*
Mortiune had been stumped when faced with the complexity of the task: To move one hundred silver claws, a dozen fire drakes and a handful of Sentinels undetected through the streets of a densely populated city of mortals. He'd wracked his brains for many hours dismissing all sorts of plans involving invisibility and flying. All these he'd dismissed before finally settling for mist.
Fortunately, the Brazen Gate exited into the mortal world in a place that was not populated. Mortiune had gone through first by himself and in the wooded glade which housed the archway he started to dream weave. He had been struck by one thing straight away, that dream-weaving on this side of the gate was effortless. Back on Avalen he had to concentrate and focus a great deal of his energy on any given weave, but here it was with a flicker of thought that a rolling mass of dense mist started to envelop the hill on which the gateway sat.
By the time the first of the silver claws started to make their way through the gate a high thick cloud of mist was covering the land around the Brazen Gate. All one hundred of the claws came though, followed by his fellow Sentinels and then finally the large fire drakes, which fit through the gate with a squeeze. Each one came with a chain around its neck held by a handler which Mortiune learned was called a drake walker. Though to look at them the drakes bared a resemblance to their distant cousins the dragons, there were marked differences; mainly the absence of wings and the fact that drakes were wild creatures, possessing neither intellect nor the power of speech.
They were found in the hills near the desert city of Sandagga to the south-west. The city was comprised largely of drake walkers who over many generations had learned how to tame the drakes. They were a mercenary people who hired the drakes out to the highest bidder and it was not uncommon to find both sides fighting with fire drakes on their side in conflicts in Avalen. They were ferocious beasts and importantly they did have in common with dragons one ability, that of breathing fire. Not as large or as hot a flame, but nonetheless enough to melt armour and burn flesh from bone. They were a pale blue colour with hunched backs and large dull eyes, walking on all fours with thick stubby tails.
The contingent of silver claws was commanded by a tight-lipped captain who had introduced himself as Krullen. Though he issued a number of orders to the claws on arrival, Captain Krullen seemed to content to allow Mortiune overall control of the party. Prior to coming through the gate Mortiune had given the whole group, including the drake walkers, a thorough briefing about their mission.
They would make their way swiftly through the outskirts of the city to the suburb in which the dreamer’s house was. The silver claws and the drakes would subdue the ten-ton-troll whilst Mortiune and his Sentinels dealt with the talented jackal. He told those gathered that it was vital none of them strayed from the mist. Within the cloud Mortiune had control and would be able to deal with any mortals who came upon the scene.
As they'd made their way through the misty streets they saw few mortals, those few which did walk into the mist would find themselves confused and unable to move whilst in it. Once the mist was gone they found they were bereft of any memories of their time within the cloud and would go on their way none the wiser.
Mortiune was more concerned with bigger issues, however. If they were successful in besting the troll and the jackal, Mortiune was not completely certain that he could wake up Anthony Hallow, he was not certain what spell might have been cast on the mortal to keep him asleep and it was possible that without Anthony's dream form being put back on the stone bed from which he'd risen it might not be possible to wake him at all.
They made their way down Hawksdell Road. It had been Mortiune who laid his hand upon the stone circle and Mortiune who had seen into the life and mind of Anthony Hallow, thus was he able to navigate the winding streets of London without difficulty.
The Sentinels with him were a mixed group; he'd brought three elders, Caspar, Riddlin and Montrose. They were seasoned dreams, well-versed and practised and would keep their cool in a high pressure situation. He'd also brought three younger Sentinels, still in training but having shown great promise. They were Klayvius, Mackalel and Dashiel. Though their abilities were still raw and undisciplined they had excelled at a rate which their fellow novices could only envy.
As far as Mortiune was concerned this sojourn to Old Earth may well be the only time such a thing happened, for the King had spoken openly of destroying their gate upon the successful return of his party. Mortiune did not want the experience of visiting Old Earth to be something which died off within a couple of generation of Sentinels, he wanted it to be something that younger dreams could experience in order to pass on long after he and the other elders were gone.
