2011: 44 blog posts
2012: 22 blog posts
2013: 2 blog posts
If the trend continues, this will be my only one this year.
(I hope not.)
This is a new story based on a dream I had.
Are my dreams memories?
If so…
Why do I wake up here?
Grey walls, grey men and a grey sky. Only outside do I see other colors: the deep green of the woods and grass. But when I dream I see blue, the pale blue of the sky and dark blue of ocean depths. I dream of fire and darkness, the ways that lie beneath the earth’s crust.
Why am I here?
My feet lead me down the stone steps. Round and round until I reach the bottom of my tower.
They’ve hung a tapestry on the stone wall: red flowers against green grass. One of the grey men stands before it. He lifts the silver mask from his face and smiles. They’ve never smiled to me, the prisoner.
“Anything I could do to make you comfortable?” The smile doesn’t waver and his voice is warm. Odd, now that I think of it I haven’t heard them speak before. The only sound they make is the shuffle of their feet and the metallic clank of their outfit.
His voice jolts me from my thoughts. “I understand you’re not keen on speaking to us.”
“No,” I whisper. Though I’m not sure why. I can faintly remember anger and despair, but it was not at the grey men.
“You’re going to spend the rest of your life here and I thought I should make things more comfortable for you.” A hint of shame in the man’s voice.
“Why?”
“You’re the easiest duty I’ve had—”
“Why am I here?” The words come out as a snarl. I flinch at the anger in my voice; where does it come from?
“I don’t know.” His hand is on the hilt of his weapon. A shiver runs down my spine. I’ve felt the cold touch of steel before. “I just guard you.”
“Why?”
“I keep those who would harm others imprisoned or protect those who other would harm.” He straightens himself and lifts his chin. The pale light catches the metal skin he wears. “A high calling.”
“Which am I?”
I cannot answer my question. I remember anger, but is it of one wronged or of one evil?
I lift my arms, the fabric slides away, revealing pale blue hands, fingers tipped with blunted grey claws. Is there blood on my hands?
“I don’t know.” He looks down. “I follow orders.”
“You asked if there's anything you can do for me. Ask someone who knows, why am I here?”
He nods. Before leaving I glance at the tapestry. I like it; I’ve been there in my dreams.
I remember a picture in her likeness, in a book long ago. The book told our story, the history of the Grey Men.
The library is smaller than I remembered; we have little use for books here. A thick layer of dust covers the book I seek, obscuring the silver letters.
The book slides from the shelf, eager to be read.
The pages fly. Then, I catch a glimpse of her.
On the page stands the prisoner: a slender being wrapped in dark blue cloth. Silver hair flows past narrow shoulders. Pale blue fingers tipped with talons grip the cloth. The eyes hold a kind, almost shy gaze.
On the other page a blue-grey feathered creature rises through the clouds. Sharp snout split into a grin, fierce joy lights her eyes.
Beneath reads:
The guardians have four forms. One for each realm: one winged and one earthbound, one of fire and one of water. They rose against the Breaker and failed. The Breaker showed mercy to the survivors and they were imprisoned. The Breaker set the Grey Men to watch over them.
A chill runs down my spine.
The Breaker of the world. The one we serve.
The door opens with a groan. I pull my robe tighter against the chill he brings. The question catches in my throat. What if he says “I don’t know” again?
“You’re a prisoner until time ends.” I turn to face him. Metal skin covers him from head to toe. A silver mask hides his face, but I can hear shame in his voice.
“Why?”
“You rose against a god.”
“A god? But I am weak. Why would I do so?” I remember magic running through my veins. Maybe once I wasn’t weak.
“You did what was right. You tried to stop the world from breaking.”
“I cannot remember.”
“They stole your memories and your magic. You’re a shapechanger, one form for each element. One for fire and one for water. One for the sky and the one you’re in now.”
“Who did this?”
Quivering hands rise to his mask and remove it. Pain reads clear on his face. “Us.”
“I am alone then.”
I feel his arm on my shoulder. The metal skin feels cold even through my robe, but his voice is warm.
“No, you have an ally.”
A memory fills my mind, a field of green filled with red flowers. Laughter fills my ears. My sister’s hand holds mine. Don’t worry little sister. I’ll keep you safe.
For the first time I remember joy.
