Chapter Eleven: Beware The North: Part One

I sprinted toward him as quickly as my body would allow. Don’t most people run away from their nightmares? I wondered. Pushing through the brush as it whipped at my arms, I approached where he had been, but only it was a small tree. “Damn him.”

“I thought you were a lady, Genevieve. Ladies don’t swear.” Sleepwalker rested his hands on my tensed shoulders. When I yelped in fright and leapt away, he laughed.

“What are you doing here? Why are you following me?” I turned to him angrily. “Have you been following me since Yondrin?” I seethed quietly, wishing to stay unseen.

“Of course not! You always think the worst of me. Why, I just arrived. I am glad to see that I had such a nice welcoming party.” He beamed with grey-stained teeth.

I clenched my fists in frustration as I released a sigh. “As long as you’re here, I might as well get some answers out of you. What are you?” I wondered, edge in my tone.

“Your worst nightmare,” His voice had gone dark and deep, but the effect was ruined once he laughed at himself. “I like it better when we talk about you,” He sulked.

“The last time we talked about me, you dislocated my shoulder, so that’s not going to happen again,” I snapped matter-of-factly, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Ooh, touchy,” He teased. After taking a step back, he blended with the shadows in the forest. “How is the search for your mother going?” He queried.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not even in Eirodin yet.” Then I realized something else. “This is not a dream. This is real. You’re real! What are you?” I marveled, suddenly amazed. “I cannot believe you are not a figment of my dreams, but an actual…thing!”

“A thing? Just what kind of thing do you think I am, Genevieve?” He sounded affronted as his mouth opened. “This kind of thing?” He snapped his fingers. His fingers hardened and pointed, becoming claws. His tobacco-crusted smile turned yellow and fanged. Nonexistent eyes gleamed a bright yellow from under his hood. His cloak tightened to his skeletal form and thickened into black fur. He snarled at me.

I bounded back surprised and terrified. “Stop that!” Watching his changing form, I gulped. Subconsciously, I rubbed my shoulder. That would be the least of my injuries…

His preferred form returned. “Not what you had in mind?” He frowned.

“How do you know my mother?” I demanded, balling my fists.

Another chuckle escaped his lips. “I told you, Genevieve; I know everyone.” He held up his hands defensively. His long fingers drew pictures in the air, rough outlines of a woman’s form. “Lovely, isn’t she?”  He coughed some sand into the picture and he watched it dissipate. “Ah, well, always another time to practice the arts.”

I snapped, “Do you enjoy teasing me?”

“Very much so. Your reaction is…cute, quite cute actually almost as cute as your boyfriend in there. What was his name? Anteater?” He pouted thoughtfully.

I blushed. “Armadillo, thank you. And he is not my boyfriend.”

“You are awful defensive about it. Also, I must warn you against taking the northern road. It would be better to take the western road and loop around.”

Imagining a map in my head, I thought of it for a moment. “That makes little sense. That would add at least three days to the trip, and I would pass through Dunver. Its only pleasant feature, I have heard, is the library. Beside that, it is a city of thieves.”

“Well, it does not matter much I suppose. You will take the western road in the end, anyway.” He shrugged. After a moment of silence, he sighed pensively, “Ah, the sleepers. Do you hear their snores? It is a lovely sound. It is also my call of service. Until we next meet, Genevieve.” With another snap of his fingers, he left as he did before, his form swept away as dust in the gentle breeze of the near autumn night.

I started to feel a chill in the air. Prudently, I headed into Uncle Evan’s to the source of the noise, which I discovered was an enormous parlor with everyone who was at the table somehow, crammed in; they laughed and yelled over one another.

Dill eagerly waved me over to sit next to him on the floor. His eyes were panicked as Lane braided his hair. Once I sat, he carefully placed the girl on my lap instead. “Your problem now, Gen-neh-vuhv.” He grinned. “We’ve been telling stories!”

“I was four years old! You don’t understand what it is like to be very young and named Genevieve.” I added, “You had best not tell any stories about me.”

“So, Jenny, how did you meet Dill?” One of my older cousins, Micah asked. His dark hair was cropped to nearly his scalp and he had a small black beard.

Of course… I scratched my neck. “Oh, just on the road. We ran into one another-”

“Literally,” Armadillo interjected, holding up a finger. He whispered to me, “Do not worry. My father may be a crook, but I am true to my word.” He winked.

