Story of a lost city- VPV

The Chapter Unofficailly Known as 'Valentine's Psychic Vomit'

Version 1

Abigail Garrett stood at the top of the steps, looking down at the hall thronging with people. Rich people, mostly- this was a ball held by the Thirzah family, one of the wealthiest clans in Thenek. The huge room was beautiful, richly decorated with opulent gold leafed statues and red drapes, with mirrors lining the walls and reflecting the finely-turned out guests, who were sitting at tables or whirling away on the dance floor to the music produced by the band in the corner. A magnificent chandelier, almost obscenely large, illuminated the ceiling and added to the light pouring from the ornate gas lamps and white candles situated around the room. The architecture of the room was sweeping, graceful, a perfect example of the work of Bennett Cameron, who had been behind the design of most of the older parts of the city. He was long dead now- the city was old, and the newer buildings were rarely as impressive as their aged counterparts.

Abigail, however, took no notice of the sumptuous decoration, or of the architecture that still made modern designers weak at the knees. She was used to luxury, and so never paid any attention to her lavish surroundings. No, she was scanning the crowd for one of the few people in the city that she felt were as beautiful as herself- especially in her new dress. It glittered and shimmered like the chandelier high above her, and made her feel like a real Silverbone.

And there, as thoughts of being that wonderful twirled into her head, was Dune, a real Silverbone, her real Silverbone. He was seated at one of the smaller tables to her left, leaning close to someone with dark, long hair-

It was Gabriel Lysival. Her small hands curled into delicate fists, and as she watched, her Dune rocked back in his seat and flung his head back in laughter, while that stupid, inadequate Gabriel flicked his fringe out of his eyes and smiled at him.

She new that Gabriel cared, really cared, for Dune, and that he disliked her as she disliked him. She knew that he knew about her designs on Dune- that she wanted him for his beauty and his heritage. (Yes, their children would be more beautiful than their father- than her.) He knew that she didn’t love Dune. She loved the Silverbone blood in his veins.

Of course, they kept their warfare silent and hidden from the boy they fought over. Dune never saw Abigail’s venomous looks, and never noticed Gabriel edging closer to him and scowling whenever she was around. They had only known each other for three months, but both had made a life long enemy.

Dune stopped laughing at that point and noticed her at the top of the carpeted steps, frowning down at them. He gave a grin and waved at her with a little less decorum than he normally exhibited, before jumping up and weaving his way through the crowd to the foot of the wide staircase.

Gabriel did not move. She began to descend.

---

Gabriel watched from the table as the couple met in a prominent position on the stairs and embraced each other. It was chaste, but Gabriel’s eyes narrowed as he saw that Abigail had positioned herself and Dune on the stairs so that they were clearly visible above the crowd. Gabriel was normally very naïve when it came to other people’s motives and was willing (except in the case of his brother and, of course, Evil Abigail) to believe the best in everybody. His innocent mind would not have made anything of the positioning of the couple if anyone else but Abigail had been involved.

Because he hated her. He truly did. For two reasons, both related to his best and most cherished friend.

The first was that Evil Abigail (as Syrshe called her) was clearly only interested in Dune because he had Silverbone ancestry. She was planning to practice some sort of selective breeding strategy to get beautiful and above all special children. For a start, they would be almost immortal. They would be unusually gifted in music. A higher than average intelligence, greater endurance, and of course the legendary grace were just some of the qualities that her children would be blessed with. Gabriel knew that she would never see Dune the way he deserved to be seen.

The second reason was one he would rarely admit to, even in the privacy of his own mind.

He had known Dune since the cradle, his generation of the Lysival and Raven clans being very closely tied. His older brother, who he thought of affectionately as ‘Idiot Valentine’, was best friends with Prattish Thaddeus, the second oldest Raven child. Grace Raven, the eldest, had a close friendship with Athanse, his favourite sibling. And little Isis- well, she should have had a Lysival counterpart too…

But the rest of them had grown up together, linking the two households inextricably. He himself had not gone more than three weeks in his entire life without seeing Dune.

