* This is a first draft so any editing of any form is welcomed:)*
Wooden carts rattled noisily along the hard packed dirt road, oblivious to the young man who stood, silent, alongside the beaten trail. His dark eyes were fixed across the road from where he stood, watching the thin overgrown trail with quiet interest. Waiting for a gap between the racing merchants, he stood tall, a heavy black traveling cloak shrouding his large frame.
In one fluid movement, the young man strode across the road and stepped up onto the desolate pathway he’d been watching with such interest. For the first time he noted the sign pointing toward the woods which read: Berryessa. What had further caught his attention though, was the young girl seated at the base of the sturdy sign.
She was probably only five years old, her dark ungroomed hair half hiding her filth-covered face. She wore a loose rag in a dress like fashion and held a small leather pouch tightly to her chest. She glanced up hesitantly as the boy moved in her direction.
“Mmm.” she let out a soft grunt as she held the small bag up pleadingly, opening the top to reveal two dusty bronze coins. Her gray eyes shone hopefully as she watched the silent young man. “Please?”
Slowly the man crouched beside her, watching her curiously. “What is your name?” The girl paused for a moment, as if his question had confused her.
“Gwen.” she whispered softly, slowly withdrawing her purse from view.
“Hello, Gwen. I’m Tristan,” Tristan straightened his back and stared longingly down the winding path. “You wouldn’t happen to know how far it is to Berryessa, now would you, Gwen?” he asked absently, his eyes distant.
Gwen laughed softly. “Berryessa doesn’t exist any longer, Mister . . . I mean, Tristan. Where are you from? Two thousand years ago?”
Tristan looked down at the young child, an odd expression passing his face. “But the sign says it does . . .”
Gwen nodded at his words. “Sure it does . . . all that lies down that path are a few forks, and then if you take the old path to Berryessa, a huge overgrown wall and a stupid locked gate.” Gwen nodded with satisfaction then re-offered her purse to Tristan.
He waved her away, watching the path intensely. At last he spoke. “How about this, Gwen. You show me the way to the locked gate and be my guide. Then, I’ll pay you for your service.”
Gwen beamed up at Tristan, nodding her head vigorously.
“Sure thing, Tristan! I mean you better pay me what I’m worth, but I don’t see why that wouldn’t work.” She quipped sheepishly.
Tristan nodded and watched as the girl rose to her feet, and trotted off down the path. He stared as his eyes were drawn to a marking on the girls back. A small tattoo was stamped at the base of the child’s neck. It was shaped like a dove and a serpent, bent into the shape of a circle.
“Are you coming, Tristan, or not?!” Gwen demanded, turning sharply on her heels.
Picking up the pace, the traveler quickly closed the gap between himself and his young guide. He averted his eyes from her tattoo, trying not to stare. His mind was searching desperately, trying to remember where he’d seen the insignia before.
Gwen led them confidently down the narrow path, through the shadows of the heavy headed trees. They passed three forks along the way and each time Gwen chose to take the left side of the trail. At last the sun was sinking in the distance and the sky had turned a deep purpling bruise.
“Gwen . . .” Breaking the long silence, Tristan glanced down at the small child. She looked up, her eyes gleaming brightly in the darkness. “We should probably stop for the night . . . I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
Gwen laughed.
“No need, Tristan, we’re almost there. I’ll make sure you reach the gates safely, and then you’ll pay me, and I’ll be gone.” She nodded as if to reassure herself, a glint of doubt shadowing her eyes.
Silence reigned again as Gwen sped off into the darkening twilight and Tristan hurried to follow. Relieved, he found that Gwen had been right. The huge walls loomed before them, a pale gray in the moonlight, huge bushes covering most of the sides. Tristan stared at the looming gateway, where two dusky lights burned inside two diamond shaped boxes.
“I wonder who’s lighting them,” Tristan mused, watching the flickering flame as he neared the iron wrote gate, Gwen a small shadow beside him.
Leaning closer Tristan’s eyes widened as he stared at the middle of the gate, where a serpent was intertwined with a dove. Glancing down he noted in wonderment that there was no type of restraint on the gate. Leaning into it he shoved as hard as he could, peering through the bars into the blackness. But no matter how hard he pushed, the gate didn’t budge a single centimeter, and he could discern nothing from the dark shapes beyond the gate.
“Ok, pay day, Tristan. I finished my job, now you owe up to yours,” Gwen stated briskly, her teeth chattering as she moved away from the gates cautiously. Tristan nodded and headed over to a smooth area of soft sand, a good distance away from the gateway.
“Two gold coins . . . how’s that?” Tristan asked, sliding onto the cool sand. Gwen gasped but held out her purse nonetheless. Tristan placed the money inside her pouch and she pulled away quickly, as if fearing he would take back his generosity.
“It was nice to meet you, Tristan. Maybe one day we will meet again.” Gwen spoke softly. Tristan nodded as he set about making a small fire pit, smoothing a hollow into the sand. Gwen waited a moment longer, as if expecting something more, before sighing and turning back the way they had come.
