Dragon Heartstone > Chapter 6–Dreams And Memories

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The foggy and abstract scene around Alric confirmed his presence in a memory. He instantly recognized his surroundings as the Citadel of the Crescent Moon. Before him lay the courtyard in front of the Black Tower. Black-clad Tower guards stood on the tower steps, fending off a crowd of ruffians. Shouts and curses surrounded him as he spotted Larah and Riasean running across the courtyard. Arrows and crossbow bolts sailed with deadly hums through the air. Up the tower steps they ran. He raced behind them, struggling to keep pace, and reached the stairs as the tower guards cracked open the door to the tower’s foyer. Riasean and Larah slipped inside, but the door slid shut before Alric could get through. He pressed the star image on the pendant.

The scene shifted–to the gate room, where a figure lay on the floor, bleeding from a knife wound. The young man stood over the form, bloody knife in hand.

“Riasean!” Larah cried. “Why did you kill him?”

Riasean stepped over the body and shouted. “We’ve been betrayed. Go through the Gate, now!”

Larah leaned into him and planted a kiss on his lips, “I love you.”

But then the door burst open, and a black-robed figure appeared. Riasean shoved Larah away, “You must go!”

She stumbled back, tears in her eyes, but turned to the gate and muttered the words to activate it. “Gate of light open to me …”

Within moments, the scene shifted. Surrounded by darkness, Larah turned and touched the stone behind which lay the Gate. Longing and loss painted themselves on her face, yet she turned and stepped into the dark, following a narrow path toward the sound of rushing water. He pressed the star shape, and the scene returned to the Gate room again, this time filled with the bodies of dead and wounded Black Tower guards. Riasean, looking haggard, demanded the Grail from Larah, and she reluctantly complied. He twitched and dropped the chalice, and it rolled across the floor only to appear at the feet of Gall, who had just entered the room.

Riasean’s form shimmered, and a blonde-haired, green-eyed woman appeared in his place. Alric knew her at once after having seen her before in his visions. Faline. But if that was her, where was Riasean? He touched the star and moon shape simultaneously, and the scene froze. All the surrounding forms locked into the last position, even amid movement, like a roomful of statues. Walking around the Gate room, he inspected everyone, including the bodies on the floor. Exhausting the areas with the highest potential, he wandered to the edge of the memory, where focus and details blurred to the point of being unrecognizable.

Despite his search, he found no sign of Riasean being alive or, more importantly, dead. Now, he could try to reach her on a level where she would understand. He touched the sun symbol on the pendant and found himself standing next to the bed, looking down at the inert forms of himself and Larah. He knelt and placed his hands on the sides of Larah’s head.

* * *

Alric stood in a grove of trees, surrounded by tall white buildings. He looked at the tree next to him. It had a grey trunk and silver leaves. That could only mean one thing—these were Omagah trees, which meant this was the isle of Avalir. It was no surprise that Larah would seek refuge here. Some distance away, her back to him, Larah leaned against a tree trunk, looking over the calm waters of the Gulf of Aruna.

“Larah,” he called out.

The young girl started and turned to look at him. At first, she looked fearful, but recognition seeped into her features. “Alric? I mean King Alric.  Why are you here?”

“I came looking for you,” he answered. He nodded toward the water. “I recognize the Gulf from here. It is very calming.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes, I love this spot. When I am not in the library, I find myself here.” Her gaze returned to Alric, “So, how did you come to Avalir?”

“The same way you did. By searching your memories for the one place you’ve always felt safe.”

“I don’t understand,” Larah answered.

“This is just a memory of Avalir, one you can always revisit when the world gets too real.”

Larah looked around, confusion settling on her features. “But this is Avalir.”

“What is the last thing you remember?” Alric asked.

Larah furrowed her brows. “I was in the Black Tower of the Citadel, and everything went dark. When I awoke, Gall was standing over me. After that …,” she trailed off and rubbed her temples. “I don’t remember exactly. A lot of running, being in a tunnel, and then … nothing.”

“It has been three days since you escaped the Citadel.”

She glanced around at her surroundings. “So, none of this is real?” Then she turned to him and searched his face. “Why did you come here?”

“I want to show you something,” Alric answered, stepping closer and extending his hand.

Larah hesitated but then took it. Together, they walked toward the buildings. At one, there stood two doors. One had bars but was open, and the other was closed but had a shuttered peephole.

“I don’t recognize these,” Larah said.

“That’s because we’re in the land of dreams and memories. What you see only seems real but can change based on a whim. However, I am here to offer you a choice,” he said, extending his hands toward the doors on either side of him.

“A choice?” Larah replied. “What is the difference? Why does one door have bars and the other a peephole?”

“The door with the bars is your memory. You enter too often, and it might shut and lock you in, and you’ll never escape. The world of dreams is the other door, through which you can escape the world or peek inside and see the possibilities that lie before you.”

Larah looked from one entrance to the other and then back at Alric. “What do you want me to do?”

Alric walked over to the memory portal. “I want you to close this. It is too dangerous to leave it open; you’ll be tempted to enter it instead of your dreams and become trapped. When that happens, no one can set you free. You have spent far too much time behind this one.”

“How do you know this?’

“I know because I have relived some of your memories with Riasean.”

Larah’s face grew hot. She started to pull away, but Alric continued.

“To help you, I needed to know the nature of your relationship with him.” He paused. “Tell me this–do you love him?”

Larah’s eyes drifted away, “I … I … do not know.”

Alric smiled gently. “It is quite all right, my dear, to not know for certain, but the more important question is–which entrance are your feelings for Riasean taking you through?”

Larah looked up at Alric, then slowly looked toward the doors. She stood silently for several minutes before speaking in almost a whisper. “Through the memory door.”

Alric nodded. “That is what I thought. Let me share this with you. When I relived your most recent memories, I looked to see Riasean’s fate–and could find no evidence he had been injured or killed. Though I might be mistaken, he may have survived, escaped, or is in hiding. Because we do not know, we should not mourn him but instead give in to hope. If it does turn out that he is gone, that will be the time to grieve. In the meantime, do not discard your future by latching onto the past.”

Larah’s eyes teared up as deep-seated sobs took hold of her. “But I miss him so.”

Embracing her, Alric quietly replied, “We all miss those we love when they are not with us. We should not be ashamed to cry when we are sad, but we should not let our sadness define our existence. Too much living is left to spend with tears in our eyes. Return to the light, my dear, and embrace your dreams.”

The memory door swung shut with a clang, and the locks clicked.

* * *

Alric touched the sun symbol twice and found himself sitting on the bed next to Larah, who lay curled up on her side, a slight smile on her face, snoring gently. He turned slowly, swinging his legs off the bed, and tried to stand. Light-headedness descended upon him, causing him to stumble backward. Vig lunged and caught him. “Are you okay, your majesty?”

Raising a hand to his forehead, Alric replied, “Yes, I’m just not as young as I used to be.” He turned to Ulrich. “Go get some broth from the kitchen,” Alric commanded. The guardsman ran into the hallway.

* * *

Minutes later, the tavern keeper handed over what broth he had to the guard, who disappeared back to the room. When the man was out of eyeshot, he reached underneath the counter and pulled out an old leather book. He flipped it open to a page tabbed with a hook symbol and scratched out a note. When finished, the writing slowly disappeared. He smiled, knowing his loyalty would be greatly rewarded.