Legend of the Auruman- Chapter Four

Chapter Four

          Sydney might have enjoyed the sights of Bresghnal immensely if she could have overlooked the feeling of madness that came with the view. Either she had knocked her head real good and was in a persistent dream state, or she had just plum lost her mind. Of the two options she was sticking to the idea that it was all a dream. It was easier than accepting that she’d gone nuts.

          She had to admit that regardless of whether the place was real or not, it was incredibly beautiful. She found herself gazing at her surroundings like a child on Christmas morning.

“These are the villager’s homes.” He held his arm up, pointing at tree houses much like the one she had woken up in. If he hadn’t been pointing them out to her, though, she wouldn’t have noticed them amid the mass of other plants and trees that surrounded them.

“So, was that your tree house that I woke up in?” Sydney asked contemptuously.

          The Auruman laughed boomingly at her inquiry and then, “No.” This followed by more laughter.

          His laughter was interrupted by the appearance of another Auruman, this one was thicker built and not as tall, but had the same vivid violet eyes.

“Good afternoon, Prince Jameson.”

“Germen, how are you faring today?” The “prince” replied casually while Sydney stood watching the exchange with her mouth dropped open.

“All is well, would you care for something to eat? I’ve a fresh loaf of bread ready.” Germen offered.

“Excellent. Come along lass, and we’ll have a visit to the alehouse.” He began pulling her along again, but this time she dug in her heels.

“Just wait a damn minute.” She snapped.

“You’ll not be talking to me like that, lass.”

“Ok, first off, stop calling me lass! And secondly, I’ll talk to you however I would like.” She challenged.

          He stared her down, completely unruffled.

“Why did the guy with the bread call you Prince?” She demanded.

“The title is my due.” He explained, as if she were a small, ignorant child.

“Of course. You’re a prince. In a magical world. Inside my head!” She yelled the last bit, hoping to shake his ever-steady reserved nature, but failing.

Instead he asked, in a supercilious manner, “is this how all humans act, or is this a personal trait of yours?”

“Excuse me?” She gasped.

“Your mood is ever-changing, and your voice modulates in the most unpleasant manner.” He adopted a stern, condescending expression, and the corner of his mouth turned down.

“Well, excuse me Mr. Perfect! Why don’t you go hop back in your tanning bed and leave me alone! Better yet, get me out of this godforsaken nightmare!” She shouted.

“What is this tanning bed? Are you issuing me an insult?” He asked, perplexed.

“This is the worst dream ever!” She stomped her feet and flailed her arms around in a manner she hadn’t used since early childhood.

“I apologize if you are having a difficult time adjusting to my land, given time, I think you will find much to enjoy in fair Bresghnal.” He informed her reassuringly.

“Why couldn’t I have dreamed about having wild sex with a gorgeous forest ranger?” She asked herself, completely ignoring the strange man beside her.

“You wish to complete the act of sex with a forest man? I assure you, you would find the services lacking. Also, I feel I have to question your desires, forest men are exceedingly ugly, mean, and stubby. Also, I imagine most females would be deterred by the warts alone.” He looked at her as if she was the maddest creature he’d ever set eyes on. It was probably true enough, Sydney felt mad as a hatter.

“Oh Christ, when am I going to wake up?” She spat out, frustrated. 

“I am not this Christ you speak of. I am Jameson O’Riley, Prince of Bresghnal, and you lass, are starting to cause me some irritation.” He announced this last part as if he couldn’t quite believe himself.

“Fine. Sure, you’re the Prince of Bresghnal, and I’m the Queen of England.” She snorted.

“I am confused. You are lying, and finding this to be humorous?” He looked offended.

“How would you know if I’m lying, you have no idea who I am.” She snorted again, finding the whole situation amusing. It was either laugh, or cry. She chose laughter.

“You are Sydney, daughter of Nolan.” He said, matter-of-factly.

“How do you know my name?” She asked, no longer amused.

“You are Nolan’s daughter.” He said, as if that explained everything.

“I am NOT Nolan’s daughter. I don’t know who the fuck Nolan is.” She stormed away from him before the urge to strike him became too powerful to resist.

