The Guardians, A New Beginning

[WizardofOwls]

Hello Everyone!

Some time ago, over in the RPG forum, I started an RPG based on a game some friends and I used to play which, in turn was loosely based on the works of one of my favorite authors, Charles deLint. I was never able to get anyone interested in the game, so I have decided to repost it here as a story, rather than as a game. I hope you enjoy it! I would welcome any comments you might have.

1/01/06 PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE GOING ANY FURTHER!!!

For the sake of clarity, I have decided to delete all of the older versions of my story and will only post the latest versions here. Posts 2, 4, 5 and 6 in this thread contain some interesting background information about the story as well as a couple of pictures that I thought you might be interested in seeing. These are not necessary to enjoy the story, though, so please feel free to skip over them if you only want to read the story.

I hope you enjoy reading this! Please tell me what you think!

The Guardians
By Allen R. Alderman

CHAPTER 1

The key turned easily in the lock as Erin O'Donnell closed up for the night. It had been a busy night. Friday nights usually were, but this one had been especially so. Words and Music was a British-style pub located in Withers Market, an open air mall in downtown Wytheville, a small city in the heart of southwestern Virginia. Live performances of Celtic and Bluegrass music were the heart of the pub's business, especially on Friday nights, and this had been one of the busiest ever. The performance by Thom Blackman, her friend and mentor, had started at 8:00 that evening, and had not ended until almost 1:00 a.m. It had definitely been a long night, but it had been well worth it. She had made almost $300 in tips alone. The extra money would come in handy indeed, she thought.

She had decided to walk home tonight, instead of calling a cab as usual. Despite being mid-autumn, it was relatively warm and, after breathing cigarette smoke all afternoon, she felt that she could use some fresh air. She checked her pocket to make sure the canister of pepper spray she had recently purchased was still there and checked for the silver whistle she kept on a leather thong around her neck. Both were in their places. Many of her friends and co-workers had told her that she was crazy, taking terrible risks by walking in the park at night – even Thom had expressed concern – but she had merely brushed such comments away. She had walked home many times before and had never had a single problem.

The late-night walk would be really nice, especially since she intended to take a shortcut through Elizabeth Brown Park. The park was a heavily wooded area in the heart of the small city. A half-sized version of Cental Park in New York City, the park had a stream running through it, with an ornate wooden footbridge that crossed over it. Lovers often had their pictures taken while standing on that bridge, and more than one wedding had occurred there as well.

The park was beautiful, even this late at night. The smell of fallen leaves filled the air as a gentle breeze stirred them around her feet. Her thoughts were a million miles away though. She was thinking about her mentor, Thom Blackman, and how much he had done for her. She had moved to Virginia from her native Ireland at the age of nineteen and had been living with her mentor ever since. He provided her with free room and board as well as giving her lessons on the tin whistle. Since he was a world-renowned performer on that instrument, she had considered herself extremely fortunate to be able to receive personal instruction from him free of charge, and had jumped at the chance to come to America to learn at his feet. She was also a student at Wytheville University, having won a scholarship in Music Studies there.
Had it not been for the huge age difference between them (Erin was only 21, while Thom was in his late 60s), Erin felt that she could have easily fallen for this man, but alas such was not to be. As it was, Erin still had strong feelings for him, but more as a father-figure rather than as a love interest.

Thom's house was just on the other side of the park on Church Street. He had left shortly after finishing his performance, and had offered Erin a ride home. She, however, enjoyed these late-night walks in the park, and so had turned him down. It was now almost 2:00 a.m., and she knew it wouldn't take long to get home.

Her feet made hollow echoes as she crossed the wooden bridge. She kicked playfully at the piles of leaves as she passed. There were lots of Victorian-style lamp-posts scattered throughout the park, the light from which provided her with a sense of security as she made her way along. There were patches of darkness between the lamps, however.

It was while she was in one of these patches of darkness that she first heard the sound. She wasn't sure at first if she had really heard it at all, or if it had just been her overactive imagination playing tricks on her. She stopped and pretended as though she needed to catch her breath, carefully listening for any trace of sound.

There. There it was again. The wind had stopped blowing only moments before, so she knew she couldn’t blame it on anything natural. Someone - or something - was following her. She thought about running to the next lamp-post, but was afraid it would just startle her pursuer into more hasty action, so she started to walk along again at her previous, unhurried pace.
There it was again, and it was much closer. This time fear overcame her, and she began to run. Her heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest. Only a few more yards and she would be within one of the patches of light where she might stand a chance of getting a good look at her pursuer. She tried to look over her shoulder as she ran to see what was behind her. What she saw made her blood run cold. Two eye-shaped patches of red light were not far behind.

She didn't know what was following her, but whatever it was most definitely was not human.

She increased her pace, and was very relieved when she finally took her first steps into the circle of light provided by the lamp-post. Immediately she whirled about, pepper spray out and ready, hoping to get a good look at whatever it was that had been pursuing her.

But the darkness was silent.

She tried to hold her breath, straining to see if she could hear anything, but all she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat, like a bass drum, booming as it pumped blood and adrenaline through her veins.

