80 REVIEWS!! HOLY SCHNEIKIES!!! Thanks you to everyone! Without your encouragement (and threats o_O) I wouldn't have gotten so far! Arigato gozaimashita!!!! ß
-heheh, low key Japanese…funny…
Excuse of the lack of update: 1) I diddled out a few things over the week, and then Friday, my big write-night arrived. My dad decided he wanted to watch a movie until late, and I can't type with people around. So I got bored and went to bed. Saturday, I have homework, but decide to work a little. But my friends, the Twins, called and reminded me I was going to help them on Sunday, so we had to rehearse. Saturday night is (of course) party night with Annie (i.e. we stare and the computer. "So…what do you want to write about?" "I dunno. How about how CDs get to Gaea?" "Ok.") Sunday went with Twins to help sing in their little thingy, "the Teni" (well, the 'Three Tenors' has been taken, now hasn't it?) 2) My muse is gone, I'm still using ChibiRaist, because everybody else is using Raistlin. (I wonder if Weiss will ever get him back?) 3) I lost interest. Not in the story, just writing it. It's really fun when I'm writing out big important scenes or stuff I've planned line-by-line over a few days. Filler is the hardest crap to write. Whoa, long note.
Sorry for the confusion, I am infact a "chick", if you knew me, then you'd know I talk like that. I also get mistaken for a guy in person. Most of the college thinks I'm a guy. It's funny as hell. Okay, enjoy.
"What are you doing out here so late?" Thomas asked as they drove down the road.
Rheas sat sideways in the back seat, his leg propped up. The bike was stuffed in behind him; it was undamaged save the front wheel, which was so bent out of shape it would have to be replaced.
"Biking home in the rain." Rheas replied casually.
Thomas sighed in annoyance. "But why?"
"I was out and simply lost track of time, nothing more."
"I see." He turned his attention back to the road, yellow lines slipping by rhythmically. The rain pounded on the plastic roof of the jeep, attempting to drown out the drone and occasional rattle of the engine. Rheas shivered and pulled Thomas' jacket more tightly about himself.
"Do you?" he whispered, finding Thomas' eyes in the rear view mirror, "Do you truly see? I assure you, if you had, there would be little doubt left in that head of yours."
"See what?" Thomas' inquired slowly.
"Them."
"Could you be any more vague?"
"The one that resides in you, he that undoubtedly pulled you from the void of death at the last moment. The one you became in your dream!"
"The dream…that's what I wanted to talk to you about." The jeep slowed to a stop at a red traffic light, though no one was around, and Thomas turned to face Rheas, who gazed at him with the malicious golden eyes. "That…wasn't a dream, was it?"
Rheas merely shook his head no.
"Then what does it mean, and why us?"
"It means, Thomas, that we have been chosen. Why? I do not know. Whoever it was that called us together in the unconscious state has decided to use us in their little war. And to stop it we must…" He paused, and then fell into silence, shifting his eyes out the grime covered windows. His lips parted, as though to speak, but he sighed and said nothing.
Thomas turned back and the jeep lurched forward as the light turned green. "What is it then," he said, "I mean, it can't be some entity asking for us to save the world, that sort of thing just doesn't happen!"
"But denial does!" Rheas hissed, eyes flashing, "How do we know that when one claims to see ghosts and demons, that they are not speaking the truth?"
"Because most of the time they're not. Either they're insane, seeking publicity or have just wanted it so badly that they begin to!"
"True, I can't deny that. But what of those who do not want the publicity? They know that if they start speaking of what they know, they'll be considered a lunatic! So they keep quiet, hiding away in corners of libraries, desperately seeking for ways to make they're haunts disappear. The stress and the solitude eventually catches up to them and they truly do become insane and that leads to spouting out nonsense in public, or hiding away in cellars slashing themselves. Whichever."
"And where do you stand in that?"
Rheas narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Nowhere. I only see ghosts and demons within my dreams."