          Prince Jameson O’Riley followed behind her at a close enough distance to ensure that she didn’t come to any great harm, but not close enough that he himself would come to harm. She seemed most agitated, and he didn’t particularly wish to hear anymore of her shouting. He sighed and wondered how fate could have chosen him a mate such as she.

Legend of the Auruman-Chapter Three

Chapter Three

          Gregory Kendall stumbled down the path towards cabin seventeen. He pulled the room key out of his pocket and clumsily fit it into the lock.
“Syd?” He flipped on the light. Sydney did not appear to be in their room.

“Sydney!” He walked into the bathroom, and even moved aside the shower curtain and looked in the tub. He turned back to look around the room, but in his drunken stupor he couldn’t seem to comprehend anything. Her suitcase was still in the corner of the room, and her purse on the end table.

“What the hell?” He muttered to himself. He sat down on the edge of the bed and shook his head to try and clear his thinking. His head was swimming, and he felt incredibly tired. He just needed to lie down for a few minutes before he figured out where Sydney had gone to. His head barely hit the pillow before he passed out.

          The next morning, Gregory sat down at a corner table in the breakfast room at the Elk’s Horn Lodge. He held his pounding head between his hands, hoping his headache would subside so that he could deal with the disappearance of his foolish wife. He’d never been in such a foul mood as he was in now, with Sydney nowhere to be found. She had vanished seemingly without a trace. She hadn’t taken her purse, her cell phone, or any belongings. The only thing he could think of that might be missing was her hiking backpack. Admittedly, he should have been more concerned with her safety than his aching hangover, but he couldn’t help feeling like she’d gotten herself into her own mess running off like she obviously had.

“Good morning, sir. Where’s your wife this morning?” The waitress reached over and righted his coffee cup so she could pour him a cup.

          Gregory looked up miserably at the waitress. She was a poor substitute for vivacious Vic, and irritatingly cheerful.

“Morning.” He replied curtly, turning his attention to the window in the hopes that the waitress would leave him alone.

“Is it just one today, sir, or will your wife be joining you? I can pour her a cup.” He glanced back in her direction reading the nametag pinned above her breast that identified her as “Cheryl”.

“Yes, Cheryl. It’s just one today. I can’t seem to find my wife this morning.” He mumbled irritably.

“Your wife is missing?” She asked, horrified.

“I assume she found somewhere else to spend the night.” He announced dryly.

          Cheryl hurried off with an excuse about checking the scones, and burst into the kitchen. She then proceeded to tell the cook about their guest who seemed to have a missing wife. The cook had heard from Linda, the owner of the Elk’s Horn that Gregory Kendall had been seen getting a ride back to the lodge by Vic. Obviously Vic and the husband had been knocking boots, and Kendall’s wife hadn’t been seen since the couple had checked in yesterday.

“Oh my, do you think he killed his wife?” Cheryl gasped in horror at the idea that a killer had invaded their peaceful mountain resort town. Marblemount was a small town and there usually wasn’t much to talk about, but when there was- everyone knew about it.

“It looks that way. Tell me, where is the woman now? Is their car still in the parking lot? You ought to go tell Linda that his wife is missing before he tries to scoot on out of town.” The cook suggested.

“I think I saw Mike Caviler sitting in the dining room waiting for his coffee. I’ll just go have a little chat with him.”

“Morning Mike.” Cheryl said, moments later as she reached the sheriff’s table.

“Good morning Cheryl. Can I get one of those scones I smell cooking back there?” He asked, smiling warmly at her.

“Sure thing, Mike. I’ll be right back.” She hurried back into the kitchen, nearly burned herself on the pan grabbing a fresh scone, and dashed back into the dining room.

“That was quick Cheryl.” Mike chuckled. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were overly excited to see me.” He laughed.

She blushed, “actually Mike, I wanted to mention something to you I’ve been hearing about this morning.”

“What’s that?” He asked encouragingly.

          She hastily sat down in the chair across from him and relayed the stories she’d heard from the cook, and repeated the odd conversation she’d had with Kendall.

