Aurora, on the other hand, takes a loaf of bread and breaks it in half. Extending half back to the Elder, she says in a soothing voice, “And it’s against my custom to eat while my elders go without.” Bowing his head, he receives it. The rest of us take a little food, careful that our hosts have plenty to eat. We dine in silence, which I’m thankful for. The food isn’t too good, and I doubt I could talk without giving that away. The bread is stale, and the fruit is overripe or too green. Still, it does the job, improving our statuses.
“So,” G. begins. “What is this matter that you would like to discuss with us?”
I expect one of the other two to talk, if only to save the old man from having to explain everything, but they sit quietly, allowing the Elder to continue the conversation. “I will answer your question, but I must ask this first,” he asks, leaning forward to emphasize the importance of what he’s about to say. “Are you warriors capable of slaying monsters?”
“This that a question?” Zero interjects. “This group slayed four in the last month and a half.” This response leaves our hosts with their jaws hanging open.
“They can do it,” Lydia whispers to Jonah. “I know they can.”
The Elder takes a long, steady breath. “If that is the case,” he says. “Then, please allow an old man to tell you the sad, short tale of this village.” Looking from one face to the next, he seeks any disapproval. Not finding any, he continues, “Despite our appearances now, there was a time when we were prosperous. We raised mountain animals and grew crops that only the mountains can sustain.”
He pauses as if he didn’t want to tell the next part of the story, but he had to. “We first realized that there was a problem when the weather changed. The rain falls hard throughout the year; but one day, it all stopped. We sent some men to find out what happened, but they never came back. In time, the answer came to find us.”
“Would it have anything to do with the Phoenix?” Aurora asks.
The Elder forces a sorrowful grin. “Yes,” he says. “That monster came to our village and made its home here. The day we first saw it was a nightmare. It burned through the sky as if it would burn down the heavens and everything that we cared for. Though it didn’t, the Phoenix consumed many of our animals and torched our crops.” He waits for that to sink in. “In return, it left a pile of bones, the remains of our men.”
A heavy silence falls on all present. When the Elder is ready, he picks up the rest of his tale. “It continued this behavior until we started providing offerings to it. Since then, it left us alone, but we’ve had to keep living under its oppressive eye, giving all we can so that it doesn’t kill us all.”
“Why didn’t you just leave?” Queen asks.
“This is our home,” Jonah bursts, hitting the floor with his palms. His voice shakes. “To leave here is the same as dying. All that we ever worked for will vanish. It’s as if the generations that built this town never existed.”
Queen mutters something under her breath about silly sentimentality. “If we could leave, we would,” the Elder clarifies. “But we know that it’ll come after us, just like it did our men. All we can do is try to maintain some semblance of our old life.”
“Since I didn’t notice any fresh burn marks, it has left you alone,” G. observes, scratching his beard.
“As long as we provide its sacrifice.”
“And you want us to slay this beast,” G. concludes.
The three fall silent. Their intentions were clear. If they were happy with their circumstances, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Still, the men had a sense of pride, hanging their heads. The woman had to say what they didn’t have the courage to voice. “More than anything,” Lydia begs. “Please. We can offer you little, but you can stay here for as long as you want afterward. All we ask is that you set us free from our winged tormentor.” She bows her head to the ground, touching the floor with her forehead. Jonah follows, saying nothing. At last, the Elder hunkers down.
“Please,” he croaks.
G. places his chin between his hands. He hums to himself. “Allow us tonight to think about this. We’ll give an answer in the morning.”
The Elder looks at his companions, who nod their approval. “Very well,” he says. “Think on the matter long and hard.” He pauses again. “And do not think we wish to force your hand. You don’t have to feel guilty if you go about your way.”
If he had more to say, we wouldn’t know, because the door flies open. “What did they say, grandfather?” a youthful woman asks. Her hair is a strange blonde with a reddish tint in it. If I had to guess, she was a few years older than Zero. Though she wore dingy, gray rags, she was just as beautiful as any woman I’ve seen, with Aurora being the obvious exception. A hopeful expression lights up her face.
