Reckoning of the Gods: Dreamwalker - Prologue
Author’s Note: Please enjoy the first chapter from Reckoning of the Gods: Dreamwalker, a fantasy/mythology series that I have been writing for well over a decade.
Author’s Note: This is a first draft, so please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes.
As Mura drank the bitter milk of the poppy, he knew this would be his last time dreamwalking. Soon, he be reunited with his mother and two brothers in the Eternal City, at the northernmost reaches of the world. Perhaps, he would even meet his father in the afterlife, although that seemed unlikely, since no god had ever tasted death.
Mura’s seven heirs attended him as he slipped into euphoric sleep, their faces both familiar and strange. Mura had outlived most of his offspring, and many others had strayed from the Path in the last few centuries, especially after his two brothers, Seva and Vola, had passed on from this world. The Dreamwalkers were a dying breed, and when Mura took his last breath, they would surely fade from this world.
Sleep settled on him like a warm blanket, transforming snow-capped ruins into a floating river system that coursed its way through space and time. Unlike most rivers, this one could flow independent of any physical boundary, and its shape was ever-changing as countless tributaries fed into it and countless distributaries branched off, forming their own network of smaller waterways. An enormous vascular system surrounded Mura, stretching in every direction as far as he could see. For now, Mura focused on one branch in particular that he recognized was the Dreamwalkers. Long ago, it was a raging torrent, but now it had dwindled to a gentle stream.
Despite the gentle nature of the stream, it was quite difficult to predict, a treacherous serpent that contorted in all manner of confusing ways. Fortunately, Mura knew how to read both the stream and its portents. As the Dreamwalker followed the stream forward in time, it grew thinner and thinner until it reached a fork.
As Mura reached the fork, he felt a shudder as his prana waned. At this rate, he would be lucky to return to the waking world. Undeterred, Mura forged onward.
The fork represented a choice that the Dreamwalkers had to make. Suphah, goddess of the Air, had brought them a proposal and a peace offering. In exchange for the Dreamwalkers’ services as warriors and clairvoyents, she would forgive any past debts. This offer could not have come at a more crucial moment, which is why Mura found himself dreamwalking for the last time.
Mura could not travel past the fork, but it was clear that the only way for the stream to continue was to accept Suphah’s offer. Beyond that, the fate of the Dreamwalkers was unclear, obscured by the mists of time and possibility.
Mura could feel his prana ebbing even further, but if this was to be his last time dreamwalking, he wanted it to last as long as he could. Reversing course, Mura eventually found a familiar tributary that was his own life.
Following this personal tributary, Mura could visit anywhere in his past, but after more than 2,000 years and countless memories, precious few moments shone brightly like distant stars on a cloudy night. As he forged his way upstream, nebulous images sprang to life around him, ghosts forming from the deepest recesses of his memory. Now, he could hear familiar sounds as well–the clamor of battle, the clearing of trumpets, the booming Song of Creation, and a wailing baby. He followed the sound of the wailing baby, afraid of what he might find.
After a few moments, a morbid scene coalesced on the shores of his memory–a baby boy cried while a man cradled his dead wife. Even after 2,000 years, Mura still recognized every feature of his first wife, Pai. Her chestnut hair smelled of amber, and despite death’s cold embrace, her olive skin shimmered like the sun on a sandy shore. He had not seen her since she passed, and even now, the pain nearly crippled him. Mura reached out his hand, realizing it was a futile gesture. He wanted nothing more than to spend one more moment with his first and truest love, but his arms were not the ones that held her.
The man that held the dead woman was almost a stranger. His hair was golden like the sun, not white as snow, and his eyes were a piercing blue, not milky grey. Envy crept into Mura’s heart as he gazed upon his younger self. What would he say to himself if he could? What words of wisdom would he impart? Would it make any difference or would he ignore his own advice like he had ignored so many others?
Another man, Zu, stepped into the scene, but he had not aged a day in the last few millenia. As soon as the baby boy saw Zu, he stopped crying. The reason for both of these odd things was quite simple–Zu was no ordinary man.
Despite spending centuries together, Mura knew almost nothing about the immortal sage known as Zu. By contrast, Zu knew everything about Mura. The sage had been like a father to Mura and his two brothers, Seva and Vola, raising them as his own and teaching them how to dreamwalk. For many years, the four of them had a peaceful life, wandering the open world and learning all that they could. Of course, that all changed the moment that Mura fell in love.
From the start, Zu had warned the three brothers to abandon any hopes of starting a family. After all, they were the children of a god, or so Zu had said, and they would outlive any mere mortal. Mura had heard the same arguments a hundred, no, a thousand times, but none of that mattered. If he could spend even a fraction of his life with this beautiful young woman named Pai, he would, no matter the cost. In the end, Zu had been right, and their time together was cut short when Pai delivered her first and only child.
Suddenly, the waters of his memory surged, pulling Mura toward a more recent memory. He tried to break free, desperate to find an older memory when Pai was still alive, but the Dreamwalker was trapped by the current, too weak to pull away. After a few moments, the waters calmed, and the figures around him changed as a new scene unfolded.
