The Mystical Knights: The Sword of Dreams (2 page)

Chapter 2: The Knights of Willow Creek

              It was the hollow sound of rain pouring down against the window that she woke up to. Nia had always found it quite hard to sleep whenever it rained. She always felt bothered by it, as if those raindrops were someone’s tears falling from the stormy gray clouds.   

              As she stretched, something heavy fell to the floor with a loud
clank
.  Her brow furrowed, she rolled onto her stomach, wondering what on earth she had fallen asleep with the night before.  She had never been one for jewelry—and she didn’t own
anything weighty.  She gasped as she looked over the edge of the bed at the smooth wooden floor.

              On the floor, its chain twisted against the grain of the wood, was the same golden amulet that she had held in her dream.

Nia stared, her mind wheeling backwards as she tried to remember where she had gotten the necklace from—an old thrift store maybe, or at a yard sale.  Scooping the amulet into the cup of her hands, she glanced at the window.  These windows couldn't open from the outside.  And they were locked on the inside.  The lion’s gold face twinkled at her through the dark as if it were alive.  As foreign as the amulet was, the way it's carefully crafted grooves pressed into the palm of her hand felt strangely familiar—she'd held it before—somewhere other than in her dream the previous night.  But where had it come from?

              She strained to remember the important parts of her dream as she pulled through her clothes. 
Five creatures—no guardians—and then the lion was the sixth.  That strange woman... 
It
had
to have been just a dream.  Usually her visions weren’t so cryptic.  Besides—what sort of future did she have with her mother?  Nia pulled on a pair of leggings and her favorite skirt before sinking her socked feet into their rightful purple Converse high tops. 

             
Nia bit her lip, staring down at the amulet, uncertain and curious all at once.  She ended up tucking the amulet inside her pocket.  Sometimes her psychic dreams were hard to remember, like grasping for water with your hands.

              Sighing, Nia made her way entered the messy, disheveled living room and into the bathroom soundlessly.  She gave the gigantic fish her father had mounted on the wall a worrisome look as she walked by it;
'Ol
Bessie's razor sharp teeth and beady looking eyes made Nia uneasy. 

              Nia peered into the old mirror with a hopeful expression as if maybe something had changed overnight, but the face peering back was the same face she had looked at every day.  She smiled at herself, her violet eyes burning like smoldering coals.  Nia often wondered if it was a genetic disorder that made her eyes that unusual shade; every woman born with Natali blood had purple eyes.  When Nia was small, she used to try and convince people that her eyes were a very dark shade of indigo.

              She shook her raven black tresses from her face and carefully reached into her pocket once more.  The amulet felt as though it had a pulse, vibrating gently against her palms.  Crinkling her nose, she cautiously brought it up to her ear.  She could feel warmth emitting from it, but it made no noise.  It tingled against her palm like a tickle.

              “Niambe...”  Nia spun around, clasping the amulet between her hands. Sam was leaning against the door frame, a quizzical expression evident on his face.  “You look just like your mother.”

              Nia smiled firmly and turned back at her reflection.  “Thanks."  The similarities between her and her mother had always been uncanny.

              Sam beamed at her.  He was already dressed in a red flannel shirt and torn jeans, ready for a day's work at the shipyard.  Yesterday's tousled brown hair was brushed and he had given his graying beard a much needed trim.  He looked very little like the Dad she remembered.  This one looked tired all over his face, as though he had lived without sleep. His cheeks were riddled with crevasses and crags, the wrinkles from all the worrying he had done this past month.  The only similarity she could find was his eyes that were that were crinkled with age, but still warm and brown and familiar.

             
I need familiar.

              Sam pushed away from the door frame and glanced towards the kitchen.  “I uh, made some breakfast if you’re interested.”

              Nia’s stomach tightened.  She squeezed the amulet lightly.  “Dad,” she said, smiling feebly.  “Thanks for cooking—but you really didn’t have to.  I—I usually don’t eat in the morning.  Makes me nauseous.  You know that.”

              “Ah,” he said, “that’s alright.”  Sam shifted his weight uncomfortably. 

              “But if you want,” Nia rambled on, her tongue lashing fast than her brain could think, “you can save it—we’ll have breakfast for dinner!  Mom and I—” Nia took a sharp intake of breath, her chest flaring with hurt.  It hurt like a thousand knives driving into her flesh, peeling it back and splashing it with sea salt. 
She's dead,
she thought disapprovingly, mentally reaching out to regain control before the dam behind her eyes could break. 
You watched her die.
 

              “Hey.”

              She was hardly aware of Sam's outstretched hand.  Sam’s thumb moved in slow circles along her cheek, pushing a few strands of hair from her eyes.  She had been sure her father’s hands would be calloused and rough from fairing the seas, but they were strangely soft. “It’s alright.  We can have breakfast for some other meal.  Don’t you worry about it.”

              Nia pulled her head away before the feeling of his comforting hand could become real. She walked past him into the living room, wringing her fingers with one hand, her head buzzing like a stir of whispers.  She clenched her teeth behind her closed lips, seeking some sense of control.  She knew remembering would hurt, but the pain she had imagined felt like tickles compared to what it felt.

              As her mind began to calmly refocus, Sam cleared his throat.  “Here’s some lunch money then,” he said, handing Nia a crinkled five dollar bill over her shoulder.  “Make—make sure you eat something today, alright?  No need for you to go hungry.”

              Nia took the money and looked at him, feeling sane and stable once again.  "Thanks Dad." 

              "You're very welcome." 

              Nia shoved the crinkled bill into her pocket and caught sight of her sneakered feet as she looked at the floor.  “It feels weird going to school in something other than my old uniform,” she said absently, smoothing out the fabric of her skirt and looked back up into Sam's watchful gaze. 