“They wish to discuss it amongst themselves,” the Elder answers. “Susan, could you please take them to their chambers, so they may sleep?”
Susan looks at us with disappointment, close to anger. Her thin eyebrows scrunch up, but she nods her agreement. “If you will follow me,” she says, her voice tense. She steps back out the door. One by one, we stand, nodding to our hosts, and follow Susan. The further we get from the Elder, the more the woman’s demeanor changes. Her shoulders arching, feet stomping, and hands balling into fists. She guides us across the way to a single house. There are two doors, a clear division into two different living quarters adjoined by a single wooden porch. Holes scatter themselves through the house, which would not provide much protection during any heavy weather. The porch itself reminds me of Hercule’s place back in Aliyah, meaning it looks like it could collapse underneath at any moment. On the first step, Susan says, “It’s dusty, and some bugs might crawl into the mats with you, but it’s the best we can offer. You can decide on your own sleeping arrangements.” She doesn’t look at us.
“Thank you,” G. says, reaching out to shake her hand. She doesn’t receive it.
“There’s no need to thank me,” she replies, her voice filled with spite “I’m only doing as I was told. I should thank you. It must be difficult for you to consider whether or not we’re worth helping.” She bows down, her face flat against the ground, remaining there long enough that it makes me feel uncomfortable. When she gets up, she adds, resentment in her eyes, “But if you decide not to, leave before morning. I don’t want to see you standing around making excuses.”
Having said her peace, she goes her own way with a forced, fake grin on her face. A passing thought runs through my mind, Did I ever help people in my past? Another reason to collect a Memento and reclaim my memories, then I can stop dwelling on who I used to be. I watch her leave; it was better than looking at the sudden shame on my companions’ faces. “Can we take a break,” I suggest, feeling the weight of her accusatory request. “This is a heavy matter to talk through. We’ve had a rough few weeks. No one says that we have to decide now. We can talk about this later.” This is one of those suggestions no one opposes. Zero might be the exception of that, but he’s the reason we’re stuck in this mess, to begin with. No one cares what he thinks right now.
The girls enter the one on the right while G., David, and myself enter the left room. Zero disappears like always. I’m neither impressed nor disappointed with our temporary room. It isn’t what Queen would want, but anything is better than sleeping on the ground. A few dirty cots lay in one corner. No one says anything, which I prefer. All I want are the arms of rest to pull me into its loving embrace.
Taking a cot, I place it near the fireplace where G. is getting us a nice fire started. As I lay down, I watch G. and David go about their business in silence. Why was David acting so strange? Did he have a problem with this village? G. looks at his young companion and I hide a gasp. For the first time since meeting him, G. looks sad. Meanwhile, David appears close to tears. What was happening?
To my surprise, sleep decided to take me. Leaving this puzzling situation, I drift off as soon as my head lays down. A dream follows. I’m stand
ing on a street. My clothes are different. Pants are blue and shirt is gray, but they aren’t in the particular style that I’m used to. Looking around, I realize everything is so much bigger in this dream. Tall posts with bright lights look down on me. Big buildings stand on each side of the street. The street itself is like a large dried-up river. Is everything always this big, and I never noticed?
With this fresh perspective on the world, I decide that I might look around. Striding down the street, it takes a long time to go from one point to another. This place is much bigger than I thought, and it unsettles me, but I’m not scared. This all feels familiar. Brown fences block off most of my view of the nearby buildings. Regardless, I know what’s on the other side. If I could climb near the third building, I’d find myself in a big empty yard. Why should any of it scare me? I reassure myself.
My stomach grumbles, longing for food. It’s only then that I realize that I can’t remember the last time I ate anything. Saliva waters around my teeth, and the faintest trace of drool tries to escape my lips. Digging into my pocket, I frown as I notice that whatever I want, there’s no way I could pay for it. I swallow down the spittle. I have more important things to think about.