They formed up in front of the house and Captain Krullen walked over to where Mortiune stood with the other Sentinels. “How do you wish to proceed, Sentinel?” he asked, in the echoing tone that all the silver claws seemed to possess. When Mortiune hesitated the silver claw offered some suggestions: “Do we give them a chance to come out peacefully or would you like us to simply storm the residence?”
“Bear with me Captain”, said Mortiune, who walked forward and knelt before thirty-seven Hawksdell Road. He placed his hand upon the cold ground and focused his concentration. He needed to be completely certain that they were at the right house. He felt the tarmac and he saw the sunlit day that a group of workmen had laid it; his mind moved on through the ground, across the path which had been trodden many times by many souls, under the garden gate it went and down the path, hearing the lost laughter of the innocents who once ran up and down it.
His consciousness got to the door and heard the turning of many keys, though less often these days, up the well-trod carpets he went and along the landing into the main bedroom. There, lying on the bed, was Anthony Hallow and standing above him was a black jackal whose malicious gaze was focused on him.
Mortiune snapped open his eyes back on the street and was just about to order Captain Krullen to assault the house when there was a horrendous crashing noise. All eyes turned to see that something had broken out through the entrance of the house bringing the doorway and the brick work around along with it. Mortiune watched as the ten-ton-troll stomped down the garden path. As he came he got bigger, much bigger. Eight, feet, ten feet, then twelve, fifteen, twenty feet tall until finally he was as tall as the house from which he'd emerged.
His skin was like living rock, everything about the troll bulged and swelled with power and fury. His face was flat and brutal aside from the two huge horns that emerged from just below its flat nose. When he reached the gate he let out a roar which shattered every window in the street, and probably for several streets in every direction. Mortiune was not alone in pressing his fingers to its ears. For a fleeting moment Mortiune panicked, the physical damage done to the mortal realm was going to be difficult to pass off; even though they could erase the mortals’ memories they did not have time to stay and replace that which was broken.
But the panic passed quickly, such things could not be dwelt on now. Mortiune hoped that the mortals would blame the damage on one of the many tremors in the earth which they experienced.
“Come, play with Ilich!” shouted the ten-ton-troll, before running through gate towards the ring of silver claws. There was no need for Captain Krullen to issue any orders. Say what you want about the inability of silver claws to think outside the box, they did not hesitate when it came to battle. Without fear or panic they drew their swords and leapt to meet the troll. In all the lands that are dreamed and real there are not many who would have been able to do so.
The battle was joined and from the outset Mortiune realised why they had to bring so many swords to deal with a single enemy. The silver claws swarmed the troll, they slashed at him with blade and claw but those blades which struck home were snapped or blunted and the claws drew little blood. Silver things flew through the air as Ilich fought back against the initial onslaught. The troll punched and kicked and stamped and th
e silver claws fell back. They were sent flying though the air, they hit the ground, they hit the sides of houses, they struck the tops of the metal objects with wheels which lined the streets.
Some of them struggled to their feet and ran back into the fight, others lay in mangled heaps and then Mortiune saw one of the bodies dissolve into grey dust which disappeared into the air. It was the first time he'd seen a silver claw perish, dead to dust in a few heartbeats, and he was struck by the finality of it. The fight continued.
Ilich had pulled a tree from one of the neighbouring gardens and was using it to batter the silver claws which ran at him. He struck two or three at a time, sending them hurtling through the air this way and that. Even so a number dodged under the trunk and made it through, throwing themselves on top of the troll and stabbing at him. Then Mortiune saw one of the silver claws run up Ilich's back and grasp hold of his head, slashing down with incredible force. As the claw hit the troll’s left tusk all but tore his from his face; the roar of pain which Ilich let out was deafening and several more rows of houses further out than before were now left with no windows.