With such an affectionate disposition, it was hard for Gabriel not to like people both immediately and after spending time with them. And when he spent as much time with someone as he did with Dune…

He had refused to address the fact that he was in love with his best friend. He had been refusing to do so for some time.

He swung himself quickly out of that line of thought and saw Dune pulling out a chair for Evil Abigail at their table.

‘Look who came, Gabriel,’ said Dune, an uncharacteristically goofy grin on his handsome features.

‘She’s late,’ said Gabriel, giving Abigail an ambiguously poisonous look.

‘Well,’ she said, meeting his stare as she caressed Dune’s cheek. ‘You know how hard it is to get into a new dress.’ Her silky smile reinforced her implication.

‘Syrshe Talfryn told me her opinions of you when we spoke yesterday,’ said Gabriel, smirking.

‘Oh? What did she think?’ asked Dune, a faint line appearing on his forehead.

‘I simply couldn’t say,’ said Gabriel. ‘Needless to say, I share her views.’ He gave Dune an open smile, free from any pretence, and Dune seemed to take this as a compliment to Abigail.

‘That’s really great,’ he said, smiling happily. ‘Just think, Syrshe doesn’t get on with anyone, and yet she thinks as highly of you as Gabriel. You’re wonderful.’ And with that, he suddenly he kissed her.

‘Don’t- not my hair,’ she said sharply as he reached up.

Her expression softened immediately at the sight of Dune’s wide eyes, and he leant forward again.

Gabriel gave a resigned sigh and turned away. But he was pleased with himself for mentioning Syrshe. Dune had been half right- Syrshe wasn’t very good at getting along with people, and Gabriel was one of her few friends.

But she did not think highly of Abigail. She was the one who had coined the name Evil Abigail. It wasn’t very original, but was perfectly in keeping with the kind of nicknames she thought up for people. She was also responsible for ‘Prattish Thaddeus’, ‘Fat Sister’ (her only sibling, Ophelia), and ‘Sweet Gabby’. That was him. He had quickly banned her from calling him this in company of any kind. The only other person who had heard this name was Dune, who was tasteful enough to pretend that he never had.


Version 2
A party. A large party. Gabriel didn’t want to be there. His mother had forced him into the tunic he’d worn for the Annual Hunter’s Ball, and it was still itchy and uncomfortable. The embroidery was irritating his neck. As usual, Valentine had climbed into the carriage looking like a particularly dishevelled scarecrow. He had insisted that ‘he’d made an effort’, because most of his buttons were through the right holes, and he was wearing a tie that matched his jumper.

Gabriel didn’t want to be there. And as soon as he’d found someone he was willing to talk to, he was going to tell them why. Until that happy time, he was willing to shelter beside a large potted plant, clutching a glass of juice to his narrow chest.

He noticed Valentine standing a little way away, on the edge of the dance floor. The angles of the lights had created a small pool of something that was almost shadow, and this was the spot to which his brother had chosen to attract most of the younger females in the room. He stood in the middle of a knot of girls, throwing his head back and laughing raucously. The girls seemed to like this, and laughed too, except more shrilly. Some of the more aggressive ones elbowed their competition out of the way so they could edge closer. Valentine was playing them expertly.

This Gabriel noticed with an uncomfortable twinge of something. It must have been disapproval, because it wasn’t jealousy. Certainly not. After all, the attention would have embarrassed and confused Gabriel, who was naturally a shy and softly spoken person, perhaps to compensate for his unruly brother. No jealousy.

A beautiful girl walked past, her dress shimmering like the chandeliers high above her. She reminded Gabriel of a pedigree cat: aloof, delicate, picky, and almost obscenely thin. She was moving towards the door. He looked after her, fascinated, and was disappointed to see her walk into another man’s embrace.

But it was the embrace of someone oddly familiar to Gabriel. It was the embrace of Dune Raven.

Dune-

Dune. They’d played together as children, before their different families’ priorities and traditions had separated them. Gabriel had been put into his family’s home schooling schedule when he’d turned nine without showing any signs of having The Sense. Dune had been sent off the next year when he too proved to be without The Sense - to a different city - one with a larger colony of Silverbones - with the intention of teaching him about his heritage.

