Story : “A Dream of Fishes” Part III

by Pappy April 29th, 2007, Posted in: Writing


He knew he was dreaming now, and with that realization the scene around him gained clarity, losing the ethereal dreamlike quality and taking on a life-like state. He could see other kinds of fish; swimmers with dazzling colors, small schools drifting in and among the stones and coral, larger predatory hunters lurking darkly just outside the courtyard walls, waiting for the opportunity to quell their hunger, but somehow prevented from entering this place.

Off to his left were the remnants of a guard tower, the doorway collapsed and buried in rubble. To his right, an iron blacksmith’s anvil lay on it’s side, half burried in sand, coppery rust collecting on it’s surface. Opposite the courtyard, he saw the doorway into the palace proper. This had been someplace once. Someplace where people had carried out their lives, never knowing the fate that would one day leave it abandoned and lost to the ocean depths. Baylen shivered at the thought. Would they all come to this one day, crumbled stone and rust?

A faint sound jerked him from his revere. There was Tilly’s voice again, calling laughingly from somewhere deeper within the ruins. He couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. What was Tilly doing here, and what was with the unreal fish? Might as well follow the dream and find out, he decided.

Baylen pushed onward through the palace doorway into a grand hall. Here, the roof remained relatively intact and he could see once ornate chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. The remnants of an occasional picture frame or decorative ornament lay scattered across the floor, but paintings, carpets and tapestries had long since rotted away. Again, the strange glow from luminescent coral clumped here and there bathed the place in soft rainbow light.

“Baylen,” the whispery voice called from the far end of the hall. Instead of Tilly, however, he spied the golden ilmet floating just inside the door, staring at him intently.

“Baylen, come to me,” it mouthed.

“Tilly?” He moved closer and the fish made no attempt to dart away this time. “What’s going on?”

A twinge of fear grasp Baylen’s insides. Dream or no, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were losing control of his own will, compelled as he was to obey the fish. Almost without knowing it he’d closed the distance in half and could see it lucidly for the first time. It’s scales appeared like handcrafted gold, each with a different, unknown symbol inscribed into the surface. It’s dorsal fin spread along it’s back like a delicate fan, translucent between the spiny bones that held it erect. And the eyes. Those were not a fish’s eyes. They were bright and focussed, the iris shades of emerald green interwoven with striations of gold, flecked with crystals of orange.

He knew those eyes from many nights of dreaming. They were Tilly’s eyes, peering directly into his own.

Then, just as he came close enough to touch the creature, it darted back into the recesses of the next room and vanished from sight. Baylen called out in surprise, and realized that the sudden panic he felt was driven not by fear, but by the yearning to hold the being, to touch it, to possess it. The feeling of those eyes, so knowingly looking directly into his heart, was so overpowering that the desire to recover his connection with them filled his mind.

He plunged headlong into the room where it had gone. Where she had gone.

And stopped.

The room before him was gleaming. Every corner, every alcove, was filled with radiant piles of treasure. Gold coins and bars, gemstones the size of his fist, and dangling chains of platinum littered the floor. There were ornate lamps, vases, and candelabras stacked atop one another. The entire room was a trove that surely would make even the Kausidorian kings envious.

Baylen’s heart pumped furiously as he took it all in. With only a handful of these valuables his family’s troubles would be over. He imagined the worry lines fading from his mother’s face, his uncle’s creased brow relaxing. He would save them. Eyeing a pile of gold coins near his feet, he stretched out his hand to begin filling his pockets.

The gold vanished. The room evaporated. Darkness rushed in to replace the garrish light and he saw almost nothing. Baylen’s lungs seared with pain as if he’d held his breath for days, threatening to explode at any moment. He felt his own heartbeat pounding a beat of terror in his ears. Worst was the immediate knowledge that he was not alone. The hunters, no longer held in check by the magical residence were circling, closing in around him. Certainly they would strike at any moment.

All thoughts of the Tilly-fish were gone. Hysteria was taking over. Which way was up? It was so dark he couldn’t be sure. The water was cold enough his joints ached and muscles became sluggish. He pushed frantically towards the surface, desparate to escape the sea’s numbing grip. Each stroke upwards was more difficult than the last.

Baylen thought of his father. Is this how he’d died? Drowning, desperate for one single breath of air? What would Amalea do if he died here? He struggled harder and began to make out dim light above penetrating the darkness. He could do this, he could escape, he thought. He had to.

But the boy’s lungs could hold out not more and refused to obey, the fierce need for oxygen took over any voluntary control and they released his dying breath into the current. Saltwater rushed in to meet his gasp and Baylen thrashed uncontrollably. His body was no longer his own. His bowels released in the final throws of death.

The last thing he saw were the dark shapes rushing up from below to claim their prize.

