37

Breima Manor

A deep sleep finally overtook Nick on the plane. Even their deplaning and slow progress through baggage claim and customs seemed a part of his dreams. It was not until he was in the way back seat of a spacious Land Rover with Lottica that he began to wake up to their new reality. They were in Lebreima, ancestral home of their father and their grandparents. The Old World. Ground zero for the lifestones and all their mysteries.

Lottica and Nick sat transfixed by the pastoral vistas of farmlands and hedgerows. It was a rich quilt of greens, browns, reds and golds. Gentle rolling hills with large stands of trees from which the occasional high-peaked roof of a house or a graceful spire peeped.

Experiencing the Lebreiman countryside firsthand, Nick better understood his grandparents’ desire to bring Lottica and him here. He also more fully comprehended their long yearning to have their son return home. Being in Lebreima made sense if you were a Breima.

Noting a few thatched-roof cottages they passed along the winding lane, Lottica couldn’t get the image of Strong Bad and his majestic dragon, Trogdor the Burninator, out of her mind. She almost made a giggling comment to Nick, but she could tell by the stillness in the car that wouldn’t be a good idea. Every member of her family was deep in their own reflections on this fairy tale landscape. A beguiling foreignness. An ancient texture. A richer light. It sure wasn’t home, but it felt homey.

She didn't know if she’d ever feel fully at home in Lebreima, so she wanted to think of it as an amusing adventure. Amusing was probably not the operative word, though it helped her put on a braver face. And it looked like Lebreima, for all its outward serenity, would require a good deal of perseverance. In fairy tales, quiet looking kingdoms always had tempestuous underbellies. Lebreima had its charm and beauty, but it also had Beilla.

Lottica and Nick had never heard much about the Breima family home in the hamlet of Kreistia. Even though their father had been raised there and a dwelling of some sort had existed on their parcel of land in some form or another for over a thousand years. The current abode was a stately stone and slate-roofed manor with two towers buttressing the main entry.

As the Land Rover pulled into the spacious drive, Nick whispered to Lottica that it was a wanna-be castle. A fortress-in-waiting. He was bursting to get inside. When Grandfather Breima held the great oak doors open for them, it took all of Nick’s self restraint not to bolt inside. He held himself back while his parents and grandparents performed a polite ritual of never-ending nodding for someone to take the honor of crossing the threshold of Breima Manor.

Finally, Nick and Lottica were escorted over the threshold and ushered into the imposing foyer. Nick half expected to see dusty cobwebs stretching from ceiling to floor even though he knew his grandfather had arranged to have the house prepared for their arrival.

Inside, they were surrounded by imposing tapestries hung on age-old stone walls, crystal and brass chandeliers, warmly polished wooden floors and dark wainscoting. A multitude of oil paintings and rich velvet covered furniture made Nick feel like he was in a private museum. He couldn’t believe that a few days ago he and Lottica had run away to avoid being whisked away here. Now, he couldn’t resist the urge to drop his bags and explore.

A gracefully curving stone staircase off the grand entry was too inviting. Nick motioned to Lottica to follow him, and they were halfway up when their father called after them. "Explore all you want. Just make sure your bags,” they heard a muffled kick, "get where they need to go."

"Sure, Dad," Nick yelled back.

He nodded to Lottica, and they bounded to the top of the steps. They were about to run down the long, high-ceilinged hallway when Lottica pointed to a small alcove at the top of the stairwell. On a wrought iron pedestal bedecked with stars, crescent moons and fiery-tailed comets stood the Hawk of Lebreima.

It was almost identical to the statue that had adorned their spiral staircase back in America. Its jet-black form with eyes that stared into eternity was a bit unnerving. Near the Hawk’s head, carved deep into the stone alcove, was the inscription: Lebreima lumeinatus de Kareima.

"The Heartstone of Lebreima burns with life," Lottica whispered, remembering how not very long ago, she and Nick had stood on the iron staircase overlooking the ruin of their burnt house, wondering how they would go on without their parents. At that critical time, their Hawk revealed its secret: the Kareima. Now, they were face to face with the very statue of Hawk that had watched over their father growing up.

"Spooky?" Lottica prodded.

"Yeah, but in a good way," Nick replied staring into Hawk’s depthless eyes. "I mean, the legends of Hawk are over the top, but we have Mom and Dad back. So, there’s gotta be something positive to all this craziness."

Nick abruptly jerked away as if he'd been shocked. He swallowed hard. Lottica bit her lip to stifle the shriek that would have filled the long corridor. What new craziness was this?

Both took a step back from the statue. To better see. Or possibly flee. Because the inky black eyes of the iron Hawk of Lebreima had began to glow. An otherwordly blue.

"Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," Lottica murmured, retreating with Nick around the corner of the hallway.

"I think we’re even a rainbow or two beyond Oz," Nick agreed, eyeing the statue, as if might suddenly soar down the hall at them. Why not? he thought. Lebreima and its denizens seemed exempt from the most fundamental laws of the rational universe.

But nothing more happened. Hawk's eyes remained two distant stars in its shadowy, unmoving iron form.

Nick was about to back further down the hallway when a shrill gasp from Lottica stopped him. She grabbed his arm and swung him around so that he came face-to-face with the slightly wry and wholly sinister smile of Beilla.