"Sweet Dreams"

“Sweet Dreams” - A Kannon Falls Tale
“Manner konnen gottes zu werden und das ist die schreklischste sache.” - Henrich The Woodcutter.

A new but cold wind blew as Ghost strode along the ramparts of the recently liberated house. No, Kenneth reminded himself, it wasn’t Ghost anymore, this person was everything - all the horrible things inside of his beloved Avery -  purified and amplified up to some maddening level. No, he wasn’t Avery or Ghost anymore. He was the Marquis De Geisthiem. Keeper of The Ghost House. A Keeper wholly unique but ultimately like every other.  And maybe the only chance to rescue those who were dear to him and Avery.

“Beloved children! I have struck the death knell to The Midnight Librarian.” He spoke in a smooth practiced voice, a political leader speaking to a crowd of sycophants. His great coat nearly dragging the broken wood of the rampart support, “That’s right, she is dead… and a new generation of liberation and freedom has dawned up on us! Great tidings of hope and joy!” and with that everyone that had been listening and still understood spoken language clapped and erupted into a mad cacophony of cheering.

“When can we return home Herr Geisthiem? Can we return now?” Called a voice from the throng of the crowd. The accent old Germen Kenneth placed it, very old German. Henrich The Wood Cutter, the one who had made it possible for him and Avery to escape the first time and eventually make it back undetected.

There was a pause, a great pregnant pause in the speech, enough for silence to rush over the crowd like a cold ocean tide coming in. “My loves…” he started as he turned to face the crowd properly now. Kenneth felt his insides drop. Dear God…

“I can’t let you go. Please, please try to understand that. There are far too many powerful Gentry near here. Ones that our Keeper was in constant battle with, ones who wouldn’t hesitate to sweep in now that she lays dead and enscroll us all into their mad pursuits.”  His voice was kind, or at least took that tone. Kenneth recognized it, the same tone that he took when explaining to one of his students back in their mortal days why they had failed a class. Sympathetic sounding but hold no sympathy. “I only ask a little more time. Please, most of you had been here for generations, and I must ask you this: Would you not expand your good fortune to those past our bounds? Would you not lend aid to me to free them from their Keepers? I know not about you, but I perused the one who would become my Keeper for a chance to rescue distant kin I found imprisoned in such hellish realms and I long to see them free.”

There was a low mutter going out among the individuals of the crowd, the flower of hope was starting to wilt in those who had been kept for ages but the younger still believed that freedom would come. It was at this time Kenneth knew better.

“Tonight. Tonight we celebrate the death of our Keeper and then tomorrow at first moon up, we get ready to make war. The Machinist lays just past the bounds of the maze, we will strike quick and with brutality and free more of our brothers and sisters.” His voice reached a pitch which rallied most of the other Changelings behind him. Henrich looked over to Kenneth and shook his head.

“This will only end in tears for you.” The old man whispered before disappearing into the dozens of people gathered, heading off to whatever dark place the bug eyed wood goblin spent his time. Kenneth wanted to sink into the darkness as well, but by his very nature he couldn’t. The fae blood that now burned through his veins made him bright as the sun in the realm. But he managed to turn his back to the rally and went into the remains of the old house that soon would bare Geisthiem’s standard.

In the morning the war drummers pounded their drums with such force it was like Hell’s beating heart as they made their way to the edge of their new, yet unproclaimed, master’s realm. The Changelings of The Machinists realm were caught unawares and decimated, the Hedge Beasts charged through the front lines breaking any sort of defense they could mount with ease. The message was clear, kill any and all who would oppose him with a level of viciousness that took Kenneth back. By afternoon and unbreakable foothold was established into The Machinist’s realm.

The cruelty shown was like nothing Kenneth had seen from Ghost before, yes by nature Ghost was a cruel man but nothing to this level. Another nodding to the former author that his love was further away then ever before.  Per haps even totally gone.

A small war went on for a week or so but ultimately enough ground was gained by The Keeper of the Ghost House’s forces to where he was able to usurp the realm. The defeat of the other Keeper reminded Kenneth of some years shortly before they were taken when both him and Avery witnessed the falling of The Wall between The East and The West. They had celebrated and partied that night with family that Avery had not seen since he was a small child.

Poor Changelings of the other side thought they were being released from bondage, but soon found themselves inducted into a growing force as Giesthiem laid siege on another near by Keeper and so on, and so forth. Eight campaigns in total which lead him to becoming the most powerful Gentry in the region only blocked by The Lord of Snow and Ice to the North, the self-Proclaimed God Xipetotec to the south, The Warder of No Man’s Land to the East, and the Jade Keeper Personage to the West.