He had written religiously to his homebound best friend at first, but the flow of chatty letters quickly dried out, until the day when, after two years’ separation, they had stopped talking. Dune had returned eight months ago, and even Gabriel had picked up some of the details of the other boy’s reputation. He tried to deny their veracity, but it was hard to ignore the sense they made.

Because Dune was exquisite. Anyone with functional vision could see that. And everyone did. In the beginning, he had been like a ragdoll being tossed around the richest inhabitants of the city, both male and female. There had been rumours- ones which hadn’t reached Gabriel’s socially unconnected ears- of depraved conduct, stunning scandals, extremely questionable activities, simply toe-curling in their outrage. And then- maybe Dune had learned discretion, but the rumours started to become more insubstantial. But he still had the reputation. He wasn’t notorious, like Valentine. He had become something just like a famous courtesan in the city’s mind.

Perhaps it was something of a blessing that Gabriel had never seen an occasion to talk to his old friend since his return.

The couple headed towards the buffet on the other side of the room, presumably to look at the food. Gabriel watched the heads turn.

Catgirl and Dune. How interesting. Gabriel pulled a little face unconsciously, a slightly resigned twitch of the lips and a raise of his dark eyebrows. He went to take another sip of juice and found his glass empty. Darn. He would have to venture out into the wilderness.

He headed towards to drinks table, skirting round the loudest groups of people, avoiding eye contact with anyone who looked like they might try to talk to him. But someone grabbed his shoulder. He turned round unhappily to face a red, bloated, terrifically hairy man. Some sauce from something on the buffet had been prevented from falling onto the front of his bulging waistcoat by his beard.

‘Bring me another drink! Another house wine.’ He was aggressively jovial.

‘W- what?’ stammered Gabriel. Who was this large red man? What was he demanding? This was horrific. The familiar greenish mist of confusion rose up behind his eyes.

‘You heard me, boy. More wine! It’s excellent!’

‘I. I’m not- not a s-server,’ Gabriel cried out through the mist, and scampered away before the scarlet mountain could say anything else. He reached the drinks table without further incident, and stood to the side with his head lowered and his long hair covering his face. Eventually he was served another juice, and was preparing to disappear off to the side again when he felt another hand on his shoulder.

Oh no. The huge, red, mountain man. Gabriel closed his eyes and turned around with dread in every fibre of his being-

‘Hello, Gabriel’, said Dune, with a warm smile.

Gabriel tried to smile, but his mouth had other ideas and fell open. Only his eyes captured the nascent grin. And then he was enfolded in the tightest embraced he could ever remember being in.

‘I meant to write. I missed you,’ murmured Dune. And for the moment, Gabriel was willing to believe him. That his best friend hadn’t ignored his letters for years on end. That he hadn’t been completely forgotten upon Dune’s return to Thenek. That- enough. His first friend, his best friend was back, and that was all that mattered.

‘How are you? How have you been?’ asked Gabriel, his stutter vanishing. It was just like old times.

‘Fine. Let’s sit down,’ said Dune. He placed his wineglass at the nearest empty seat and slid into the velvet-cushioned chair. ‘Nice place,’ he commented. Gabriel took the seat next to him and grinned.

‘Tell me everything. How was- where was it? What are you going to be doing now?’ he asked, conscious of his babble. Dune laughed at his breathless questions.

‘Well, everything would be a lot. I went to New Tique. Shame on you for not remembering.’ A slow grin. ‘I learnt some things. And now I’m home.’

And have been for quite a while, thought Gabriel. Instead, he said, ‘Where’s your friend? The girl.’

‘Who? Celeste? She’s my-’. Dune stopped and dropped his head, a pleased smile on his face. ‘I’m going to ask her to- to marry me. As soon as I’m sure she’ll say yes.’

‘That’s great! But I thought you-’. Gabriel managed to stop himself just in time.