Tristan rocked back on his legs and watched her go, wiping the sweat from his brow. She was too young to be wondering the forest at night by herself. “Hey, Gwen!” Tristan waved at the young girl as she turned to look at him hopefully. “Why don’t you at least stay the night and have some dinner . . . if you’re set on leaving it can wait for the morning.”
Gwen let out a soft squeal of laughter, and raced back to the fire pit.
“Oh, thank you, Tristan! I’ll go gather some wood.” And without another word the girl vanished into the woods.
The two shared a small meal of cooked meat that Tristan had procured a few towns back, and roasted chestnuts that Gwen had gleefully revealed to Tristan after she had raided a red squirrels nest high in one of the thick trunked trees. Tristan had settled down atop his heavy traveling cloak, the night was too warm for the need of blankets. He’d stuffed his travel pack beneath his head and then to his great discomfort Gwen had curled up like a small cat alongside him, pressing her small bony body into his side.
“Goodnight, Gwen.” The traveler offered quietly, his eyes watching the stars as he tried to remember what the stars had looked like the last time he’d been to Berryessa. Closing his eyes, he stared at the symbol burning through his mind. He knew he should be able to remember the significance but the harder he reached for the answer the further it seemed. At last, as he drifted into a fitful and restless sleep, the words to a lullaby someone had sang him years ago flowed through his mind.
Lifting her wings to fly
The dove falls
Lifting his head to strike death
The serpent dies
The day the gates closed
Was the day that no one knows
Hidden in the bodies of youth
Live they on, by wing...tooth
The serpent and the dove
Banned by their secret love
One the Key, the other shall Build
Our walls shall fall and fruit we’ll yield
But until the day the lovers meet
And until the curse they beat
We’ll lay beneath this layer of dust
Hidden from the greed and lust
The world passes on and here we wait
The Serpent and the Dove, death is their fate
As the haunting voice left Tristan’s thoughts, he opened his eyes, wide awake. Staring at the skies above he could feel his heart beating ever faster. He hadn’t been who he was now, when he had learned about the symbol tattooed on Gwen’s back. It had been hundreds of years ago, perhaps thousands. He had been a young man living in the lush green prairies of the Wetlands, and his private teacher had taught him of Berryessa, of her secrets and of her legends . . . and yet, Tristan couldn’t remember much after that. Had he grown up and then died an old man? No. Somehow that didn’t seem right.
Tristan’s mind reeled as he realized he had been alive for the last several centuries. Images flickered through his mind as he desperately attempted to grasp more. Sighing he pushed the memories from his mind. If he couldn’t remember yet, then he would do his best to forget. Otherwise, he knew he would go insane.
Turning to look down at Gwen, Tristan stifled a surprised cry of alarm and pushed himself across the sand, away from Gwen. The small child who had helped him through the winding paths of the forest was no longer there. In her place, bathed in moonlight, lay a young woman.
She wasn’t exactly what Tristan would call beautiful. She was like no woman he had ever seen before though. She looked exotic, as if perhaps she had traveled from a distant land . . . or perhaps a different time.
Tristan was wondering just exactly what he should do when the woman stirred, her golden eyes flickering opened softly. She stared at Tristan for a long while, her large pale eyes searching him. At last grim determination filled her eyes and she smiled.
“Welcome home, Tristan.” Rising to stand, a pale white dress fell about her body. Straightening she beckoned to Tristan and he scrambled to his feet. He was unnerved as the woman looked him straight in the eyes then pointed to the gateway.
“The gate behind you, Tristan, it has been locked for just over two thousand years. It has drawn people from across the globe to its mystery, yet not a single person in all that time has ever managed to cross into its depths. Not one. No one knows what lies beyond it, not anymore. To them, Berryessa is simply a legend. No one can remember the city it used to be. No one but the two of us. I’ve been waiting, Tristan, waiting for the day your journeys would lead you to me . . . and at last you have come.” The woman’s countenance gleamed as she stared into Tristan’s dark confused eyes.
“Who are you?” he breathed, staring at her, frigid horror coursing through his body.
“You will remember when we pass beyond the gates, Tristan. I am Gwendolyn.” Realizing that this woman was in fact Gwen shocked Tristan terribly but he simply nodded numbly.
Gwen led Tristan to the gates and as she held her hand, palm up, toward the iron bars, they slipped open silently, the tattoo on Gwen’s neck glowing brightly. She smiled back at Tristan, beckoning toward him.
As Tristan crossed beyond the gate a searing pain flashed across his back at the base of his neck and as he quickly reached his hand backwards he felt warm blood oozing through his finger tips.
“Your mark.” Gwen spoke softly, nodding knowingly. “It’s been hidden all these years.”
But Tristan wasn’t listening. A distant memory was flickering at the back of his head. He could remember Berryessa. He remembered the castle, the waterfalls, the village and the townsfolk. He could remember their kindhearted King and Queen, and the Royal Magician. He could remember Gwen’s glowing golden eyes staring into his own blue ones, he could remember being the young man named Tristan those two thousand years ago. But as the memories came so did the hurt, the pain, the tears, and the scream that shattered the night as Tristan crumbled to the ground in writhing agony.
