"The Woods Boy Part 7"
It was pitch-black.
My thoughts drifted towards the priest and how Brook harmed him all for me.
I noticed...
There was a blackness enveloping the dream, and above us, the sky had two huge eyes with the moon shining brightly. I've seen these same eyes before, but I couldn't remember where. Brook sensed this too, and he gripped me tighter, fearful now like me.
"He's here," said Brook, his voice barely audible. The surroundings started spinning, and we ended in a large circular stone chamber with a bonfire in the center. Stood by the fire, a large, muscular man's silhouette. He was bare-chested, with lines of cold light outlining his torso. Ignoring us initially, he turned to us after a while, his face showing surprise and curiosity.
"So soon?" he questioned, his voice mouse-like. He moved towards us gradually, a seeming hesitancy in his steps. Stopping a few feet away, he examined us both curiously.
His eyes moved from Brook to me, and his gaze made me remember that beast and the priest from the beach. A chill ran down my back.
"You, I'd known would arrive here again at some point. Earlier than expected, but you...you've always been brash." He gave the word a mocking tone. He looked back at me and asked, "And you...man of the woods?"
"Where are we? Who are you?" I enquired, my voice bouncing back off the tall stone chamber's walls.
The man frowned, seemingly confused before pointing to Brook, still in my arms. "He knows." The man's smile was creepy, showing off his glinting teeth. "Bruadar knows, or soon will. It seems old man Jakoba did a poor job of protecting you. How did you end up here?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, still bewildered by this stranger. The man chuckled, "He knows." Brook was shaking with fear and confusion inside as he struggled to hold back the name.
"Bruadar, Bruadar, Bruadar..." he mumbled, trying to force the name out. I tried to comfort him, to calm him down, holding him. The man backed away, but kept watching us keenly.
"He could hide you from yourself as he could hide you from me. You will remember soon, and then you will...come, Bruadar." He said this deliberately, letting his last words linger.
The scenery whirled once more, and we were flung from that eerie room back onto the floor of our inn room in Irok, waking us. Rain started pouring down outside our window. We were sweaty from the night, clinging to each other.
"Brook," I spoke softly into his ear, trying to calm him down. "Brook, Brook." I repeated gently. Clark continued to stare at his plate, deep in thought. His knuckles gripped it tightly. I encouraged him to eat a little, telling him he needed strength for the journey ahead. Finally, he obeyed, nibbling on a few bites.
After our meal, we deliberated over our activities for the day.
With Asprey slowly recovering, he needed rest, and we also needed supplies and updates on the northward route. So, we decided to stay a few days, if not a week, in Irok.
Brook was still lost in his thoughts as we discussed this. Was it about the monstrous dream we shared? I wanted to hold him, comfort him, but it was better to give him time.
Daylen helped with the fire, Miss Ryon woke up next, stretching her long legs. I checked on Asprey's condition; his color looked better, with his fever reduced. Whether it was the witch's curse or a good night's rest in a proper bed that helped, I didn't mind either way.
I sent Brook to fetch water and to order us some food from the innkeeper. He looked somewhat distant, lost in the memory of the dream. I wanted to give him space.
I wanted to check out provisions and warmer clothing, I informed them. Brook volunteered to help me out. After that, I planned to chat with some of the northern folks surrounding the town, trying to gather some news.
"I'll gladly do that for you," Daylen promised. "Maybe they'll be more comfortable discussing matters with one of their own, not trying to be insulting."
I felt grateful and secretly dreaded the task, since I wasn't great with striking up conversations with strangers. "Thank you," I said to Daylen, who appeared to be fine with it. He turned his attention to Aspery, who had partially regained his upright position, a small stack of papers already lying next to him. "If you're okay with just Bess staying here, Aspery?"
Aspery couldn't hide his smile and indicated his work. "Don't worry, Jack. I will hardly even miss you," he joked. He picked up one of the tattoos Brook had drawn and studied it intently. I caught Brook's attention as he openly observed it and determinedly said another name from his dream. Apparently, Brook had sensed me staring at him and met my gaze, his eyes sparking for a moment before subsiding into sullenness.