It had been too long. Maybe things weren’t sliding back into place. Green mist started to spread…

‘And you can be my best man. Will you? If I ask?’ continued Dune, apparently ignoring Gabriel’s almost-blunder.

The green mist receded. ‘Yes. Of course. You don’t even need to ask me. Well, you do. Because it will be your wedding. And-’

‘Easy,’ said Dune, smiling. His voice was husky. ‘Now tell me what you’ve been doing in Thenek all this time.’

-

In the coach on the way home, Gabriel didn’t stop smiling to himself. They had talked all evening, and it had been the way it had been, but somehow not. They were older, for a start. That was it. It had been fantastic. When his older sister Athanse had finally succeeded in dragging him away, Dune had promised to get in touch immediately- the next morning, even- so that they could organise a meeting and catch up further. Gabriel was lost in a fantasy of all the brilliant things he could do now he had his greatest friend back.

Valentine passed Athanse a note while Gabriel was staring out of the window. It read;

G falling victim to serial whore?

Athanse put out her hand and Valentine offered her a grubby stub of a pencil. After looking at it in disgust, she took it and wrote;

No cause for concern. The whore is G’s best friend.

She passed the note and the pencil back. A brief scribble later, she read;

Won’t stand for it. Must warn G. Rep. of family at steak.

She shook her head, screwed up the note and threw it out of the window, where it hit a mumbling drunk who was lying in the gutter.

-

And so it came to pass that Valentine stuck his head around his brother’s door later that evening. This in itself was remarkable. Valentine usually barged in with a loud dismissal of Gabriel’s objections, usually to borrow (take and keep) something of his little brother’s, or to ask for money. Gabriel looked at his sibling in shock.

‘Ah- Gabriel,’ said Valentine awkwardly. ‘I wanted to talk to you.’

‘I’m not giving you any-’

‘I don’t want anything,’ said Valentine, sidling in and closing the door, ‘But to talk to you.’

There was a stunned silence. Valentine perched uncomfortably on the end of his brother’s bed.

‘What have you done with Valentine?’ asked Gabriel suspiciously. Valentine ignored this.

‘I have come to talk to you. You see- I just felt that I needed to. To give you my brotherly advice on life. The Talk,’ he declared, warming to his theme. ‘Because- ssh, sit still- I am concerned. Concerned that you don’t know enough about the world. The city. People in the city. Damnit,’ he said, seeing Gabriel’s blank look, ‘Someone needs to warn you about Dune Raven!’ He made a theatrical gesture, and settled onto the bed more comfortably. ‘He is a whore.’ He stopped and looked wildly at his brother.

‘You’re pretty bad yourself,’ said Gabriel.

‘A male prostitute. He will try to sell you his body! He will destroy you!’ continued Valentine, apparently paying no attention to him.

‘You aren’t really the most chaste person I know,’ added Gabriel.

‘I noticed that you were falling under his lurid spell earlier this evening-’

‘-When you weren’t entertaining a whole crowd of girls-’

‘-And I could see that he was trying to get you drunk so that he could take advantage of you-’

‘-One of your tricks. It was fruit juice, by the way.’

‘Will you stop interrupting? I am trying to save you.’

‘From what? He used to be my best friend, and as far as I am concerned, he still is. I don’t appreciate you interfering with my business, and I wish you hadn’t come in.’

‘He ignored you for six years!’ blurted Valentine suddenly. He immediately looked stunned and guilty. Gabriel bit his lip and looked down at his chest.

‘Oh, look, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean-’ Valentine started, moving until he could put his arms around his brother. ‘Don’t- don’t cry,’ he whispered, as the burn in Gabriel’s eyes moved him to tears. They welled up and rolled down his cheeks.

‘Ssh. Ssh,’ soothed Valentine. ‘Come on now. Grown men don’t cry.’

‘I’m not,’ sniffed Gabriel, muffled into his brother’s shoulder.

‘Almost, then. Come on, don’t feel bad. It doesn’t matter. It’s all fine. Hhm?’ he said, tipping up Gabriel’s face to look down his nose at him. ‘Think of all the money you saved in couriers.’