This time, Mura, Seva, and Vola were arguing with their surrogate father. War had broken out between the gods, and the Dreamwalkers had been thrust into the middle of it. As an immortal being, Zu usually remained calm and indifferent, but in this one particular moment, his disguise started to slip, and there was a new emotion at play that Mura had rarely seen before–anger.
Of course, that only made the elder Mura even more curious. Of all the moments in his life, this was one of the most perplexing, so he did not resist when the memory continued.
The proposition was perfectly simple. The Dreamwalkers—the three brothers and their progeny—would assist Suphah, the goddess of the Air, in her war against the other three Elemental gods, and in return, they and all their children would be welcomed as true heirs now and forever. The three brothers, known as the Triarchs, were ready to pledge their support to Suphah, but Zu had practically forbade them from joining the war. For days, they had debated with their surrogate father, until at last, Zu cracked.
The man known as Zu ceased to exist. In his place, a new being emerged, terrifying and alien. A giant cluster of multi-colored lights swirled as a booming voice rang out. It was if Zu had entered their very minds.
“Dreamwalk with me,” said Zu.
Instantly, their minds joined as Mura, Seva, and Vola travelled through space and time. The elder Mura was swept up in their wake, unable and unwilling to break free as a new stream emerged, coursing back over thousands of years. Eventually, the stream rejoined another river, most likely belonging to Zu, and the four Dreamwalkers and Zu came to rest in a small pool that formed out of thin air. The mists of time cleared, revealing a gorgeous vista.
In the distance, a humble cottage was tucked between two enormous pine trees. Snow-topped mountains towered over them, and glacial runoff formed a pristine lake that was as clear as it was calm. This seemed like a perfect place to hide from the world.
Even though Mura had dreamwalked to this memory many times before, something felt different. When he heard a familiar voice, he was shaken to his core. It was his mother’s voice.
Much like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, Darya practically illuminated the entire landscape with her smile. Her blue eyes danced with glee, and she seemed as carefree as the birds that circled high overhead. Three young children, barely able to walk, followed her out of the cottage, along with a familiar face, Zu.
Of course, the three young children were Mura, Seva, and Vola, no more than two years old and already eager to explore the world. Darya chased after them as they careened toward the pond, and Zu merely laughed. Now, that Mura thought about it, he had never seen Zu laugh before.
Zu’s laughter soon faded as shadows passed overhead. What appeared to be birds were actually Immir, winged messengers of the goddess Suphah, queen of the sky. Tears formed in the eldest Mura’s eyes as he watched his younger self call out to Darya, trying desperately to warn her, to save her life. His other brothers joined in, but it was a futile effort.
No matter how hard he tried, Mura knew there was no way to change the past. The flow of time was irreversible, and once it carved it course, the landscape was forever changed. So, both the younger and older Mura watched helplessly as their mother met her demise.
The leader of the Immir dove toward the children, but Darya shielded her children at the last second. Razor-sharp claws dug into her flesh, and she shrieked in pain. In a flash, the younger Zu scooped the three young boys up and darted into the house. Suddenly, the older Zu, the three brothers, and the eldest Mura were transported inside the house. Dreamwalking was a fickle art, and it relied on the memory or memories of its host. Since the older Zu was leading their dreamwalk, he could not show them what he did not see in the past. Instead, they had to rely on their hearing.
The leader screeched something to the remaining four Immir, and they landed with heavy thuds near the house. With their enormous wings, they could not enter through the doorway, so they began tearing apart the humble cottage, piece by piece. The younger brothers drew their weapons out of instinct, but quickly realized there was no need for alarm. For one thing, they were completely invisible to the Immir, and for another, they had clearly survived the encounter all those years ago.
The older Mura stepped closer to the wall, staring the Immir directly in the face as it clawed its way through the clay wall with its talon-like hands. Its bulbous bird eye stared straight through the Dreamwalkers, intent on killing the three crying children huddled in a corner. The younger Zu loosed an arrow, passing through the older Mura and piercing the Immir through the eye socket, granting the older Mura a glimpse at the next few moments.
What happened next still remained a mystery to Mura, and he had spent his entire life trying to understand it.
The world froze.
The pond was motionless like glass and snow from the pine trees hung suspended in mid-air. Animals were silent and even the wind stopped its gentle chorus.
Mura wished that he could talk with Zu one last time, to ask him this important question: what happened that day?
The only thing that Mura knew for certain was that his mother was taken away, and the five Immir that had attacked her were piles of dust and bones. In a matter of seconds, the world would return to normal for everyone and everything except for the four people, rather, nine people, in that humble cottage.
Next, the older Zu would tell the three brothers that they could not wage a war for Suphah because she had killed their mother. Of course, the older Zu could not have known that instead of staying out of the war as he intended, the Dreamwalkers would pledge their support to the other three gods. The course of history had been changed in a single moment, and the fate of the Dreamwalkers had been sealed because of Zu.
The eldest Mura waited for the current of time to pull him toward a new memory, but the world remained frozen. In fact, the three younger Triarchs were frozen now as well, along with the three children and the younger Zu. The older Zu turned slowly toward Mura, and something happened that had never happened before, in this dreamwalk or any other.
Zu spoke directly to the eldest Mura.
“It is time for you to learn about your father.”