“Something has to be done.” Muttered Henrich The Woodcutter as the group of his motley huddled around a fire somewhere deep in the hedge maze near the châteaux. “He broke his promise Herr Habber. He broke his promise, and how he‘s become just as mad as any other Gentry. His war will never cease until he and all that he has to throw at the others are dead. I saw this with the men who went against Charlemagne.” The wood goblin poked the fire with a stick that he’d snapped off his thigh a moment ago. L’cardee, or as the Ogre’s simple tongue could pronounce ‘Lo- Car’, just nodded and hugged The Tiny Dancer tighter to his body. His natural warmth fighting off the chill of the darker part of night.

Both of them belonged to the third Gentry that Avery had slain. The Maestro, a Gentry that took all its changelings and used them perform beautiful but endlessly cruel theatrical productions. The Tiny Dancer and L’Cardee were designed to fall in love. So they had. And inside her life grew.

“I know Woodcutter.” Kenneth muttered watching the flames dance. “He thinks that he’s doing something for the greater good, but …”

“I’m sorry.” Tiny Dancer burst out in her thick Slavic accent. “I’m so sorry Woolworth’s does not have a card for ‘Oh your Boyfriend has turned into a Mad God But Thinks He’s a Good Guy’.” Her mood grew more and more sour as the time for the birth grew near. And the time of her to grant new life into the world was near indeed.  She could see the fate of her child if he stayed here. Trapped forever and ever not knowing the real world or the beauty of the real moon and real earth mother under his feet.

Anger. A spike of anger. “He did this to save all of us damn you.” Kenneth spat out. “We’re the closest thing he has to family.” The group grew silent again and watched the flames. L’Cardee just gruffed once more and adjusted his shoulder to bare the weight of the pregnant woman on his arm more comfortably as Tiny Dancer’s eyes narrowed and bit back with words.

“He’s not Avery anymore. Not in any shape or form. He’s become a Keeper. No different then any of the others. Yes, I he thinks he’s doing what is right, but so did Stalin and countless other monsters. And I will be damned if I see my child be born into this existence. There are marks in his soul, marks I know that have power and I will see fulfilled even if it costs me every drop of life in my wretched puppet body.”

“This fighting is not getting us anywhere Annika, Herr Habber….” The Woodcutter cast his eyes around studying the two. “We must face what is before us before we can make any long term plans yes? You..” He pointed to Tiny Dancer with a long spindly finger. “You are to give birth to your pup soon yes? The blood inside you is what drew your Keeper to you yes?” He asks the rhetorical question.  “It is why it took special interest in us. Each of us were special before we were taken and changed. Some different, others hidden in plain sight, yes?”

“I… know of a place … where Avery’s control is limited and his awareness is almost non-existent.” Kenneth muttered brushing his fingertips on the length of his pea coat. Sparks of light flickered from his fingertips as he did so. He managed to suppress most of his Brightest nature but to do so to all of it was impossible. “But it is dangerous. It’s near the Master’s quarters.” He mutters, “But if we can get there then there’s a way to slip into the mortal world. At least once for one person.”

The Motley looked among each other and knew in an instant who would go, and no words about it were spoken.

Weeks later the time had come upon them and the new life that grew inside Tiny Dancer was starting to break forth. The group made their way through the darkest and coldest part of the hedge maze toward their goal. Cloth gripped into Tiny Dancer’s teeth as she would scream in pain from the contractions, L’Cardee carrying her like a small doll in his arms. The Woodcutter slicing and slashing the holly in their way as they cut a direct path to their goal, Kenneth prayed to whatever God may exist that none of the hedge beasts were about. Even with his mostly muted senses he could smell the blood coming off the female member of their group as she prepared to give birth.  The Woodcutter brought with him the white cloak and his axe, tools that would be used to go back and forth.

Strange green sky was over head now and lightening broke somewhere in the distance as the group traveled toward the crypt. Like everything else it had that touch of Napoleonic architecture to it and thick never ceasing hedge maze around it, but here this place was neglected. Untouched. Geisthiem didn’t wish to acknowledge it. Kenneth knew it was for good reason.

“So this is where…” L’Cardee finally spoke. Words coming past the Ogre’s mouth had become so infrequent in the passing months that it nearly was a blow out of nowhere.

Kenneth just nodded and spoke, “Yes.” The word was bitter in his mouth like ash. “When Giesthiem was Avery, he said it made him feel better to have Anton near him. Even in death the only person he had pure love for was his brother.” His palm against the heavy door he pushed inside the crypt and chilled air pushed past the gap. “I don’t fault him for it, when we were… mortals we had our issues like everyone does. But Anton died too young for him to really have anything come between them. They both were young children when Anton passed by accident.” His nervous habit of brushing his pea coat showed itself. There was a thinner spot on the cuff then anywhere else on the garment.