Ilich grabbed hold of the claw who had robbed him of a tusk and pulled him down until he held him at his feet. Then with a series of sickening crunches, Mortiune saw the troll pound the silver claw into the floor until it was a ruined heap of scrap metal. Ilich then picked up one of the wheeled metal objects and started to use it to flatten silver claws. There seemed to be fewer of the silver guardsmen running at the troll now, the wall of steel which had stood between the troll and the Sentinels had thinned and Mortiune saw the beast advancing towards them.
Young Klayvius moved to Mortiune’s side. “Should we intervene, my lord?” he asked earnestly.
“No Klayvius, we reserve our strength for the jackal”, was Mortiune’s response. He turned to where the drake walkers waited with their charges. “Go”, he said to them. Each of the drake walkers drew a small cylinder from their pocket. At the ends of the cylinders were strange pink lights they started to weave in the air, leaving a trail of light behind them like a sparkler. Then the drake walkers threw the cylinders through the air so that they struck Ilich, the luminescent light seemed to stick to the troll whilst the walkers removed the chains from their drakes.
Mortiune was amazed at the difference, the drakes had seemed relatively docile the entire time he'd been with them, but something about the lights had stirred a fire in their eyes and as soon as the chains came off they moved like they were possessed. Their eyes were no longer dull orbs but glowed with bright pink fire. They charged at the troll and in unison they breathed a wall of fire which washed over the mighty beast. Mortiune heard him cry out when the fire hit, less in rage and more in genuine pain now. The drakes leapt onto the troll who was brought down under the weight of the pack.
They rolled around with a cacophony of shouting and snarling. The troll punched at the drakes that bit him and clung on and where they bit they breathed fire from their jaws which added to the troll’s pain. But the troll fought back, several of the drakes were flung through the air and he managed to get to his knees and pull a lamppost from the ground. There was a crackle of electricity and a bang as the orange glow from the street light went out.
Then Ilich was on the attack. The drake’s breathed fire at him but Ilich lifted one of the metal wheeled objects in one hand and used it as a shield, the flames washing to either side of it harmlessly. He struck back at them with the long metal pole, smashing heads and bodies and bringing yelps of pain from the drakes.
In the distance Mortiune heard sirens and saw flashing lights which heralded the arrival of the many mortals, in the sky he thought he heard a sound as well, similar to the droning of a sky-ship but more rapid.
All along the street lights had come on in many houses, but Mortiune had strengthened his mist to such a thickness that mortal eyes could not pierce it. They could hear the sounds of a battle they could not see and in the aftermath he hoped that the rationality of the mortal minds would provide for them some other explanation of what had happened.
The Sentinel saw the metal post which Ilich was using as a club break to a jagged end. Ilich threw his shield at the drakes, grabbed one of them and drove the sharp metal into it so hard it passed in one side and out of the other. With a gurgling shudder the drake slumped and the light went out from its eyes. Having gained a few moments respite, Ilich staggered back to the garden of number thirty-seven.
Despite the toll of battle the troll did not look fatigued, though he bled from a hundred smaller wounds. The loss of blood would soon make itself felt even for such a hardy foe. He was burned also, much of his skin from head to toe still smoked from where the drake fire had washed over him, but perhaps the worst wound was on his face, blood pumping freely from where the silver claw had taken one of his tusks. Despite the injuries he raised his fists and made ready to fight.
There were still half of the silver claws remaining, they'd taken a respite whilst Ilich tussled with the drakes but now they advanced again, this time with the drakes in tow. Mortiune sensed that the troll could not last much longer but in spite of this he also got the distinct impression that the troll seemed to be enjoying the fight. His satisfaction was delayed, however, because as the silver claws advanced the front of the house exploded and Mortiune looked up to see that the entire front wall of the building fall down into a pile of rubble.
The insides of the house were visible and there, standing on the top level, was the talented jackal. He lifted his arms above his head and Mortiune felt the air stirring. A ferocious wind leapt from nowhere into the thick of battle, pushing aside the mist and knocking a number of the armour-clad soldiers from their feet. Those who stayed standing struggled to do so. Following the wind, Mortiune saw dark clouds swarm in from the empty sky and out of these clouds lightning forked, striking several of the silver claws.
