SOI Chapter 3: The Dream
A/N: I know this chapter needs a TON of editing. Either way it's all I have for now. Read, review and enjoy!
In the far north there lay a house, on the lower part of the land near a large lake. It was very dark outside, and the rain pounded thunderously upon the roof of the little house. It had been this way for years, but the house always stood there unmoving, as if it was a testament to the statement that some things never changed. And, as always the interior of the house was well lit, with a warm wood fireplace and many torches. The place was well furnished as well, with plenty of comfortable chairs that had been collected over the years by its owners. The current owner of the house was an old balding man who was currently sitting in an armchair directly over the window; which he had also done for a time that felt like many years.
The old man had traveled to this place, nearly every night waiting for the man who never seemed to come. His father was that man, he had left the balding man when he was just a child for the desert and had never returned. The balding man would wait as long as he had too for his father, he would come back, the old man was sure of it. The old man was gazing at the portrait of his father. The portrait was clearly made when his father was far younger, as it depicted him with rich brown hair and almost tragic looking dark brown eyes.
Suddenly amidst the rain and win there was a clap of thunder and then a flash of bright lightning near the window. There it was, only for an instant, a pale face in the night, with horrible red eyes peering through the window. The old man gave a shout, jumping out of his chair he rushed to the window, but there was no more sight of the strange face, it was gone. Sighing, the old man wiped his eyes trying to put the pale face out of his mind after all no living creature had such a fantastical complexion! Such sights, the old man reasoned were merely a trick of the light.
All quiet save for the pounding rain sank upon the house, the old man calmed down at last settled back into his chair leaning over to pick up the book he had been reading earlier. The book was old, and tattered; even the crimson cross on its front was beginning to fade.
The man's father, one of the Templar Kings of Verigan's Hold, which the book was about, had written the book. The old man sat with his hand on the cover and thought about his father for a moment. His father… the man had hardly any living memory of him but had heard tell from his uncle that his father was a strong man, and in his time he had been a hero of the world. Where had his father gone? The old man had reflected many times before on this very question about his father. When the old man was a child his father had disappeared, suddenly and mysteriously on the same dark and stormy night to which he had somehow returned to, even more in recent nights as far as the old man could remember.
"Where are you father?" the old man asked as he looked at the author's name of the book, Karpath Peculier.
"Good evening my son." A voice answered him back. The voice, it was a chilled taunting voice just like the one he had been heard Father John talk in before the massacre at Terrorvale. The old man paused and stared in disbelief at the sudden appearance of no less than the Reverend John.
"No!" the old man cried, the Reverend had appeared and he was quite real the old man was sure of it. "What do you want?!" he cried at John "There is nothing for you here!"
"Oh but there is…" John's disembodied voice replied, causing the hairs on the old man's neck to rise in fear.
"B-but you died! I saw you die!" the old man forced the words out. John just smiled at him, his smile was bloody with a long scar on his upper lip, and he was enjoying the old man's fear.
"Even in death there is life." The Reverend said simply. "As for your request let me show you…" John hissed as he stepped forwards to the old man. The old man couldn't run he was rooted to the spot as the deranged Reverend stepped closer, his black cloak sweeping the floor. Suddenly the Reverend placed his hand on the old man's head and all went black.
The old man was young again; he was in his forties possibly even his thirties. He was back in Terrorvale; the town was bathed in sun and was bustling with inhabitants and people. The old man's younger self was laughing and holding hands with an equally young woman with long beautiful blond hair. They were going to Church, Reverend John was there too, smiling and greeting the members of his parish. Life was beautiful again, the old man sighed as he watched wistfully.
But then the heroes, Xephos and Honeydew appeared and suddenly everything turned gray, his younger self was older now, the beautiful woman was missing. But the heroes were there, killing and attacking the town's inhabitants, Reverend John tried to stop them but he too was overpowered. The heroes came back then and enlisted the help of the old man.
"We need your help!"
"Yeah, old man to help save Daisy…" Xephos said, his lip curling into a malevolent smile. The old man couldn't remember why he had come with them, after all they had done but he followed them blithely along anyway. The old man always ate alone while Xephos and Honeydew ate together laughing and killing wild things.
Then there was another flash of grey and suddenly they were tumbling down towards the cave. There was a flash of fire and then black that cleared to show another scene. The old man was in the cave and he could see the heroes talking but he couldn't hear what they were saying, he was too far away. The two were drawing their swords then and advancing on him! They were going to kill him! But he couldn't move and Xephos and Honeydew, his two friends drew closer and closer then Xephos reached back and moved his sword to the old man's chest.
"You shouldn't have trusted us…" Xephos said smirking horribly as the blade spiraled towards his heart.
"Make it stop! Please!" the old man found himself crying. It couldn't be true, his two friends, his companions would never betray him like that! Suddenly, the hand was removed from his forehead and the old man felt new warmth like the changing from the spring to summertime. The old man shuddered as he faded back into reality from the horrible world he had submerged into.
"You know it to be true…" John said. The old man struggled and fidgeted in his chair.
"It is not! They didn't kill me!" Peculier yelled.