“Hmm.” Mike frowned. “It does sound like somethin’ is off.” He scratched his jaw.

“Maybe I’m just making a mountain of a molehill here. For all I know, his wife could be sitting in their room, but why would he say that she was missing? At the very least Mike, I think someone ought to make sure she’s okay, ya know? That man just seems cold somehow.” She stood back up, and quickly announced that she ought to be getting back to work.

          Mike sat at the table, glancing thoughtfully over at Mr. Kendall. The man didn’t seem overly concerned that his wife was missing. He in fact, looked to be nursing a wicked hangover. Mike sighed sadly. It looked as if there might be a huge scandal looming in Marblemount’s future.

Legend of the Auruman- Chapter Two

Chapter Two

          Sydney felt as if she’d been hit over the head with a sledgehammer. Overcome with confusion, she groggily opened her eyes, and squinted at her surroundings. Where the hell was she? She must have hit her head harder than she thought. Only, she didn’t quite remember hitting her head, though she must have when she passed out by the weird smelling flowers.

          She rubbed her eyes, and opened them again in the futile hope that what she was seeing would just go away. She wanted to be back in the forest clearing, where she was when she’d passed out. She wanted back there desperately, because she was no longer in the clearing. She was surrounded by curved wooden walls, and if the idea wasn’t so asinine she would have thought she was inside a large tree.

          Slowly, she sat up. She had been reclining on a cushion that felt as though it was stuffed with hard little beans. A rough blanket made of something similar to wool was draped over her legs. She pushed the blanket off as though it were a poisonous viper.

“Where in the hell am I?” She asked aloud, to no one in particular. Her voice echoed around her, and she shivered.

“Think Sydney, think.” She ordered herself.

          Okay, so the last thing she remembered were the alien flowers, and dropping to the ground. How did she get from that memory to the inside of this tree house. Tree house, oh God, she almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Back to the flowers, they were weird flowers, but what was weird about them? They smelled weird. Perhaps they held natural anesthesia properties. No, maybe they were poison flowers. That was it! She had gotten too close to a cluster of killer flowers, and now she was dead.

“Killer flowers. Jesus Christ.” She mumbled. She had a terrible headache and being inside what appeared to be a hallowed tree was not helping in the slightest.

          Suddenly frantic, she began to scan the tree for an exit. She stood up and began a search of the perimeter of the room, feeling along the walls. She found a narrow exit on the opposite wall, and she was just contemplating whether it would be better to be outside of the tree or inside when a head popped into the hole, effectively eliminating her escape route. She jumped back and screamed. Loudly. The echo was horrendous.

“Stop that awful noise!” The creature clapped his hands over his ears and scowled.

“Get away from me!” She screamed. Louder.

“I am eager to see a human. Come here and cease that screeching.” He commanded, folding his golden skinned arms over his chest.

          She stopped screaming, but not because the creature told her to. Her throat was too dry to scream for long, and she needed to save her energy to escape the tree house.

“Amazing.” The creature whispered reverently.

“Where am I?” Sydney asked conversationally, trying to keep the fear from her voice.

“Bresghnal.”

“Right. And you are?”

“Jameson O’Riley, at your service.” He bowed gallantly.

“Right. Okay, is this a package deal? Come stay at the Elk Horn Lodge! Stay the night and get a free ticket to crazy town!” She chattered hysterically.

“I am not sure of what you speak.” His brows crinkled together in confusion.

“Ok, what are you?” She asked, feeling less than polite talking to the creature that way, even if he were only a hallucination.

“A man.”

“No. You’re not a man. Trust me, I know men, and you are not a human man.” She trailed off awkwardly.

He raised an eyebrow, and then, “Of course I’m not a human man. I’m the leader of Bresghnal. My people are called Aurumans.”

          Sydney didn’t reply at first. Something flashed in her mind, a memory of her mother that replayed in her mind so brightly it hurt. Her mother had told her a story about Aurum people when she was a little girl.

“Gold people.” She murmured to herself.

“Yes. Your people call the language, Latin.” He replied, though she hadn’t been talking to him.

“Where am I?” She asked herself aloud, feeling on the verge of a complete break from sanity.

