The Dream Palace

This is the beginning of the first draft....it's not to good, but, hey. I've got a better one thats not typed up yet. Please, please, PLEASE review this rough draft if you read it! Thanks!
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Prologue
         Jay and Firin sat huddled together by a fire, eagerly awaiting the return of their Uncle, Umpapy, when they heard a horse coming down the road to their house. Jay leapt to his feet and sprinted to the door, only to find a man dressed in a blue uniform with an elegantly plumed hat waiting on the threshold, hand raised in the air as though about to knock. The man quickly hid it behind his back, blushing intensely. The guard hoped that Jay would think it was from the cold. Jay’s big, sharp green eyes widened further as he noticed the note the man was shyly holding out. Jay apologized for not noticing and took it from the man’s white gloved hand. The man shivered and Jay wondered aloud how old he was. “16” said the Guard. Jay’s eyes, if possible, got bigger as he realized that they were the same age, and he was a castle guard. Jay remembered how he was the only one to go into the woods, and that was about the closed thing to being a guard as Jay got. He wouldn’t have even known how to use the spear that Firin carried everywhere. Firin, on the other hand, hadn’t ever left the grounds; save for the one time on his most recent birthday; to go to the local market three miles away. “Come in.”  Jay said finally. But the guard shook his head, then turned and fled back to his horse, jumping onto its bare back. The Guard almost slipped off as he rode away into the darkness.
         Jay unfurled the tightly rolled scroll, striding back to the fire as he did so. It contained but one word, written in curling script:

Armeta

Jay looked to see if there were any other words on the piece of paper. There were none. But what Jay did find was that the scroll was very interesting. The note was written on a piece of paper that was very different than what Jay himself was used to. It was not thin, like the cheep parchment that Jay owned, but thick and with a soft layer of fur still attached to the back. Over the cleaned and dried part of the skin was a piece of paper so white it made snow look grey. It was attached to the parchment with four tassels that were tied to pieces of Ivory shaped like teeth and pounded through to the other side. The sharp ends that stuck out contrasted beautifully with the deep black of the fur, and also had tassels tied to it; they where all silver. And the ink was marvelous. It was deep red and had a sheen to it; and when Jay looked at it from the side, it appeared black. It reminded Jay of blood and he had a growing feeling that it was. Just the sight of it made him shudder, for it brought to him ideas of death.
         Firin watched all this with interest. “What is it?” he asked finally.
         “Oh, nothing,” Jay replied with growing concern. “Firin,” Jay added. I want you to go to bed now.”
         “What?” Firin yelled, jumping up. “No! I’m waiting for uncle!” Firin said with such finality that Jay didn’t bother to argue.
         So they sat down and both swam in their own thoughts for hours until Firin said, “Listen…hoof beats.”
         Jay stood up and motioned for Firin to be still. It was true. Once again that night the pounding be came louder and louder until, when Firin thought “his ears would break”, they stopped outside the door. Once again, Jay opened the door before the visitor had a chance to knock. A broad smile broke out on his face when he saw the figure of the mighty Umpapy blush because he was caught with his hand raised.
         “Welcome back, Uncle.” Jay said, hugging him.
         “I missed you both, so much. I hope I’ll never have to leave you alone again, Firin.” Umpapy said with a wink. “Time to go to bed now.”
         “Okay, Uncle!” Firin said, finally happy.
         When Firin left for the tiny part of the house that was his room--no bigger than a closet--Jay showed Umpapy the mysterious scroll. “I think the ink is actually…well, blood,” Jay finished.
         “Is that so, Jay?” Umpapy said. “Well, don’t worry yourself to much about it, son. Go to bed now, okay?” he asked.
         Jay went off without a word, wishing he could talk to a friend. But he had none.
         Jay sighed. He had shoulder length light brown hair, slightly wavy and flipped up in the front. His eyes, big and bright green, shone like emeralds under his thick eyebrows, and a tiny, wire-thin scar ran along his chin for about an inch and a half before stopping under his right eye. He wore a simple grey tunic, brown pants, leather boots and gloves--worn from use,--and a leather belt. Strapped to his belt was a small pouch of deerskin and a curved Ivory knife. Jay flopped down on his bed of pine needles and straw and stroked the oaken bed frame. His room had only a few things in it: his bed, a shelf built into the wall, a bright blue rock to sit on, and a wooden hook. Sitting up, Jay took off his belt and gloves, stuffed the gloves inside the pouch, and hung it up on the hook. Then he took off his boots and shoved them under his bed. Then, after saying good-night to Firin through the hole in his wall, Jay lay down once more to sleep.
         A figure stood alone, framed against the dawn horizon. Gender, age, and race--all were impossible to tell. It wore a hooded cloak, black in color, and a ring of silver around each wrist. It was barefoot, but wore a silver anklet around its right foot. The foot moved, the figure turned. Suddenly, an owl hooted, and the figure disappeared. All that remained was the haunting note of the bird, as empty as the space of air on the dawn horizon.
         Jay woke with a start. A dream? Jay thought. No, a vision. It had been too real to be a dream. And Jay knew the place, too.
         Leaving a note on Umpapy’s table and grabbing a loaf of cornbread out of the cabinet, Jay took his leave. He strapped on his belt and ran across the field in front of his house. He swore when he realized he forgot his boots, but didn't turn back.
         Dawn was already breaking, and the sun peaked out from the hill on the east horizon. Jay turned to face it, then turned the opposite way and started towards the forested mountain and river in the west. He started running, and finally broke into a sprint. In the vision, the sun could not have been up for more than five minutes. Eventually, Jay heard the steady pounding of a waterfall and the slow, mournful sound of the Winding River. He topped a slight rise in the land and saw the still shadowed form of river and fall. But, as he started to run again, he heard a clinking noise. Seconds later, a form appeared. It stood for a minute, completely still, then turned. With the same majestic note as the vision, an owl hooted. The figures’ eyes met Jay’s, then the whole body disappeared. Just like the dream.
         Jay shivered. All this way…for nothing… He sat down on the rise and tore the loaf of bread in half. A few golden-colored crumbs fell on his lap, but he brushed them away. A couple sparrows flew down to eat them, but were soon gone. He sighed. Looking up at the mountain, Jay could see the spot where he always camped, the place where the deer bred in spring, and had their fawns in late summer. He saw one place that grew just oak, one just elm, one of pine, another with hawthorn, some with birch and some with maple, even one spot in the middle that redwoods grew lavishly in. The oldest trees were them. The second in both were the oaks, then the pines, elms and so on. Idly, Jay took out his knife and found a stick. It was that of a birch, perfectly white all the way around and green inside. He started whittling away, first to make another hook for his room, then he went on to make a spear. He scraped and scratched on the pole, making designs and writing his name. Then, for good luck, he wrote the name of the mountain, Nashia, which meant “Mountain of Many Forests” in the ancient script of Elves. For now, he’d use it as a staff until he found good sized piece of ajola. Ajola was a kind of rock people used to build wells, houses and the like. It was a human-made rock, made by melting obsidian to a liquid, then adding gold and garlath berries. Finally, it was hardened and left to age one year in a room of pure oxygen. He knew how to make it, and knew where all the materials lay. He planned to have the spear finished on his sixteenth birthday.
                  Suddenly, Jay felt that something was.......wrong. He stood up, then bolted toward his house, each minute he felt that things were getting worse and worse.