"But still, the whole thing seems rather ridiculous. Mysterious plagues, talking shadows, I expect I'm supposed to believe there is something magical in all this? Please, I know that magic doesn't exist and…"
"Ha!" Rheas shouted, nearly making Thomas jump out of his seat, "You really believe that? What do you believe in then? That you are a carbon creation of space dust and chemicals, nothing more? What a poor existence! Think Thomas! I'm not a believer of UFO's or Karma, but I know there was, at least in one time, a bountiful amount of magic in this world. Many countries that had little to no contact all had their 'fantasy' creatures, many the same. The unicorn, for example, had many forms and names, unicorn, karkadann, kirin, yet they were overall the same type of creature. And every place in the world had its own dragons, its own gods or spirits, its own creation story that began relatively the same as all the others. Maybe mankind just thinks alike, who knows. But I know, I've seen it. And I aim to get it!"
"That's where you were going with Toby? To find magic? Alright, I've always trusted your judgement Rheas, but this is hard to swallow, even you've got to admit that."
"I'm a Gamer."
"Good point…" Thomas paused as he turned off the highway, the evergreens blocking off the sky. "Fine then, prove to me this wasn't the product of heavy drugs and bad pizza. What makes you so sure this is real?"
The frail boy shifted in his seat, leaning uncomfortably close to Thomas' ear, his eyes glowing like embers. "Many years ago, you used to have a dream. Maybe once or twice only, but it was the most vivid dream. You were someone else, living in a town of truly enormous trees, the houses built within the branches. Bridges linked the trees, and spiral stairs reached to the ground where there were festivals…"
"The forge was on the ground too," Thomas continued shakily, eyes wide in disbelief, "and there was an inn, I would go in there…" he stopped the car slowly and stared at Rheas who smiled with subtle triumph. "How did you know?" he demanded softly, "I never told anyone."
"Because I had those same dreams, amongst the many I received, and you were in it. I didn't recognize you, but I knew it was you. Do you recall seeing me now?"
Thomas regarded Rheas a moment, when he literally flinched when it hit him. "Holy shit! I did see you! And Cameron! Holy…" he gasped, putting his face in his hands.
"Yes, but you were not constantly plagued by that shadow of yourself, were you?"
"Shadow…these…people, are a part of ourselves?"
"Yes, remember what the stranger said. We would gain the knowledge of our past if we agreed to do what was bid of us."
Leaning back, Thomas massaged his temples, trying to ease a headache setting in. "So we have to save the world huh?"
"You have any better ideas? That illness is spreading, and it is only the calm before the storm."
"What storm? What are we up against then Rheas, tell me that! If this is all true, then what are we supposed to stop?"
"Do you believe what I tell you?"
"What are we up against!?"
"Answer the question!"
"I don't know! I get told by some freak dreamstalker that I have to save the world! Don't you find that a teensy bit strange?"
"Not really. I've been labeled 'deranged', remember?"
"What is it we have to stop?"
Rheas leaned back into his seat, looking off into the trees on the other side of the road. "What I had hoped would save me…" he whispered.
Thomas sighed and continued driving. What was that supposed to mean? He tossed his thoughts about in silence until they pulled into Rheas' neighborhood. "Hey," he began casually, "I've been talking to Toby, and he told me about your wood chunk and whatnot."
Rheas rolled his eyes.
"So," he continued, "do you think this has anything to do with our current…dilemma?"
"Perhaps."
"Well, Toby told me about that large van of his and I thought going and getting that thing was a good idea."
"You did?" Rheas questioned, doubt lining his voice.
"Yeah, we should do that, all of us, since that seems to be what this…thing is telling us."
"It doesn't require so many people…" Rheas began, when a memory bubbled up and he winced, "Very well. We should do that, and hopefully this completed structure will have some answers. But what if it does not, Thomas, what then?"
"Then we've lost nothing. It's spring break, afterall. It'll just be one last get together for us."
Rheas nodded and slid back in exhaustion, tired of conversation. Well, Thomas believed him now, somewhat. This was perfect, Thomas would convince the others, and then they could all go, ensuring safety. If what Imare' told him was true, then he could finally reach what he hungered for.
The Amphithelion.
"You still have got to wonder," Thomas stated, mostly to himself, "why now, of any time, why now?"
"It's the End of the World, Thomas," Rheas said coolly, almost seductively, "it's 1999, when else would it be?"
The Madison brothers stood in boredom as they were berated like children; Rheas for going out so late and Cameron for letting him go out so late.
"You would think, Father, that I am perfectly capable of leaving the house to go visit a friend on my own. In fact, I feel that, with my social status, you'd encourage it!" Rheas replied, his tongue bristly.