"Did you see their betrayal?" the Reverend asked surveying the old man closely.
"Betrayal? It was a dream!" the old man exclaimed. "A dream of your foul conjurations John!"
"Do you know it to be untrue?" John asked giving Peculier a doubting look. The old man fidgeted in his chair, "It's not true! They saved me in Terrorvale and killed you. You fiend!"
"Fiend am I?" John asked with another bloody smile "Why am I so evil to you my son?" he asked tauntingly.
"Don't call me that! You're not my father!" Peculier yelled angrily. "Why are you here? What do you want?" John gave a deep sigh at the old man's request. "I think you'd better come along Peculier…there is a great deal I must tell you."
"Come along with you?" Peculier laughed "Come along with you so you can deliver me to your fiendish companions?"
"Fiendish companions? Oh I think you'll find your accommodations quite nice. You must understand my son that I am trying to help you – as a parent would educate a child." John said with a pitying look at Peculier that came off as a bloody smirk.
"Help me? Help me! You'd sooner kill me than help me. You and your son, Israphel!" Peculier spat getting out of the chair, his fists shaking with anger. All the old man wanted now was to be rid of his fiendish guest.
"You must understand Peculier, I am here to right a wrong a terrible wrong which seems to have infiltrated your mentality." John said softly.
"Indeed!" Peculier spat "My mind was sound before you came into it!"
"Do you really think those heroes of yours are really trying to help you?"
"I do!" Peculier said proudly. "They would never murder innocent people!" John smiled again. "I think it's time you saw what they've been getting up to my son."
"I said don't call me that! I'm not your son!" Peculier bellowed as he moved towards John shaking with anger.
"Careful now…" John hissed raising his right hand as he had done earlier. "You don't want to overexert yourself my son…" Peculier stumbled, he felt like he had been hit over the head with a heavy object.
"You won't…I won't let you... you're lying…" Peculier managed to say before he collapsed to the floor, unconscious. John sighed putting his hands down. Slowly the Reverend bent over the old man and gently checked Peculier's pulse. Having confirmed Peculier was alive John snapped his right hand and Peculier started to float behind him. With that, the Reverend walked out the door into the night his business at the house completed.
"You'll see my son…this is for your own good. I am only…trying to protect you…" John murmured and with that the Reverend and the immobilized form of old Peculier disappeared into the rain and wind.
The clouds lay low over Mistral as dawn came over the city. The people of the city however were still in their beds or lying on the streets in some form of slumber as the day had just begun. The city was slowly illuminated, block by block by the rising sun in the east, as it drove away the night from every crevasse of the city and every block of the Sky-temples and airships. It was a new day in Mistral City, the center of this side of the world and the beginning point of the journey for the four companions, however only three had made it there.
Honeydew awoke slowly, like all Dwarves he hated early mornings and awoke with great reluctance. He had fallen asleep fully clothed on the uncomfortable wool bed, his companions Peculier and Lysander beside him.
"Ooof!" he grunted shifting to the bedside blinking slowly, reaching to scratch his back. Light glared through an open window and a bird could be heard chirruping in the morning. Honeydew stood slowly leaning on the double chest nearest the bed yawning widely.
"Oooaaaahwn!" Honeydew stretched taking in his surroundings briefly. The place was a one room apartment in the attic of the Skylord's Elysium, it was oddly Dwarf sized as was clear by the sleeping arrangements. Lysander had laid out a neat leather 'bed' but no matter what he did there wasn't enough room to keep Peculier's feet off any part of his body. Honeydew chuckled at the scene, he had gotten the bed!
"Good morning Honeydew." a voice mumbled.
"Who?" the Dwarf asked incredulously blinking into the sunlight as an abrupt shifting and muffled crash followed the voice. "Oi! Steady on!"
"Next time – it's premium bedrooms at Skylord chambers." Lysander muttered appearing out of the entanglement of leather and bedclothes, standing up he rested against a bed-pole sighing with relief as he surveyed the mess all over the floor.
"Good morning Lysander." Honeydew grinned. "Have a nice rest?" Lysander glared at the Dwarf before responding.
"No! No I did not." He said huffily. "The spaceman isn't here?" Lysander asked as he scanned the room. Oh right Xephos Honeydew thought, to think he'd nearly forgotten about the spaceman, for dreams about Jaffa cakes!
"We'll have to find him." Honeydew said simply.
Lysander grumbled in assent, hitching his gear and – taking great care to step over the still slumbering Peculier cracked open the door to the lower part of the house muttering something about 'fresh air'. Honeydew sat on the chest still in the process of waking up as he watched the slumbering Peculier drowsily, recounting the events leading up to their morning arrival at Mistral.
It seemed impossible now that Xephos had been lost near the icy bridge. Or is that where we lost him? The Dwarf was troubled, in part because they didn't – couldn't stop and look for the spaceman because it was night-time and the monsters were a threat if they didn't hurry. Is he alright? The endless questions circled in Honeydew's brain as he gazed out the window at the city wondering if his friend had finally made it. The two had been through a great deal together especially the terrible events of Terrorvale and it was likely that the spaceman had made it through the night. Maybe he's in the city already! The Dwarf's heart lightened considerably at the thought, there would be time to go and look for the spaceman, after breakfast.
