Sea Dragon: Rise of the Lone Wolf

Resurrection

The Master Dreamweaver made his way towards the house on the hill. It was not an appointment that he was looking forward to. It was unthinkable that a Master would be unable to awake a dreamer, but this was going to be his third try. The first two had ended in failure, and he had barely survived the attempts. But he still had to try. You do not say no to a member of the Matriachii. Especially when she was the wife of the Lord High Tribune himself. No, the Master Dreamweaver thought to himself. No one says no to people such as these, especially where the life of their only son was concerned.

He hastened up the hill, as fast as his aged back would allow him. He had prepared like never before for today’s attempt. His soul was tied to this world by the strongest wards known to the Ia. He had three of the strongest waking potions in his pouch, all of them fortified with expensive incense. He was certain that he would be successful today. If he was unable to draw the Matriarch’s son from his sleep today, no one would. The Master Dreamweaver shivered at the thought and quickened his steps. Best not to dwell on that. Better to dwell on success, and what that would bring. He smiled.

After nearly an hour of slow, weary climbing punctuated with rest breaks, the Master Dreamweaver reached the house on the hill. Well, he wouldn’t have described it as just a house. To his eyes, it was a magnificent palace. Brilliant white walls, contrasting with the deep green grass demarcated the boundary of the vast compound. Through the gates, the Dreamweaver could see the bright orange roofs of the main house, projecting outwards and supported by intricately designed marble pillars. He could barely make out the interior walls of the house, but his memory supplied the details of the marble covered partitions. As he approached the house, a portion of the servant’s quarters also came into view. It had a similar design with main house, except that it was smaller.

“Who goes there?” A rough loud voice caught the Dreamweaver in his tracks He sighed.

“Do you always have to ask, Janus?” he said, turning to the guard, who was standing erect by the gate. The guard’s heavy-looking wool cloak hid the arms that he bore.

“No one is exempt from protocol.” The guard said, his face stern. Then he broke into a wide smile. “Especially when it obviously annoys them. You go right ahead, Master.”

The Dreamweaver gave the guard a mock salute and continued on the cobbled path from the gate to the main house. He reached the entrance to the atrium and peered inside. There seemed to be a lot of activity going on in the normally serene and orderly house. There were servants hurrying this way and that. The Dreamweaver paused for a bit. What was going on? Then his heart lurched. The activity seemed centered around the Matriarch’s son’s room. The Dreamweaver’s head began to swim. Had something happened to something happened to the boy? Had the unthinkable happened while he was away? Clutching his heart, he struggled forward, as fast as his ageing legs would carry him. Then he spotted Aulus, the Master of the Servants, dashing out of the boy’s room.

“Aulus!” The Dreamweaver shouted. Then he coughed. Fortunately, Aulus heard him, and hurried over.

“Take it easy, Master” Aulus said, when he reached the Dreamweaver, whose body was still wracked with coughing. He rubbed the Dreamweaver’s back. “Do you need some water?”

“The boy…” the Dreamweaver managed to say between coughs. “The boy…. Marcus….how is he?”

“Why,” Aulus replied with a smile. “Marcus has awoken.”