64 Meeting a Prince (1/2)
She went up again, searching through the dreamers, sifting them through her fingers in search of one that felt like the kiss of darkness she had felt before. There he is again, she thought as she felt the tremor of Lloren's power, different from what she was used to in the light. There should be another, she thought, shifting them more brushing against the dreamers feeling the familiar light, other weavers and people who were neither. She frowned, still sensing nothing when she felt it.
It's different, she thought picking up the orb, holding it in her fingers, tasting it with that part of her that existed only in the Veil. She let the feel of it roll through her fingers and down her arm, naming the sensations. Cool like a breeze, prickly, heavy, she thought. How strange he feels but it doesn't really matter, let's see how he is.
She dropped into the dream.
The prince had fallen asleep and into his dreams quickly. ”He must have been deep into the wine tonight,” she giggled to herself looking around the strange landscape. ”What is this?” she thought. The land under her feet looked like sand but paler and gritter than the sand she was used to. Rocks jutted from the ground, heavy and dark. She sniffed the air. It smells like salt, she thought turning and gasping.
She stared, eyes wide at the expanse of water. She had never seen water like this, dark and endless, lapping at the ground softlybefore pulling away from it over and over again. Strange birds called in the distance and armored creatures walked along with huge pincers and many legs. ”What a strange place.”
She began to walk, her feet leaving impressions in the sand as she passed until she came to a small cave of sorts, the water and sand mingling in the darkness. There, in the shadow, the prince Guifre sat in short pants and a loose shirt, drawing designs in the wet sand.
”Hello,” she said drawing his attention.
He looked up, his green eyes dark in the shadow. He spoke in the dark tongue and she frowned.
”I don't understand you,” she sighed, ”I don't speak the language of the Dark.”
”The common tongue then? You're the girl, the other we have to bring,” he said.
”Yes,” she confirmed. ”I am the other.”
”What's your name girl? You are older than her, the wife,” he mused.
”Usoa.”
”Usoa,” he tasted the name on his tongue, turning it over like a puzzle. ”Why didn't the wife come?”
She tilted her head. He is very lucid, for a dreamer, she thought before answering. ”It's bad luck to see your bride here before you bond.”
”So why are you here?” he turned his green eyes on her.
She shook her head, ”There's no reason. You won't remember this in the morning. You've had too much wine.”
”I barely had any,” he answered. ”Did you come to give me a good dream or to steal my nightmares, take away my power?”
”If you would like a dream, I will give you one. What do you want so see?” Esti could have done this herself. This prince is far less entertaining that Lloren was, she frowned inwardly at both the let down of the Prince's company and at yet another thought of the shadow-wielder.
Guifre leaned back patting his lap, ”Come here then.”
Usoa chuckled and rolled her eyes, ”No. What is this place?”
”The sea. I'll have to go back soon but right now I can be alone,” he explained as he stood. Only slightly taller than her, he looked into her eyes. ”Why do your eyes look like that?”
She touched her cheek, ”Like what?”
”Like glass. Like glass in the winter when it's so cold the world is frozen. They didn't look like that before,” he reached forward, his fingers brushing the skin just under her eyes before she stepped back.
The air shifted. ”Wait,” he said reaching for her again, his fingers spilling darkness that twisted searching her out. She shook her head and moved the energy, dispelling it, refusing his will and replacing it with her own.
”I don't want to be touched,” she said. ”I only came to meet you tonight. This is not anything. Go back to your games.”
”What games?” he asked turning back to his marks in the sand. He sat down as if he suddenly remembered them and their purpose, his finger picking up where he left off, making a long line, her presence no more than background, no more important than the strange armored creature or the jutting rocks.
What can I say of him, she thought frowning. He hadn't imparted much information nor made much of a grand impression on her. He didn't seem like he would hurt Esti which is what she thought the girl was worried about.
”What is he drawing?” she mumbled as she walked over to where he worked looking over his shoulder. I know this, she thought staring at the image. A circle, surrounded by six others. It's the Seven Realms. He's even marked them with little symbols, she tilted her head as she looked. The drawing was the same illustration that they used to learn of the realms. Perhaps all children in every realm use the same drawing to learn of the world. What a strange thing for him to draw here.
A man in black entered the cave with them. Tall and thin, his face covered by a hood, the same robe that Lloren had worn the day they arrived.
”We're going to travel from here,” he said putting his finger on the circle with a star in the middle, ”to here.” He passed his finger through the middle circle to the one with a second empty circle drawn in it's center.