V04S1 Castle of Dreams

Synopsis

The Celestial Castle of Dreams. Most people will recognise its name or symbol, the moment they see it, even if they cannot quite place where they know it from. And then most wish to seek it out, even if they do not understand why.

Giney grew up in The Fortrin Order but has never been sure that it is where he belongs. Tisk has always been a thief, even when she was a prostitute. So, where else would she end up but in the Thieves' Guild? But for the whole of her life? Eyna tried to keep that dark part of himself hidden, until, one day, he decided not to. And so, he ended up as a torturer for Valderia's assassins' guild, the Black and Red Blades. And though he is happy there, he wishes for more. Dof was once a soldier, now he fights in The Pit and breaks legs for a loan shark. He needs out, he needs a better life, one worth living. Ornu joined the monastery because she did not want to stand out, and then, by accident and talent, she did. Until she got older, now she wishes she had never discovered that talent. All five come to discover the existence of The Castle and all feel it might be the answer to their problems. If they can pass through its chambers and pass its trials, they will each be rewarded with one thing. What that thing will be? That is up to them. Power? Love? Immortality? It is all possible.

Unka is an az-kani and a very powerful sorcerer. She heard about The Castle as a child and when everything was taken from her, she made finding it her goal. Reluctantly, she lets the others join her not only in finding it but also in entering it. But only after they have helped her defeat the powerful being that holds the key to The Castle. They might die doing that. They might die in The Castle. She does not much care, as long as she gets the one thing she needs.

Valderia

V04S1

Castle of Dreams

by

A. C. Karzun

Valderia

V04S1 Castle of Dreams

by A. C. Karzun

Copyright 2017–2019 ACKarzun

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Overture

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Coda

Books in the Valderia Series

Overture

Giney keeps trying to lift the weight, though his arms are no longer willing. The muscles just flat out refuse but he keeps trying. In the back of his mind he can hear an old echo of his mother telling him to keep going, and with that come all the memories. Each one of those memories; punctuated by the image of her dead body, bloody, bruised and broken. Her eyes looking up at his smiling face, as if to ask, Why? His smile is the simple reply, you know why. He drops the weight and slowly walks to the nearby bench, there he grabs the towel and starts wiping the sweat from his pale, red face and torso. Tomorrow he gets to leave the Fortress once more. Tomorrow he gets to go on another quest for the Deities and The Fortrin Order.

Dof strips naked and heads for the jug and bowl of water in the corner of his room. Using the rag there, he slowly and meticulously cleans the dirt and blood off his body. After that, he checks the new wounds and bruises on his white skin, to see if any of them are anything he might need to worry about. He concludes what he already knew, that they are not because tonight’s opponent was not particularly skilled. He puts on his regular clothes and takes some food out his old army footlocker, the only place in the room the rodents and insects cannot get to. Then he has his late supper. After that, he gets into his uncomfortable bed, masturbates and then tries to get to sleep, while trying not to think about how big a mess his life has become.

Ornu’s heart beats at its maximum speed. Her breath scrapes her windpipe as she forces it in and out. Her muscles ache and her head swims. And she places another of the small, red crystals on her tongue. She sighs, in both pleasure and sad resignation. She goes through the moves again. The trak makes her fast, giving her a rushing mind and a tense body, but she cannot get the speed she once had. Even with her senses heightened, she still misses the bar, hitting it with her fingers instead of her palms, and she falls. The trak both increases the awareness of the pain and ramps up the body and the mind to where she does not care. And therein lies its true danger, feeling like a Deity while being aware of one’s mortality. It is this uneasy juxtaposition that makes trak users so very unpredictable.

Tisk runs as fast as her legs can carry her, while still carrying the loot on her back. She does not look behind, hoping instead to guess how close her pursuers are by their shouts. She is pretty sure she is gaining on them. Looking around, she sees what she needs and, without losing much speed, she rushes into an alley and then starts climbing the side of the building. Once on the roof, she runs across it and jumps onto the adjacent one. She leaps across the alley on the other side and grabs the ledge of the higher roof there. In one move she pulls herself up, rolls over the rooftop and gets back to her feet, so she can keep on running. Six streets, she thinks to herself, six more streets and I’m good. But she knows that she is already good, her pursuers have already lost her.

