The Dreampeople, Part 1, Chapter 2

A Few Notes: This is chapter one of part two of my story, The Dreampeople. This name is temporary; I don't know what to call this story yet. Also, you'll notice sometimes in this story I'll write (race of people) or (country.) When this happens, it means I haven't come up with a name for the race of people or the country, or whatever it is. If you have any suggestions for these names or names for what I can call the entire story altogether, please tell me; I need help with this. 

If you haven't read Part One, Chapter One, please do before you read Chapter Two.

It'll be a while before Part Two is finished, since this was written previously and was posted when I joined Young Writer's Society on September 4, 2014. 

Thank you so much for reading. 

-rissymay

Once our horses are in the woods, I walk into the city with Arden, following the others. Buildings are completely destroyed, lying in piles of rubble on the ground. The air is filled with ash, smoke, and a smell that I know too well: the scent of burned bodies. Memories from Destruction hit me suddenly: my own home being destroyed, Arden dragging me out of the wreckage…

I take a deep breath. I know then that there is no possibility that the fire was an accident. A fire that burns an entire city is a fire created by a man whose heart is full of hatred.

Arden suddenly grabs my arm, a whimper escaping her lips. I turn when she points to a small body on the ground. It’s so charred that it’s hard to tell it was even a person. My stomach turns, and I have to look away.

The worst possibility has happened. No one else could do this except Mardoc’s army. The question pounds in my head like a heartbeat: Would Mardoc do this to Oroma?

Slowly, our group walks through the city. From what we see, it’s not possible that there are any survivors left. The body Arden and I saw when we first entered is the only corpse our group has seen.

It terrifies me beyond words. Looking at this city, I know that we will never survive in freedom. No matter what we do, we’ll never rise proudly again. We’ll be hiding forever. If we show ourselves, Mardoc will only strike us down again. Our ultimate goal will never be achieved, and there is no hope. Hope is a silly belief for fools who don’t know when to give up. Rayford stops the group. He draws in a shaky breath, then speaks. “We’ll split into four groups to study this city through the night. Collect any information you can that would help us in the future: how these people lived, worked, and how Mardoc’s soldiers knew they were here. There are obviously going to be no survivors, but we can still use this event to our advantage. Knowing what the survivors in this city did wrong will help us conceal ourselves from Mardoc in the future,” Rayford bites his lip, nervously glancing around at the ashes of the city. “We don’t want to spend too much time here. This fire was caused by Mardoc and his army, and his soldiers could still be around here. Record any useful or notable information and return to the horses when you’re finished,” he instructs. Rayford then divides four groups of two researchers and three soldiers, including Arden and me. Our group is assigned to the south side of the city; it consists of the science teacher, Ruth, and one of the doctors, Dr. Larison.

As we begin the research, I’m amazed how well Ruth and Dr. Larison do it. They ask questions that I would never even consider. I realize that even the smallest, most unnoticeable detail can hold a purpose. The way the information fits together fascinates me.

Even though the work is interesting, the fact that I’m walking on the ashes of people of our own race is always on my mind. I can’t help but picture this city, thriving, not destroyed, in my mind. Were there lots of children, like in Oroma? Did people smile and wave at each other on the streets? Were there schools and shops? Did these people, too, have goals of living without fear like we do?

I’m woken from my thoughts by a sound. I look up, noticing a small amount of rubble tumbling from a pile of rock that used to be a building. I see a figure stumble slightly, then retreating into the shadows.

Ruth and Dr. Larison are frozen in fear. Arden and I look at each other. The figure could have been an animal, or a person… We both step forward hesitantly. I take a deep breath. “Who is that?” I call. “Who’s there?”

There’s no reply. I walk to the spot where we saw the figure and study the area. There’s no sign of anyone being here, but it couldn’t have been our imaginations. I swallow, walking back to our small group, shaking my head. “There was nothing there.”