Brook wasn't the only one who couldn't deal with the emotions from his dream. Fear tugged at me. Pa's words echoed, reminding me of the sacredness of naming. I shook off my fear, drawing strength from Pa's ghost and prepared to head out into the day.
Together, we left the inn. The town was busier and larger than the previous village we'd visited. Travelers from the northern areas mingled with locals and traders. I watched Brook, enraptured by the city's hustle and bustle. His eyes widened as he took in the sea of life after the arduous journey. A crate of cabbages presented itself and I cautioned him, stopping him from tripping.
In that moment, the world around me wasn't just sights and sounds; it was full of life as well. I picked up on emotions from people and they manifested like scents in the air and distant voices, some joyful and others melancholic. It felt like another side of the world had opened up to me. I stayed with Brook, mesmerized by his wonder, as these invisible threads of experience and feelings shared with me their stories. Yet, in the end, they all grew quiet.
Brook turned to me, glowing with joy. "That was..." he panted. "That was..."
"Indeed," I answered. "I'm curious, what was it?"
He dug for words but hesitated. "Let's..." he started to say but then diverted his attention from the market, leading me up a narrow alley. We reached a peaceful spot outside of an old temple and sat down. There, he resumed his sentence. "Last night..."
"Yes." My heart raced, recalling the memories. "What comes to mind?"
"There was...when he...when that man said...'Bruadar'..." Brook avoided saying his name.
"Bruadar," I repeated, and he seemed uneasy. "Was that it?"
"I...I felt like something had awakened in me," Brook divulged. "It was like discovering a new perception of reality, casting new light on my surroundings like silver strands all around us." He took my hand and hopped, his warmth spreading through my palms. I recalled his shudders from his dream. "I was frightened initially, like I'd plummeted into icy waters." He shivered, remembering. "But now, I feel...it's like I've been here before. I remember this place."
In my thoughts, I could feel Brook's life energies reaching out in every direction, hinting at his sizeable network of interconnected relationships. He had a newfound confidence in his eyes - and it was hard not to think he was the most beautiful person in the world. "I was scared at first," he said earnestly, gripping my hand. "Yet, it's like deep-diving into the same waters I've somewhat experienced." He described how his emotions began to feel natural, and his life energies extended outward. "I felt the vibrations of those strands and saw them shimmer."
"I can see and feel it too," I affirmed, swept up in the same world Brook had described.
I felt the excitement nearly boiling over, and I noticed that despite the words he used, he was still battling with whatever surfaced in him the previous night. He sought my support, getting himself together, and enigmatic phrases resurfaced in my mind, whispered in the dark of the forest by glowing, reddish eyes...'He is bound to you. You must be his anchor.'
Engrossed in the events of the day, Brook finally let go of my hand. The surroundings reverted to their normal state, though the colors appeared less vivid to me after witnessing them through his eyes.
We remained seated next to each other for a bit as the evening engulfed the old temple and its shadows dwindled. I spoke up again.
"Do you recall who that man was? From our dream?" Brook's eyes clouded over and he furrowed his brow.
"He's someone I've known for a long time." He cautiously replied. "Maybe my entire life." I sensed an effort to unlock his memory, delving back into the stone chamber and scavenging for answers. He shook his head. "That's all I remember..."
I encircled him with my arm.
"Enough." I hushed him.
We stayed silent for a while longer, watching the barren ground that lay before us and our fated path. I noticed the distant range of mountains, a streak across the horizon, and I could feel their pull.
" They're calling out to you, aren't they?" I questioned, and Brook turned towards me. He sighed.
"Yes." He seemed resigned. "I believe the man – whoever he is – was right about that at least. I'll have to go back there, to that place, the room."
I knew in my heart that was true, and the prospect filled me with dread.
***********
We concluded our tasks in the town before returning to the inn, reaching there as the day's light dwindled. We encountered the hermit scribbling on papers, leafing through them in the fading light, poring over his findings. He looked up as we walked in and smiled absentmindedly.