Eyna’s eyes are coloured white, and when seen from more than a few feet away, he seems to have fully white eyes with singular black dots in them. He knows that it can have an unsettling effect on people and as such he makes a point of keeping at a slight distance when torturing someone for the Black and Red Blades.

Today’s specimen is boring, she already cracked more than half-way after The Showing of the Tools. She is putting on a brave face, but he knows from experience that she is done. He sighs, the young woman is pretty, and he would have liked to spend more time with her. And, unfortunately, she is supposed to survive, so no delicious torturing her to death.

Unka:

I’m always at a distance, always on the outside. That’s how I experience the world: from the outside, looking in, passing through it, never connecting to it. I find the world beautiful, radiant even. The people in that world? Not so much. They’re the ones I can never truly connect to. I’m always busy, always going somewhere, chasing some goal. I can never seem to stand still, I just don’t have the time for it. And besides; why would I want to connect to them? They’re barely worth it. Some say to trust no one. They are more right than they realise: we cannot trust anyone, not even ourselves. We are at our core selfish, concerned first and foremost with ourselves. We all use others for our own benefit and little else. You don’t agree? You believe yourself better than that? Think again. We all use our friends for friendship and our lovers for love. Our only conscience is our environment: if we think we can get away with it, we’re that much more inclined to do it. Our morality is purely subjective, if it’s good for us, we consider it good; if it’s bad for us, we consider it bad. And even those judgements are mostly emotional, based on no more than the feelings we have at the time.

Some say the golden rule is: ‘Treat others as you would have them treat you.’ A better, more honest person might say: ‘Do unto others as was done unto you.’ But in truth it is: ‘Do unto others before they do unto you.’

Chapter One

Dof:

The fists keep coming, and no matter what I do, I can’t seem to block them. I try to dodge but they somehow manage to hit me anyway. Every time I try to move away, he follows. And the crowd is cheering him on. With each punch, there seems to be a wave of joy going through the spectators. And none of my swings connect. Even when he’s open, I still seem to miss. With each hit I take, I move slower and soon even standing proves hard. When I eventually go down, he stands over me, chuckling.

"You’re pathetic and weak." He says, as he raises his foot and slams it down onto my head. He does it again and again, while the crowd roars.

Slowly it all fades away, as I become aware of my surroundings. I’m in bed, dreaming.

Aren’t I?

Dof winds the straps around his hands then balls them into fists. He bangs his knuckles against each other and stands up. He jumps up and down a few times, as he turns around in a circle. He starts punching the air, while dodging back and forth and from side to side. In between punches, he raises his legs, one at a time, and kicks out in front of himself. Soon enough, his body starts to warm up and he begins to sweat. He runs in place for a bit, so his heart starts to beat at the right speed. As it does, his mind starts to enter that state where pain is a good thing and doing harm is even better.

How far are you? Vazh asks from the doorway.

He turns to face the short, older woman. Good to go, just say when.

She smiles. Should be a good one. We have some new blood, former custodian or something. Try to not kill him, he will be a good one for the crowd to jeer.

I just fight.

I know, I know. Just make sure to not get carried away.

Custodian? So, he knows how to use weapons.

And if you leave him in a good enough state to fight again, you might get to match skills.

The soldier versus the custodian.

The Cold Wind versus whatever they get to calling him.

The Blue Hammer.

She shrugs. If he hits hard enough? Why not? And I suppose I could spring for some blue clothes.

The roar from The Pit becomes louder.

Almost. He says and starts walking.

She bobs and lets him pass. As he heads through the dimly lit tunnel she says, Make it a good one.

He stands by the gate and patiently waits for it to open. Beyond he can see how the two previous fighters are helped out of The Pit, the circular area, twenty yards across, where he fights and makes most of his money. It is a deep pit with straight sides extending upwards. The sides are open at places, creating balconies at various heights from where the spectators can watch the fights. At various places torches have been hung, lighting the light-brown sides and sand at the bottom.

The gate is opened by the child beside him and he enters the rink.

As he does, Vazh introduces him from her place on one of the lowest balconies, ten feet above the floor. Here he is, the man you know and love, The Cold Wind.

Dof raises a fist in the air as the crowd cheers the word Ice over and over, after his other nickname, Ice Storm. He makes sure he turns a full two circles before facing her and bowing his head.