“No need to shout, lass.” He managed to look disapproving and informative all at once.

“I’ll shout if I damn well want to shout, alright! It’s not everyday I’m abducted and transported into an alien world inside of a goddamned tree!” She shouted.

          She glared at the golden man creature resentfully. He was truly, golden, so much so that he nearly glowed. His eyes were a sparkling violet, and his spiky hair was white gold. His body was in the form of a man’s, except for the fact that he was absolute perfection. He was far similar to a marble sculpture than a real man. She had the almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and feel his skin to see for herself if his skin was hard as rock or only looked to be. He looked unnatural, but to her frustration, incredibly desirable as well. He stepped closer to her, and she suppressed the urge to shiver. He wore a simple white linen shirt with pants of the exact same shade. Other than a tiny crown of purple stitched near the neckline of the garment, the shirt was otherwise unadorned.

“You may touch me.” He offered, holding his forearm out to her.

“Excuse me?” She asked, scandalized.

“You would like to ascertain whether I am hard to the touch, am I correct in interpreting this?” He asked curiously.

“What? No. I don’t want to know if you are hard to touch… oh forget it. This conversation is getting us nowhere. Where are we, and what are you?”

“I am certain I have already told you these things. Are you daft, human? I have told you, we are in Bresghnal, and I am an Auruman. I am not as a human man in most ways, but in physical form, I am quite similar.” He paused, apparently waiting for her to question him further.

“What do you mean by ‘human in most ways’?” She asked, becoming more and more irritable the longer the conversation continued.

“My reproductive organs are just as a human male’s, though bigger.” He stated, rather informatively.

“Good Lord! I wasn’t asking about that!” She gasped.

“Not aloud, certainly.” He agreed, good-naturedly.

          Sydney blushed furiously, but could not summon up a response. She stood stiffly in front of the Auruman, quite sure that he was no different than any man she’d ever known. This was familiar territory at last, a man bragging about his genitals. Apparently this could be considered a universal truth, that a man no matter his species would be unduly concerned with the size of his penis.

“Ok, first, no more talking about your penis! And secondly, you’re going to start answering my questions and making some damn sense!”

“As you wish.” He allowed.

“So…I feel like I am still alive, but maybe I’m really dead? Is this where you go when you die?” She asked, almost hopefully.

“No, you are very much alive.”

“Fine. I’m alive, but definitely I’m not awake. That’s it!” She yelled triumphantly. “I’m just asleep. I’ll wake up and be back in the clearing. God, I hope I don’t sleep too long. I would hate to wake up back there in the forest in the middle of the night.” She shuddered at the thought of a black bear or mountain lion feasting on her. Despite her new fears of wild animals attacking her slumbering body while her subconscious mind loitered in this crazy golden man world, she felt slightly better. So she was having a weird dream, it was an explanation she could live with.

“You’re not dreaming.” The Auruman informed her in an exasperated tone.

“Sure I am. This isn’t real. It’s all a figment of my imagination.” She argued.

“It seems I will have to prove to you that I am indeed real.”

“Oh? By all means, prove away.” She waved her hand expansively, her fears eased with the belief that she was indeed, dreaming.

          He stepped closer to her, and reached for her hand. Boldly, she put her hand into his, expecting to wake up and find herself back in the clearing. Instead, the moment their skin touched she felt a frightening jolt of something she couldn’t explain or understand. Startled, she pulled her hand out of his reach, backing away from him. Touching him had made her feel far too good to be real.

Legend of The Auruman- Chapter One

Chapter One

“I can’t believe we’re paying $350 bucks a night to sleep in a shitty bed in the middle of fucking nowhere.” Gregory Kendall snorted in disbelief at the situation he was in.

“Please, Greg, do you have to complain about everything? The whole point in this weekend was to reconnect.” Sydney inwardly cringed at her own words, recycled by their much too expensive marriage counselor.

“Sorry, dear, I must be going temporarily insane from the moose motif overkill. Jesus, I didn’t know they even sold pillows with moose embroidery.” He looked dispassionately around the room, his booted foot perched carelessly on an old trunk at the foot of the bed.