Mortiune turned and spoke to his Sentinels, “Montrose, Caspar, maintain the mist, we cannot allow the mortals to see what is happening. Riddlin, the mortal authorities are close, stay vigilant and deal with any who try and make it on scene.” The three elders nodded. Montrose and Caspar started to weave their hands in the air and as soon as they started Mortiune saw the mist start to thicken. Riddlin set off down the street in the direction that the sirens were approaching from.
Mortiune turned to the three novices. “Follow me in. Remember, the dream weaves seem particularly strong here, that counts for him and us. We do not know how strong he might have become but take comfort in the fact that we are equally strengthened, advance with me and be prepared for anything”, he shouted over the noise that the impromptu storm was making.
He walked towards the house with Klayvius to his left and Dashiel and Mackalel to his right. Mortiune raised his hand and started to whisper his dream weave as he walked and the lightning streaming out of the sky at the silver claws was suddenly rendered ineffective, now striking an invisible barrier against which it raged as it sought to strike its foe.
Mortiune clenched his fist and raised it in front of him, the whole time whispering the words of the dream weaves as they had been taught to him. Truth, mercy and regret, the three central tenets of dream power, thus was he protected, thus would he strike out with compassion and meet his regrets only when he finally reached his tomb. From the outstretched fist a bolt of white light fired, it was intended to stun, to knock the jackal from his feet and put him to sleep.
The bolt got close but then slowed in the air in front of the jackal who caught it in his hand and snuffed it out before smiling. The silver claws and drakes had rushed in at the troll, now the battle was joined with Mortiune and his group focusing completely on the jackal above them. Mortiune fired another bolt, larger and stronger; this one the jackal deflected before striking back. It seemed all of a sudden to Mortiune that he was drowning, that he could not breathe and was being crushed beneath a wall of water. The old Sentinel closed his eyes, forced back the panic and countered the telepathic a
ssault. The water was gone and he could breathe again. “With me”, Mortiune shouted to his novices.
All four raised their fists and weaved the dream, four large balls of white light span through the air at the jackal, one he deflected but the others struck him in the chest sending him flying back into the bedroom and out of sight.
The fight with the troll was ongoing. The entire front garden was splattered with blood, much of it from the troll but plenty from the fire drakes, of which only three were alive. Ilich looked to be fighting for his life as Mortiune and the other three Sentinels climbed over the rubble into the front room of the house.
They ran up the stairs and as they went the whole house seemed to be swaying from the damage done to it during the fight. When he burst into the bedroom Mortiune almost lost his head from the blade which span towards him, but he ducked just in time and heard, "Oof", from behind him. Mortiune turned to see young Dashiel with a dagger sticking out of his chest. On the part of the blade which could still be seen blue writing was glowing upon it.
Mortiune turned and brought up a shield of hard air in front of him as several small red fireballs flew across the room from where the jackal crouched on the other side of the bed. The fire hit the hard air and fizzled out with a bang. Then a fork of light leapt though the air at Mortiune who let the shield drop so that he could grab it on one end. He whispered the dream weave and started to send his own will back along the beam of fire.
As Mackalel and Klayvius came into the room they reached out their own hands and beams of light erupted from them, lancing across at the jackal. He caught them both in the same palm as the one through which he and Mortiune fought. Slowly the three advanced into the room, their three beams focused across the bed at the jackal who held them off with every ounce of will he had left.
Mortiune glanced down to see the still form of Anthony Hallow lying on the bed, pale but breathing deeply as he slept, oblivious to the battle raging around him. Mortiune looked up at the jackal, despite the black fur the Sentinel could see that his enemy was sweating profusely, soon his strength would expire and the fiery light being focused on him by the three Sentinels would strike him down.
Then the jackal shouted, “Ilich!” the strain of the battle evident in his voice.
