Ocean and Time: Shackle of the Keeper

Ocean & Time

Shackele Of The Keeper

Andrew Sorensen

Table of Contents

Andrew Sorensen

In Which They are Captured

A Dream and a Quintop

Message from the Keeper

The Protector and the Vamash

Once Upon a Memory

The Secret Alliance

The Rightful Queen

Dreams of the Jewel

Theodore’s Desire

Battle for Sanity

Cocomal Returns

Authors Note

Copyrights

To Mrs. Noel: The English Teacher who said, You have to dribble before you shoot. Well... I’m traveling.

For Nancy and Michelle: Nancy who never stopped believing in the Ocean: Michelle, I hope you like the ocean.

In Which They are Captured

Night Mares; the unholy breed of inhuman savages had returned to Theodoris. They had returned to pillage her villages, to pervert her children, and to inseminate her women. But what they had failed to comprehend was that one ancient hero of lore still remained in the village: loyal to the Ocean and its precepts; loyal to the Grand-Master and the powers of His eternal consciousness. As long as Gosemis remained—he a possessor of the true light—the dark hordes and all of its masters could not penetrate her walls. So they sank back into the Hellish depths and bode their time. Soon they would gather again, this time to ensnare her forever more.

So reads the inscription on those ancient walls to this day:

Many a valiant Dream have passed the coil of victory,

Onto her pious sons to regard heaven’s true duty,

But Ne’re a generation begot, so full of civility,

Than that of Gosemis: The light bearer, Theodoris Nobility.

Yet, as in all instances, the ugly siege of time bore no mercy, even for the brave, and in war, Gosemis fell. Now it was his kin, Silverious, who paid his final respects to this reverent Dream. Stroking the tombstone, he read its engraved letterings aloud to emphasize his savage emotion.

Here lies a Dream. Truth he bled for. Lacked none but stood on call. Died as he lived, so selflessly, for one, myself, and all.

Gosemis had been more than a hero, he was a father. He had been more than a father, he was a friend. A tear welled in Silverious’s mocha-brown eyes as the light of the morning zebron shone upon his ruddy face. His unshaven black stubble slowed the tear until it vanished beneath the forest of his wavy hair.

He was a good Dream, my darling Silverious. A melodic female voice calmed his bursting emotions. A soft finger gently divided his long hair into lockets. He was comforted, not startled, and extremely pleased that she had found him.

He was the best of us—better, even. Silverious was inspired by her kind sentiment. He knew she was honest, and the words she expressed directly were more than mere sympathies. They were meant. They were felt.

A half-grin momentarily embraced Silverious’s sober countenance. The two Dreams had always been able to communicate in a dialect far more potent than guttural sound; they were able to converse in the tongue of thought.

Theodoris is a marvel this time of year. He couldn’t have asked for a better resting place.

Aye, my friend, it is.

Without doubt, it was. Her passionate red oaks swayed blissfully in the playful wind. There were three oaks in the graveyard towering over even the grandest of monuments, which clearly belonged to a forgotten era. A purple poppy had spawned its kin amongst the gravestones, adding a new dimension of colour for the beholder. The air was clean and crisp; breathing was like kissing a girl you loved.

He didn’t die in vain. Versillies was reading his deepest emotions. She peered into his eyes, and therein she found a restless agony.

Silverious reflected on Versillies’s kind words. She was quite the woman; different than any other he had ever met before. She had a vivacious quality about her, a strong liveliness that propelled him forward, even in these dark days of despair and grief.

He fought for our freedom. He fought for the freedom of all Flomoshia. He fought to rid our lands of the Night Mares. When will their oppression end?

Versillies wished she could answer him, but all the answers were swallowed up by the grim reality of their people’s bondage to the Night Mares. Theodoris was almost free, but at what cost? So many had died; so many had been martyred for the cause of liberty.

It seemed the nation’s only hope rested in the hands of the Scrupalodian Empire. The Scrupalodian Empire was the resistance led by the gallant Cocomal against the dreaded Queen Quasepella.

I’m going to join Cocomal, and like my father before me, I shall fight for our nation. We shall regain the lands that are rightfully ours. Silverious was resolved; a fiery, red flash of light bolted across his eyes.

Versillies saw it and for a moment, just a moment, she was afraid. Versillies had deep feelings for Silverious, but she didn’t know how to express them. She felt as though he could never share such passion with her. After all, they had been friends since childhood; they grew up together. They had fended off Mares together. They had shared intimate thoughts, for when it fancied them they fused their minds together. They had the same fervent desire for the deliverance of their race, although Silverious would surely mock her if she told him that she, too, wanted to join the Scrupalodian forces. The army, he would quip, is the responsibility of a male, not a female.

You’re a funny one, she often told him, in a high-pitched bravado. He would laugh and take her in his arms, wrestling to remain in that moment forever.

Versillies was afraid that Silverious was seeking vengeance at any cost. Then the gentleness returned to his eyes, the gentleness she had known her entire life.