“It is a bit much, but still, let’s just try to make the best of it.” Sydney suggested wearily. Silently, she agreed with Greg. This whole thing was a joke. This over-decorated, overpriced room was all a part of a worthless scheme to fix something that just couldn’t be fixed.

“Ok. What first? A reunion in bed, or a drink to steady the nerves?”  He removed his foot from the trunk, and looked expectantly at his wife.

“You’re joking, I hope.”

“No, I wasn’t. What do you expect me to want to do? We’re in a hotel room, wifey, and we haven’t had sex in months.” He snapped.

“There’s a reason for that, isn’t there, Greg?” Her patience frayed dangerously.

“Oh, yes, Syd, you are full of reasons. You’ve got plenty of reasons. None that make any damn sense.” He sneered.

“Greg!” Sydney gasped. “Did it all mean nothing to you? How could you be so cold? So uncaring…?”

“Sydney, please, spare me the dramatics. I’ve put up with this for months now, and I confess, I am tired of it. I wish you would stop being so ridiculous.”

“Yes, I suppose I was ridiculous- to think that you actually had a heart, had any feelings!”

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” Gregory grabbed his wallet, and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Sydney demanded.

“To have a drink.”

          Sydney watched as the door closed behind her departing husband with insulting force.

          Sydney paced the small room in the manner of a caged beast. Her fury refused to dissipate. The cozy, rustic cabin was too small, and the moose motif a painful reminder of her unfeeling husband’s comments. The room was a reminder of money spent and time wasted. The weekend had been suggested by the couples’ counselor Dr. Wheeler. She had insisted that it would help them reconnect, that the time alone together could revive their marriage and remind them why they married in the first place.

          The Elk’s Horn Lodge was supposed to be the perfect place for a healing of emotional scar tissue. Dr. Wheeler had extolled the lodge’s virtues innumerable times, enough that Sydney had to wonder if she was getting paid by the Elk’s Horn to advertise their wares. She had informed the Kendall’s that the cozy rooms were conducive to healing, that the idyllic setting of the lodge evoked self-reflection and feelings of peace.

          It obviously wasn’t working. She had to get out of the cabin before the claustrophobia ate her alive. It would be a waste of time to look for Greg, and not a very challenging quest either. She knew with a great measure of certainty that he could no doubt be found in the nearest bar. A few drinks from now, he’d be even less pleasant to be around than when he was sober.          Besides all of that, she had no desire to be near her husband at the moment. Ever since “the incident” as he referred to it- Greg had seemed fine. She was utterly devastated, and he was fine. He was probably relieved. In their therapy sessions he made himself out to be sorely wounded, but unable to convey his emotions because he needed to be strong for his wife, “to help her cope”. He’d laid his lies out for Dr. Wheeler, and had seemed to garner her approval. After two months of sessions the good doctor had announced that they were ready for the next stage of therapy, in which they would “reignite the spark” in their relationship and solidify a newer, stronger bond between them.

          It appeared that the only bond growing stronger this weekend was the one between her husband and his drink.

          Gregory Kendall sat at the Elk’s Horn Lodge bar and ordered himself a drink.

“Crown and Coke” he directed to the bartender’s back. The barkeep fixed his drink and slid it old west style across the countertop. The liquid sloshed dangerously close to overflowing the cup. He almost made comment on the carelessness until the bartender turned around.

          She was a stunning piece, and he wondered how a woman that gorgeous could end up in some podunk mountain lodge in the middle of absolutely nowhere. His eyes moved over her in silent appraisal as he mentally compared her to Sydney. She may not have been as beautiful as his wife, but he was a man that valued diversity. The bartender’s rack was definitely was a diversion he could appreciate. He felt a momentary pang that he hadn’t been completely faithful to his wife, but who was to say that Sydney had been faithful to him? He comforted himself with his musings as he finished off his Crown and Coke.