Seconds that seemed like hours crawled by. She pushed her eyes to their limits, desperately seeking any sign of movement in the darkness, but the light from the lamp above had stolen her night sight. She couldn't see a thing. Her fingers were coiled so tightly around the can of pepper spray that her knuckles were turning white from the strain.

Suddenly she caught sight of movement out of the corner of her eye to her left. She darted her gaze in that direction and was stunned by what she saw.

It was just outside the circle of light. It stood on its hind legs like a human, and indeed it seemed to be shaped like a human child, but no human child had ever looked like this. It appeared to be made entirely out of darkness. The tresses of its long, coal black hair coiled and moved about it as though they were alive. There was no color whatsoever to the creature, other than its eyes which seemed to glow from within with a hellish red fire. Its face had absolutely no features other than those eyes.

Eyes that were staring unwaveringly at her.

That was when she noticed that the creature was no longer alone. Another set of eyes had appeared just behind and to the left of the creature. And then the two were three. Then four.
She had no idea where they were coming from. They just seemed to appear out of nothingness, as though born from the darkness itself. Soon there were ten of them. All were completely still, except for their hair, and all were as silent as the grave.

A sharp sound off to her right made her jump. She quickly turned to see what had made the sound.

[WizardofOwls]

Before I continue with chapter 2, here are some details of the city in which my story takes place.

The Guardians takes place in my home town, the actual town of Wytheville, Virginia. However Wytheville has undergone some changes to serve this purpose, the most notable being that - for the purposes of my story- Wytheville is a city rather than a town. Below are some details of my fictional version of Wytheville.

The City of Wytheville

Sheriff: Duane Pike

Newspaper: The Wytheville Enterprise
Owner: Phil Booker

The city of Wytheville has, and enforces, a 9:00 p.m. curfew for all under the age of 18.

The city of Wytheville was built atop the ruins of an older Native American city simply referred to as the Undercity. Caves at the outskirts of town allow the curious to explore, but it is very dangerous and the city does not condone anyone going there.

Withers Park in downtown Wytheville does not exist in our fictional version of the town. In its place, in the same general location, is found Withers Market. Withers Market is an open air mall occupying the area that is now Withers Park, beside the Sheriff?s Office in downtown Wytheville. The interior of the mall is a large, open park-like area filled with grass, trees, benches, and a raised stage area. This is used every Friday night for a live ceilidh with an open mic for all members of the public. Store hours are 9 am - 9 pm Sunday - Thursday, and 9 am - 11 pm Friday and Saturday. Restaurants and bars close at 11 pm Sunday -Thursday and close at 1 am Friday and Saturday.

Elizabeth Brown Park, a small park which actually does exist in the real town of Wytheville, also exits in the fictional version of it, but on a much larger scale. In the fictional city of Wytheville, this park is a half-sized version of Central Park in New York City. The small stream that runs through the actual park has been expanded such that it is now a small river that feeds into the New River.

Wytheville Community College does not exist. In its place is the fictional Wytheville University, which is most notable for its Linguistics department and curriculum.

Wytheville is also home to an asylum as well as a rather large prison.

In addition to being the home of Chatauqua (an annual arts and crafts festival), the fictional Wytheville is also home of the Virginia Highlands Festival as well as the largest live Celtic music festival on the east coast.

Just to the north of Wytheville is the fictional Blue Ridge National Park.

Wolf Creek Reservation:

In the real-world, there is an exhibit called the Wolf Creek Indian Pavilion to the north of Wytheville. The remains of an indian camp were found here, and the real-world exhibit shows what life would have been like in such a camp. In the Guardians capmaign, however, this exhibit is replaced with an actual small Indian reservation. The Indians living here are the descendants of the Wakani. A very tight-lipped, secretive people who will share almost nothing about their people and ways with outsiders. Have their own language which no one outside the tribe has ever learned

Wakani:

An Indian tribe which once lived in the Undercity, an area beneath the city of Wytheville. Almost nothing is known about the Wakani, their history or ways, and their modern-day descendants aren?t tellin

The Undercity:

Recently it was discovered that the city of Wytheville was built overtop of a series of caverns which was once inhabited by a little-known nation of subterranean Native Americans, the Wakani. Several expeditions have been mounted to attempt to explore the Undercity, but all have ended in disaster. It was thought the modern Wakani were sabotaging these expeditions, but survivors have related odd, supernatural events as the cause of failure.

[WizardofOwls]

CHAPTER 2

Jonathan Croweyes was Dreaming again. It was the third time this week he'd had the Flying Dream and he was finally learning how to control the strange, feathered body in which he had found himself. He knew he was only Dreaming, but somehow it seemed all too real. The feel of the wind in his feathers, the sweet taste of the corn as he pierced each kernel with his beak - every sensation felt so much more real here than in any other dream he'd ever had before. He loved every moment of it. He wheeled and soared on the wings of the wind, banking and climbing, then diving to rise again.

In the real world Jonathan was a mechanic, and an excellent one at that. He was a pure-blooded Native American, born and raised on the Wolf Creek Indian Reservation which was just to the north of the city of Wytheville. His long, straight hair was as blue-black as the feathers of his namesake, and his nose, though not overly long, had a decidedly beak-like hook to it. He was tall, well-built, and considered handsome by the ladies of his tribe. Many had vied for his affections, but Jonathan wasn't interested in settling down just yet. At the young age of 24, he figured he would have plenty of time to worry about things like that later.