“I will never forget some of the people Eric and I met on the road. Some of them were real weirdoes especially when we went to the circus. A girl who can shoot flames from her fingertips, a man who reads minds, yeah, there were some freaks. Also some truly interesting people you meet on the road, traders, explorers…” His voice trailed off.

“Bards,” I included, thinking of William.

Everyone stared at me for a moment, a bit confused. Several murmured, “What?”

“Bards, you know they have a lyre and a flute. They sing. Bards.”

One man, with a bald head and brown beard, maybe my Uncle Ellis if I remembered correctly queried, “Where around here did you meet a bard? They only stay in the northern region to play for the richer folk.”

“Well, I suppose some bards get…sick of the north. Some may even get… lonely.” When Uncle Evan met my gaze excitedly, I nodded at him.

No one else seemed to understand the connection we had made.

“Are you two speaking of your brother’s inn?” My grandfather chimed in huffily. “From what you said, that place does not seem stable in the least held by beams going all which ways, and a self-dug cellar. Why it may tumble in on itself!” He wheezed a laugh.

“No, Father, we talk of another thing.” Uncle Evan’s eyes didn’t leave my face. “It’s a tad late. Perhaps, it’s best that everyone depart.” He rubbed his chin musingly.

“Evan, if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were kicking us out.” A woman with a little boy asleep on her lap chuckled. Her dark curls were pinned up.

“That shows how well you know your own brother, Eliza. I am tired. And I would very much like to go to sleep.” He smiled small. The dark under his eyes became clearer.

“You are getting to be an old man,” she retorted, jiggling the boy on her lap.

“Mama,” he muttered somnolently. “I’m still sleepy. Don’t wake me yet.” He snuggled back into her lap. His curly blonde hair was askew on his head.

She stood scooping him in her arms. “Ah, well, I suppose Jared needs to go to bed soon. So, the burden falls on Emma and Marshall tomorrow?” She joked good-naturedly.

“Only you could see supper with your family as a burden, Eliza. In which, I will see you in my home tomorrow night.” Another woman with blonde curls, whom I could only assume was my Aunt Emma, waved a farewell to everyone in the room as she and her husband a dark man, departed. Before her final step out, she turned to me, “Marshall and I have plenty of room if you two need beds for tonight,” she offered. The faint lines of her face creased into a smile. She dusted off her dress and waited for a reply.

With my nod, Lane jumped from my lap, and sat in Armadillo’s. “Dill is staying though, right?” Her eyes went wide with sadness as she clutched his collar.

“Oh, I apologize, Lane, but I go as Jenny does.” He stood, stretching his arms over his head. After he shook out his shaggy hair, he tossed his bag over his shoulder.

Slowly, I rose and shook off my exhaustion. I slung my own bag over my shoulder. After a hug and farewell from just about everyone, we departed.

The journey wasn’t far as all of the copied houses were within a few feet of each other. I only wondered how they were able to tell them apart while tired or intoxicated.

“Jenny, you’ve been so quiet all night. How odd that we have all been so anxious to meet you and when we do, you run off into the woods and speak of nothing but ambiguous bards. You are certainly no Eric. Oh, I miss him. It has been over two decades. He and I were closest in age. We hardly spent a moment apart unless Father had him practicing his cobbling or Mother had me in the kitchen. Eric did not even tell me that he was leaving. I never said goodbye.” Her voice had gone hoarse with tears.

“I’m sorry. He…told a lot of stories about you,” I rubbed my arm. It was not a total lie; he never mentioned her by name, but he often told of the closeness he and his sister shared. “It makes me wish that I had a sibling,” I admitted glumly.

“There are benefits to being an only child. I was raised with no siblings as well, more gifts on my birthday, more attention, better schooling,” Uncle Marshall speculated.

“It seemed all I gained from it were more chores, but I suppose you are right.”

Aunt Emma turned a sudden left. “This is the house. Gee, it got colder.”

Even without her words, I had felt the chill, but somehow, it was more potent.

“Alright, well, there are two extra bedrooms upstairs and a basin to wash up in. Feel free to help yourselves to a bath in the morning. There’s a water pump out back and a barrel. The larder is open to both of you as well. Also, there are two bedrooms.” She eyed Dill suspiciously; at which, he merely smiled. Her stare didn’t ease a drop.

“Ma’am, I would not think to violate your niece.” Then Dill added in a mock whisper, “She is not my type. I prefer brunettes.” There was a vivacious glint in his eye.

Disdainfully, I shook my head at him. “Thank you for allowing us to stay the night.” I pulled out my pocket-watch to check the time; it was nearly a new day. “Night.”