"You could have been killed, Rheas." his father stated firmly.
"But I wasn't."
"That's beside the point, what's important is…"
"Aw Dad, lay off him," Cameron interjected, "he's here, isn't he?"
"You shouldn't have let him go out in the first place. We told you to watch him, in his condition…"
"Watch me!? Condition!?" Rheas flared, his hands tightening into fists. He was ignored.
"…Who knows what could have happened to him! It was your responsibility."
"Please," Cameron sighed, "Am I my brother's keeper?"
"No!" cried Rheas, leaping up and covering his brother's mouth.
Too late.
"That's exactly what Cain told God after he slew his brother!" their mother declared, sitting on the couch with her hands folded in her lap.
"You had to set her off," Rheas hissed.
"Mom, he's standing right here," Cameron argued flatly, smacking his younger sibling upside the head sharply.
Rheas snarled something and rubbed his head. "That couldn't be exactly what he said, Mother, they didn't speak English back then."
"Rheas!"
"Besides," added Cameron happily, "Cain killed Abel in a fit of jealousy. Rheas…well…look at him. I mean, look at him! What's there to be jealous of?"
"Thank you dear brother," Rheas snapped caustically. Turning to his father, he added softly, "I've never used the bandwagon approach before but…everyone I know always stays out late at parties and such, all I do is go have a cup of cocoa and ponder the meaning of life. That's it."
"Well, you're not normal."
"What!?" Rheas paused, studying the faces in the room, "I'm just getting complemented left and right tonight! Fine then, I'm grounded, how 'bout that? Ha ha." he shouted angrily before marching out of the room and up the stairs.
"That was uncalled for!" their mother snapped, wagging her finger at her husband, "He's having a hard enough time already!"
"It just slipped out," he sighed, his deep voice heavy in his throat, "I'll go apologize…"
"Just let him vent Dad," Cameron suggested quietly, "there's no use talking to him when he's all huffing and puffing like that." He picked up his bag of chips and walked out of the room slowly. "Besides," he called over his shoulder, "he's angry because he knows it's true."
The next morning was bright and sunny. Birds outside Rheas' window sang gaily until he felt like throwing one of his boots at them. The idea was mulling through his mind rather well when he heard his door open. He groaned and buried his head under the blankets, shutting out the visitor.
"Get up Rheas, you've slept enough," his father said, busying himself with his own tie, "We're leaving in fifteen minutes, hurry up."
"No…" Rheas murmured, grabbing the pillows and stuffing them over his head, "go without me…"
"You've been avoiding it enough. Come on, get up. Don't make me drag you out of there."
"Mm…pheh…" came the muffled reply. Sighing, his father reached out and took a firm hold of the blankets and yanked them off his youngest son. The cold struck Rheas and he instinctively curled up as small as he could, trying to conserve his own heat.
"Up with you," the large man said, patting his son's leg before heading back downstairs. Rheas, still balled up, reached one arm back, groping for the blankets but unable to find them. Apparently they had been thrown off the bed entirely. Damn. Rheas climbed off his bed and staggered down the steps, his mind still sleeping. His brother passed him on the way down.
"Get dressed." Cameron ordered, turning Rheas around by his shoulders.
"I am." Rheas replied slowly.
"Sweats and turtleneck don't count. Dress nice, it's Sunday. You know how Mom gets."
"Uh huh…" and the young teen walked back up the stairs as though in a trance.
He reemerged in the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed in a pair of nice khakis and a dark blue button-up shirt with a Celtic knot embroidered over his heart. More alert, he snatched the box of cereal from Cameron's hand and poured himself a small bowl before handing it back. He ate in silence, staring at the wall, his eyes roaming until they landed on the calendar. There was a full moon soon, just a few more nights…a blue moon.
A prickling sensation ran down his back, chilling him.
The car sped down the freeway, jumping from one lane to the next as it swerved around cars slower than itself, which happened to be most on the road. It was not a powerful car, and the engine practically screamed as it tried to pass a rice-racer. Cameron sat in the backseat, his large frame uncomfortable in the cramped space.
"I probably should have followed in my own truck…" he muttered, shifting about again.
"Nonsense, we're saving gas." his mother stated, sitting beside him.
"But Rheas drives like a maniac!"
