Chapter 71: Restless
It's bright. Black, white, and gray marble surrounds me. Sunlight pokes through silver clouds, making the gold decorations shine. The light reflecting off the harbor's water is painful to look at. It's Helia in the nightmare.
Around me are the people who lived here before they became wraiths. They are speaking to each other but it is with words I cannot understand. As I listen though, their voices begin to sound layered, like the last time I had the nightmare, like they are saying two sentences at the same time, one I understand and one I don't.
"Where is that ship from?" one voice asks.
"I don't know. Do the Masters know about this?" another adds.
"They must," the first responds, "How else could it have gotten through the Mist?"
I squint at the harbor and see the same familiar ship only just beginning to dock. It is the ship I know the king and his soldiers are on. I wait for the dream to drag me to the docks and show me Kalista and the other warriors all lined up for a parade, but nothing happens. Instead, I remain right where I am and continue to listen to the people behind me talk.
"Worry about the ships later," one of the voices says, "worry about your delivery now. Scrivener Tel will throw a small fit if he does not get his new quills before his afternoon transcribing session."
"Alright, alright. I'll be off," the second replies, "Drinks later with the others?"
"See you tonight."
Scrivener Tel. Why does that name sound familiar? Do I know Tel as a wraith?
Against the dream's desire, I try to turn my head to look at the people talk and . . . do it.
Huh?
Surprise rushes through me as I watch the courier, one pack on his back and another slung over his shoulder, turn and go through the open doors of a grand building. It's the library of the Chronicler of Ruin.
I wish I could follow him.
Suddenly, I am in the library. It's startling, like blinking and then you are in a completely different place. Before me is a large bookcase built into the wall. Books bound with darkly dyed leather fill it almost completely from end to end. In the corner of the shelf I am eye level with, there is a little statue of an owl.
It's cute! I hope it's still there.
The sound of footsteps approaches behind me. The dream allows me to turn towards the source and I see the courier come walking around the corner at a brisk pace. I watch him go past and begin to go up a flight of stairs. I want to keep following him.
Another blink movement happens and I find myself at the top of a flight of stairs. Once more I hear footsteps and once more I turn to see the courier, his face redder from climbing, approach. He stops for a moment to catch his breath.
"Are you here for Scrivener Tel?" a voice asks.
The courier nods.
"He's down that way," the voice continues, "take a left at the end of that hall."
As the voice speaks, my head feels like it is tilted to the left.
"He's been fretting about your delivery all morning, but catch your breath first. A little more waiting won't kill him."
"Thank you," the courier nods.
Five deep breaths in and out later, and he was off on his way once more.
A thought crosses through my mind as I watch him go.
Can I still follow him?
I think about the courier and blink move once more and, this time, keep moving. I am walking towards a man pacing at the end of a hallway. The man isn't familiar to me, but this hallway is. This is one floor below the Chronicler's room.
"Scrivener Tel?"
I hear the courier's voice but I do not see him.
The man pacing, Tel, stops and looks towards me. He is a man with narrow face and a long, thin nose that balances a pair of glasses. His hair is trimmed to his ears and kept waxed back out of his face.
"Yes?" he responds.
"I have your quills."
"Oh, thank you," Tel says in a sigh.
I notice that there is a black stain at the corner of his lips.
Does he keep putting his quill in his mouth?
My attention is pulled away from wondering when a pair of hands - not my hands! – come into view and reach into a bag slung over my shoulder. A moment later, these too-large-for-me hands pull out a carefully wrapped bundle.
These are the courier's hands. I am the courier? How?
The courier gives the bundle over to Tel, who takes it and quickly unwraps it to make sure everything is accounted for. He lets out a second sigh of relief at the sight of white feathers.
"Thank you," Tel repeats, "thank you. Ah, such a relief."
He reaches into a pocket hidden among the folds of his robes and places a coin in the courier's outstretched hand.
"You came at just the right time. We have important things to record today and I wanted fresh quills to it with. We had run out of spares the other day. Could you imagine the disaster if someone broke a quill and we had no spares?"
He fishes out another coin for the courier.
"But that won't be a problem now. Thank you. I must be off. I can't be late. Thank you."
Before he had even finished speaking, Tel had already turned and darted off.
The Chronicler! Can I see her while she was alive?
But before I try and see if I can follow Tel up to the room, a different idea comes to mine.
Katherine! Charis! I should see if I can find them!
Even though I do not understand the blink moving, I have a little idea. Just like I would search for someone in the Mist, I focus my thoughts only on her, Katherine, my sister.
In an instant, everything changes. I'm outside again but still in Helia. Two young girls run before me and begin to scramble up one of the large dog statues I have seen sitting guard outside of buildings. Their curly hair bounces as they climb and giggle and pretend to ride the statue. They look like they are having fun.
Nearby a man who looks like them is saying something with the echoed voice that all the Helians speak with, but even if I only heard the part that sounded like made up words, I would know what sort of thing he was saying. I have heard Father use that tone with me before.