Old Peculier was still asleep, he had fallen in a pile of soft wool the minute the company had tucked in and was by the look of it having an uncomfortable sleep as he was tussling in the wool and moaning.
"Daisy…Daisy…" the old man mumbled rolling dangerously on the edge of the wool-bed. Honeydew stumbled over, he'd better wake the old man up before he did himself an injury
"Old Peculier? The Dwarf shook the old man gently repeating his name to bring him out of his dream.
"OLD PECULIER!" Honeydew bellowed. Peculier awoke with a start nearly falling off the wool bed, the Dwarf grinned at him. "Alright old man?"
"Oh- you! Y-y-you woke me too early…" the old man muttered reproachfully, Honeydew shrugged.
"You were having a terrible dream old man." Honeydew said sitting on the bed briefly putting on his boots for breakfast. The old man shuddered,"I know what you mean Dwarf. It was terrible…I saw her again…" he trailed off looking down at the floor momentarily.
"I- I'm not feeling well…Honeydew." The old man sighed then shuddered again. Honeydew turned quickly to the old man knocking aside an empty bottle of shaving cream, the memory of Peculier's stroke at the cave was all too familiar. The dwarf looked closely at the old man who was now sagging on the wool, he looked weakly at Honeydew his face gaunt and pale, far different from the almost lifelike look he had attained onboard the Celeano.
"I won't last long, I must see the house of my father's Honeydew!" the old man cried a wild look in his eyes. Honeydew nodded in mute agreement, Skylord Lysander should go with him the dwarf thought he needs help.
Sensing the old man's liability Honeydew rushed from the attic as fast as a Dwarf could making a huge ruckus as he crashed down the stairs to where Lysander was dining. Old Peculier was feeling terrible and badly needed medicine in addition to his desire to see his father's house.
"Skylord – Lysander, Old Peculier…he's ill – he needs help! I think he's about to have another attack!" Honeydew said panting slightly to a bewildered Skylord. Suddenly the Skylord's face became immediately concerned as he too recalled the post-crash stroke.
"Is he still upstairs lad?" the Skylord asked urgently. Honeydew nodded breathlessly. Quickly the Skylord immediately dropped his soup spoon and dashed upstairs, the Dwarf following him closely.
Their old companion was out cold on the mattress his breathing labored and in gasps, he was moaning.
"Peculier?" the Skylord asked tentatively, the old man moaned in response. Slowly the Skylord and the Dwarf neared the bed where the old man was now fairly comatose. "He's not having another attack…thank Notch." Lysander said calmly. "Honeydew, you must get help from downstairs. He must be transported to the care of the wizard Fumblemore he is the only one who can help him." The Skylord commanded as he tried to rouse Peculier.
"Don't you have another one of those magical potions…to make him alright?" the Dwarf asked concernedly remembering the last time when the Skylord had saved the old man near the destroyed cave. The Skylord sighed impatiently
"I'm afraid that was only a temporary measure, it was to get him here so he could get more permanent treatment!"
"What's wrong…with him then?" Honeydew asked confused and alarmed at the old man's groans.
"He is stricken with taint. I've seen it before..." Lysander trailed off as Peculier finally fell silent on the covers. "We must go; he will be well…for a while."
"What's taint?" the Dwarf asked incredulously.
"Taint…" the Skylord began, "is a disease which will eventually overcome him if nothing is done about it. It spreads so I hear from the tainted sands from where Israphel came, which was why in older times adventurers rarely made it back from the desert and the ones that did the most skilled healers could not save."
"Gods! Can he be saved? I'll stay up all night to make sure he's alright." Honeydew said firmly. The Skylord laughed grimly.
"You didn't hear me earlier hero? I'm afraid Fumblemore has the only power to heal him, but we must hurry if we are to save old Peculier!"
"Er, Fumblemore who?"
"The wizard of Mistral hero."
"Erm, should we really take him to a wizard named Fumblemore?" Honeydew asked uncertainly.
"It is the only choice hero!" The Skylord said as he pulled on his cloak from the dresser and headed downstairs with Honeydew reluctantly in tow, maybe Xephos'll arrive on the way Honeydew thought hopefully as the door closed, but for now we've got to find Fumblemore!
"EWLING!" Lysander bellowed, racing down the staircase.
"Sir?" the butler's concerned voice replied.
"Send for the healer Eli…" Lysander panted speaking rapidly "tell him to come immediately, no time to wait; I don't care if he hasn't got the time this is urgent! Also," Lysander paused handing a pouch of pink vials to Ewling "while you're waiting, give Peculier one of these every hour on the hour."
"Certainly sir." Ewling said taking the pouch of vials in hand. The butler's expression was remarkably calm and placid despite Lysander's obvious panic, Honeydew was beginning to wonder if something was wrong with the butler too before he walked briskly past Lysander and up the staircase to the main bedroom.
"Come hero! Breakfast will have to wait. There is no time to waste!" Yeah, breakfast will have to wait…this is serious! Honeydew thought as he and Lysander bounded out the doorway to find the only man who could save their companion.