I round the corner and slam into something coming at top speeds. Falling down, I can feel my elbow scrap against a stray scrap of metal. In this part of town, abandoned metal is more common than street cats. Yelping in pain, I grab at my wound. A part of me wants to laugh because this minor cut is nothing compared to what I’ve gone through over the last few months in the waking world. Another part wants to cry as if this was the worst thing that could happen in the entire world. Tears well up to the surface, but they don’t flow. They become replaced with the fire of someone who wants to know who is responsible for this.
Looking up, I see the figure I ran into. Saying I see the figure is a lie. All I can see is that same shadowy silhouette, but there are a few things I know. It stands only a foot taller than myself, and that’s all. Everything else is because of this innate knowledge, which I do not understand. Are dreams supposed to make sense?
There is a familiarity about this figure. I have the faintest idea that this person is someone I’m supposed to listen to. Still, without any provocation, I can feel this rebellion rising inside of me. The last thing I want right now is to listen to this figure. “Where were you?” it demands. A familiar feminine voice comes from the shadow, and every word it says irritates every inch of me. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve looked for you? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m just looking around,” I reply, crossing my arms in frustration.
The figure says nothing for a time. “We’re going home,” she insists. A tendril shoots out from her shadowy form and grabs my arm. The shadow leaves, pulling me along.
I let out a cry of pain. Her grip is too tight. “Let go,” I shout, but she doesn’t. My legs straighten, trying to resist her persistent pulling. No matter how hard I try to escape, she keeps dragging me. All I needed was an opportunity, and I could get away from her.
That chance came when we rounded the corner. A tall pole stands just within arm’s reach. With my free hand, I grab the pole, wrapping my elbow around it. I come to a stop, but the pain increases as she tries to keep pulling me forward anyway. “For once in your life, just do what I say,” she hisses.
“Never,” I shout back. I pull on the pole, despite the pressure on my body. I know that in time she’ll give up. All I have to do is be more stubborn than her. I know that such a thing is a monumental task, but it can be done. She gives up faster than I thought.
“Fine,” she yells, releasing me and I slam into the metal. My nose breaks, and my eyes well up in tears. It’s impossible to focus on my injury because the shadow is lecturing me. “If you want to say here all night, do it. See if I care.” She turns away and moves along, leaving me with one arm wrapped around the pole and a bloody nose.
“Stupid,” I yell after her, choking back the tears. “I wanted to stay here. So, thanks.” The shadow keeps walking. It vanishes around another corner. I stay where I am. Who knows if she was nearby? I wouldn’t put it past her to lie in wait and catch me off guard. That’s gotten me into plenty of trouble, though I can’t remember any incident in particular.
When I feel that the coast is clear, I step away from the pole and start walking in the same general direction. Despite what I said, or lack thereof, I want to go home. The darker it gets, the more I want to rest, and that’s one of the best feelings there is. Peeking around the corner, I find a display that leaves me speechless. The shadow didn’t leave. In fact, she’s sitting on the side of the road.
Her entire body rocks back and forth as tendrils cover her shadowy face, and muffled noises, sounding close to sobs, fill my ears. Is she crying? At first, I feel satisfied, glad that she was miserable. Why should I feel bad for her? However, the longer I watch her sob, the less I feel that way. In fact, I feel bad for her, where I can’t watch this anymore. Sighing, I shuffle over and put my arm around her, though I don’t know why. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
My heart aches. Why is all of this so familiar? How can I have my arm around this being and not know who she is or what she is to me? I search through my memory, pushing past the last two months until I find the watery void of my mind. I gaze into it, waiting for something to emerge.
The surface remains undisturbed. Everything blurs as tears run down my face. Why can’t everything make sense? I would settle for remembering only the important memories. Is that so much to ask for?