"No he doesn't."
"Rheas! Slow down and let that poor woman pass us!" their father cried in exasperation. "This isn't a race, we have time."
Rheas glared at him out of the corner of his eye and the speedometer dropped back. The little rice-racer whizzed by as they shifted back to the right lane. Time? he thought absently, no, we don't have time…
That night he had only dreamed once. He had been standing before the shade, himself, and those golden hands held an ornately decorated hourglass. Dragon heads carved of silver with diamond eyes curled around the glass filled with small blue sand. He began to tilt it slowly, the sapphire sand shifting and spilling……
The Hourglass is turned…
His headache only increased as he pulled off the freeway into town and by the time he entered the lot and parked the car, his head hurt so much he feared he would scream. He wanted to beat his head against the steering wheel but the insistence of his parents pulled him out of the car and into the building.
The church was full, people off all ages meandering about until the service started or chatting with friends. Cameron stopped to talk with a few girls he knew while their parents went to say hello to old family friends, leaving Rheas to his own devices. He wandered into the gym where the adults talked amongst themselves while their children held onto their legs and the teens tossed a basketball around. Ignoring them all, he poured himself a small cup of orange juice from the breakfast table and went to the kitchen.
"Good morning Rheas," Dorothy, a plump middle-aged woman with a kind smile greeted him warmly, "I haven't seen you in a few weeks."
"I've been avoiding service, caught in the middle of things, you might say."
"That's too bad. Here darling, would you put this in the storage room for me?"
"Did it break?" Rheas inquired, lifting the coffee maker carefully.
"No no, just don't need it today. You can fix up that drink of yours while you're in there if you like."
Rheas nodded and carried the cumbersome machine to the back of the kitchen where the large storage room stood open. Placing the coffee maker on an empty shelf, he reached up and pulled down the cocoa mix and a spoon. He dumped a spoonful of the brown powder into his orange juice as well as a small sprinkle of cinnamon and salt. Taking a sip, his face twisted in near agony.
"Oh yeah," he gasped, "I'm awake now!" He shook his head and swallowed the whole mixture, his eyes watering. Tossing the paper cup into the waste bin, he hurried out of the gym and made his way to the sanctuary.
Cameron sat beside him on the pew, his head back and dozing. Rheas rolled his eyes. Their parents sat a few rows ahead of them, so they did not notice their sleeping eldest and thus did not berate him. Rheas decided that was his job and elbowed his brother sharply.
"Ow!" Cameron jumped, making several other church members turn and glare at them. He smiled sheepishly and turned to Rheas. "What was that for?!" he demanded in a whisper.
"Stay awake! I'll not be embarrassed by you any longer!" Rheas snapped. Reaching forward he grabbed a book of hymns from the pocket that was on the back of the pew before him and flipped through it, music splattering across the pages as they flew through his vision. The people around him stood, and he followed, his brother beside him. Many voices filled the old sanctuary as they sang their praises to God and his son, and Rheas suddenly felt eyes on him, probing his soul.
No one was even looking at him, but it was as though he could feel their minds' eyes all set upon his heart, reading what was there. Judging…he was not an innocent, he was exposed and they could all see it at last. He shut his eyes, trying to drown out their song, their eyes that were not even looking at him, and whispered quietly.
Atta, unsar thu in Himinam weihnai namo…
I am not an innocent, he thought, his heart beating angrily through his head. I am a boy who could have once felt the warmth of this place, but I only see a quiet building. They unfold their white wings with their songs and soar up to the heavens, and I stand here with my own wings behind me, broken and bloody. I am not supposed to be here.
His mother was religious, and had thus taught him to be so as well. But he had lost that feeling he had once had when standing before the wooden cross and its blue and white glass with a gentle turn away by golden hands and shadows. He had tried, for his own sake as well as his mother's, but the church did not fill the void that ate away at him.
Thein qimai Thiudinassus theins wairthai wilja theins
swe in Himina jah ana Airthai…
He had known them all, but they gave nothing. He had stood under the shadows of the Cross, the Pentacle, the Eye of Re, anything, but that emptiness and those shadows would not accept their calling, and he stood alone again.
The lit candles, the majestic shouts of the organ, the light slanting in through the colored windows, even the homely colors of browns and oranges that made the sanctuary were all part of what had awed him as a child. Why was it different?
