Creus(Full Book)

Part 25

He woke.

He grabbed the jar and drank the blue water, streaming past his lips. Again, this time, it would. It would! He would get his... his... things.... Dreams. He would get them. This time.... .He gulped it down and fell into darkness again.

More blurs, where was his wonder? His imagination? These weren't dreams of his creation, each dream had been wonderful, ecstatic, strange, but blurs and blurs, more streamlining past him and shapes and colors. All of it, colors, blobs of light floating and floating, no, no, no, where was his- his DREAMS? WHERE? Where were his dreams? Where were they? Where were they?

He woke again, and grabbed another jar, drinking the water again, the life-giving water, the taste of ecstasy. Excitement pulsed in him. Rushing from the water, he drank another jar, as the water, the water, the glorious, glowing water. He held it up, to the light above, and put it down. Slipping into his dreams, the water built him, made him alive, made him fly over the lands and into the clouds. Oceans of it, wave after wave, filled him, lapping into his tongue.

He slipped into his dreams again, into his dreamscape, onto the blurs, behind the Prophet. A sphere of light enveloped the sky, a temple of clay blocked the rays, and three statues stood in front, each with empty eyes and holding nothing. Each clasping their hands together. Light streamed past, the Prophet faced forward, then split into three, three shapes. Shifting shapes, rotating and moving, shifting and shifting, three of them, continuing to move, shifting and rotating. He watched them from afar and watched the three shapes, of what remained of the Prophet, rotate, glowing with infused Galtrand and Gotund, red and blue, a flicker of gold sometimes. He watched, immobile, helpless to the power before him, stronger than what he'd seen before or ever. Stronger than the magic that magi practiced, this was the raw chaos of magic, the randomness of it all. Everything in each of the three, continuing, continuing, moving, rotating, all different, he watched. Watched as they encompassed his vision, filling it with light, nothing but light all around. It faded away, turning dark as he woke.

Beneath him, something glowed, he watched from the edge of the pit, an aura, the same one he'd seen in the pit with Rickman, glowing the same golden-green, a sphere of fog, fading into the red as it reached his eyes. But, glowing gold at the bottom. Radiating its light out unto him. He watched, and almost woke Osmond, but stopped. No, Osmond would only try to investigate, and he would climb down and then get himself killed. Instead, he watched by himself. Watching what glowed below. He heard something scurry and looked down, it was those creatures again, pallid and grey, scurrying around underneath the protective sphere. He looked away and grabbed a small pebble. Then he dropped it into the caverns and watched to see what would happen.

It bounced along the ledge, and into the sphere, then light burst from the dome, green, blue, golden, he held his hands to his face as the light burst into his eyes. He writhed, seeing only white, and blinked, blinked again and again. It faded away into red, and he looked, each of the creatures had run away. Gone. The pebble was gone, too. Destroyed by the sphere. He peeked at the caverns again and saw the old man's body, who had his eyes open. With eyes penetrating the ceiling, staring past it, into the sky. The old man lay with lines glowing all over, rotting away, ribs torn apart, crimson over the ground. The lines of Galtrand and Gotund glowed around the old man as the magic tore away at the corpse. The blue Galtrand and the red Gotund, glowed all over, crushing the corpse, he could hear the sinews snap. He looked away from the mess below. It reminded him of Bernard again, Bernard, Bernard, Bernard, with his ears gone and his messy end...

He hurled a rock downwards at the body, again and again, as the lights flashed. Each rock tumbled into the body, Bernard! Dead, like the old man, dead because he'd gone onto the trip, the stupid trip, and killed himself trying to find... find what was on the top! The top, why had the Prophet climbed the mountain?... They'd survived the snake, the pit, the sea, the chaos of the Galtrand and Gotund, yet to die in the hands of the Nalrath...