‘Yeah, money that you’ve now taken,’ said Gabriel. They looked at each other for a second, then burst into giggles.

‘You know, you don’t have to go back to your rooms,’ said Gabriel. ‘Now I’ve stopped crying. You can stay a bit longer. We can talk. You can impart a bit of that brotherly advice.’

‘No,’ said Valentine. Gabriel’s face fell. ‘Come back to my rooms. This brotherly talk will need drink.’

‘I have water-’

‘Alcohol, fathead.’

They retired to Valentine’s rooms.

-

Gabriel is standing in a large room. Maybe it is a small room. He keeps on hitting his head on the ceiling. Unfocused memories of walking when he is awake and people are watching him float past. He always forgets to put the feet in the right order, and trips. He trips now and falls into a- a huge place a dark place where he is the only thing in the middle of a pool of yellow light and he is walking walking walking away from the sound of people crying- a pond. What is he doing in a pond? A fish swims past and gives him a friendly smile. A dragonfly hands him a map and he climbs out and walks to a group of girls on the grass. How strange, the clothes that they are wearing remind him of- the entrance of the biggest cathedral in the city he stands and doesn’t want to go in but he cannot control his body he’s like a person watching something and once again the sound of crying- cleaning cloths. They turn to him and say- ‘Valentine?’ says a dark shape leaning over him but one that is being sucked up up and away from him into the light and he is falling- ‘Have you written any more yet?’- ‘Nooo!!!!’ comes the cry from somewhere behind him as searing pain blossoms through his torso- ‘Nobody cares’-

And then it suddenly becomes crystal clear, as if he was lying on the bed of a perfectly still pool. There is a box on a stone plinth, and he sees people standing around it. People he knows.

There is Thaddeus Raven, and Grace, and Athanse, who has tears running down her cheeks. And- how strange. Gabriel himself is standing there too, Dune nestled into his back with his arms around his waist. His eyes- my eyes, thought Gabriel detachedly- are red and puffy from the crying, but there are no more tears.

Not wanting to see, but not being able to control the body he is in, he draws closer. What is in the box? It is awfully large. Coffin sized.

And then he knows. Someone has died.

He reaches the box, looks down, dreading what he will see.

And there he lies; pale, perfect in death, the distinctive scar a light purple.

I am dead, thinks Valentine.

And then Gabriel woke up.

-

He screamed when he saw himself leaning over him. And then a flash of realisation- Valentine was looking down at him. Why did he think that he was his brother?

Valentine had a wild look in his eyes and was breathing as heavily as his younger sibling. A thin film of moisture covered his face. Gabriel raised his hand to his own forehead and found it almost dripping.

The brother’s eyes met in the half-light.

‘It was just a dream. A bad dream,’ panted Valentine, trying to reassure them both. ‘I had one too.’

‘Just a dream,’ whispered Gabriel, terror curling into the corners of his soul. ‘Just a dream.’

-

It was midday, but the inside of the tavern was gloomy. Valentine blinked as he walked in, the change from light to dark temporarily blinding him. Old oil lamps hung from the walls at intervals.

A bar, made of ageing wood that was darkening with the constant exposure to the smoke that seemed to hang down from the ceiling in wraith-like fingers, extended along one wall of the single room. The barkeeper, drying scratched glasses with a mangy towel, nodded at him. Valentine looked at him with the wonder he had been regarding everything with that day, then lowered his eyes to the ground once more.

He didn’t need to look up to make his way to the right table, one in the far corner, one which was not reached by the glow of the lamps. A dark figure waited there, its back to the wall.

Valentine sat down and said nothing. He scratched awkwardly at the tabletop with a chewed fingernail. He seemed to be waiting for something.

‘You had a dream last night,’ said the figure opposite him. ‘But you know it was more than that. You know I saw it too.’

‘Yes,’ said Valentine.

‘It burnt off you in waves as strong as the sea’s. Everyone with the sight could see it for miles around.’

‘That strong?’

‘More so.’