Jonathan owned his own garage on the reservation, which he had inherited when his grandfather died just over a year ago. While he was not rich, his reputation as an excellent mechanic insured that he had a steady flow of business. Even some of the Anglos from the city would bring their cars up to have them worked on at his garage, which was just fine with him. The more the merrier.

Jonathan was a Wakani, and intensely proud of his heritage. The Wakani were a very secretive tribe of Native Americans who had, at one time, inhabited the caverns below the city of Wytheville. Referred to as the Undercity these days, no one outside of his tribe had ever visited the underground cavern-city and lived to tell the tale. Several expeditions had been mounted to attempt to explore the Undercity, but all had ended abruptly in disaster and failure. It was thought by many that the modern Wakani were sabotaging these expeditions, but the few survivors always described odd, supernatural events which they credited as the cause of their failures. Other than denying any part in the failures, the Wakani elders had remained curiously silent on the subject. For his part, Jonathan had never known why his people had left the city, how they had survived down there, why they had lived there in the first place, or what was dooming the Anglos’ expeditions. Only the tribal elders knew the answers to those questions, and they weren't telling.

Centuries ago, after abandoning their subterranean dwelling place, the Wakani had integrated themselves among the other local tribes and had successfully remained hidden, undiscovered by the rest of the world until only about ten years ago. Now that their secret was out, though, the publicity was becoming a real bother. It had brought new business to his garage, however, so he felt that he shouldn't complain too much.

It was about a month ago that Jonathan had the first of his Flying Dreams. These were not just dreams. They seemed much too real to be normal dreams. And then there were the Dreams of his grandfather. Michael Talldeer had been a village elder, and he had taught Jonathan everything he knew about mechanics. Just before he died, he had even begun training him in the ways of Shamanism, and his death had not ended the lessons - it had merely postponed them. Now his Dreams alternated every other night. One night he was flying, the next sitting at the campfire with his grandfather learning his people's ways. Jonathan was soaking up every moment of it.

But tonight seemed different somehow. Typically in his Flying Dreams he had a companion - a strong, athletic old crow that taught Jonathan by example. An intelligent glimmer in the old bird’s eyes had told Jonathan from the very beginning that this was no ordinary crow. He had learned quickly from it. In all his time learning, though, it had never failed to show up for one of Jonathan’s flying lessons. This was the first time he had ever been alone.

Something else besides his solitude seemed strange about the Dreaming tonight. There was also a strong feeling he couldn't name, a strange desire to be somewhere else. For a time, he had considered ignoring the call, but the feeling was overwhelming, and accompanied by a sense of urgency. So Jonathan started flying. He had no idea where he was being pulled to or why he was going, he only knew that he was needed somewhere else, and that time was of the essence.

As he flew, the sun began to sink beneath the horizon. That was not unusual here. Typical real-world crows slept at night, but Jonathan had found that, in the Dreaming, he could fly any time, day or night. He had flown in the darkness before with no problems. In the real-world, crows did not have night sight, but here in the Dreaming the earth seemed to glow beneath him, making navigation a breeze. So on he flew.

It seemed he had flown for hours when suddenly all light was extinguished around him. He was engulfed in sheer, total darkness. For a moment panic set in. He was high above the earth in an unfamiliar body. What if he started flying too low and hit the ground? What if he ran into a tall tree or hill?

He tried to regain control over his thoughts and emotions. Think logically, he thought. Panic won't help, it will just make matters worse. Keep flying at an even level. Maybe this darkness won't last very long. But then again, it seemed like it had already lasted an eternity. He had heard once that if you died in a dream, you would die in reality as well. He really didn’t want to find out whether or not the old adage was true. He just wanted to wake up...

Far off in the distance, he thought he saw something flickering. Was it real or was it just an illusion conjured up by his desperate imagination? As he drew closer he realized that it was indeed light. A distant, shimmering ball of it in the midst of the darkness. He flew toward it, not knowing what to expect. At least it was something to aim for.

As he drew closer, he saw that it was a lamp-post. In its light stood a young Anglo woman he had never seen before. She was small and slim - almost boyishly so - with pale skin, and short flaming red hair. She was wearing jeans and a white t-shirt with something written on it, but he was too far away to read it. The woman seemed oddly frightened and was clinging to the light as though it were providing her with shelter. He tried to fly closer to see if he could tell what was wrong.

Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, he felt himself falling. Once again, he panicked. It was as though his wings had simply stopped working and the power of gravity had multiplied by the thousands. He was falling fast.

He hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud.

-------------------------------------------------------------

A sharp sound off to her right made Erin jump. She quickly turned to see what had made the sound, and was stunned by what she saw. With an audible popping sound, a full-grown man appeared out of nothingness and fell five feet to the ground in front of her. He was not moving.

Frightened, she made her way slowly over to him, desperately trying to keep an eye on both him and the dark shadow-shapes. They seemed just as startled at the man's sudden appearance as she was. A small group of them had made their way over to where his body lay, still remaining outside the circle of light, but getting as close as they could otherwise.