She points at the gate at the other end of The Pit. And facing him is our newcomer of the evening, Porp!

The gate is opened and a large man with yellow skin and black eyes enters and Dof realises that Blue is not going anywhere in this newcomer’s nickname, though Hammer might. Everything about him screams a liking for pounding things.

The two men grin at each other, both realising that they have the same thing in common, both were booted from the State’s service for having an appetite for violence.

The sound of the crowd fades from his mind as that cold focus flows through him. Everything fades but the rink and his enemy. Times seems to slow down, just a little, and he sizes up the yellow behemoth in front of him. Like him, he is only wearing hand wraps, leather trousers and boots. As such he can see every muscle on the man’s torso. Chest and biceps are too big, he decides, so he will be a brute and rely on those. Lower arms and hands seem more than strong enough to crush anything not too big, so he will need to avoid being grabbed. Once held, the man will be able to choke him, if not outright break him. His stance betrays a desire to be imposing, not just to the crowd but to his opponent, so he has no real fighting experience. Scraps, brawls maybe a few full-on fights, but no actual matches. None of this is as great as it sounds, people like that can be completely unpredictable. He will have to start slow and build up the pressure, lest the man panics and goes crazy.

The knowledge that Vazh has called for them to begin enters his mind and the last of him switches off as only the fighter remains.

He calmly dodges as the brute charges at him. He rolls his eyes as he faces him, this is not going to be half the fun he had hoped it would be. Before Porp can recover, he swings his leg at the man’s ankle and gives him a push. Porp does not fall as expected, instead his hand shoots out and grabs Dof’s neck. Dof gives a quick jab with a flat hand towards Porp’s face, connecting well enough to break the hold. He grabs the wrist and swings the arm down and then up again, while again swinging for the ankle. This time the effect is as desired and Porp loses balance. He lets go of the wrist and swings his fist overhead and down onto Porp’s head. He spins and takes a few steps back to face Porp, who is already getting back up.

So, he’s fast, he decides somewhere in the back of his mind. This might be fun after all.

Despite the straps, his knuckles hurt and once he has pulled the straps off, he sees his knuckles are redder than usual. He dips them in the bucket of water and leaves them there for a moment. The cold water stings but feels good.

Well done. Vazh says as she enters the small chamber. That was a good fight. And you are both still alive to tell the tale and maybe fight each other again.

He still has a lot to learn but he’s good. He says as he takes his hands out of the water and starts drying them with a dirty rag.

I know talent when I see it. She places a small stack of gold and silver coins on the bench. You gave us a good take today.

Glad to hear it. He replies without a smile. When will you next need me?

Say, kuzherdu.

Who am I fighting?

I have yet to decide.

Fair enough. He replies as he throws away the rag and takes the money. I’m going home.

She bobs. See you in a few days.

To get from the chambers at the bottom, to the entry into the city sewers at the top, he must pass the spectators. Even though he is making sure he sticks close to the wall and most people are distracted by the fight below, every so often one will notice and recognise him and feel the need to slap him on the back or insist on shaking his hand. Each time someone does, he fakes a friendly smile and offers hollow words of thanks. He won tonight’s fight, as he wins almost every fight, so he does not have to deal with anyone angry at him because he cost thon money. Not that many will go too far in showing that kind of anger, he does, after all, make a living beating people up.

But it was not always like this, once he was a soldier, a lieutenant in the Valderian army, stationed in the northern most part of the Valderian lands. It was not much of an outpost, no more than a few simple tents and huts surrounded by wooden walls. Most of the time he and his soldiers were bored. Though technically there to prevent any Kuran incursions, those are so rare as to be non-existent.

Or so he thought. After almost six months of tedium, a large group attacked a nearby village. They responded as quickly as they could and managed to fight them off. He could have left it at that. Or more to the point, any other commander could have. He was aware that just leaving a few soldiers at the village, or even having everyone stay, would have been a good decision. He knew that if he just stuck out his time there, he would eventually be transferred. Some might lie to themselves and blame their ambition or the boredom, but he knows better. When presented with a chance of combat, he relished the opportunity, so as soon as he was sure the village was secure, he made the decision to go after the Kuras.

Tracking them proved no effort at all and it was no more than a day’s travel before they found the large camp that the