Ruth, Dr. Larison, and Arden nod. Slowly, they return to work. Once we finish, we return to the horses, where two other groups from the research are waiting. It’s about two hours before sunrise, when we’ll leave the city, so Rayford decides that we should discuss the information our groups found with everyone else.

We eventually conclude from the discussion that the city was home to roughly five-hundred people, half the population of Oroma, even though the cities are the same size. As far as we know, no weapons were produced in this area, however, there is evidence of farms to the west.

We also realized, more than ever, how thorough Mardoc’s soldiers were when they burned the city. There wasn’t a single building left halfway standing; everything was either ash or rubble.

“The important thing,” Rayford says, “is why. What reason does Mardoc have to burn this place so thoroughly? Why did he take the time to completely demolish every building? And why is he out here again, in the territory that he’s already destroyed ten years ago?” he’s pacing through the grass, almost asking the questions to himself.

“Mardoc is psychotic; we all know this. Perhaps he’s so obsessed in his rule that he feels he needs to make sure no one stands in his way- not even a small group of survivors from Destruction,” Dr. Larison speaks up.

“Another thing,” Arden begins, “Was Mardoc searching for this city in particular? Perhaps someone found out there were survivors here and told him about it. The other possibility is that he’s searching for survivor cities across our entire country… which would mean that he’ll find us.”

A panic begins to fill my chest, squeezing the breath out of my lungs. I can imagine it so vividly: after ten years of work to keep ourselves hidden… and Mardoc’s soldiers destroying it all in just a few hours. I shudder. It would be Destruction all over again… except this time, there would be no survivors left.

“So how do we figure it out?” the cartographer in the group, Benjamin, asks. “How do we know if Mardoc is going to destroy Oroma like he did to this place? What if the drills we’ve practiced aren’t enough?”

Everyone in the group is silent in thought.

“We could split the population of Oroma up,” Ruth begins speaking. “We could divide ourselves into ten or so smaller groups. Then, each group of people would travel a different route to a decided destination, where eventually, all the groups would meet up again. Mardoc would have more groups of survivors to search for, and they’d all be travelling. In the worst situation, at least a few groups would survive. It’s simply relocation,” she explains.

Then a soldier, for the first time, speaks up. “Why don’t we fight? Mardoc might not take that many soldiers on his journey to find other surviving cities. We could have enough soldiers that we’ve trained to fight them back!”

I reply immediately. “Mardoc’s army is huge. He’d only order more soldiers to come to fight us. Besides, even if we outnumbered whatever group he brought, their weapons are much better than ours. They have experienced soldiers. Fighting back against him would not be a good idea. I’m sorry,” I look at the soldier as I say this.

“...What if there are more places with survivors from Destruction out there?” Benjamin asks. “After ten years of living in Oroma, we’ve hardly ever gone out of our own area. If Mardoc is doing a search… why couldn’t we? If we sent a group out to look for cities like this one and Oroma, we could bring back more survivors and increase our numbers…”

“Let’s not worry about these things yet,” Rayford says. “First, above all, we need to know if Mardoc is conducting a widespread search or a specific search for survivors from Destruction.”

“But we have no means of figuring that out,” Dr. Larison says quietly. I begin to hear the frustration in his voice.

“Spies, perhaps?” a second doctor, Dr. Fareford, speaks. “We could send a few people to travel around and locate Mardoc’s army and figure out what they’re doing.”

“But what if those spies were caught? You know what Mardoc would do. He’d capture them, have them tortured… and he’d figure out where everyone else was at. Is it really worth the risk?” Arden says.

Rayford speaks over the voices in the group. “We can discuss this all when we get back in further detail. Since we’ve collected all the information we can about this city, I think that we should begin moving. It might not be wise to stay any longer. Let’s start heading back to Oroma,” he stands up, walking towards his horse.

Everyone follows his instructions, saddling up.

As we ride, I think back to just a few days ago. Everything was fine; there was no known threat of Mardoc’s soldiers possibly coming. But now, after seeing this city and having my memory refreshed of what King Mardoc can do, everything just seems more dangerous. It’s amazing how everything can change so quickly.