He appeared to be unconscious - he was breathing at least. He was a Native American, and she found him to be very handsome. He was wearing nothing but a pair of pajama pants. How odd. She had to laugh at that thought. She was trapped beneath a lamp-post by eerie black creatures that seemed to have walked straight out of someone’s worst nightmare, a man had popped out of thin air and fallen to the ground in front of her, and she found the fact that he was wearing nothing but pajama pants odd. When the grim reality of her situation settled back in, however, her good humor quickly dissipated.

Erin didn't know what to do. She was frightened and alone. She couldn't just let him lay there, not knowing for sure what was wrong with him. He could be badly injured. There was no blood that she could see, but there could be internal injuries. Or worse, he could be dying. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Cautiously she reached out a trembling hand and tried to shake him.

She prayed that she wasn’t making a huge mistake...

[WizardofOwls]

For anyone who might be interested, here are the details for Erin and Jonathan, written up game-style.

Character Name: Erin O'Donnell

Appearance: Erin is short and slim. At a glance, could easily be mistaken for a boy

Race: Caucasian
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Height: 5'2'
Weight: 120 lbs.
Skin: Fair-skinned/clear complexion
Eyes: Green Hair: Red, cut boyishly short
Voice: Soprano, Irish accent Preferred hand: Right

Unusual Physical Traits: None
Religious Beliefs: Undecided, raised Catholic

Mannerisms/Traits:
Has a certain tomboyish quality about her
Enjoys early-morning jogs
Loves Guinness on tap
Loves listening to Celtic music
Chews fingernails when nervous/scared
Never wears make-up

Skills/Talents/Areas of Knowledge:
Driving (Straight and automatic)
Bodhran
Computer Use
Tin Whistle (Virtuoso)
Swimming
Irish Gaelic
Gardening
Irish folk music
Singing
Irish legend and lore
Lithe and dextrous, a fast runner
Irish dancing

Powers/Abilities: None

Clothing/Jewelry Worn:
Faded blue jeans w/ black leather belt
White T-shirt w/ Words and Music logo
White sneakers
Silver watch on black band (left wrist)Silver Celtic Cross earrings in both ears
Silver whistle on black cord (neck)

Equipment Carried On Her:
Driver's License
Tin Whistle
Pocket Knife
Cell phone
$20 cash with her at all times
Small backpack-style bag
A can of pepper spray
Keys on a flashlight key chain
Portable CD player with headphones
10 Celtic CDs in a small CD case
Passport/Student Visa/Green Card
Pen and small note pad
Extra batteries Notebook-sized laptop

Vehicle Used:Green ?82 MG Midget

Source of Income:
A waitress at Words and Music (an Irish-style pub). The owner/manager is a good friend of hers who holds her in high regard. He tends to be very lenient in dealing with her.

Residence:
Currently staying with her mentor/teacher, Prof. Thomas Blackman at his home on Church Street in downtown Wytheville.

Interesting Notes:
Erin is a citizen of Ireland who came to America to study the tin whistle with family friend, Prof. Thomas Blackman. Professor Blackman provides her with room and board rent free. She works at the pub just to get spending money. She won a scholarship in Ireland to study Music at Wytheville University. She is from the Donnegal Gaeltacht.

Contacts:
Professor Thomas Blackman
Padraig (Paddy) Emerson (Owner of Words and Music)
Erin has met many people as a result of waitressing at Words and Music
Friends/family in Ireland

Character Name: Jonathan Crow-eyes

Appearance: Jonathan is tall and athletic

Race: Native American
Gender: MaleAge: 24
Skin: Reddish skin
Height: 6'2'
Weight: 210 lbs.
Eyes: Black
Hair: Blue-black, mid back, straight
Voice: Deep, Native Accent
Preferred hand: Right

Unusual Physical Traits:
Jonathan has a large, colorful tatoo of a dream catcher on his right shoulder

Religious Beliefs:
Native American Shamanism

Mannerisms/Traits:
Jonathan has a quick temper

Skills/Talents/Areas of Knowledge:
Driving (Straight and automatic)
Mechanics
Swimming
Hunting/Fishing
Native American legend and lore
Local Flora/Fauna

Powers/Abilities:
None, though recently he has discovered some interesting things about himself in his Dreams

Clothing/Jewelry Worn:
Old, ripped blue jeans w/ black leather belt
A T-shirt
Leather boots

Equipment Carried On Her:
Leather Wallet
Driver's License (Car/Motorcycle) in wallet
Pocket Knife
Cell phone
$50 in wallet
Keys

Vehicle Used:
Motorcycle (Anybody care to suggest a good one?)

Source of Income:
Jonathan owns his own garage. He has two assistants.
Residence:
Jonathan has a home behind his garage on the reservation.

Interesting Notes:
Is receiving lessons in Shamanism from his dead grandfather

Contacts:
Jonathan has met many people as a result of his business
Friends/family on the reservation

[WizardofOwls]

For anyone reading my story, here is a picture of one of the creatures:



Attached Image. (Click thumbnail to expand)

[WizardofOwls]

And here is how I imagine Jonathan's grandfather, Michael Talldeer. By the way, I found this picture in a book/magazine a long time ago, and have long lost the details on it - subject, photographer, etc. If anyone knows plaease let me know so that I can give credit for it.