I am empty. The void shall eat away until there is nothing left. I'm drowning…Here, I am haunted by a shade of myself and an old man that I do not know, but despise nonetheless. I know my dreams. I am nailed to a bloody cross in a sea of sand. A sacrifice to the five headed monster who comes to tear my flesh and spill my blood, shrieking her triumphs in laughter, and I cannot cover my ears! I am within my inner garden, and my flowers wilt at my touch and burst into flame. I try to run, but the walls I have built against my enemies surround me, and I cannot get out.
Then there is warmth, and I see her…
And I want to weep, but I dare not, as my tears are of blood.
Waif unsara thana sintainan gif uns himma
daga jah aflet uns thafai skulans sijaima…
I want to see her………
"Rheas!"
"Huh?" Rheas sat up with a start. His face had been in his hands, leaning forward, but he could not remember having ever sat down again. His brother was shaking him.
"C'mon, it's our turn," Cameron whispered, standing. Rheas rose and followed his brother as their row walked up the aisle and knelt before the altar at the communion rail. The minister passed down among them, tearing pieces of bread off the loaf he held.
"The body of Christ," the minister whispered, handing Rheas a piece of bread.
"Amen," Rheas replied automatically. He was too used to this, but the words meant nothing, as though he had to force them out. He sighed and hung his head; why was he here? Again the minister passed, carrying an old chalice of wine.
"The blood of Christ," he whispered.
"Amen," Rheas said again, dipping the bread into the wine and eating it. It was good bread, but left a metallic taste in his mouth, all too familiar…
Swaswe jah weis afletam thaim skulam unsaraim…
He paused, tracing his finger lightly over his bottom lip, slightly in the mouth, and it came away with a thin layer of red. He took a breath and swallowed, rolling his tongue over his teeth to get rid of the horrible taste of blood. He looked up, his eyes gazing at the cross that rose before him, and he swallowed that taste.
Today I end it, he thought to the cross, his eyes falling to the wooden rail before him, I step out of my mother's shadow and see you with my own eyes. Tell me, God, what do you want? Give me a symbol of your interest in me and I will accept you fully. Show me the truth, or I must leave your faith forever, I will not be wanted.
Jah ni briggais uns in Fraistubnjai…
His eyes swept up to the cross again, then stopped, as time itself seemed to for a moment. There was a black bird perched on the cross, fluttering its wings. He could not see it clearly, it seemed smudged. The black bird spread its wings and leapt from the cross, gliding down over him, its black feathers close enough to touch. The world was now blurred, but the bird was not, and Rheas could see it was a raven. It flew up, down the aisle, towards the doors. No one noticed it; they could not see it.
But Rheas paid little attention to that. He stood and turned, away from the altar, and walked down the steps, down the aisle. He didn't hear his mother call to him as he ran out of the sanctuary, out of the doors. Away.
Ak lausei uns af thamma Ubilin unte
theima ist Thuindangardi jah mahts jah
Wulthus in aiwins…
Amen.
The doors shut behind him and he was locked in silence. He could almost feel the cold of the stone floor seeping through his boots. He saw no raven. He turned, about to leave when he spotted a shadow in the corner of his vision.
"You…" he whispered, facing the one he had met in his dream, offering him the opportunity of his past.
The stranger's lips twisted into an odd smile on the pale face, mostly hidden in shadow. The black cloak was pulled back, exposing the decorative robe of the deepest black that reflected nothing, swallowing all the light within itself, leaving a thin ring of nothing around the figure. Black feathers were tied to the shoulders, the wrists, and around the neck and belt. The stranger held a plain wooden staff that seemed to have been split and then bent at an angle just above the pale hand.
It seems you have made the decision yourself, Au Chetisshar.
"You distracted me." Rheas replied casually, his hands sliding into his pockets.
Do you regret your decision? The stranger's lips did not move, but the voice rang up and down Rheas' bones, making his teeth chatter.
"No…" he said slowly, his head tilting slightly, "…then or now."
Well said. You heed my warnings, as well as your own then?
"That which I can make of them. Tell me, stranger, you know who am, but what of you? Who are you to come to me and claim what even I myself have not discovered of my own self?"
It is not a matter of who I am, young one, nor what I am, for I am nothing, and yet I am something, maybe even neither. I merely am.