Silverious and Versillies exchanged glances. She was stunning, but he had immense respect for her and her friendship. Inside he wanted nothing more than to let his savage side take over and kiss her vehemently, like a wild beast. Then take her in his arms, stroke her, and make barbarous, heathen love to her. Her vibrant hair flashed radiant red in the light of the morning zebron. It was shoulder-length. It was perfect, thought Silverious. Her shape was slender and firm, her breasts were medium-sized yet developed. Her eyes were shimmering green; her skin was smooth like the finest of silks.

On her forehead was a mark. It was a peculiar symbol that all the females of her family line possessed, but it didn’t bother her in the slightest. It consisted of two hand-written O’s with an infinity sign in the middle. It was most mysterious. Silverious thought it made her look distinct.

Occasionally her countenance radiated. Sometimes when the two were alone together, basking in friendship and gentle caress, she literally illuminated. It was an intriguing ability that definitely made a difference in the dark. It was a gift.

Silverious took her hand. I miss Father so much, but it greatly comforts me that you are here.

Versillies blushed; she longed for more of his touch. A flood of warmth enveloped her, and she wanted him. She wanted him to express it. She softly tickled his skin. Just then, a Mare entered the graveyard!

Silverious! He sensed it. Night Mares infest the entire soul. They feed off evil thoughts and warp them into horrific visions. They twist every good desire into perversion and they feast on the terror they create. They prey on weaker minds, controlling them, manipulating them, until a Dream loses its identity.

This is known as the Omni power, and those Mares that possess it, those vile, vile creatures, are known as Omni-lords.

Stay away! You have no power here. Silverious understood that the Mares’s great weakness was love. For who could manipulate the authority of true love?

The Mare perceived a weakness in Silverious’s mind, for that was its gifting. However, it could not penetrate the walls of the heart, only the mind. Like a mucous slug it slithered on its belly toward its victims. Mares were Omine in form (Ominity is Dremanico’s humanity) but they preferred to inhabit the bodies of a serpent creature, half-snake, half-man. Usually the Mares attacked in numbers, but if given the opportunity, they would strike and murder alone.

A voice echoed from within the depths of his mind and began to torture him.

Gosemis is no longer here to protect you. You are mine, now; your family is mine.

You are surely weak, Silverious responded.

What? I’m going to ravage you! boasted the Mare.

How dare you threaten my family, you snake!

Silverious, don’t listen to it; it’s just trying to goad you, Versillies exhorted.

It’s a rather stupid Mare. Our occupiers should at least put up a stronger front.

Take my hand, Silverious. He took her hand in his once more.

You foolish Dreams, what are you playing at?

Why should I tell you? Silverious mocked. The power of light, and con-joined minds would prevail.

It was rather radiant, for Versillies had—inadvertently, it must be noted—begun to light up.

The Mare was muddled; all it beheld was a voluptuous, glowing lady.

You are stronger than I thought, son of Gosemis, and twice as arrogant. But it is your family who suffers now.

< It must be telling the truth,> Versillies indicated.

The family of Gosemis has been captured! screamed the Mare.

A vision manifested itself in Silverious’s mind’s eye.

A young boy was playing in the gardens. A middle-aged woman stood at the door of an inn, an inn Silverious knew well. The woman’s eyes were wet from the burden of tears.

Come in, Alsalzar, it’s not safe out there.

But, Momma, I’m fine. Believe me I am!

Listen to me! Get in here now!

Ever since Father died you never let me go outside.

Do you want the Mares to get you?

Pish posh, I can take on a thousand Mares. Alsalzar swung a stick. Die, you filthy mongrels!

You do not know what you are saying.

Momma, let him play in the gardens, it should be all right. It was another voice now, a soft, delicate voice.

Lucia, the Mares were our masters. You are too young to know the absolute devastation they caused!

Lucia brightened. Look at the little guy, Momma. He’s got enough love and courage in him to fend off a thousand Mares.

It takes more than love and courage, Lucia. Your father understood that.

My father wouldn’t have us standing idly by while our neighbors are massacred and enslaved. My father was a hero, and contrary to what you believe, still is a hero on the Isle of Dreams. The normally phlegmatic Lucia spoke with conviction.

Lucia... Oh, it isn’t worth arguing over the unknown.

Momma, I know. The Eshians are more than just a legend. They are those who have gone to be with the Grand Master.

Lucia, you are too weak to be debating the fate of forgotten Dreams.

Lucia, with some effort, wrapped her arms around her mother and held her tenderly.

Father fought for us, Momma. He fought for our people. He died as he lived; selflessly.

Her mother began to sob quietly, then the tears rushed in and like a crescendo of music she was weeping, then bawling, then howling. As she did the vision became brighter, with more depth and resolution. The colours became vivid, without blur; the Mare was digesting her sorrow.

I guess he can play in the gardens but— She was cut off by