Story : “A Dream of Fishes” Part II

by Pappy April 29th, 2007, Posted in: Writing


Chapter 1 (continued)

Baylen looked to his mother for explaination, but she only shrugged. “He was a strange one alright, but what do I care? If he wants raw fish that’s that much less work we have to do for more money.”

Baylen watched as she emptied the tote into one of the nearby barrels of seawater and disappeared inside, leaving the men alone.

“She’s a might worked up today,” remarked Dagmire.

“I noticed that. I think she worries too much, Uncle. We aren’t that bad off are we?” It was a question in hopes of an answer different from the one he knew he would receive. Uncle Dagmire was showing the uncharacteristic signs of worry as well, his forehead was furrowed and eyes less bright than their normal green.

There was a long delay filled with much puffing on the pipe and picking at fingernails. Dagmire looked up the hill towards the Millenium Tree, now small in the distance and sillohetted by the near dark of twilight. A few small stars were beginning to become visible high above it’s branches.

“You’re like a son to me, Baylen, you know that, so I won’t lie to you. Prospects aren’t so good. We’re running out of the very things we need to make a living and without the money to buy more we’re likely to be sitting here completely empty come fall. We’ve got one small bucket of salt left, barely enough wheat grain for a few loaves of bread, I’m almost out of twine for repairing the nets, and summer taxes are nearly come due.

“No, Baylen, things are worse than I think we’ve let you know before now.” Uncle Dagmire never stopped looking of to the West while he spoke, as if intentionally avoiding Baylen’s gaze in order to be able to speak with such candor.

Baylen just sat and listened, thinking heavily on his uncle’s words. If things had truly gotten this bad he would have to try something different and dangerous.

“Thank you for being honest with me,” he said, slowly rising from his seat. “I have one more request for you, Uncle. Can you prepare me a long rope, one at least 400 hands long, and four shorter length, say twelve hands in length? I’ll need them tomorrow if you can.”

Dagmire tugged at his silver white beard and cast a suspicious look at Baylen. “What is it you have in mind, son?”

“A solution,” the young man said with resolve, and with that pushed the door open and disappeared inside.

Evenings around the home were typically short and sunrise came early, so Baylen had little time to discuss his ideas with Amalea and Dagmire, nor did he have the inclination to do so. If things were truly as dire as his uncle described, he didn’t have much choice and would not worry his family over his safety.

After a short meal he was in bed, going over the plan in his mind. He’d heard that merchants from the capital were paying well for pearls harvested from these waters. Something about the area differed from other regions, giving the pearls here a rare, violet shade. He’d also heard the stories of more than a few desperate young men drowning while attempting to acquire the milky gems. Still, if he could only find two or three of the opaline spheres they would be saved. He could easily sell them for enough gold to pay the summer’s-end taxes and still have more than enough to carry the family through the winter into the next fishing season. Maybe things would be better by then.

Baylen’s mind drifted in and out of consciousness, and with it his thoughts also turned to the girl Tilly. She had smooth, pale skin, flaming red hair, and emerald eyes that sparkled like crystals. In his mind’s eye he dreamed of her smiling face, dimples turned up at the corners of her mouth, making her all the more beautiful. Her voice was surreal, like birds welcoming a new spring day.

He’d had this dream of her many nights before, and much of his daydreaming on the boat was spent reenacting different interactions with her. But something was different tonight. Her hair slowly drifted up and away from her face in waves, as if she were submerged. Baylen caught a glimpse of something gold darting away just out of sight behind Tilly’s floating vision, and she began to fade.

He was defintely underwater now, deep enough that the sun’s rays were barely visible high above, penetrating the cool blue waters with turqois shafts. The dark shapes of coral reefs surrounded him. Again, a brilliant golden blur disappeared just outside of clear vision, engulfed by the shadows of the reef. What was it? Whatever it was he seemed strangely drawn to it.

Seeing no reason not to, Baylen swam after it, hoping to resolve the curious mystery. He was holding his breath, but couldn’t feel any pressure in his chest and there didn’t appear to be any need to panic over air yet. As he came round the patch of coral he saw it more clearly. A small, brilliantly gold colored fish, darting in and out of the shoals further towards the open ocean and heading deeper still. But for the coloring, it looked all the world like an ilmet, the very fish his livelihood depended on and was dying because of.

He swam harder, straining against the water to catch up with the little fish. He crossed a threshold that marked the beginning of deep water below him and watched it disappear yet again, this time into what looked to be some kind of ruins. Large, limestone blocks, encrusted with barnacles and overgrown with algea, lay crumbling in what was left of a once great fortress or palace. Baylen propelled himself deeper still, passing through the former entryway into gardens of bright living coral that cast ambient light across the white sands of the courtyard to replace the now vanished sun overhead.