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DARWIN’T’S DREAMS
Standing at the top of a tower, the sun cresting the mountain range in the far distance, wind rushing in his ears, Darwin’t Utsa manages to utter the single word, why? The scene before him changes. A boy is running from a flock of raptor birds, his red hair trailing behind him. A shadow moves off to his right. Something about the shadow seems important but the boy keeps running. He does not see the snake-like tentacle snap out of the lagoon. The boy screams as he is pulled under the red waves. Darwin’t calls out, yet it is too late. Now he knows he is having a nightmare. He always dreams of Damilayas before one of his true-dreams.
He is back at the top of the tower. He scans the country around him. It is mainly flat, green plains beyond a sprawling city, which grows like a forest at the base of the tower. Not my home country, then. He looks for any symbol, crest or coat of arms to focus his memory on but cannot find one. He turns his attention to the door of the tower and shrinks back as a man with two ravens perched on his shoulders runs towards him. Before he can see much of the man, other than he has a beard and has deep black pools for eyes he disappears.
The world is darker now, the sun setting. The sun. He looks at it drop below a mountain range on the other side of the tower. Where am I? Before the answer comes, he is standing by a lake. The sky is blue and the sun is at its zenith. Nine white swans glide passed like ferryman's boats on feast days. He notes the number and as he does so the world begins to burn. The water bubbles and hisses into huge clouds of steam. A shadow swoops from the sky, screeching like a firework. Darwin’t raises his hands defensively to stop it from hitting his face, yet the strike does not come and the roar fades to nothing.
Slowly he drops his hands to find he now stands in a grand garden. Three huge towers rise all around him. The top of each of the towers shines gold with the sunlight. The sun now rises again. These must be the towers of Atlantia. There could not be more than one set of towers this huge in the world. He glances around him at the gardens. There is no city near the towers. So the first tower in this dream is somewhere else.
He takes a step towards the tallest tower, one with a dome at its top when the world becomes a huge sea. He wobbles at the edge of a cliff. A few stones fall into the crashing waves below. “Can I die here?” he muses as he steps backwards. In the distance he sees a tree growing from the waves. The beauty of it fills his eyes for only a moment before he is in the dark. Tree roots and dirt ceilings press down on him, fire rages everywhere. He screams and is back by the lake. His skin still feels the heat from the flames. He sees a blackbird in flight, followed by two doves. The doves fighting to be beside the blackbird. He wonders what it means as slowly the sun sets into night. A girl wearing a maid’s dress bends her neck to a man not much older than her. Both of their faces are hidden by shadow. As she stands, he kisses her. A secret affair maybe. Sand blows into his eyes and he clenches them closed.
He takes a step into an empty but grand arena. A man appears in the centre of the stadium brandishing a short sword. He jumps and vanishes into the clouds. Clouds, the sky had been clear. Rain pours over him, lightning flashes fill the sky, thunder bellows into his ears. A galleon breaks through the blackening sky, a flag of skull and crossed bones ripping into the wind. The sky flashes white and he is standing in the middle of a field. It is sunny and dry; however he still drips from the earlier rain. He scans the sky for the galleon, but it is gone.
Suddenly he recognizes where he is. The large field in his home village of Gressgs. They have all of their feast days in this field with a maypole and dancing and one sun, even fireworks! He turns to see if the maypole has been erected at the western end and stumbles at what he sees. A monstrous castle fills his vision for less than a second before he is standing at the top of a mountain, the wind trying to blow him over the edge to his death. Can I die here? The wind stops. A tower rises in front of him. It must be a day or more ride to it from the base of the mountain going by the amount of open plains between. But he can still see that the tower is huge and flat at the top. The sun is behind him. The sun. He turns to look at it and finds himself surrounded by trees, though only for a second, and then he is standing back on the tower again. He stares at the distant mountain range – the mountain he had just been standing on. The sun is just about to break from behind the tallest peak. Something about the sun seems to be important.
The two ravens from before swoop down and peck at him, their beaks digging and tearing at his flesh. Blood runs freely down his arms. He sees the lake and Damilayas’ hand sinking beneath the water. A boy running on the wind flashes across his vision. A shadow slinks behind a tree holding the hand of a girl. A man sleeps on the back of a wagon, colors swirling around his head.