As I awake, the cool tears run down my hot cheeks. “What a weird dream,” I murmur. I gasp, amazed. For the first time, I can remember my dreams. I can still feel my arm grasping that strange yet familiar figure. The slight melancholy of that moment hangs around my neck like a heavy chain. My chest swirls between the sorrow of my dream and the excitement of my remembrance. Glancing around the room, I find G. and David lying down on the other cots. In one corner of the room, Zero sits against the wall, dozing. It would seem that even he wanted to rest inside. Through the branched roof, I notice the last traces of red sunlight. It’s not morning yet, and none of us have discussed the matter of if we’ll fight the Phoenix.
This would bother me more if I didn’t have my current dreams to deal with. When everyone else would wake up, we would settle our issue. For now, I need to process what I saw. Stepping outside, I find an empty town; it’s as if this village died. When I think about it, perhaps it did a long time ago. Taking a seat on the steps, I sift through my dreams. Though they are still fresh in my mind, I can feel the dreams becoming a little fuzzy. No, that’s not the right way to phrase it. They are slipping into that empty pool, which divides me from the rest of my memories. When the dreams submerge, it will be just as before. I’ll know that I dreamt something, but I won’t know what it was.
It won’t be a major loss, I admit. Even if I always remember what happened in them, I don’t know who anyone in them was. What’s the point of remembering something if you can’t see who you shared those experiences with? I might as well not remember them if this will be the case. Still, I don’t want to let them go.
Having the dreams in my mind, if only for a time, gives me a completeness I’ve lacked. What I need is one takeaway from them, something to remember. Then, it won’t be for nothing. Looking at my arm, I think back on that girl. So familiar, yet so foreign. I commit my few moments with her to memory. Who is she? We shared such a strange connection. Perhaps she would appear again.
“Hey,” a familiar voice calls. Snapping from my thoughts, I turn to find Queen standing on the porch. “Got room for one more?” she asks with a yawn.
Smiling, I shrug. “Why not?”
Queen plops down at the top of the steps, saying, “What’s wrong?” It’s kind of her to be concerned, but I can’t afford to worry her. We have enough to think about. I think of a lie, but before I can claim that nothing is wrong, I catch a glance from her. She knows what I’m li
ke when something is on my mind. No lie will convince her.
“I had a dream,” I admit.
“So what?” Queen says after a pause. “All of us have dreams. They’re meaningless mostly.” She pauses again. “Well, they are great for artistic inspiration, but that’s it. What were they about?” She leans forward. “Did it have anything to do with Aurora and you strolling by the moonlight?”
“No,” I reply, blushing.
She leans back and laughs. “C’mon. Don’t take everything so seriously. When all of this is over, you’re gonna end up being a boring guy to hang around.”
I try to maintain a stern tone, so she will understand the gravity of this situation. “I had dreams of my past.” That shuts her up.
I describe the dream just as I remembered it, or as much as my fading memories would let me. Queen sits with her hands folded. As I reach the end of my recollection, she sums up my feelings on the situation, “So you remember the events but not a single person in it? Basically, you had a history lesson with all the names and places removed. It’s worthless.”
I nod. “Yeah. The more I think about it, the more depressing it is.” I feel something punch my arm. Turning around, I glare at Queen. “What was that for?”
“Get over it,” she orders, rubbing her fist. “Do I have to remind you what you’re doing here? When we collect enough Mementos, we’ll return to Astra. The king can give you your wish, and all of your memories will come back. That’s still the plan, right?”
“Of course,” I reply.
“Then it doesn’t matter if you remember your dreams because you’ll get everything back later.” I can’t argue with her logic. “Just consider all of this an early taste of what’s to come. Don’t over-complicate everything and be patient.” She’s right. I make some things harder than they need to be, but I still want to remember that girl in the dream. Queen will never understand what it’s like to have the tiniest piece of your memory returning.
Mind's Journey 2: Of Monsters and Men (A Gamelit Fantasy Adventure - Book 2) Page 18
