Guardians: The Last Elder

Chapter 15: War and Peace

 "Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?"
~John Lennon

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I was lying in my bed, fully clothed and staring up at the ceiling, deep in thought. After we had returned from the Dwarf City tonight, we all headed off to Mr Blackwell's office straight way. I had explained there about how I had bumped into Grimm, just a 'friendly ole dwarf.' I relayed the information about xiyalor, the weapon that might have been used by the Hooded Ones.

When I had said that, Mr Blackwell looked like I might as well have taken a lightning bolt and struck him with it. Instantly, he had jumped up from his seat, an almost crazed expression on his face. He had rushed off to search his book shelves, all the while muttering something along the lines of, "I should've known...should've seen it..."

I had looked at the others for help, thoroughly bewildered but they looked just as perplexed as me. When Vanessa had finally ventured to ask what was wrong, Mr Blackwell had straightened, blinking, as if coming out of a daze.

After that, he had thanked us for our immense help and calmly ordered us to go to our beds, promising to talk later. I didn't know what to make of his eccentric behavior but the others, despite looking confused and a little annoyed at the abrupt dismissal, weren't too worried. I had lingered back at the door, wondering over and over again if I should tell him about the old dwarf, Grimm and the Mead of Poetry. Maybe he could help me make sense of it all. But at the end, I had decided against it.

So now, here I was, lying in bed, my eyelids refusing to close despite how tired my body was. Er, I might also have a drunk a cup of coffee. Or three. Sue me.

I found my mind drifting back to the vial that I had placed in my bed-side drawer, right beside my mom's sapphire necklace. I wanted to swallow that liquid and get it over with it. Get my answers, as Grimm had insisted I would. But I didn't even know what answer I was looking for. Sure, I still had an avalanche of questions about Morlea, its people, its history. But I suspected that is not what the he meant. He thought I was looking for something that he knew I wouldn't get if I asked Mr Blackwell. But what was it? And what did he mean when he said I needed the mead to realise my full potential?

I sighed and shook my head. I couldn't drink the mead now. I would...sometime. Just not now.

If only you were here, mom. Things would've been so much easier then, I thought wistfully. I could feel the tears stinging the corner of my eyes. I blinked them back before I could turn into a sobbing mess. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to lure me to a blissfully restful land.

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I opened my eyes, blinking and a little disoriented. I looked around and found a dark sky above me with barren and withered trees swimming into my view. The moon was a silver halo, almost invisible because of the thick black smoke. I coughed, suddenly aware of the overwhelming smell of burning oil, metal and...flesh. I heard distant shouts and cries and a trumpet blowing.

I felt a cold hand pressing against my wrist. I turned and shrieked in fright and astonishment. Staring back at me was a man. I was pretty sure I didn't know him. His messy brown hair was plastered with sweat and blood. A deep gash ran all the way from his left eye to his parted lips from which blood was slowly sipping out. My eyes met with his and I realised they were vacant. He was dead. I twisted away from him and rolled right into a pool of blood. Horrified and a little grossed out, I sat up. My back clattered with the sharp heel of a foot. I turned and found yet another dead man leaning against a gnarled and decaying tree. This time I was able to bite down my cry.