The images change as soon as they have begun. Darwin’t spins this way and that; with each turn a new location and a new person. He sees a stout woman with flames and water in her eyes. A girl waves her hand and a hole opens in the sky. A man in black runs down tower steps tears streaking his face. A large man with a sword falls to his knees over a pool of black fluid. A girl in white smiles into the night beside a woman also dressed in white, who strokes her stomach and the knife on her belt. The man from before with the serving girl falls with blood soaked clothes. A dragon streaks in front of the sun. Night falls and six shadowed figures race towards him. A baby falls into water. The earth splits. Blood floods from the ocean over the land. The dead crawl from their graves.
A voice screams into his ears. “The Last Princess must be protected. Or all this will happen.” A woman appears in front of Darwin’t with a dagger and plunges it into his chest.
Can I die here? The pain is real.
Darwin’t Utsa opens his eyes. The crack on the ceiling slowly coming into focus as the film across his vision disperses. He blinks twice before jerking upright, left hand searching for a knife wound that is not there. A dream. What had it been about?
He gets to his feet and stumbles lazily over to the chest of drawers standing in the corner, pulling a clean shirt from the already open top drawer. Darwin’t Utsa is almost an adult by Hillsbough law as he is about to reach his twenty-second sun – and what a sun it will be! He will soon be bonded to the girl of his dreams and given a plot of land to build a home upon. That prospect is almost enough to make him run into the hills and hide until he is too old to be married. It is not that he does not wish to be bonded to Canace Al’drea, though the very idea of settling down and giving up his time to work and not have fun... And children. Canace has always dreamt of having a large family. He shakes himself out of his immature thinking and summons a more mature mindset. Being bonded is not a sentence but a blessing. The chance to build a new life and to provide for the community and to have a profession. He is already trained as a weaver, like his aunt, though that is not really a man’s job. Pulling the shirt over his head he strolls out of the room and into the kitchen where his aunt is preparing a breakfast of oats and honey.
“You are up late, my boy,” she chirps in her song-like voice. “And I think you wore that shirt yesterday. I can smell it over the honey.” She turns to look at him with those soft eyes. He knows what she is seeing. His short dark brown hair is uncombed and messy, nothing new. He cannot remember the last time he ran a comb through his hair. His wide blue eyes would be rimmed with red and he probably has dark patches under them too. His eyes are always like that after a restless night. He is not a tall man, nor is he short, standing at about five and a half steps. His skinny frame, pale skin and high cheekbones mixed with his short sharp nose, narrow jaw, thin pink lips and his dark eyebrows and hair make him look permanently ill. He is not an unattractive man, but he is on the plain side. His aunt considers him for a moment before slipping the bowl of oats in front of him. “You look like you need it. I don’t think you should drink so much kaff. It doesn’t let you sleep right.” She takes a seat at the other end of the table and eats her breakfast without another word.
He makes hard work of the oats, and by the time he is done his aunt has already left the table and is readying herself for the work ahead. Darwin’t sighs to himself. If he could get out of doing anything for the rest of his life then he would. But what could he do instead of working? He glances to the window, and for the first time notices the sun has crested the top of the trees. He really did sleep in. With another sigh he pushes out the chair and staggers into the yard. The sun stings his eyes momentarily and he has to blink them to adjust his vision. In that brief instant without sight he bumps into his aunt and then the pony she is tying to the wagon. He apologizes to Snowflake, so-called because of the hundreds of white spots covering her dark body. Not that he has ever seen snow, but someone had told him about it once. The idea that ice could fall from the sky is amazing. He would love to see that one day.
He grins at the pony as he turns to face his aunt. The small house they share lies on the outskirts of a village called Gressgs approximately forty minutes away. Between them and Gressgs is a small wood known as Hill Wood or Rise Forest depending on your age. He calls it Hill Wood whereas Aunt Maida still calls it Rise Forest. It’s a wonder older people can get anything done. Maida still uses fingers as measurement instead of thumbs, which had been established eleven suns before, saying it was perfectly fine the old way. Better way she would have put it. Darwin’t would not have a clue how long something was if they said sixteen fingers, but he knew right away if they said seven thumbs. What is the point in changing things if only half the world changed to use it? He shakes the thought from his mind and lets the sun warm his face. The house is small compared to the ones in Gressgs, but it is big enough for him and his aunt. Made of large stones brought up from the river Sai it has two windows at the front and one at the back. The roof is made of thatch, which could do with a tidy, and needed some replacing. He has his own room around the back, beside the kitchen; and his aunt sleeps in what should be the loft. He had suggested that they swap due to her aging legs and all the stairs. However, she had seen through that and declared that the largest room in the house would remain hers.