"Then what shall I call you?"
Does everything need names and boundaries? I have many names, and I have none at all.
Rheas shrugged. "I'm only human,"
But your soul is Shandachi, or what is left of it…
"Left of it? Without a soul, how can I think, how can I live, how can I be?"
Your soul is dead, not gone! In death, it seeks to fill itself, but you keep it within its writhing state. It can only try to reach you.
"The shade…myself. He is the reminiscence of my soul? Tell me then, stranger…"
Raven.
"Excuse me."
You may call me Raven.
"Very well, Raven, tell me what it takes to relieve my tormented soul. Tell me how to end this pain so I may do your bidding, then I shall owe you nothing!"
Raven nodded, lifting the covered head so Rheas could see, for a mere second, the glitter of steel eyes. Raven tapped the staff on the stone floor, the wooden thuds echoing in the empty hall. From where the staff struck the floor, a strange darkness began to spread out, like the creeping fingers of a rising demon. Rheas took an involuntary step back, but did not cry out as the darkness spread and enveloped him completely.
There was black, nothing but the endless black that had become all too familiar. And then it began to lighten, the world faded from black to grey and then white. Rheas stepped forward and was met with a well known crunch under his boot. The world was clear now, his surroundings unmistakable.
It was snowing. Not heavily, a few flakes tumbling for eternity from the overcast sky, but still snowing. Rheas knelt, dragging his finger through the clean white and bringing up a handful that bit his hand with cold. He tasted it.
"I've never tasted purer…" he whispered, rising to his feet. He turned, but Raven was gone, leaving only a sleeping forest of winter. Rheas let the melting snow slide off his fingers and he looked around, trying to locate the robed enigma. He shivered as the cold easily seeped through his long-sleeved shirt and rubbed his arms as he walked, kicking the deep snow about.
He came around a tree and stopped. Right there sat a youth upon a log, bundled up in his cloak and whispering syllables to himself. Rheas, golden eyes wide, strode forward to the young boy until they were only a few feet apart. The boy finally looked up. He was nearly identical to Rheas, except for his straighter hair -though that might have been out of neatness- and pale blue eyes.
"Blue eyes…my blue eyes…" Rheas said quietly in awe. The boy merely held up his arm, stretching out his hand. Rheas looked at it, and then back into the boy's icy eyes. He lifted his hand, nearing the boy's slowly, and then let it drop.
"You are not what I'm looking for." he hissed, and the boy, the log, and the trees all fell to dust, leaving Rheas alone on a snowy desert. He turned and shouted to the sky, his voice breaking, "I did not ask of you to show me illusions, shadow! I asked for answers! If you are not willing to give them, then leave me!"
Raven appeared before him, as though born of the wind itself. I will tell you only what you do not know, Au Chetisshar.
Rheas scowled at the robed figure and turned away. "Very well," he said, loudly so to be heard above the wind that now seemed to whip what little breath he had away, "Where is the Amphithelion? Does it even exist?"
It exists. You have the means to find it, if you want, but I cannot tell those who may be unworthy.
"I assure you, if there is anyone within this world that could be worthy, it is I." Rheas snarled.
Then prove it.
"I shall. Be gone, spirit, if you have nothing helpful to say. I tire of you." Rheas sighed. He suddenly felt heavy, as though he was sinking slowly into the cold snow.
Raven seemed to bow most mockingly. Very well. Shaha'e, au Chetisshar de hya-avandach, n shandachi-te.
Cold. He felt heavy and cold, the darkness surrounding him. But it was not the cold of the snow and small slits of light began to appear. He could hear voices far away…ah, he understood now. His eyes snapped open.
He was lying on the stone floor of the hallway, his head on the lap of some old woman who was petting his hair soothingly. He looked up and saw a crowd of worried faces around him, and shut his eyes again. Images of his smothering grandmother and the cruel laughter of his peers rushed through his mind.
"I'm all right!" he exclaimed, sitting up quickly out of the grasp of the startled old woman. "I'm all right…" he gasped, pushing out of the circle of churchgoers and towards the main doors.
"Rheas!" he heard his mother cry, hurrying forward. He gazed over his shoulder at her, his smoldering eyes holding her at bay.
"I don't belong here. I never did." he stated firmly before turning and walking out of the church, never looking back.