"Be careful!"
But climbing the dogs is so much fun. No! I need to focus! Don't think about the statue. Think about where Katherine and her sister might be. Think about the village near the Perennial Botanist.
Another blink movement happens. Gloved hands are now in front of me and, behind them, is a plant with one little closed white flower. The edges of the petals shine like silvery moonlight.
"Hello, beautiful," a gentle, familiar voice coos.
I am the Perennial Botanist.
Her hands very carefully turn over every tiny leaf on the young vine and inspect it before moving aside the faintest amount soft soil to reveal even more baby plants sprouting.
"You are all going to grow up big and beautiful, I promise you. No matter what happens, I promise I will take care of you."
I look up and see the rest of the garden around me. I gasp, but the dream me makes no noise.
It is so beautiful here!
There are so, so many colors! I see red and yellow, blue and orange, pink and white and purple, and so, so, so, so, very many different greens I can't believe that there can be so many colors in one place. The flowers, butterflies, the paintings on the walls, the fruits in the tree! All of it! Wow!
It might be prettier than how it looks on the Isles now.
I am shown other parts of the garden as the gloved hands care for more plants. The hands pluck fruit from a tree and place it in a bowl, they trace the shape of a tree with its bark curved into a smile painted on the wall, and scratch behind the head of a small creature that looks like a lizard made of bark. It flicks its tail in its sleep and rolls off the pillow it was on, waking with a start as it flops onto the bench. I hear a soft chuckle.
It's so peaceful here that for a moment, I forget what I should be doing and allow myself to be led around the dream garden. Only when the hands stop to pluck dead leaves from a flowering bush do I remember.
This beauty is only temporary. That's what Father says. It will fade, wither, and die. Only on the Isles, with the blessing of the Black Mist, can things stay beautiful forever.
I pull my attention away from the garden.
Think of Katherine. Think of Charis. Think of the village.
The blink movement happens and now I am looking up at the Botanist's villa from the outside. My attention is turned to the path walking down the hill towards the fishing village at the bottom. As I am moved through the streets, I recognize some of the people here from when I had met their wraiths.
I should go back some day. If I can remember what their faces looked like while they were alive, maybe it will help them remember who they were better? That would be nice.
My ears listen for the sound of Katherine's voice or someone mentioning her name or Charis's, but it is very loud here. There are so many people talking, and I still hear their voices speaking in both the made up words and the ones I understand. It's so confusing it's difficult to make sense of anything, but then one voice shouts so loudly I hear it above the crowd.
"Everyone!" she shouts.
Her voice sounds pained.
A fast blink movement happens and suddenly I am looking up at the woman who shouted. She is on a horse, its mouth is foamy, and both she and the animal look frightened, and red – blood? Is that blood?
"Everyone, run!" she pleads, "We are under attack!"
The crowd goes silent and turns to her. Someone asks the question I want to.
"Who is attacking us?"
The rider opens her mouth to speak and then I hear it, that sound that means that everything is about to get worse. A woman's scream pierces the dream.
Close your eyes. Please, close your eyes. I can't!
There is the bang that sounds like the world is breaking and the flash that is brighter than anything.
I don't want to see this. I don't want to see the next parts.
I am under a desk. Behind me I hear someone pushing something over. The sound of armored boots gets closer. Why does this fill me with dread?
The bang and flash repeat.
The light hurts. Let me have darkness again.
Hands, pale and thin like mine, are shaking as they flip over keys on a ring. I feel that if I can remember which one is the right one, I can hide somewhere safe. Why can't I remember?
Even underground, I hear the bang. The hallway shakes. A piece of the ceiling falls. I jump back, but it smashes the lantern by my feet, plunging me into pitch darkness. I can't see anything. Then down the hall, there is green light brighter than any lantern could be.
I don't want to see this. I want to wake up. I want to wake up home and safe. This is all a dream!
There is a boom in the distance and the ground below me shakes. Overhead, birds are shrieking in terror as they fly away from the city as fast as they can. There is a rapid, scraping noise coming from the corner of the garden. The little bark creatures is trying desperately to climb the wall but its claws cannot grip the smooth surface. All it can do is flail against the barrier.
I look back before me, at the gloved hands and delicate baby plants that are supposed to someday grow white flowers. A shadow covers the entire garden as the sky turns dark. A moment later, I see a wave of light, churning blues and greens, rushing towards me like a wave.
I feel myself thrown over the little plants. Arms curl protectively around the new growth. I turn away from the approaching wave. All I focus on is the white flower and its silver lining until it is too bright to see.
When the light fades, I am in the dark. The chilling touch of Black Mist curls around my body, but unlike the many times I have dreamed this nightmare before, I do not feel like I am drowning in it. I can move, though nothing seems to shake the coil from me. That's okay. I can move. That's what's important.
There is a splashing sound beneath my feet like I am walking through a puddle after a storm, but I feel no water. As I wander, there is a feeling I do become aware of. My cheeks are warm and wet.
