done, and they didn't have anything to worry about. People weren't supposed to be blinded by monsters.
With some difficulty she began eating again. One of the other nightmaren got up from the table, causing everyone to look up. "Where are you going, Wyth?"
"Clock Tower. The glass needs cleaning, or so says Master Tynan. And, being the Master Cleaner, he ought to know, I suppose."
"Master Cleaner?" Jitters burst out into laughter. "Who gave him that title?"
"NiGHTS, I think---makes sense, considering how often he has us cleaning everything. I swear I've polished the front gate at least ten times in the last month…" He gave his friends a wink and left the table, heading for the Clock Tower. It was a tall, golden-tipped tower located at the very edge of Mystic Forest, a large building with a huge clock's face. Its hands never slowed, and all of Nightmare was run by its time.
Aniline got up as well, waving to her friends as she left. "See you, guys. Time for me to report in with the others. By the way, Heckler, what did they do with the golgoth?"
"Left it there, far as I know. Don't let it scare you back home if you see it."
"Shaddup, Heckler!"
I have talked much with Mira, asking her questions and listening to her tales until the stars came out. The fire is dying now, and I will retire as soon as I have recorded that which I have learned, and which I think will be useful to the nightmaren that come after us…
The stars are important, she says. The stars are closely linked to the seasons and days; one can find out where they are and what date it is just by looking up at the stars. Some, she says, only come out for a few nights once every hundred years…
Excerpt from the diary of Emirgast, a first-level nightmaren
Jackle.
Jackle moaned, feeling consciousness slowly begin to creep back to him. It wound through his mind, touching his thoughts and trying to bring him back to awareness.
Jackle, wake up. You've slept enough.
'Don't wanna…wake up…'
It's time to get up, Jackle. Come on.
He yawned, opening his eyes, then whimpered. The black around him was so deep…
Don't worry, Jackle, we're here.
"Don't go away," he begged, speaking into the darkness as if they could somehow hear him better that way. "Please, don't leave me alone. I don't want to be alone!" His voice jumped high in sudden fright. His memories were back together again---and they scared him to death.
We won't leave you, never fear. We'll be here whenever you need us.
"You weren't there last night," he accused. "You went away."
But we came back, and you let us in. Now that you've allowed us in, we'll come whenever you call.
"Really?"
Certainly.
"Oh. Okay." He smiled; then, he giggled. "Thanks!"
Of course.
"So now what do I do? I don't want to be in here…" Frightened again.
You won't be for long, Jackle. Wizeman will bring you back out, and today.
"Wizeman?" His pulse jumped violently. "No, no no no not again! No, please, master, didn't do anything wrong---"
Jackle! Calm down. He won't hurt you.
"How do you know?
Just be the way he wants you to be, Jackle. He'll be happy with you again.
Jackle cocked his head to one side, invisible hair tumbling about his neck as he did so. "How does he want me to be?"
He wants you to be proud of yourself, Jackle. He wants you to be strong, and to show your power. He wants you to be yourself.
"How do I do that?"
Remember what we taught you?
He thought hard. "Um…laughter?"
Yes. They sounded satisfied. Laughter is power, Jackle. Whenever you're unsure, whenever someone insults you, whenever you feel weak---laugh. It'll make everything better.
"Really?"
Yes.
"Wow…okay."
Why don't you try and laugh?
"Now?"
Yes. Don't you see how funny it all is?
"What do you mean?"
The voices began to sing. Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream, and sky and stone and night and grey and stars all dim a-gleam…dark and night shadowed and dim, full deep river flow strong…full dusky night of fire-flies and glowing blood of song…shining mirror glimmering sharp and bright the knife-edge sting…flash bright aware like dark stream-burst, and hum life on a string…
A laugh broke from his lips. It didn't stop there. He continued to laugh.
It poured from his mouth, high and breathless, a bubbling fountain of sound that just seemed to jump from his throat, spawned by the images rushing through his mind of flashes of glass cutting through deep black and filled with flowing sound and whispers of dusk. He clutched his stomach, laughing. "Oh, it's so---pretty!" he gasped between laughs. "That's just so pretty!"
He gulped in shuddering lungfulls of air, the laughter slowly dying away into giggles. He continued to giggle quietly, trying to catch his breath. "It's all so…pretty…"
Isn't it?
"So very…pretty…"
See, that's all you have to do. Just act like yourself in front of people, and they'll give you respect. Act like yourself in front of Wizeman, and he'll like you.
"Okay." He giggled again, staring into the dark with wide eyes. "Oh, everything's so pretty…"