“You look ill,” Aunt Maida chirps from the wagon. Darwin’t shades his eyes against the sun with his hands and looks up into her round face. “Maybe you should stay behind. It’s a shame. I had wanted to talk to you about the feast and your bonding. There is still much to talk over.” She casts down her soft pale eyes almost sulkily and sniffs, pursing her plump lips.
“I’m just sleepy, Aunt Maida,” Darwin’t says forcing a yawn into his hand. “I can still come with you into the village. But…” He looks her straight in the eyes then drops them without another word.
“You want the day off?” She sniffs again and narrows her eyes. For such soft eyes she knows how to make them look hard and icy. “Very well. You lay off the kaff and the wine for the next week, mind! Can’t have you staggering into everything on your bonding day. Get up. You can still come, but you don’t have to work.” She is displeased, however thankfully she never stays that way for long. Halfway down the path she is already smiling and chatting as if nothing has happened; she even starts singing, but a glance at an embarrassed Darwin’t hushes her with a giggle.
The path into Hill Woods is hard-packed earth and pebbles, and the wagon vibrates vigorously as the large wooden wheels bounce across the solid bumpy surface. Darwin’t is glad of the cushion placed on the seat by his aunt just before they had set out. He has made that mistake far too many times for it to be funny anymore The first time when everyone was pointing at him because he could not walk properly had even amused him, though since then it has happened six times. Once he was even left badly bruised. The trees envelop the sun as the wagon lurches under their canopy. It feels oddly cold with the sun shut out and dark like dusk. He rests his head on the side of the wagon and watches the trees pass by. His aunt begins to speak and he listens with only half an ear. He closes his mind and lets the rolling of the wagon rock him back and forth. Sleep pulls him in.
The wagon lurches violently to one side and Darwin’t opens his eyes in a panic. Aunt Maida sits cursing softly to herself. He does not make out what she says and he is glad for it. Her mouth can be vile at times if she thinks no-one is listening. She notices that he has woken and falls silent. A moment later and she begins to hum to herself. The path through the small wooded area of the lane is dotted with potholes that the mayor promises each sun to fill. It must have been one of those the wagon had driven into. It seems unlikely with Snowflake pulling the wagon. She knows where all the holes are and avoids them. Unless... “Did we hit a pothole?” He asks.
Maida glances at him and a smirk appears on her mouth. “I don’t know. I was talking to you and you fell asleep. I looked over at you and well. I must have not noticed I guess.”
“I guess.” He simpers back at his aunt. “What were you talking about, anyway?” The wagon lurches again and he bangs his head against the back. Aunt Maida chuckles deeply before offering a quick apology. Darwin’t should know not to play his aunt for a fool. She is far from the simple countrywoman her garments portray. She had been raised in the city of Atlant and her wits are as sharp now as they had been when she was a girl. She had given up that life to look after him when he was only five suns old. A remarkable woman and the best mother anyone could ask for. Not that he would ever call her mother. She had insisted on being called aunt from the first day and would except no other title. But whatever her name, she is the best mother he could have asked for. “Sorry,” he mutters rubbing his head. A small bump has begun to sprout under his hair.
Aunt Maida pats his knee with her thick fingers before returning her hand to the reins. For a while they sit in silence. The only sounds coming from the rumble of the wagon wheels on the hard packed bumpy ground. A bird call echoes from a bush off to his left and is answered by another from the trees to his right. No other sounds fill the air. “Twenty-two suns,” Maida bursts out. Darwin’t almost bangs his head again. He had begun to drift off. “It has gone so fast, my boy,” Maida continues, not seeing his surprise. “It only feels like yesterday. Well, I guess it is time to let you go. Canace is a good girl who will keep a good home and provide you with strong sons and pretty daughters. Oh, and you will be a master weaver and will take over my shop when I am gone.”
“Don’t say that, Aunt Maida. I don’t like thinking of you not being here.” That is the truth, though it is the thought of those kids, the house, the job and running the shop that makes him want to change the subject. “I am looking forwards to the feast of light. It’s always much fun and with my birthday falling on the same day....”
His aunt’s eyes glisten when she looks at him, though her voice shows little of the emotion that edges her features. “Now I said you were not to drink.”
“Wine, Aunt Maida. And kaff. But I was thinking more of ale or cider. You know how much I like cider.” He chuckles to himself. Maybe he would be good with the future. All he would need to do is make sure Canace does not have any of those worrisome daughters.
Aunt Maida sniffs to herself with a shake of the head, though she smiles at the same time. “Well. Just as long as you know that you start out towards the shrine the following day and you will need a clear head. Hush now. We are there.”