          Sydney grabbed the backpack of supplies she carried with her for day hikes, and left the cabin. She couldn’t take another minute of seclusion in the moose infested room with the too-large bed. The bed that reminded her of how alone she really was in this life, and how much her marriage left to be desired. She would hike herself into exhaustion, then come back and take a nice long, hot bath. She could put off fighting or worrying, or caring for at least this one day. She’d probably be back before Greg returned from the bar. This thought propelled her quickly down the first trail she came across, aptly named Devil’s Junction.

“Perfect.” She mumbled.

          As she trekked on she doubted the wisdom of going on an unknown trail. She hadn’t paid attention to the sign at the front of the trail, hadn’t researched the area, and hadn’t the first clue how many miles the trail was. After she had made it several miles on the path, she decided she ought to head back to the cabin. According to her watch, it was barely after 2. She suddenly began to fear the sun setting. The trees seemed already to be blotting out the sun in the more heavily wooded areas along the trail, and she began to feel nervous. Her feelings of anxiety vanished when she spotted the picturesque clearing just slightly off the beaten path. It seemed imperative that she capture a photograph of the stunning beauty of the nature she was witnessing.

          She removed her backpack and balanced on the balls of her feet as she bent and rummaged through the pack until she found her camera bag. She pulled the camera from its drawstring bag and turned it on. She took a picture of the clearing as a whole. She took pictures of a fallen tree, and another of a stump that seemed to be home to a fierce colony of red ants. She spent several minutes studying the line of ants marching proudly up and down the stump.

          Surrounded by nature, and appreciating its beauty had a calming effect on Sydney. Perhaps she had been overreacting when she’d berated her husband for his lack of emotion. After all, she reasoned, everyone had their own way of dealing with traumatic events, and possibly her husband was just grieving in his own way. His stoic, emotionless manner could be a façade. Maybe he was just as devastated as she had been, but was unable to show it.

          Feeling much more charitable towards Greg, and more optimistic about life in general, she went to retrieve her camera case, and stow the camera in her backpack. She was drinking from her water bottle with her back to the meadow, when she felt a tingling on the back of her neck. She felt compelled to turn around even though she was desperately afraid that she would see some wild animal right before it lunged and devoured her.

          She turned, and instead of being terrified, she was awed. There in the middle of the clearing, was a brilliant golden shaft of sunlight that illuminated a large cluster of lurid colored wildflowers. She pulled the camera back out and headed resolutely to the flowers. She had time to take one last picture before she hiked back to the moose cabin. She’d never seen anything like the alien flowers, and they smelled delicious, if somewhat hypnotic. She leaned down to examine them closer, and sample their fragrance more fully. She dropped to her knees in front of the flowers, feeling lightheaded. She crumpled into the dirt, losing consciousness.

“Can I get you another?”

          Gregory looked up from his empty glass to see the luscious bartender leaning suggestively over the bar. He knew he shouldn’t have another, he’d already had six, but he didn’t seem to care. The bartender was looking better and better, almost as good as the drinks.

“What the hell, I might as well.” He shrugged, his words slurring carelessly.

“Coming right up!” She called out cheerfully. She sashayed around while fixing his drink, and he greedily drank up the sight of her backside. Greg had to admit, she had a great ass.
“So, what’s your name?” She turned back and passed his seventh drink to him, smiling broadly.

“Greg.” He smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Greg. My name is Vicky, but my friends call me Vic.”

“Vic, huh? What are you doing tonight?” He smiled charmingly and looked purposefully at her barely buttoned blouse.

          Vic gave him her best come-hither look. Men like Greg didn’t stroll through the doors of the Elk’s Horn Lodge bar everyday. He was clearly loaded. His clothes were expensive, his haircut looked perfect, and his teeth were a shade of white more commonly found in Hollywood. She noticed he wore a wedding ring, but it clearly didn’t mean anything to him, so she wouldn’t let it bother her either.

“Nothing too exciting. Us locals live vicariously through our guests…how about you? I can’t figure out what a man like you is doing in this little town.”

“What a shame. I was hoping you could give me some ideas on what to do while I’m in town. If you think of anything I might find…interesting, let me know.” He lowered his voice, and turned on the charm.

          They smiled at each other, both making silent plans and appraisals, and both hoping to leave the bar together.