"You're back so soon?" He wondered, focusing on another sketch and squinting at it.
"Asprey, we spent most of the day outside." He observed our presence and his gaze drifted around the room as if he was witnessing it anew. I extracted a wick from the fireplace and lit the candles adorning the walls. Brook had joined the hermit on the bed, peering closely at the scattered paperwork.
"Have you found something?" He inquired, and the hermit frowned.
"Perhaps." He said, shuffling through the papers, dragging out some that clustered at the edge of the disarray. One was the sketch of Brook's tattoo from that morning at his house, and the rest appeared to be from the strange priest that Brook had...interacted with. The hermit continued.
"When I was examining that foul priest's body, I found that he had a tattoo resembling yours, Brook." He held up the sketches, and I identified the close resemblance, except that Brook's was more intricately detailed. "On the priest, this symbol was the center of a pattern of lines that spanned most of his body."
My mind flashed to the man in the stone room and the ripples of light across his skin. I was jolted by the remembered gaze of the searching presence.
"Could these markings be connected to...the priest's...powers?" Brook inquired, and the hermit pondered for a moment.
"Yes, that idea had crossed my mind as well."
And then, after how Brook...
"And that day?" Asprey questioned, momentarily startled.
Brook and I agreed to share the details of last night and that day with the hermit. His reaction changed to astonishment when we were done.
"That is..." He said. "That is quite a narrative." After a pause, he pondered further. "Brook, would you show me your tattoo again?"
Brook pulled aside his shirt, revealing his chest. The tattoo was shimmering subtly. It was faint, but it was there. It glimmered silver like moonlight on a calm pond. Brook appeared surprised himself as he traced the lines, murmuring a name.
"Intricate taletellers." The hermit mused, as Brook confronted him with an intense stare.
After separating their gazes, Asprey sank back and gasped for breath. Brook seemed dismayed and hurriedly searched for a glass of wine. However, Asprey quickly regained his composure and resumed his seat. He resumed clutching the illustration of his tattoo.
"I now perceive it. Two tales concurrently woven." Prior to delving into his notes, I moved next to him. I had a question I wanted to ask him.
"When you had your illness, you repeatedly mentioned the arrow that pierced you...." The hermit furrowed his brow.
"Yes. It was...bizarre." He set down the drawing of the tattoo. "You had progressed beyond us when the arrow struck me. I had cleared the archers' range by some distance. I had seen their arrows falling well short." He cringed and caressed his wound, and Brook gave him some wine. A few gulps later, he continued.
"I only observed the arrow for a brief moment before it struck me, but..." A dark expression settled on his face. "I am convinced I observed it altering its direction, pushed by a gust of wind towards me." He allowed his statement to sink in. I vividly recalled the unorthodox priest and the ease with which he diverted the jar of fire with a gesture.
"Do you believe...." I began, fear easing over me. He nodded.
"I cannot be sure but yes, it was strikingly similar to what we have observed before." This knowledge was quite unsettling. The notion that more priests like that might be chasing us so soon provoked a shudder within me. Brook, on the contrary, seemed less troubled. His previously hidden confidence surfaced. Still, it could not entirely dissipate my dread.
A rattling handle heralded Daylen's return from meeting the northern folk. He wore a disconcerted expression but remained silent until we'd partaken of some food and drink. When we'd satisfied our hunger and sated our thirst, he relaxed, and began to recount his experiences.
"It appears that the route has become increasingly hazardous since my journey south." He sipped his beverage. "And peculiar...." He pondered over the fire for a moment, his eyes matching the flames. "The inhabitants narrate forests becoming petrified, animals going insane and charging recklessly into the deserts, and ancient temples reviving." His voice resembled crackling firewood, a glimpse into his depth of feeling. "The land is tainted, they claim. Tainted by some evil." He glanced at Brook and a moment of silence passed between them.
I enquired if Daylen had pondered over the route we should embark upon.
"I'm worried about the busy route." He stated. "It has been said that the bandits now wander unchained, stealing people as slaves, as you two have firsthand knowledge."
"We owe you, Daylen." Brook said, leaning forward. Daylen shook his head.