Inside was sparse. A  marble room with a pedestal in the center with an urn and a few hanging lights. “This is it.” Kenneth told them as they all ushered inside. The meaning was two fold as Tiny Dancer felt her child push from her body and through the gag let out a gut wrenching scream. Kenneth knew that he had to find the weak spot the place where he could push through into the mortal world, time was running out, and through his looking he’d almost over looked it. Under the stain glass window of Jesus was a crack, looking through it and smelling he could tell it wasn’t connected to Geisthiem’s realm.  The Woodcutter slashed his palm deeply and bleed into the white fabric of the cloak, watching it slowly twist and turn like fog rolling across a landscape. Whatever sleeping spirit had laid in the cloak was now awakening. He smeared the still bleeding wound of his palm across the axe.

“Herr Habber, Kenneth…” The Goblin’s tone softened. “These will see you well through the Hedge. But leave them on the other side, they will mask you and Geisthiem shall think nothing of you returning - believing you have returned from some earned he had forgotten about.” He mutters. “Two ripples are noticeable, one is not.”

Kenneth nodded, in his hand the axe had a surprising heft and was keener then he expected as he drove it into the thin crack in the marble forcing it wider. It didn’t need to be large, just enough for light to creep through. As he worked with hand and blade Tiny Dancer screamed as her son pushed from her womb. The Woodcutter moved forward and drenched his hands in her birthing blood rubbing it on the cloak speaking words of some Contract that Kenneth didn’t understand. “Blood calls to blood. With this it’ll take the child to his closest family member and assure his safety. Once used cast these things aside and look not on them as you do.”

The Brightest nodded his head and watched the scene in silence. Tiny Dancer and L’Cardee looking at their son for the first time, and perhaps the last time ever as Kenneth donned the hood and cloak properly, the garment flowing around his smaller frame like a fish in a great sea, the color solid red now. With great weeping L’Cardee handed Kenneth the child and with a nod both him and the child were gone. Riding on the stream of light into the mortal world.

There was a large flare of light, natural daylight from the sky. No sky that held only bright stars and a never changing moon. Dawn was here in the mortal realm. Reaching up he undid the clasp of the cloak and let it drift away. Babe in one arm and axe in the other he made his way forward.

“And my dearest love…where is it you think you are going?” Kenneth froze. It couldn’t be. Avery. “Yes love, it is me.” He could hear the murder in his voice.

“How did you…”

“How did I know? Please, can we forgo the normal dramatics. I’m a god. Nothing happens there I do not know about, nothing is thought of there that I am not privy too.” Soon Kenneth found elegant fingers wrapped around his throat, one hand holding him from the ground. “You, you of all people seek to take away what is mine…” Slowly they started to squeeze and take the very breath and life from his lips.

“Avery…” He gutturally called out. Weakness sweeping through his body and the axe falling to the ground, his focus remaining on holding the infant. “A-Avery..”

And, somewhere deep inside him, the part of him that was still indeed Avery and not The Marquis De Geisthiem, the part of him that was a writer, scholar, teach, and lover  and in return was loved, reinstated itself briefly. “Oh god..” His fingers went lax and Kenneth fell to the ground, child resting on his chest as he tried to take in as much as he could. “Oh god, Kenneth… I’m… I’m so sorry. Oh Christ.. What have I done.” The impassive mask that had taken the place of his face, for a second wavered and expressed sorrow at what he almost had done.

Kenneth could feel the bruising around his throat already. “It’s..” He gasped again, “It’s alright Avery. It’ll all be alright.” he muttered holding the child in a nurse hold lifting himself to his feet. “The child’s place is here. In this world, not your realm Avery. Do you understand that? The child has a destiny, it’s blood  will call to it and it has to respond.  “I know you want to protect him from being taken by others, but that won’t happen. What he is by his very nature protects him from any change. You can do anything in your realm Avery. Do you understand? I need you to do something for me.. Please, please if I had any meaning to you.  And should that fail, he‘s your kinfolk Avery… just like Annika, would you want him to suffer as her and L‘Cardee do?“

The Keeper nodded. Hazy memories of what seemed like an eternity ago came up. Laying under the stars and the harvest moon, the day they first met…

“Please when you return home… forget this happened. Forget about the opening in the crypt.”

Avery nodded dumbly once more.  “His uncle is near.” He stated. “The child can be left here and will be found within the hour. They already feel our disruption here.” His eyes looked skyward. Remembering. “They’ll give the child the name of his grandfather. I never really cared for that man Kenneth. He was cruel. Unduly cruel. Put the child down and let us go home. I’m tired and in the morning we have a battle.”

Kenneth nodded, the Avery he knew was fading away again being replaced by the Keeper Geisthiem. “Yes sir.” was all he spoke putting the child into the nestle of grass. Russian accented voices could be heard in the distance already. With the axe he cut not the fabric of reality and both men stepped through.  And true enough, within an hour the blind woman found the child.

“Ivan, there’s something here…”