Mortiune heard several heavy footsteps, then two large hands reached up and grabbed hold of the edge of the floor at the open front of the house. The troll pulled himself into the bedroom, shrinking in size as he did so. Drake fire followed him up, sweeping into the room. The Sentinel met the dark eyes of the jackal and he saw not fear but triumph in the black calculating orbs. The jackal gave an almighty push which sent the three sentinels flying backwards through the wall of the bedroom; then there was a blinding flash of blue light followed by silence, glorious and profound silence punctuated by only one small noise. Mortiune looked up groggily, he was in a room all adorned with pink; on the side there was a box with a small dancing figure in it and as she danced music played, soft, light and calm.
Mortiune looked to either side of him where Klayvius and Mackalel lay, both had blood streaming from their ears and nostrils. The bedroom where Anthony Hallow had lain was gone entirely and the house now groaned in what Mortiune suspected were its death throes. He got up and struggled forward.
“Sentinel?” said a voice from below. Mortiune looked down to see a battered but alive Captain Krullen standing in the demolished front room of the house. “Were we successful?” he called up.
“We were not”, responded Mortiune, with the dust clogging his throat.
The silver claw nodded. “What are you orders?” he called. He did not sound disappointed or angry. Only twenty of his silver claws remained alive and only two of the drakes, in addition to these losses they'd also lost their primary target who could quite literally be anywhere on Old Earth, and yet the Captain accepted this knowledge, broke it down and digested it in his pragmatic mind and was ready to move on swiftly to the next part of their mission.
“We must get back to the gate and inform the King.” Mortiune dragged the still forms of Klayvius and Mackalel to edge of the room and dropped them off, where they were caught by silver claws who put them over their shoulders and started to make their way down the street. The top part of the house was wrecked and Mortiune was forced to lower himself down the same way to get free. And not a moment too soon, he had no sooner climbed over the rubble and started to stagger across the garden when with one last crash the whole house came down behind him.
The drake walkers had already put fire to the bodies of the dead drakes, which shrivelled and burned away like wax. The remains of the silver claws who had fallen were already gone. Mortiune met up with Caspar and Montrose and behind the silver claws they made their way out of the bloodied ruin that was Hawksdell Road. On the way Riddlin joined them silently. As they walked the mist walked with them, Mortiune saw many of the wheeled metal boxes with flashing lights about them. There were mortals in and around them, some of which held black metal weapons in their hands. But none of them moved, none of them looked upon the strange party which walked past them, Riddlin and the mist had worked well.
Out of the city they went. Dawn was creeping over the horizon when they got back to the hill outside London. They climbed it and started to walk back through the Brazen Gate. One by one, Mortiune watched them pass beneath the archway. As they filed through he looked back over the land, the vivid feeling of being alive had infused him the moment he'd walked onto Old Earth. Somewhere out there was the mortal who had dreamed the memory of Mortiune, or the fellow mortal that Mortiune once was, but he would never meet or know them for this was not his world. He was but a dream.
It was only as Mortiune went to walk beneath the arch himself that he remembered something which he should not have forgotten. He cursed himself and looked over the brightening land. Back along the route, down Hawksdell Road and lying beneath the rubble of number thirty-seven was the body of his dead apprentice, Sentinel Dashiel, with a mercy dagger lodged in his chest.
Dashiel was not a silver claw, he would not turn to dust and fade away. Nor had he been put to the flame like the dead drakes to leave only a small pile of blue ash which would be explained away as some sort of chemical leak of unknown origin by the rational minds of the waking dreamers. They would pull him from the rubble, study him and attempt to identify him, but they would not succeed for the same reason that Mortiune would never find the mortal who he once was; this was not Dashiel's world and he was but a dream.
For a brief second Mortiune considered going back to retrieve the body, but he could not, they had tarried too long, failed too deeply and caused too much destruction. Dashiel would remain a mystery to the mortals, one of many which they would soon forget. Mortiune was not yet in his tomb, but nonetheless his regrets weighed heavily upon him as he passed through the Brazen Gate back to the great dream of Avalen.
Beyond the Dream Page 22