‘My brother saw-‘

‘Did it hurt him?’

‘No,’ said Valentine, knowing that beneath the speaker’s flat, neutral tones lay a real concern. ‘Will it happen soon?’ he asked quietly.

‘I taught you how to look for clues to the time of the events in your dreams,’ said the speaker. ‘You tell me.’

‘I don’t… I don’t know. It hurt. Here,’ he said placing a hand on his stomach. ‘I was so scared. And then my brother came. I couldn’t concentrate.’

‘Does it still hurt?’

‘A bit.’

The speaker sat back. ‘It hurt me too, when I was drawn in.

‘Hhm. Lucky for you, I was together enough to notice more of your dream than you apparently did.’

‘How long?’ asked Valentine, leaning forward with a strange, expectant look on his face. The speaker paused for a moment, perhaps deliberating whether to dispense the information on Valentine’s final fate.

‘Within the year,’ he said, after some time. Valentine sat back, the expression on his face even more terrible to behold then before. The speaker looked away. ‘Your inner vision is strong. I told you when we first met that it would do you harm as well as good. Few men have the privilege- or the curse- of knowing when and how they will die. And even fewer men are having their death talked about so much in the seer’s underworld.’

‘People are talking about me? Why? That’s morbid and disgusting.’

‘You had a dream within a premonition. The vision- it’s like a vast house where you can see anything if you stay in the vision for long enough. Most people can’t hold on to the dream, or get taken out of sleep one way or another. There may even be a set path for the seer who is receiving the vision.

‘But if you get drawn into someone else’s dream, and you are distanced enough from them, then you can separate from their path and see other things elsewhere in the vision.

‘And do you know what your vision told dozens of other seers in the city? It foretold the destruction of Thenek.’

‘What?’ gasped Valentine. ‘Impossible. I don’t see how it could…’

‘Neither do we. It was something we’d never seen before. Even the Estryd hunters have never heard of anything similar.’

‘What-’

‘Black. Folds of night overrunning the city. Controlling the Estryd. They are unbelievably strong. Killing everything they touch. They will destroy us. The seers are remaining vigilant for other visions and clues that could help us, but it doesn’t look good.’

Valentine breathed out slowly. He seemed to have accepted what was to come. ‘If it will be… I just wish it could be less painful,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Rafael.’

‘I’m not,’ replied the speaker. ‘I’d be happier anywhere else but here. In this cursed city.’

-



Gabriel too was speaking to someone of his dream. Soon after his brother, pale and unsmiling, had left the house, Dune had arrived in a flurry of glory and affection. He was immediately concerned by Gabriel’s unnaturally white complexion. Gabriel was soon recounting his story, leaving out the reason why Valentine had come in to his room in the first place; he was almost unable to speak when he came to the part where he had looked down at his dead brother.

‘And it felt so real, so terrifying. I think it was a vision. A pre-emptive dream,’ finished Gabriel, his voice shaking slightly. Dune didn’t look as convinced as Gabriel had expected him to be.

‘Why aren’t you worried? Don’t you care?’ demanded Gabriel. ‘My brother is going to die and you don’t care!’ He stormed off across the room and stood with his back to the other boy, shaking slightly. A moment later Dune had a hand on his shoulder and was turning him around.

‘Of course I would care if your brother was going to die,’ he said, putting comforting arms around Gabriel. ‘But what you had- probably wasn’t a vision. It was just a vivid dream…’

‘But it was so real, more than a dream-’ started Gabriel.

‘Have you ever had premonitions before?’ asked Dune, looking into his eyes.

‘Well- no, but…’

‘It was just a vivid dream. It has been known,’ said Dune, releasing his friend. ‘For people to have very vivid dreams about things they care about.’

Gabriel gave a small, sad smile. ‘I used to dream about you every night,’ he said softly.

‘I regret cutting you off every day,’ said Dune, looking down. ‘But New Tique, what was happening to me there- it was changing me. I could feel it destroying me. And- I thought it was better that you remembered me as the person I was as a boy than find me slowly become a- a monster.’