I glance at Arden, riding by my side. “...Do you really think we can make it? If Mardoc is searching for other survivors?” I ask softly.

She looks at me, surprised. “There’s a possibility that he’s not-”

“But why was he here in the first place? The odds that someone told him that this city existed are very slim. Who would be out here in these lands to notice a city of surviving people from Destruction?”

Arden sighs. “I don’t know why he’s suddenly doing this. I don’t understand anything about Mardoc since Destruction happened. He terrifies me,” she whispers these last three words.

We travel through the day, and when the sun sets, our group settles in an open clearing in the forest. Thoughts of Mardoc and of the city in ashes never leave my mind. I am constantly wondering how, with such a small population of people, we could ever be free from fear again.

People begin to set up their tents around the area; I pitch mine near the edge of the clearing, closer to the trees. A small arrangement of people gather to talk quietly through the night. I retreat to my tent, weary and ready to sleep.

I sit up when I hear footsteps and then Rayford’s voice. “Avian, may I speak to you for a second?”

My eyes widen. Have I been doing something bad, something wrong? “Yes, of course,” I reply, climbing out of the tent and facing our leader.

“I just wanted to say I appreciate what you’ve done for this journey. If you hadn’t suggested the idea of going to that city, we wouldn’t know anything about Mardoc’s return… thank you.”

I swallow, nodding. “Thank you, sir…”

“Just keep it up,” he smiles. “I think you have some great ideas that we can use.”

I nod, and Rayford turns and leaves. I’m smiling when I return to my tent.

My jumbled thoughts about everything we saw in the city eventually slow so that I can fall asleep…

I hear footsteps again. They’re soft, slow, and careful. When I squint my eyes open, it’s still dark outside. I moan; what time is it?

The sound of feet against the ground pause. They were so quiet- maybe I was just imagining it. I roll over, fumbling for my pocketwatch, which I left inside the pocket of my overcoat last night. I clumsily press the button to open it up… 2:37 A.M…

I sigh, lying back down. The footsteps suddenly become rushed, and I notice a small pair of feet appear at the opening of my tent.

I bolt up. “...Hello?” I ask cautiously, staring at the feet, trying to decide who it could be… “Who’s there?” I call, crawling forward. I slowly push the tent flap.

There’s a young girl, maybe eleven or twelve years old. She’s dressed in a thick, black, hooded cloak. I can’t see her face in the dark.

My eyes widen. “Hello? Who are you?” she obviously didn’t come along on our journey from Oroma, and I don’t know why she’d be with Mardoc’s army. “...Are you a survivor? From that city?” I gasp.

She struggles to speak. “N-no… no. I’m not a survivor. Not… not like you say.”

“Where did you come from? Were you in the forest?” I ask.

“I… I just…” her voice is full of anxiety.

“What’s your name?” I say softly, hoping I can calm her down somehow and just get her to talk to me…

“Iris,” she breathes.

“I’m Avian,” I sit with my legs crossed in front of me. “So what are you doing here?”

“I’m not supposed to be here. I was walking through that city, where your group was. You and a few other people were looking around and I tripped on a pile of ash and kind of fell. I think I disappeared before you saw me, though…”

“That was you?” I blink.

Iris nods. “...Are you all survivors from Destruction?”

“Yeah. There’s more of us, a lot more, but they’re in Oroma. We just gathered some people to travel here and research and that city because a hunting group had seen smoke rising from it a few days ago,” I explain.

She’s silent for a few seconds. I think she’s struggling to think of something to say. Finally, the words come out of her mouth. “I have to explain a lot of things to you that you won’t understand. You have to trust me because it will help you fight Mardoc. Everything is going to change if you listen to what I have to say. But I can guarantee that it will be for the better.”