Am I crying? Why? Am I crying for the garden and all the colors that will never grow again?
Up ahead I see the only light that ever exists in this darkness; the mark on my king's chest. Slowly, I approach until he comes into view. He is pacing. I curtsey, just as Father and Auntie have instructed me to, and keep my head lowered out of respect.
"My king," I say.
He does not respond to my words. He keeps pacing, head bent in thought but still turning harshly every few moments.
Does he see something that I cannot?
Abruptly, he stops. His head snaps up and his bright eyes stare intensely out into the darkness.
"I hear you," he says.
His voice wavers like ripples on water. It sounds as though he could begin to cry at any moment. I worry that my presence here is causing him distress but at least I am being acknowledged.
"My king," I begin again, "do you know-"
"I hear you," Viego speaks over me.
No, he does not hear me. It is someone else he hears. Who? I don't hear anyone else.
"I hear you, my love!"
His voice swells with intensity. It still trembles, but it is not from sorrow.
"Tell me where you are. Tell me, so I find you."
I still do not hear what he does.
"There," he continues to speak, "is that the place where they are keeping you?"
"Who is keeping who where?" I ask, even though I already know he isn't going to answer me.
"Curs!"
My legs wobble and I stagger back as though I was hit by a wave. I feel his shout more than I hear it, like when thunder rumbles so loud that you feel it in your chest.
"How dare they even think they could keep her from me!"
My heart begins to beat faster and faster.
"No! I will not allow it!"
My heart is racing like when I'm scared but I am not afraid.
"Hold on my love."
What is this feeling?
"I will free you,"
I think I know it.
"I will save you,"
It is,
"and I will destroy anyone who dares deny me our reunion!"
Anger!
I scream. The sounds of my voice melds with a shout of rage that Viego makes. My chest is pounding and my heart refuses to calm down. I pace and pull at my hair.
I need to do something. I need to go. Where? I don't know, but I must go somewhere. I need to go or my heart won't calm down.
"I am coming for you!"
I need to go!
Achlys lurched up in bed, her heart pounding as though she had just sprinted around the cathedral a half dozen times. Acheron let out a concerned chirping noise and flew from his perch to nudge her arm. Achlys whipped her head down to look at her companion, his gentle glow giving her eyes something to focus on. She wrapped an arm around him and took several deep breathes, and then let out a long sigh. A long wisp of Black Mist left with her breath, freeing her throat from the familiar icy chill without the need of a coughing fit.
"I'm okay, Acheron," she said as she gave him a hug, "thank you for checking on me."
She made another sigh, a faint puff of Mist accompanying this one as well.
"Come on, we should go tell Father."
Karthus was standing before a lectern, working to illuminate a manuscript before him and filling its margins with elegant illustrations of wraiths in flight. At the sound of bare feet padding across the stone floor, he placed his quill back in its inkwell and turned to the source of the noise.
"Achlys," he spoked softly, "you are awake. Is something wrong?"
"There is going to be another Harrowing soon," she answered, "I'm still having the dream."
Concern crossed the lich's face.
"I didn't get Mist sick," Achlys continued, "I'm not hurting."
She went over hugged her father, the action as much to reassure him as it was to comfort herself.
"There was something different about the dream this time."
"What was different?"
"For a little while, it felt like I could control where I was in the dream, like I was jumping between the memories of different wraiths. It was strange. I don't know if I liked it or not."
"That is interesting," Karthus agreed.
He brushed the back of his knobby finger along the edge of the mark at the base of Achlys's neck.
"You have always been gifted with an incredible ability to bring about memories in wraith and you have trained to learn how to see into them. I have little doubt that your strengthened connection to the Mist is responsible for these new abilities."
"I don't think I will be able to practice this one. I only get these dreams before Harrowings and I can't decide when those happen."
"No, but now that you are aware of this power, you will know to use it next time."
"I will. I tried to look for Katherine and Charis. I went to their village and –"
For a moment, Achlys considered mentioning the bloody rider and her warning, but the look on her father's face was calm again and she did not want to worry him again. So she quickly finished her story without any more details.
"-I didn't find them but I will keep trying."
"I know you will," Karthus gave a nod of approval, "but for now, unless there is something else you wish to talk about, I think you should go back to bed."
"I'll go," Achlys said through a yawn, "I just thought I should tell you about the dream in case I forget anything tomorrow. Good night. I love you."
"I love you too."
He kissed the top of her head and she gave him a final hug before returning to her room. Achlys placed Acheron back on his perch, climbed into the lifeboat, and pulled every blanket within her grip up to her chin, but she did not fall instantly back asleep. Inside her chest, her heart was still beating in a disruptive way. Every time she thought she was about to drift asleep, it would pick up again, sending another jolt of anger and irritation coursing through her. Only after a restless hour of tossing, turning, bunching up the blankets, and growling into the pillow did exhaustion finally triumph and she was able to fall back asleep.