The Dreaming: Dark Star (Book 5)

The Wall, part 1

Author's note:

Hi everyone, 

Thanks for your patience. Haven't forgotten about you. I'm working on the second draft of Awaken, as I'm sure you already know since I've announced it a few times now. Anyway, it's difficult to work on two books at the same time. 

So, again, I just want to warn you that this end section of the book were written, oh, about 10 years ago, so you'll notice the language and quality of writing is probably not at par with what you've read so far. 

There's a lot of "head-hopping" and it's kind of funny. I had a good laugh reading this. Good news is that it means I'm a much better writer today than I was 10 years ago. What's even funnier is that Imorah suddenly understands Liran's language, and she spent her childhood studying languages! haha!   ... 

Oh well. Instead of editing, I just want to try to get the story out to you. 

Thanks for your understanding and support! 

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When Imorah and Liran finally arrived at the wall, it was almost nightfall and they were both hungry and exhausted from their long and disturbing walk. 

Looming like a giant shadow above them, the wall that surrounded the City rose up so high Imorah wondered how on earth it could have been built. Standing this close, she could not even see where it ended. 

The two weary travellers had to weave their way through the endless crowd of animals and people who seemed to be milling equally aimlessly about, just waiting for something—anything—to happen. 

The air was thick with the pungent smell of the dung fires people had lit for making tea and light it was clear by the smell that the area seemed to because, off to one side was a large pen full of animals such as goats and cows and sheep.

As the two strangers approached, the people all hushed and whispered and conversations around them ended, creating a wave of silence. The long shadows of the dim torch lights and fires gave everything an ominous feel as the faces of the people became distorted masks of unfriendliness.

Liran walked close beside Imorah, with one hand on his knife. After searching for the entrance for a few minutes, he finally spotted a man wearing a uniform who was leaning against an old stone platform, talking with a group of men. 

Liran walked up to the officer and asked, "Excuse me. Where is the entrance to the City?"

The uniformed man stopped what he was saying, mid-sentence, to look at the person who had interrupted him and, seeing the two strangers, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He looked them both up and down and then gestured with his head to a place near the wall behind him that neither had noticed previously. 

It was a low stone staircase that opened onto a wide ledge that followed an almost invisible curve in the dark wall. Behind the curve was only shadow.

Imorah and Liran turned to climb the stairs, when behind them, they heard the voice of the guard.

"Do you speak the Language?"

"The Language?" Liran muttered quietly to Imorah, as they turned back to the guard.

Imorah whispered, "Say yes."

"Ayah." Liran replied loudly to the guard, "We do speak the Language."

The guard smiled and nodded his head. "That's good, because you cannot enter the City without speaking the Language." And then laughing, he said, "As I'm sure you already know." 

The group of men around him began laughing with him and then stopped short as the guard continued, "And I'm sure you also know that the punishment for attempting to enter the City without speaking the Language, is death." As the guard said this, he hopped off of the stone block he was sitting on and with a gesture. 

The other men sitting on the block also cleared the area and revealed to Imorah and Liran a death stone with a chopping block perched on top. The death stone was ancient and the chopping block looked well used, with many chipped corners from where the sword had fallen.

Imorah shivered uncontrollably, but lowered her head to whisper without the men seeing, "We do speak the Language."

"We do?" Liran turned to her, his eyes bulging and full of uncertainty.

"We do." She said, louder than before, and then, imperceptibly pushing him towards the guard, she whispered to him again, "We do. Say it."

Liran stammered, and cursed under his breath and then said loudly, "We do speak the Language."

The guard came closer and said, in a quiet voice, "Well, if you speak the Language, then why did you come by the Long Road? It is no place for a lady such as yours." And saying this, he looked with greedy eyes at Imorah.

Imorah followed custom and looked away, not wanting to invite any problems. Inside, she was barely containing a raging scream and clenched her fists tightly.

His mouth a sharp, angry sliver, Liran replied through his teeth, "What do you care how we came, man? We are here now and we are going inside the City." He took Imorah and walked swiftly with her to the stairs and the two strangers began their ascent.

Behind them, the entire crowd of people stopped milling about, as the spectacle they had been waiting for had arrived. They watched the two intently with anticipation.

Imorah glanced briefly behind her, unnerved by the silence of the crowd and saw the long shadowy faces of the people and the guard licking his lips. What am I doing? It was her destiny to come here—she knew that much—but she didn't know what for. Maybe it was her destiny to die here. 

She had spent her entire childhood studying languages with Gramma and her skin rippled as she suddenly became aware of the fact that this had uniquely prepared her for this moment in her life. Certainly the Language was one of these that she had studied. She knew she hadn't come all this way to die at the hands of a creton sentry.

As they made their way along the walkway that followed the curve, the two travellers took each other's hand as, behind them, they could hear a sudden commotion of voices as the people began to take bets. From the sounds of things, the odds were against them.