I blink, stunned at this, frightened by her words. A strange, cloaked young girl that I’ve never met is telling me that her words will change everything. What could she possibly say that could make everything different?

I take a deep breath. “You should really be talking to our leader, Rayford about this…”

“I can’t. I couldn’t,” she shakes her head. “I’m not supposed to be here, remember?”

I nod. “Okay. Would you like to come inside the tent, then?” I ask.

Iris slowly steps inside and sits down, pulling her hood back as well. I notice her features for the first time: pale skin, jet black hair, and dark, dark eyes. She’s small, but there’s this feeling of strength about her…

“My mother told me from birth that I wasn’t her real child,” she begins. “I was taken from (country), the day before our capital was destroyed.”

My face slowly falls as I remember the destruction of Senius. The day when everything was lost.

“And my father has always said the (race of people), every single one of them, all have this power. It’s the same power, and he’s been training me how to use it since I was a child. I’m using it right now,” Iris continues.

I stare at her; I don’t see her doing anything out of the ordinary…

She closes her eyes for a second, then starts speaking again. “The power was taken away sometime in history. It still lies within everyone, but somewhere in time, the use of the power was restricted, maybe it became illegal to use it. It was slowly just… forgotten. And I think… that it was the cause of Destruction. My- Mardoc, I mean, knew that all of the (race of people) had that power within them, and he was afraid that we would find out that we had the power, and that we’d use it against him.”

“So he just… killed everyone?” my voice is a whisper. My heartbeat races in fear.

“Yes,” Iris’s voice is soft. “Every (race of people) has the ability to dream something… and have it be real. Real to others. You know what a dream is, right?”

“Yeah,” I blink in confusion. “My father had one…” Having dreams is extremely rare in (country). My father did have a dream when I was eight years old. He said it was the strangest thing… like being alive, but while sleeping. Dreams have always been seen as a sign of bad luck, though I’ve never believed in that.

“Everyone here can dream, but we have dreams in reality. I’m actually asleep right now, in a bed in my room, but I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming that I’m here, and you’re seeing me in front of you. This is real, but it’s my dream,” Iris explains.

I shake my head. I can’t wrap my mind around it. “No. Impossible, that’s not-”

She stretches out her arm. “Touch my hand, Avian.”

I look up at Iris; my eyes make contact with hers and freeze. I inhale deeply, reaching my hand forward. It passes through hers, like a ghost’s, when it’s supposed to be making physical contact with her dream.

This can’t be real. This is impossible. I could be having a dream myself…

“I’m in what’s called a dream form. I’m not a physical being, because I’m in a dream,” she explains.

“How?! How do you do this?” I gasp.

“Everyone can. Everyone in your group, in your whole city.”

“How can I trust you? Who are you?” I stare at her. “You have to be making this up!”

Her eyes suddenly widen. “Avian, I need to leave. Someone’s coming inside my room. I’ll come back and explain more. I promise!”

The next second, she’s gone.

The panic consumes me; I clutch the sides of my head in a mad hysteria. I begin yelling things that I don’t understand. Words just pour out of my mouth.

This has to be a dream. A dream like the one my father had. But how do I know what’s a dream and what’s reality? I don’t know the difference between the two. Or maybe I do.

I have no idea anymore.

I hear someone pushing through the opening to my tent, yelling my name.

“Avian! Avian, what happened?!” Arden’s eyes are wild and frightened.

I snap back to sanity. I lie down on my back and laugh. I just laugh and laugh.

“Avian?” my best friend whispers.

“I had a dream,” I tell her. I know it was. It had to be. What I just saw from Iris was not possible. So it was a dream. Or maybe I’m just trying to convince myself it was never real.

“What? Avian, that’s… no one ever has dreams!” she gasps.

“But it happened,” I keep laugh, rolling to my side. “I had a dream,” I close my eyes.

“Why…” Arden shakes her head. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay? You need to get some sleep.”

“I will,” I whisper, curling up in my blanket. If only my mind would allow me to do such a thing…