Attached Image. (Click thumbnail to expand)

[WizardofOwls]

Chapter 3

It was the sharp pain he felt in the back of his head that caused Jonathan to realize he was regaining consciousness. Like a diver forcing himself to rise to the water’s surface for a breath of fresh air, he managed to push himself up and out of the ominous darkness which seemed poised and waiting to consume him.

When he was finally able to force his eyes open, he knew instantly that he was still Dreaming. He was sitting on the ground, legs crossed, and naked before a council fire. Across from him sat two other beings. Both were dressed in formal native Wakani garb, and both were studying him with unfeigned interest. He recognized one of the figures immediately. It was his own dear grandfather. Identification of the other figure was impossible, however, owing to the fact that this one's head was concealed in a thick, grey veil of something resembling smoke or fog. Instinctively, Jonathan knew that he should not move or speak, for this was a Judging Ceremony.

Wakani folklore was peppered with stories about such ceremonies. In them, the hero of the story was required to appear before a mysterious faceless figure who would determine his or her ‘fitness’ to participate in whatever momentous events might lie ahead. Jonathan had always thought those myths and legends to be nothing more than children’s stories, but now he knew that he had been wrong. He wondered, however, why he of all people had been chosen to participate in some fateful occurrence. There was, after all, nothing particularly heroic or extraordinary about him - he was just an ordinary mechanic. Whatever destiny’s reasons were for choosing him, though, he prayed that he would pass the Judging. The old stories were not particularly kind to those who failed.

Jonathan allowed his eyes to roam about the scene before him, but he soon regretted that decision. After briefly examining the two figures who sat across from him, he looked just outside the circle of light cast by the council fire. Beyond this dome of light was a terrible void, a sickening kaleidoscope of swirling color, light, and sound. This brief glance alone had been enough to make Jonathan feel dizzy and nauseous, so he quickly pulled his eyes away and fixed his gaze upon the one thing in all of the chaos that felt familiar and safe to him - his grandfather's face.

"Do you think he is ready?" Michael Talldeer asked the mysterious figure, his eyes never leaving Jonathan's.

"It is too soon to tell," said the other. Upon hearing the voice, Jonathan knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this being was not of this world. It was a deep and resonant voice, sounding as though the speaker were standing in an echo chamber. This was obviously someone of Power. "And now it is too late, regardless. Look," said the speaker, pointing a finger at something directly above Jonathan's head. At that particular moment, he wanted more than anything else to look up and see for himself what the being was pointing out to his grandfather, but he could not. He knew that to do so during a Judging Ceremony would bring shame and dishonor upon himself, his family and his ancestors. So he continued to sit in silence, his ears straining to catch every word the two said to each other.

"So," his grandfather said, his voice little more than a whisper, "it has already begun." Jonathan was shocked to hear a trace of fear in the old man's voice.

"Yes, but the situation may not be as dire as it seems. You have brought him far in his training as a Shaman, Michael, and my minion has taught him much about survival in the Dreaming. Will it be enough? I cannot say. Only the Streams can tell."

For a time the two looked about, studying the swirling morass as though searching for something. After some time, Jonathan began to wonder if perhaps the Judging Ceremony was over, though the stories had never described an ending quite like this. At least none of the ones he had ever heard, anyway.

"Look! There!" Michael suddenly exclaimed, barely able to contain his obvious excitement. He was pointing to another area above and to the right of Jonathan's head.

"Ahh. This is a most promising portent. He will not be alone in all of this. Certainly the girl does not appear to have much training, but there is much potential in her. And yes, I see much Power, but it comes from another source. Perhaps together..."

The being was silent for several moments as if pondering the significance of this new vision. Finally his head turned once again in Jonathan's direction. Jonathan felt the heavy weight of a gaze he could not see.

"The Streams favor you in the tasks which lie before you, Jonathan Croweyes. You pass our Judgement. But do not take this as a guarantee of success, young one. The battle is yours to win or lose. Your own judgements and choices will determine the outcome. Consider your choices carefully, Jonathan Croweyes, for much is depending upon you."

With that, Michael Talldeer and the mysterious being rose to leave. Out of respect, Jonathan remained patiently immobile, waiting for them to leave the clearing. He had a million questions that he wanted to ask about what he had just seen and heard, but he knew that now was not the proper time to ask them. He hoped he would get another opportunity to ask them later.

As the mysterious being turned to leave, Jonathan was surprised when the veil of smoke lifted momentarily, allowing Jonathan a brief glimpse of the back of its head. He was shocked to find that it was covered, not in hair, but in shiny black feathers.

No sooner had the pair left the clearing, swallowed whole by the swirling void, when Jonathan began to feel the darkness rising up within him once again, threatening to pull him back down into its warm embrace. He could not allow that to happen just yet, though. There was something that he needed to see first. Quickly he jumped up and turned around, hoping beyond hope to catch a glimpse of the vision the others had seen.