"It was my duty." He replied. "Concerning our journey, I would suggest we maintain the forest-bordered river. We can traverse much of the way through that."
We consented, electing to use the secure route through the forest until we reached the base of the mountains before heading east, towards the rising sun.
By the time our dicussion had ended, it was completely dark outside. We laid our sleeping bags on the floor, as we had previously. I cuddled up to Brook and embraced him. I shut my eyes and drifted into his thoughts. He was there, waiting for me, grinning. He was wearing a pair of indigo silk trousers and a shirt, and they caressingly enveloped his body. He walked slowly towards me, reaching for my hands and kissing me.
"I've missed you." He enthused and held my gaze.
"I'm here." I asserted, smiling. He kissed me again.
"I know." He answered. I blinked and found myself in my cabin again. Brook rustled by the hearth, making twine, while I remained stationary on my favorite chair. He sensed me looking and met my eyes with a smile that incinerated me. He moved toward me, that smile now seductive. He climbed onto my lap, his arms draping around my neck. I adored him in this form; the playful, lustful side that had no greater pleasure than teasing me. His bottom brushed against me achingly, and he left a trail of soft kisses on my lips, chin, and neck, his breath and tongue igniting my skin. I clasped his thighs and pressed him against me, the wild animal inside awakening and craving sustenance.
"Inform me of your desires, puppy." I growled in his ear and he shuddered. "Tell me." He panted into my ear. ## _Generated with ChatGPT
"Oh, man, Jack... you know you're right." He was on the brink of whining now, and the hunger in him was stronger than ever before. Without the physical barrier of our bodies, every touch, every flicker of emotion, went straight to my chest.
A flash of light, and we were on the bed, Brook's naked form beneath me, tanned skin contrasting with the dark hair that covered his body. His smile still lingered on his lips, anticipating my kiss. I pressed down on him, our lips connecting, my weight pinning him down. He inhaled sharply and writhed beneath me as I filled his mouth with mine. We were one now, our desires intertwined like two falling leaves.
I took him, making love to him as he wrapped his arms around me, drawing me deeper into his arms. The tattoo on his chest lit up, electric silver tendrils reaching out for me, wrapping around my torso. This light was different—warm, inviting. It felt like moonlight on a fresh autumn night or the embers of a cozy fire. It exuded love, and he was giving it to me. The bedroom disintegrated, leaving just me and Brook, held in each other's arms.
We rested.
I was standing next to Pa by the old apple tree, overlooking the western pasture. He was staring at the stone memorial, with his wife's name carved into it. He'd told me it was Ma's favorite spot to escape the afternoon heat, watching the horses graze idly. I'd often see him sitting there too, talking to the trees, to her. I was too young to remember her, just an echo of warmth, of safety. I knew her through Pa and his sorrow.
Brook appeared beside me.
"It's you," he said, cutting into my silence. "The one carrying Ma's memory. It was you," he repeated, urging me to respond.
I was lost for words. Brook touched my face, wiping away a tear I hadn't felt slipping out. Dragging me forward, he guided me.
"Open your eyes," he whispered. The world began to spin, and we were transported to the kitchen of the farmhouse. The room filled with the familiar smell of linseed oil lanterns. Pa was younger than I'd ever seen him, cheerful, engaged in conversation with the others. I blinked, surprised; I'd never seen him like this. Then I saw her.
Sitting by the hearth, silently humming a song, Ma was dressed in a simple dress, her dark hair half done-up, wild tendrils escaping across her neck and shoulders. In her arms was a baby, feeding from her breast. She noticed our arrival and offered a comforting smile.
Brook spoke again, "It's you."
With the convertible moved to the side, I leaned against the tree, a lone, timeless shadow amongst those around him. But with Brook by my side, I no longer wanted to be a part of this empty sadness. Instead, I would be with him, united by our shared love. I closed my eyes, lost in his embrace.
"And then the Dreamer King took the voice from the bird, and the arms from the bear..."
I awoke, still in Brook's arms, content to be whoever it was that Ma loved.