"…As the night drew near my Master went to his laboratory alone to try to unlock the secret of the Ffennadun Hyyangyia…"
Rheas stopped and flipped through the notebook Imare' had given him. Translating the "Chronicles of Fahtea" (as there was no name to the book and the author had yet to give his own name) was no easy task, but the farther he got the easier it was to begin to identify altered structures of sentences with familiar words. He was beginning to need the notebook less and less. Though the book had never mentioned what a "Ffennadun Hyyangyia" was.
The "a" in the first word was the equivalent of "n", which served the purpose of adjoining adjectives to nouns and whatnot, whenever "n" became unpronounceable. With a word like "ffenn", that "a" would be needed. He knew "dun", pronounced like "dune", according to Imare's notes, was "blood", which was, afterall, a common theme when one was working with magic users. Then what was "ffenn"? He flipped through the notebook and was relieved to see there was only one translation (unlike the last word, "lia", which had had six). Ah, elementary work now, the term "ffenn" referred to "elf". Elf blood. Next word, "hyya" meant "wild", and then there was that connecting "n", and he had seen "gyia" before. It was the term for a finely cut stone, such as a diamond or jewel.
The Elfblood Wildstone. Right, whatever the hell that was. He really didn't want to know. Filling in his own notes, he continued.
"…and I returned to my own quarters. It wasn't until the fourth hour after Nightwatch that I heard the strange sounds from the downstairs. I did not feel the need to disturb my Master and went to investigate on my own. Had I known bokdo had entered the castle…"
Rheas flipped through the notebook again until he found his word. The term for an ogre was "bokdo". Okay. He turned the page to continue when he heard raised voices coming through the heating vent. His parents, arguing according to the loud voices. His room was right above the living room and conversations could be heard through the heating vent in the ceiling that connected to his on the floor. He was about to ignore it and return to his work when he heard his own name mentioned. The petty arguments of adults were never fascinating to him; however, petty arguments about him were a completely different story.
Feeling sneaky, he crept across his sun-filled floor to the heater vent and rested his head in his hands, listening to the muffled voices.
"I know he's been acting strange lately," ah, his mother, "yesterday and today, and then what Cameron told me about Friday night…but it's still rather extreme…"
"I know, but it's what's best for him…"
Uh oh, this was not sounding good. Rheas leaned closer and put his ear on the vent.
"Toby, leave those poor birds alone!" Thomas cried in exasperation, slumping down onto the steps. The seagulls, wandering about the empty school courtyard, scattered and rose into the air in a sleek white sheet as the happy freshman plowed through them.
"Why?" he panted.
"Because it's getting annoying. Besides, it won't be funny when one of 'em shits on you."
Toby shrugged, then bounced excitedly. "But look look!" he turned and plowed through another bunch that had landed by the cafeteria, and they rose into the air, shrieking. "A Flock of Seagulls!" Toby proclaimed loudly, arms outstretched.
"Humorous. Now sit still!"
"Aww…" Toby muttered. Hands in his pockets with the most pathetic look on his face, he went and plopped down beside Thomas on the steps. "So what exactly is the big emergency meeting about, anyway? My sister's gonna pick me up in half-an-hour."
"You know that thing you told me about yesterday? That wood-chunk and magic and all that…stuff…?"
"Yeah?"
"And well…" Thomas sighed, why not? "A while ago, you had a dream, and it had all of us in it, right? And we were all…"
"Dressed like Ampguard crazies and brandishing coolios weaponry of doom? Yeah! Did you take that guy's hand? I tried to, but I slipped at the last minute. But ever since I get these…I dunno…flashbacks. It's really cool!"
"Flashbacks? I haven't gotten any of those. …Or have I?" Thomas added as an afterthought.
"Did you take that guy's hand?"
Thomas looked slightly shame-faced. "I tried to, but I slipped at the last moment as well."
"Well, do you actually want these memories back? I think that's part of it."
"Memories?"
"Yeah, Rheas and I talked about it at the festival a bit on Friday. Well, I did anyway, Rheas doesn't talk much in the bathroom…"
"Understandably."
"…cause I was waiting you know because the other urinal was taken and you know I'm not gonna take the middle one and…"
"Toby!"
"Sorry. So we realized that these weren't visions of psychopathy, well, we hope anyway, but actual memories from our pasts!"