He had to fight the urge to retch as his eyes carefully searched the dizzying maelstrom, but his tenacity was rewarded. For one tantalizing moment he caught a fleeting glimpse of a face. A beautiful young Anglo girl with pale skin, vibrant green eyes, and short, flaming red hair. She was looking down at something, an expression of extreme concern and fear on her face. Her lips were moving but they were making no sound. She seemed strangely familiar to Jonathan. He knew he had seen her before - very recently - but he could not remember where. I wonder what her t-shirt says, he thought, but he had only a moment to consider the significance of that strange thought before the terrible, ponderous darkness drew him under once again....

[WizardofOwls]

Here is the newest chapter! I hope you enjoy it! As always, please let me know what you think!

CHAPTER 4

With a whispered prayer, Erin gently shook the man’s shoulder. The flesh beneath her fingertips felt firm and warm. Well that’s a good sign at least, she thought.

“Hullo,” she said, “are you alright?”

The man did not answer. In fact there was no sign of any sort of response whatsoever. His head wobbled weakly from side to side with her efforts. She tried again, this time shaking him a little more firmly, and speaking a little more loudly. Again, she got no response.

“Wonderful,” she mumbled to herself under her breath, “so what are ya gonna do now?” She was beginning to feel the effects of the lateness of the hour. It was probably nearly 3:00 a.m. by now, and she wished she were home in bed. She would probably have been there already had it not been for these things. She mentally kicked herself for not accepting the ride that Thom had offered her earlier. To make matters even worse, she had left her cellphone at home that evening, thinking that she wouldn’t need it. Never again, she thought, angry at herself for her own foolishness.

It was obvious that the man on the ground was not going to respond to her, so - since there was nothing more that she could do for him - she turned her attention back to the shadow-shapes. She was startled to discover that there were probably at least 30 or more of them now. She ran a nervous hand through her short hair. It came back drenched with sweat. She was glad that the things seemed to dislike the light. It appeared to be the only thing stopping them from getting any closer to her.

She decided to test her theory. Cautiously she approached one of them at the edge of the light. It crouched down, as though it were preparing to leap upon her, but did not advance any further. She teased it, reaching her hand out as though she were going to touch it, then snatching it back before it passed outside the range of the light. The thing tensed as though preparing to snap at her hand, but it did not attack. She tried again, this time letting her hand get a little closer to it before snatching it back. It lunged forward slightly, but was still able to keep its instincts in check. The third time, however, was too much for it. Her hand barley grazed the darkness, and it leaped forward. With a loud shriek that sounded much like the cry of a hawk, the thing simply dissolved as it came into contact with the light.

She stumbled backward when the creature leaped and was startled when her back hit the lamp-post. Silently she allowed herself to slide down the post until she was crouched at its base. She sat there motionlessly for a few minutes, her face cradled in her hands, as she allowed her pulse and breathing to slow back down to their normal rates.

Gradually she became aware of a new sound. She had not heard it at all at first, but soon it became nearly intolerable. It was a malevolent hissing sound, almost snake-like. She lifted her head to see what was happening. The things had grouped together at the site where her would-be attacker had vanished. They were staring at her even more venomously than before, and their eyes seemed to be glowing even more brightly. But apparently their fear of the light was stronger than their desire for revenge, because gradually the sound faded away, and the group began to scatter back out, surrounding her once again.

So, she thought, they dissolve in the light. I wonder what would happen if one actually touched you? She was not brave enough to find out, however, so she settled herself at the base of the lamp-post. This could be a long night, she thought, so I might as well make myself more comfortable.

For a while she contemplated her situation. Her options were extremely limited. She could not leave the lighted area beneath the lamp-post. She had no idea what the creatures were capable of, so stepping outside the light’s range simply was not an option. And besides, she thought, I couldn’t just run off and leave him here by himself. She looked back over at the unconscious man and sighed. She silently wished he would wake up. Even if he were injured or sick, at least she would have someone to talk to and wouldn’t feel so alone.

Then a new thought occurred to her. What about the pepper spray? Would it have any effect on them? There was only one way to find out. Using the lamp-post for support, she got back to her feet and approached one of the creatures. It crouched as she drew near it, as though preparing itself to attack, but remained still. Slowly she lifted the canister, removed its cap and pressed the button. A solid stream of the liquid sped straight for the creature’s blazing eyes - and passed right through it with absolutely no visible effect. The creature didn’t even flinch. She tried again and got the same result. Well, that doesn’t work, she thought with a great degree of disappointment, as she replaced the cap on the canister and put it back in her pocket.

She was just getting ready to sit back down against the lamp-post when a new sound caught her attention. She turned in the direction of the sound just in time to see a large dog bounding in her direction, barking loudly as it came. It was not uncommon for neighborhood strays to be found in the park. They were drawn to this oasis in the middle of the man-made monstrosity, and were often seen chasing squirrels and other small wildlife. The animal seemed determined to attack the creatures. They, however, did not seem at all surprised or frightened by its sudden appearance. They merely looked in its direction and waited.

She could only watch in horror as the events unfolded before her. The dog bounded up to one of them, and reared up on its hind legs to attack. It lunged forward, growling, only to pass through the creature and reappear on the other side of it as though the creature had not been there at all. With a whimper, the animal simply fell over. Fits of violent trembling racked its body as though it were extremely cold. Within moments the trembling had stopped. The dog was dead.

