Chapter 6: Long Road Ahead

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                                                             "Long Road Ahead"

The March air was still cool and crisp. But around me the budding trees were slowly coming back to life. I sat propped on the saddle of a horse moving to its slow gentle stride. Soon the rhythm of its movement came to an abrupt halt. The whirling melodies of songbirds stopped. The pale blue sky was replaced by dark gray clouds. In front of me was a high stone wall climbing high above the treetops. I reached a dead end without realizing it.

"You knew the anger of the seas." The voice echoed. I steered the horse around only to find a black horse with its rider galloping straight towards me. My blood chilled. I scoured the side of the road which was lined with trees packed tightly together. I was trapped. I pulled out my sword bracing for the worst.

My eyes flew open and I was flat on my back. I wiped my brow, slicked with sweat, although the wool sheet splayed around me were cool. Just like my hands. I took a couple of deep breaths to calm my fluttering heart. I was safe in a warm bed. Nobody could hurt me here. And just in case they did... I fingered around my pillow, until my hand made contact with the cold sharp metal hiding underneath the feather-stuffed pillows. Footsteps converged. I reached for the sword.

"Troy." It was a familiar voice.

"Yes." The sword fell slipped off the bed and across from my grandfather's feet. He stooped down to pick it up but not with eying me warily.

"It belongs to me. It accidentally fell."

"Why are you sleeping with a sword Troy?"

"For protection. I asked the slave girl to put it underneath my pillow or by my bedside."

"Protection against what?" I bit my lip. "At least have it by your bedside, like on the lamp stand. You must be careful not to needlessly inflict wounds."

"I will be careful. I assume Apollus has been talking to you about me hurting myself," I said, frowning.

"No I have not heard such. I would hope such is not the case with my grandson." I bit my lip again until I tasted blood. "You look a little pale," he continued. "What is on your mind? Another bad dream?" He said, cocking an eyebrow.

"What if a dream is more than a dream?" I asked.

"What do you mean by that?" Grandfather asked, stroking his chin, which was covered in white stubble.

"What if something you dream about comes true." His brows furrowed.

"Have they come true?"

"Well one. I had a dream that it was stormy out at sea. These men were yelling for the winds to abate. The waves crashed against the boat causing the boat to sink. They were trying to hold on while others plunged to the depths below. Then it went under with me into the icy waters ..." my voice faltered. I could barely look him in the eyes.

"When did you dream this? It was not this night was it?"

"I dreamed it a few weeks before the news from the messengers. I wished the dream was wrong. I wish I had not dreamt it at all. And now I am haunted by some obscured figure that taunts me in my dreams." Grandfather sat down at the edge of my cot.

His gaze was steady on me now. "But you did dream it for one reason or another. There was nothing you could have done. The ship disobeyed the order of the king and set sail despite reported warnings. You cannot bear the guilt over another man's defiance. Do not let your mind beat you over this. Guilt is a normal emotion for wrongdoing but there was no wrong on your part. Do not let it consume you. If you can forgive yourself maybe you will have peace of mind." He patted me on the crown.

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