"Well, that's nice and all," Thomas sighed, "like reincarnation, or something all spiritual like that."
"Maybe," Toby shrugged, "it's just a theory."
"And did you or Rheas come up with this conclusion?"
"Well, I kept trying to ask Rheas about it, but all he did was warn me that if I came within seven feet of him while he was taking a piss he was going to kill me."
"And what do you see in that guy as a friend?"
"He's just oh so interesting!"
Rheas jumped back from the vent as though he'd been struck. He pulled himself to his feet and stared at the vent in disbelief. "No…" he gasped, his throat becoming tight, "How…they can't do that to me…!" He staggered backwards, and found his lungs refused to work. "Stop it," he wheezed, "Calm down…!" The world tilted and he fell against his desk, heaving, trying to get air into his lungs.
Whatever ghosts plagued his mind found their opportunity. He shut his eyes against the old robed man that reached for him, but he awaited him within the darkness of his mind as well.
"No…!" Rheas squeaked, backing against his door. He looked around wildly, trying to locate a weapon of some sort he could use against the phantasm that was not the golden eyed shade in any respects. His staff lay on the other side of the room. He could probably get to it if he tried, but his fallen lungs were turning the world dark, he could barely stand.
"Get the hell…away from me…you old lech!" Rheas hissed, pressing himself against the door, trying to find the handle with his shaking hands. Apparently his luck had run out.
"Cameron!" he shouted as the old ghost lunged.
There was bright light, and a flash of red. Rheas' mind stopped, except for one lonely thought. "He's not real…he's only in my mind…how can he…?"
And then came pain, searing and white-hot as the cold fingers went through his chest and closed around his heart. And Rheas screamed.
The force threw open the door and he and the phantom fell to the hallway floor. Rheas, eyes wide with fire and pain, reached out, trying to grab hold of the arm that was protruding from his chest, sticky with blood that was not there.
Cameron slammed open his door and shouted, "What the hell are you…oh shit!" The big man did not see an old robed man on top of his brother, he saw only Rheas, back arched and mouth open, trying to take in air, bloody froth bubbling out over his tongue.
"Mother!!" Cameron screeched, bending down beside his brother and trying to hold him still. His parents were already on the way up, their mother dialing a phone, they had heard the scream.
"Don't let him swallow his tongue! Let him breathe!" their father shouted, pressing a pen over his youngest son's tongue and holding it against his bottom teeth. Cameron pressed down on the younger boy's slender shoulders harshly, trying to still him.
Rheas saw none of them. He saw no world, heard no pleas of his name, felt no heartbeat. He only knew the stone altar he was lying upon, an old mage placing a blood red stone over his chest. He didn't know what it meant, he only knew it was bad. He fought against it, trying to roll off the altar, trying to grab the arms of the old man, but he could not move, his shoulders were pressed to the stone. And then the old man was gone, replaced by a younger, muscular man with a dead eye and a scarred face, pinning him to the wet cement. He screamed and fought to no avail, and the large man tore at him until only the pain of the deed was evident.
And then he remembered, the pain in his chest…what was wrong? There was no old man, no man with a scarred face, only his brother, gazing down on him with concern filled eyes.
There was no noise, other than his failing attempts at breathing and the sounds of sirens far away. Nothing else. No words, no music, no heartbeat.
He couldn't comprehend anything anymore. He blinked once, then let his head roll back and lay still, golden eyes still wide open.
Well, it was supposed to keep going, but I figured I've tortured you poor souls long enough. I'll just torture you with a cliffhanger instead! HAHAHAAA!!! Answers:
Imare' is: Not Dalamar, Fistandantilus, Antimodes, Par Salian
He is closer to, but still not: Nuitari, Tahkisis, me (though he is ROUGHLY based off my looks, but that's where we draw line)
So, no one got it. Ha. Next chapter should be short. Hehehehe…
Rheas: Why the hell did you kill me!?
Aden: Because you were asking for it.
Rheas: How so?
Aden: It's a sign of affection, like burning a handprint in your apprentice's chest, betraying your gods, burning your brother……
Rheas: My memories aren't back yet.
Aden: Oh, right…
Join us next time, won't you?
(Random Fact: In .doc format, HG is 119 pages. I was too scared to check in .html)