“Omigod omigod omigod,” she said to herself, repeating the words over and over again to herself like a litany. To think that only moments ago she had been teasing one of them, trying to draw it into the light! What if she had been wrong about the light! What if that had been her instead of the dog! A chill ran up her spine at the thought. She looked back at the dog. The creature that the animal had attacked was standing over it. It was making an odd sound, almost like the purring of a cat and rocking from side to side. She caught herself chewing on her fingernails, a nervous habit she had picked up in her youth. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head as though she were standing there now. “Stop that this instant!” she would say. Oh mum, she thought, if only you were here now - you’d know what to do.

A moaning sound coming from deep within the man’s chest caught her attention, bringing her out of the panic-stricken state in which she had found herself. She hurried over to him. His head was slowly rocking back and forth. She knelt beside him and got close to his face so that he could hear her.

“Come on, now,” she said, “wake up. I need you. Please wake up.” When his great dark eyes finally opened and looked at her, she nearly collapsed with relief. Thank you God, she thought, and silently began to weep.

[WizardofOwls]

Not sure if anyone is reading my story, but I thought I'd go ahead and post Chapter 5 anyway. Let me know what you think, okay? i could use some feedback...

CHAPTER 5

Jonathan hurt.

Every part of his body seemed to be aching, but none more so than the back of his head. No matter how he laid his head, he could not seem to gain any release from the pain. He felt an involuntary moan forming deep in the pit of his stomach, demanding to be released, and he had no choice but to honor its wishes.

As he began to regain consciousness, one thing became abundantly clear to him: he was not at home in his nice, soft feather bed, covered in thick woolen blankets. Only the hard ground was beneath him, covered in cold, damp grass, which meant that he was outdoors. A cool night breeze chilled his naked chest and shoulders, and tickled his exposed feet.

He experienced a moment of disorientation. He clearly remembered having had a couple of cold beers and watching the latest episode of that cool new detective show on television before turning in for the night. There was no way that he could have gotten drunk enough off of just two beers to wander outside , so how had he gotten here? Had he been sleep walking?

A few moments later he heard a voice speaking to him, a lovely feminine voice with a rich, thick Irish accent. The voice was filled with fear and desperation. It was that voice which brought him up short. Suddenly, in a dizzying rush, it all came back to him - the Flying Dream, the Judging Ceremony, the vision of that haunting pale face with those vivid green eyes and flaming red hair.

He forced his eyes open, only to find the vision made flesh. She was just as lovely in life as she had appeared in the vision. But those green eyes were filled with tears.

“Hey, what are you crying for?” he asked weakly, a smile playing about his lips, “I’m the one who should be crying! OUCH!” he said as he tried to sit up. The memory of the Flying Dream came back. He had landed - very hard - on his back. But that was just a Dream... wasn’t it?

A bittersweet smile strayed across her lips before the worried expression returned to her face. “Do you need some help?” she asked as he tried to lift himself off the ground without much success.

“Sure,” he replied. As he got up with her help he looked about and saw the lamp-post. “Help me over to that,” he said.

Between the two of them he was able, with a little difficutly, to make it over to the lamp-post where he sat with his back against it. The metal was cold against his bare skin. He closed his eyes in a vain attempt to make the stars disappear.

“Where am I?” he asked. “This doesn’t look like the reservation.”

“It’s not,” she replied, “you’re in Elizabeth Brown Park.”

“How in the world did I get here?”

“You’d never believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Erin described his arrival to him, how he had appeared out of thin air and fallen to the ground. She watched his face as she spoke, looking for a hint of surprise at what had happened. He did not disappoint her.

“No way! It was only a Dream! How on Earth could I...”

Jonathan completely lost his train of thought. He had just caught his first glimpse of the things that waited just outside the circle of light. Never before had he ever seen or heard of anything like them. After a moment he realized that his jaw was hanging open, words that he had left unsaid cold, dead and forgotten on his tongue. With an audible clicking sound he closed his mouth.

“What are those...things?” he asked.

“I don't know," she replied with a sigh, disappointment and fear very evident in her voice. "I was hoping that you could tell me. What was a dream?” she prodded, gently trying to get him to finish what he had started to say.

“You’d never believe me,” he said, his eyes not leaving the unearthly creatures that were milling about in the darkness for even a moment.

“Ha!” she said, “after the night I’ve had, I’m ready to believe just about anything. I’m Erin, by the way.”

“Jonathan,” he said in response.

Without taking his eyes off of the shadow-shapes, Jonathan began telling Erin everything. He told her about his Flying Dreams, he told her about the Dreams of his grandfather and then he began relating to her the events of this particular evening.

Erin was mesmerized by Jonathan’s story. Before tonight, she would never have even considered the possibility that what he was telling her might be true. In fact she probably would have labeled him insane. But tonight’s events had changed all of that. Never again would she be able to casually dismiss the idea that there was more going on in the world around her than shewas aware of. She knew better now.

When he came to the events surrounding the Judging Ceremony, Jonathan considered not telling her about the vision he had seen in the Streams. She already seemed frightened and nervous, and he didn’t want to make things even worse for her just now. However the Faceless Being had told him that Erin would be a key player in future events. If that were true, and he had no reason to believe that it was not, then he could not allow her to enter into this unprepared.