“Goodnight, Jenny,” Aunt Emma and Uncle Marshall chimed in unison as I climbed the stairs. “First room on the right,” they both clarified with a surprised raise of their eyebrows at their ability to speak at the same time.

Lanterns fixed into the wooden walls lit the upstairs, convenient, but hazardous.

I entered the room where a small cot lay next to desk with a lantern on it. Carefully adjusting the knob, the dim red glow lit the room as I closed the door for privacy. After changing into my nightgown, I tied my hair back and went to wash my face. Near the simple white basin, I found Dill with a blade in his hands and soft lotion upon his face. “What are you doing?” I wondered, studying the swift motion of his hand.

“I am shaving. Have you never seen a man shave before? Do not scare me like that lest you want me to bleed to death.” He struck the blade against his cheek. “What?”

“May I watch?” I asked, interested in the process. I leaned against the doorway.

He shook his head. “You are so odd. I have not shaved in over a year and when I do, I have an audience.” His focus was intense as he rubbed the blade between his lip and his nose. When he peered in my direction, he laughed. “Your nightgown is lovely.”

“It is only a nightgown.” I stated defiantly, though I smoothed my collar once he said it. “It is only for sleeping and it is comfortable. It is perfect.”

“Sure, sure.” He rinsed the residue off of his face. “Perfect…if you are a potato.”

“It is only a nightgown,” I repeated more forcefully, tossing a small towel to him.

Patting his face dry, he admired the smoothness. “It may be a nightgown, but you are a young woman. You should display your assets before they are gone.” He rested his hands on my hips after he tightened the nightgown against my skin. “See?” Armadillo queried, his deep voice sending a gust of breath through my ear.

Loudly, I swallowed. My heart pounded against my skin while he was so close.

“The basin is all yours. Goodnight.” He allowed the gown to sag as he unclenched the lightly stripped fabric. Whistling, he entered the room next to the washroom.

For a moment, I stood with my mouth hanging open and my heart drumming up my throat. Then I shook my head as if to erase the swirl of emotions I had felt. Once I rinsed my face, which seemed to be caught in an eternal blush, I returned to the room. The rush had not worn off, so sleep was no longer an option. “Do I even want to sleep with Sleepwalker roaming so close by?” I inquired to myself quietly. I ripped two pages from the journal that Professor Lester had given me. I dictated as I scrawled. “Dear Papa…” I paused. “What do I say to him? How would he feel if I told him that I am in his sister’s house? That I have talked to his father? That I am traveling with a boy near my own age? He should think me a w***e.” I covered my mouth.

My eyes darted nervously around the room. “Idiot, everyone else is asleep. Why am I talking aloud to myself? Perhaps, I should write Professor Lester first… Dear Professor Lester…” I wrote on the next piece of paper. With her, I was less reserved; I told her of mostly everything that had happened thus far, excluding how I met Dill. Wishing for her advice, I added details about what Sleepwalker had said to me, but it was impossible to hope for a response while traveling.

The letter to my father sat blank and rejected as I dipped my pen into the ink. “Dear Papa,” I reiterated, trying to find the words that would follow it. Finally, I decided to tell him just about everything as well, but my letter to him had more emotion in it. After blowing on the ink to make it dry faster, I stupidly realized that Professor Lester would be reading Papa’s letter to him anyway. I cursed myself.

Once the writing was done, the small white bedcover appeared so cozy.

Though tired, I couldn’t get comfortable; maybe it was Sleepwalker’s warning about taking the northern road. “It is the most direct route to Eirodin, so I will take it.” I decided boldly. “I do not even know what you are, so I will not listen to you.”

I stood in an empty room. Furrowing my brow, I pondered how I had gotten there. With a jolt, I concluded that it was a dream. “Where are you, Sleepwalker?” I asked.

My voice reverberated off the bleached walls; there was no furniture in the room.

“Not even a chair for company,” I leaned against the wall and sunk down to the floor. “Are you doing this to drive me mad?” I called out to Sleepwalker. “Is this because I won’t listen to you about the roads? It is just not logical.”

A dark shadow appeared before me. Sleepwalker. His voice was a dark snarl, nothing like the playful tone it held earlier. “You’re making a mistake.”

Author's Note

I'm not fond of this chapter, but it introduces a conflict that will arise at the end of the next chapter and probably hang around for a few chapters. So, yes, this means that Jenny and Dill won't get to Eirodin for a little while. Thanks for reading.