Stormchild: Emeline and the Forest Mage

26 The First Dream

Götteril

'Look at that Huiden,' Gorst said, 'I see a man covered in frost, black hair billowing in the icy winds. The child is with him. You recognise the one, yes? I believe our time has come.'

Two brothers watched Erdil below their feet from the opulence and spiritual lustre that was Götteril. Huiden's golden hair hung around his sullen face like curtains, and his pursed lips were silent as ever.

Gorst stood.

'Let us begin. To your left is the land of dreams, which some call Träumenil, and here below us is Erdil, the Earth men waste their lives on. Would you like to go first?' Gorst glanced sideways at his brother who did not answer. 'Don't look at me like that.' Frowning, he drew a hand through his short brown hair. 'I know the common practise is that I go first.' He rolled his eyes in exasperation. 'Can't a man hope for variety?'

In response, Huiden only smirked and looked away.

Gorst smiled and cracked his knuckles. 'Very well then, have it your way.'

He threw his hand out with flare. 'I will start, I think, with a haze.' His arms and hands moved in The Way, and a smoky puff arose between his fingers. Before long, he had opened a window to Träumenil.

Huiden's eyes gleamed with sudden eagerness, and Gorst celebrated the spark of life he saw in his brother's eyes with a laugh. Träumenil was theirs to meddle in, and they entered the dreams of mortals to wreak havoc and spread chaos as was their task and delight. They began their work in silence.

The girl's dream was hard to interfere with because they had so little time before dawn, when their power waned. The girl collapsed at just the right moment, and Gorst took his turn, weaving his fingers in movements of The Way, and creating a yellow haze that would obscure any dangers his brother might come up with. Hazes weren't easy to create, but Celissa had given him a few hints she'd gleaned from Vargin long ago.

With a whisper into his oscillating hands, Gorst called fears into her heart, fears he hoped would lead her to decisions foolish enough to end her life or alter her destiny. That was the job, that was what the Fathers had asked of them, and he'd do it. Not only because it was enjoyable, but because he never wanted to end up like Vargin, curse her. Hours passed, but time is different in the Realm of the Immortals. A few minutes of sweating and panting, and that was it. Job done. She hadn't died, some fool shaper had come in just as he started calling a crocodile forth from the bog's depths. Bloody shapers pissed him off.

'What do you think brother?' Gorst gave Huiden an intense look. Looking never seemed to help though, nothing did. Huiden was silent as ever. Too much time had passed since last he'd spoken, and Gorst could not remember the sound of his brother's voice.

Silence had swallowed him since before the betrayal, a long long time ago. Gorst shook his head in dejection. That his brother would not or could not speak made no sense. What a frustration it was to deal with day in and day out. If nothing physically held Huiden's tongue - which Gorst felt was almost a hundred percent sure - then he was the most stubborn man in all creation.

'Must you be quiet all the time, brother? I miss our conversations, they made our mischief more fun!' This last Gorst said with a sardonic smile plastered to his face and the inner knowledge that neither of them was fooled by it. The silence seemed to echo endlessly in their abode.

Huiden smiled one of those smiles that don't reach the eyes, but did not utter a word. A sulky expression hung on his face like a disease while he watched Erdil and ignored his brother.

'I gather the bog was your epic first scene?' Gorst asked. Perhaps his brother's passion would return if they discussed the mischief he loved, and perhaps enough passion would loosen his tongue. Huiden nodded, still slouching in his chair and watching the other planes, but did not sit up or smile or utter even a syllable.

'Quite a good one I must admit.' He strolled to the view of Erdil below, tapping his forefinger to his chin. 'I can see them below, donning furs and scraping boots.' He paused, thinking. 'They aren't going to sleep at night you know? This will make it much harder for us.'

Gorst waited for a response which would never come. With an acid stare, he turned to his brother. The air was thick with animosity that would not lift, a lingering silence festering with things unsaid. After a lengthy pause, Gorst pierced its hold.

'Any ideas?' Another echoing silence. Huiden tapped his head, pretending to think, and then shrugged with a hollow look in his eyes. Sarcasm? Well, at least he had made eye contact. 'Ha ha,' Gorst said, 'So funny. Well, I think dusk and dawn will have to do for us then.' Looking back down to the scene below them, he came to a decision and strolled to what could be thought of as the exit to their quarters.

'I am going to see Celissa. She might be able to help.' When he glanced back at his brother, Gorst realised Huiden had lost interest. A vacant, empty look was in his eyes and he stared away from Gorst into the window to Erdil with hunched shoulders. What could he do for this brother of his? There was no rescue or remedy for self-pity. Gorst shook his head and strode on to Celissa; he knew exactly where she would be.

© Joy Cronjé 2015