“After they left, I had a few moments alone before everything went black again. I wanted to see what they had seen, so I got up to have a look for myself. It was all I could do to keep from throwing up. But I had to see what they had seen.”

He paused. This was his last chance to back out.

“So? What did you see?” Erin was eager to find out what it was that he had seen. She was not at all prepared, however, for his response.

“You, Erin. I saw you.”

[emerald-eyedwanderer]

I'm reading them, Allen! You can't stop now, I'm too into them There isn't any advice I can give. If I catch a error I'll tell you, but as far as advice goes I say it's really good.

[WizardofOwls]

Thanks, Emmie! I was starting think that no one was interested! I'm glad you like them! I will try to get 6 written and up soon.

[Celtic cat]

Wizard, I'm going to change my guess on the audience to any age...any age at all. It is easy enough for a smart 12 year old, and average 16 yr old so forth but also has more complex sentence structures that we would all enjoy reading. Bring on chapter 6.

[WizardofOwls]

CHAPTER 6

Jonathan’s revelation hit Erin with all of the force of a speeding freight train. For several mooments she sat in stunned silence, shocked beyond words. But as the seconds ticked by, her shock evolved into something else entirely. It started as a slight twitching at the corners of her mouth, which became a grin, then a smile. Soon a giggle became a full-blown laugh. The confused look on Jonathan’s face only made it worse. Within moments she was laughing hysterically.

All of the fear, the tension and the frustration she had been feeling as a result of her helplessness for the last hour bubbled out of her in the form of hysterical laughter. It was several minutes before she was able to regain some semblance of composure.

Jonathan sat in silence, waiting for the waves of mirth to subside. Then, when she had finally calmed herself, he spoke.

“You find this humorous?”

“No,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes, “I find you humorous.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to remain calm.

“You had me,” she said, a huge smile on her face, “you had me hook, line and sinker. I bought the whole thing - the dreams, the flying, your grandfather, that ceremony - everything. But you blew it.”

She paused, waiting for him to say something, but he did not humor her. He merely sat in silence, watching the shadow creatures as they milled about, blazing eyes glued to the two of them, an unreadable expression on his face.

When she got no response, Erin continued.

“You messed up when you said my name. I was prepared to accept anything. But not that.”

“Why?” he asked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with it, Jonathan! I’m no hero. I’m nobody. A college student from Ireland who studies music. A part-time barmaid. Do you know what I did when I first saw those things? I ran, Jonathan! Scared out of my senses, I ran! What kind of hero is that, Jonathan? What good would I be to you? Or to anyone else for that matter?”

“It doesn’t matter, Erin. The Streams showed you...”

“For Heaven’s sake, Jonathan! I’m not even Native American! How many non-Native Americans show up in your stories, Jonathan?” She did not give him time to answer, but plowed on ahead. “Not many I’d wager!”

“But the Streams...”

“The Streams! Jon, even if I believed you. Even if I confessed to you right now that I accept it all. The dreams. The Ceremony. All of it. How do you know for certain that I am the person they spoke of?”

“I saw you.”

“Okay so you saw me, but how do you know that what you saw is the same thing that they saw? Hmmm?”

Jon lifted his head defiantly. “I don’t,” he said.

“You said yourself that minutes passed from the time they left until you stood to look for yourself. You said yourself that you had to search for the image. It wasn’t just there, waiting for you to see like a video someone accidentally left running! Has anyone in the old stories, other than the judges, ever seen anything in the Streams? Are you trained to understand how to operate the Streams or to interpret what you saw? How do you know you didn’t just see me because I would be the next one you would see when you woke up?”

Jonathan paused for a moment before he spoke, waiting to make certain that her tirade had come to an end. When he was sure, he looked her in the eye.

"I have learned many things as a result of my dreams, Erin. I've had to accept that I do not know everything. I've had to accept that there are things that I'll never know. I've had to learn that I cannot trust appearances. I've even had to learn that I cannot trust my own body. But most of all, I have learned that - in the end - all you can really trust is what's inside you. Your heart, your gut, your instincts. And right now my instincts are screaming to me that you are the one they spoke of. Sometimes we do not have the luxury of choosing our own destinies, Erin. Sometimes destiny chooses us. It forces itself upon us with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. It comes whether we want it or not. When that happens, we have to make the best of the situation that has been forced upon us. Look around you, Erin." Jonathan pointed at the dark creatures that lay just outside the light. " Whether you like it or not, for better or worse, you are in this mess with me already - up to your eyeballs. The way I see it, we have two choices. We can either let this thing sweep us off our feet and carry us away like some great dark flood, or we can stand our ground and fight. I choose to fight. I would like to think that I can depend on you to fight with me, but I cannot make that choice for you.”

Erin stood and walked to the edge of the light, studying the creatures, her back to Jonathan.

"Well, you are right at least about one thing," she said with a sigh.

"What's that?" asked Jonathan.

"We are in this mess together - at least for now, so we're going to have to work together to figure out what to do."

Jonathan smiled. "Well, that's a start. So how about you start by telling me what you know about these things?"