Domain of Power-The Dreamer (Book 3)

Chapter 8: Perfect Strangers

    "Perfect Strangers"

It was a warm April morning. I could hear spring even from the songbirds singing back and forth to each other in the trees to the swarming things flying in and out the window. It was also a time for closure. After a week of re-learning how to walk it was time to visit the same spot that forever changed my world. I asked father to bring the person that saved my life. I learned that he was my former body slave. That his name was Alexander. He had to be somewhere in his mid-twenties. He was not much different than the other house slaves except that his skin was a rich bronze. It would take months of toiling in the hot sun to achieve that complexion. Although he was taken aback by my request, he agreed to take me to the spot he found me.

Since I still walked with a slight limp, a slave that was a skilled woodcarver fastened a walking stick for me. Between my stick and Alexander's sturdy frame sticking close to my side, I had nothing to fear. My eyes squinted at the bright sunlight the moment I stepped out. For the first time I could smell firsthand the raw smell of earth and vegetation that the breeze carried. My feet hobbled through the tall blades of grass, letting them tickle my bare calves. I seemed to have no trouble finding the uneven groves hidden in the lush stalks. The field felt oddly familiar. Then Alexander who was a step ahead of me stopped suddenly. I pressed my weight against the stick, silently thanking him for stopping along the fence.

He turned to me. "This is it, Troy. This is where I found you," he said before clearing his throat.

After all these weeks I finally knew I had a chance of getting a real answer to a burning question. "Why did the horse lose control?"

"The horse must have been frightened by either something or someone. I heard you say that someone was chasing you just as you were approaching the gate. It happened so quick that I did not even see the horse or its rider. Just heard a jumble of hooves." I closed my eyes. In the blackness a pair of gray eyes glowed. As light penetrated the darkness, contours of a long face emerged. A man's face. A panicked breath escaped my throat leaving me breathless.

He rested a hand on my shoulder. "Is everything well, Master? You look pale. It was as if you were in a trance." I shook my head. I was far from well.

"What is it?" he asked. How could I articulate what had just happened? The face I thought I saw mirrored the one I dreamt. How was this happening? "We can leave this place if it is too much bad memories here," he continued, snapping me from my stupor.

I shook my head. "I thought that maybe I could draw some closure," I began. "I thought that maybe the memories would come flooding back. However all I got is more unanswered questions. But what I am beginning to think is that this was no accident. Someone was after me. The dreams—"

"What dreams?"

"Never mind. Just forget I mentioned it," I said hastily. "I just want closure. And you cannot bring it." I slowly followed the wooden fence.

"Where are you going?" he called.

"Nowhere. I am just taking a walk. I do not need you to follow me. I am capable now of walking on my own." He threw his hands in the air, as he shouted, "Just do not venture too far out." I continued treading down the lumpy ground with my walking stick. I tried to recall if the same pastures were the one in my dreams. The scenery seemed so familiar as if I had treaded the same grounds before but the little thickets here stretched miles apart. Not like the cluster that encircled me in the dream. As the fence led me back to the cobblestone road, I saw several cypress trees planted rooted along the road. It all looked as it did in an earlier dream. Then the sound of hooves came thumping against the stone road. I felt my stomach twist into knots. Was I in another dream? Maybe the figure was after me. I squinted to look to see who was coming down the road. It was a lone chariot. As it came closer, I snuck behind one of the cypress trees. Then the chariot came to a stop in front of our spacious home. The driver came to a complete stop before helping a young lady down the chariot. Her pristine face was still fresh with youth. She had to be around my age I assumed. But what was she doing here? Especially a girl girded in a colorful garment with sparkly earrings dangling from her lobes. I saw her speak briefly to the driver before walking along the edge of the road. She walked about, bent down, and picked herself up in a repetitious manner.