He remembered now. How Berryessa had been infiltrated by other cities. How people had come to enjoy the prosperity of the land and with them they had brought new ideas and contention. Berryessa had become a dangerous place. Street fights, gangs, filth, shadowing the once pure city. Tristan could remember fleeing with Gwendolyn, her younger sister, and Sayre, the court Magician. And then he remembered the Magician, with his dying breath, had cursed Gwen and Tristan, and forever sealed Berryessa from the world which had sought to destroy it.
“You wandered the world as a traveler, Tristan, living until you were eighteen and then somehow an accident would befall you and you would die, being reborn only days later. You were left with nothing other than a few fleeting memories and the name Berryessa. I on the other hand retained all of my memories, forced to wait for your return as a small beggar girl beside the distant dirt path.” Gwen’s eyes were filled with tears as she helped Tristan to his feet.
The young man stumbled forward, feeling clumsy suddenly. Looking down at his fingers he realized they were much longer and slimmer than they had been moments before. As well he realized he was taller and thinner boned. Gwen nodded softly.
“We’ve returned, Tristan . . . we’ve returned to our two thousand year old sleeping city . . . and to our two thousand years ago bodies as well.” Tristan looked shocked as his eyes met with Gwen’s and they stared at one another for a long while.
“The song . . . it was the legend . . . you were always the dove Gwen . . . and I the serpent . . . but why?” Gwen smiled.
“Because, Tristan . . . I was born of the House of Dove and your families were descendants of Serpentine. It was our lineage they named. When you left, your memories died. But that doesn’t matter anymore. You’re safe again, Tristan, we’re together in our city, and our people wait for us to awaken them.” Tristan stared past Gwen and for the first time in two thousand years looked upon Berryessa.
He could see the high gray turrets of the castle reaching for the sky. The farthest reaches of the village were just visible at the top of the low rise in front of him. Tristan longed to race into his city, shouting for joy, falling into step the way it had been before the invaders had destroyed them.
“But, Gwen . . . when our people awake . . . the intruders will still be here . . . nothing will change and the world shall overpower us.” Gwen shook her head knowingly.
“No, Tristan, the people that did not share Berryessa’s spirit passed away long ago, the spell did not protect them. And though the protective barrier shall be lifted, the walls will remain and though people shall travel to our fabled kingdom, they will never be a part of it . . . We are free to bring our city alive in the midst of this now foreign world.” Gwen slipped her hand inside Tristan’s and the pair hurried up the rise to stand atop the hillside, their eyes wide with wonder.
“It’s different . . .” Gwen murmured softly. Tristan shook his head.
“No, Gwen . . . it has healed from the mark the outsiders left on it . . . don’t you remember? This was how our kingdom looked before they ever tainted it.” Tristan pulled Gwen along behind him as he hurried down the dirt roadway toward a small unfinished cottage.
Breathlessly he stood before it, panting slightly. “Look, Gwen . . . it’s still here . . . our cottage.” Gwen chuckled softly.
“Waiting for you to finish it.”
The pair turned and headed, hand in hand, toward the looming castle. Tristan realized that they must awaken the king first and then, after that, the world would spring to life and he would be home at last.
Together they entered the castle and found their way to the throne room where the King sat slouching heavily in his throne. He looked for all the world as if he was simply taking a noonday nap. Kneeling beside him, Tristan placed his long fingered hand on the King’s wrist. He brushed his long golden locks out of his face with the other.
“Wake, King Ewen . . . wake and return your people to the light once more.” Ewen’s eyes fluttered open and he stared down at Tristan groggily. At last he pushed himself into a more dignified posture and blinked the sleep from his eyes.
“Tristan, my son . . . I have had such dreams. You wouldn’t imagine what I’ve seen!” Tristan smiled softly.
“I believe you, Father . . . and I know too that most of what you’ve seen is probably true.” Ewen’s eyes widened as he slid to his feet and suddenly people stirred all around them. Slowly realization filled Ewen’s eyes and he turned to Tristan.
“You have saved us all my son . . . my prince. You will rule beside me as we rebuild what we lost so long ago.” Tristan shook his head and turned, taking Gwen’s hand.
“It may have been two thousand years Father, times may be different, and yet my decision to leave still stands. I was never meant to lead our people Father. Dylan is much better suited for the job . . . if I were to take your offer . . . you know I could never be with Gwen.” Tristan looked lovingly at the woman standing beside him. He knew the path ahead of them would be a long one, adjusting would be hard. But in the end, he felt sure it would all work out.
“After all, a snake and a dove may love each other Father. Just so long as they keep their love hidden.”
So here's to both of you!
Note: Thanks Tayla for asking around as well *warm hug* I'm very grateful to everyone who took the time to answer my desperate plea and read my story. You guys made all the difference *passes out virtual 'Lifesaver' badges* Thanks a million times over!