             
Warmth.  Familiar.  Concentrate. 

              Sam let out a small chuckle as he grabbed Nia’s jacket off of one of the coat holders.  “We’ll go this weekend and buy you some new clothes.  And maybe, since you’re gonna be around, I’ll get cable for the television.  And for now you’ll have to use the school computers or go to the library in town to use a computer,” Sam went on, slinging on his coat and opening the door, “at least until I get our computer up and running.”

              “That’s fine with me.”  Nia slung her new bag over her shoulder and followed her father out the door.

              As they pulled up in front of Willow Creek High School, Nia’s stomach felt as though it had been invaded by
carnivorous
butterflies that were flapping and chewing their way through the inner lining.  Kids were arriving by bus or walking up to the large, brick building that was surrounded by at least twenty white portable classrooms.

              “Why does my school look like a trailer park?” Nia wondered out loud, watching as a group of giggling girls entered one of the many trailers that were set up as classrooms.

              “It’s going to get a new building some day,” Sam explained.  “It’s on the list—number twenty or something.  Right now, they’re just waiting on funds and for the school board to pass it.”

             
Nia fidgeted with the strap of her backpack, before opening the truck door and hopping down to the pavement.  Already people were staring at her.  Nia kept her eyes low to the ground as she turned to say good-bye to Sam.

              “Now when school lets out,” Sam said, making sure to look Nia square in the eye, “you’re gonna wanna take bus thirteen home.”  He paused, pursing his lips thoughtfully.  “You know, you might wanna ask the office about that, but I’m pretty sure it’s bus thirteen you want to take.  And if you miss the bus, I don’t get off the boat until at least six—so you’ll have to either wait around or take the late bus—”

              “Dad, I’ll be fine,” Nia reassured, although her stomach proceeded to twist at the thought of missing her bus.  That wouldn’t be a good thing.  “I’ll see you when you get home, okay?”

              “Alright.” Sam sounded unsure of himself.  Nia gave him an encouraging smile as she slammed the door shut.  He gave her a one armed wave before driving off and out of sight.

              Nia kept waving until she could no longer see the old pick up any more.  With a sigh, she swung her back pack up over her shoulder and proceeded to enter the school building.

              The noise level went up another notch as Nia found herself in the front lobby.  Over in the corner of the lobby just outside the cafeteria were two people—a boy and a girl—making out passionately, while an older man, a teacher, hollered at them to “
Get a grip
!” from down the hall.  The teacher swatted Nia to the side, barely even noticing her presence.  She frowned at the man and pushed open the doors to the office.

              The office was buzzing this morning as well.  The phones were ringing off the hook. Students were turning in their absentee notes from the previous day and getting late passes so that they wouldn’t be counted as tardy.  In one of the larger rooms, Nia could see through the glass that the principal rambling on to a petite woman with inky black hair that was perfectly pulled into a tight knot at the nape of black turtle-neck.  Nia took a number off of the desk, staring at the woman's abnormally long fingers that loosely held the hem of her dress, and slumped back into the last vacant seat available.

              “It’s usually not this busy.”  The voice startled her momentarily, but Nia looked quickly to the speaker.  She was a small spunky looking girl, with short and spiked flaming orange hair.  Nia eyed the eyebrow piercings, the lip rings and the onyx-crested bull-loop that hung from her nose warily, wondering which piercing had hurt the most. 

              “Why is it so busy today?” Nia asked.

              “It’s Tuesday,” the girl sighed, waving her tiny hand nonchalantly.  She grinned, flashing brilliantly white teeth.  “Everybody loves Tuesday.”

              "Sure looks it," Nia replied.  She anxiously bounced her knees together, firmly pressing her lips together.

              “You’re new here,” the girl went on, summing Nia up with her icy blue eyes.  "What brings you to the
wonderful
town of Willow Creek?"

              Nia toed the tiles with her shoe. 
My mother died. 
No, probably wasn't the best thing to begin with.  She swallowed back a lump that was starting to grow in her throat and asked instead, "Is it that obvious that I'm new?"

              The girl grinned again, bobbing her head as though listening to music only she could hear.  She pushed her square glasses high up on her nose.  “You look like you’re about to throw up all over the floor.  Trash can’s over there, mind you.” The girl’s grin grew wider; something sparked in her eyes like delight.  Nia gulped nervously, noting the mischievous glint in her brilliant blue eyes. 

              The girl held out her hand.  “Name’s Casey.  But you can call me CA.  Put ‘er there.”

              Nia reached out and shook CA’s hand.  “My name’s Niambe—but just call me Nia.”

              CA’s eyebrows shot up into the middle of her forehead.  “Well that's a weird name.”

              Nia scornfully pulled her hand away as an angry flare of emotion sparked through CA’s hand and burned the inside of her palm.  This girl was really beginning to rub her the wrong way.  “What does CA stand for anyway?” Nia muttered sourly, feeding off of the dry bitter feeling that was slowly flooding her chest, and rubbed her stinging palm against her skirt. 
Curious Asshole?

              CA smirked at her and leaned back in her chair, apparently delighted by the confrontation.  "It’s actually an acronym for
Cassandra Anne
.  I was named for my Mom's mother.”  She laughed, although Nia didn’t think it was hardly funny.  “Did your parents want to name you Bambi and the nurses wrote down the wrong thing?  ‘Cause that happened to my brother Shannon-”

              “It’s an African name—it was my great-grandmother’s name.”  Nia had a hard time saying that simple phrase without shouting.  She clenched her jaw tightly, urging herself not to make a fight.

              CA seemed to be assessing her with those icy blue eyes once more, her eyebrows high above her brow.  “African, huh?"