Beyond the Dream

by Oliver Kennedy

  Chapter Sixteen: Turncoats

  Cyra the Silver looked confused by the Prince's outburst. “A battle is not finished until your foes are vanquished, Prince Karmalaine”, he rumbled.

  “They were not attacking us!” said the Prince angrily.

  “They may yet have done, this way we can be certain that there will be no retribution.”

  Prince Karmalaine stalked away from the bemused dragon. He walked over to the steaming hole and stared in. It was a long way down into the rocky cave but he could not see a patch of snow nor anything moving. What a waste of a people, Prince Karmalaine thought, he had been away from Fenn too long. Was this what his father meant, he wondered, about the lessons he must learn in life before he could sit in the Nested Throne? He had learnt much about the ruthless nature of the dreams who inhabited Avalen. He had seen where the hate and the desire for war started. Within a few short moments Cyra had eradicated a species which had lived in Avalen since the elder days.

  The dreamer was still unconscious. Balg-Miur had laid him down in the snow at his feet and Karmalaine walked over to where he lay. The radiance of youth had faded from this mortal, drained by time and sadness painted in the lines on his bearded face. Golgoleth landed nearby and stalked over on his thick goat legs, the Prince did not like the look in his eyes. “The dreamer?” he growled.

  “The dreamer”, Vulthian confirmed.

  “We should take him to Bloodren”, said the demon with an angry gleam in his eye. Prince Karmalaine walked to stand between the demon and the dreamer as Cyra stalked over from the entrance to the cavern.

  “We are taking him to the Mercurial Chambers”, the Prince said slowly.

  “Bloodren is closer, Bloodren is safer. Enemies are near”, said the demon.

  “Our enemies cannot hope to stand against us, and I will be long dead before I allow a dreamer into the hands of the vermin of Bloodren”, said Cyra.

  “Long dead”, said the demon with a malevolent tone. Suddenly there was a boom in the air, like thunder or as if something was moving at a tremendous speed through the sky. Then there was a blinding flash which struck down from the sky just above Cyra's head. The burning light struck down on the dragon and seemed to pass right through his head. When the light passed Prince Karmalaine saw Kalwyn of the House of Merywel standing on the dragon's head with his black eyes gleaming in a fashion that Prince Karmalaine had not seen before.

  Cyra's head had slumped to the floor and his eyes were closed, the fires gone out. In the angel's hands was a long golden spear which went right through Cyra's head pinning it to the ground. Prince Karmalaine was rooted to the spot, he could not tear his eyes from the apparently dead dragon in front of him.

  “Why have you done this?” he asked the angel.

  Kalwyn shrugged. “The dragon was most arrogant, he would have undoubtedly stood in our way and I could not afford such risks when the event came.”

  “Stood in your way?” said Karmalaine. Before an answer could come Golgoleth walked forward to pick up the dreamer. Vulthian stood in his path so the demon swung at him with a claw with which was blocked. Vulthian's own claw struck home, however and the demon screamed like an animal and jumped back. A series of bloody rents had appeared from his neck to his waist.

  “My Prince, we are betrayed”, said Vulthian, drawing his sword and dropping into a combat crouch.

  “Wait, stop, what is going on here?” said Karmalaine, who could scarcely believe what was happening.

  “Ah, my sweet young Prince. The ages are changing, the sun is setting on the line of Geddon. We will take the dreamer to Bloodren. From there we shall see where prophecy takes us”, said Kalwyn walking towards him.

  “But you are an angel. Bloodren is your nemesis”, said the Prince.

  “Bloodren is our counterbalance Prince Karmalaine. I can assure you that the lords of Archaven are not above working with their demonic kin to achieve a common goal.” As he talked he drew his sword and leapt at Vulthian. The silver claw did not hesitate to meet him and the sparks flew from silver talons as the angel and the claw started to duel. Prince Karmalaine drew his own sword just before Golgoleth leapt into the air with a blood-curdling scream. The mercy blade was in front of him and he gulped as the large demon fell towards him. Thankfully he never got to find out how well he might have fared as a huge hand caught Golgoleth in mid-flight sending him tumbling into the air. A similar blow knocked Kalwyn from his feet, though the angel was back up again immediately, staring at the giant which had just struck him.

  “Balg-Miur, you are surely not siding with the dead dragon?” the angel said with a smile.

  “This is not right Kalwyn”, said an indecisive sounding giant.

  “Oh please, now is not the time to develop a sense of delicacy and honour. I took your aid as assumed in this matter, or are the children of Rokumung content to bend the knee to the fool of Fenngaard still?”

  “We gave an oath, you gave an oath. Rokumung's promise is a giant's promise, as are the promises of his sons, we do not betray”, rumbled the giant, balling his fists.

  “Then you will perish along with everyone else”, said Kalwyn. All traces of the benevolent angel were gone. A cold hard creature was here now, something devoid of compromise or compassion. “Give us the dreamer and your suffering will be brief, delay us in our fate, and we will carry you back to Bloodren to endure a lingering demise”, said the angel as Golgoleth flew down to stand next to him facing the giant, the silver claw and the Prince.

  Karmalaine was thankful that the giant had sided with them. Had Balg-Miur decided to join with Bloodren and Archaven then he and Vulthian would be as good as dead and the dreamer would be on his way to hell. In truth, the giant's actions had surprised him. Like Kalwyn he would have assumed that Torabane would have joined in a rebellion on such a scale, particularly given that the Tower of Mirgarden would now side with Fenngaard to avenge the fallen Cyra.

  “You over-estimate your strength, traitor”, the Prince said bitterly to the angel. “I would advise you flee and tell your masters that there is nowhere in Avalen or beyond where they will be able to hide from my father's wrath.”

  “You father will not survive the next moon, wretched Prince”, drawled Golgoleth, “and as for my masters, why not tell them yourselves?” He started to laugh at the end and Prince Karmalaine looked up into the sky and saw the reason for his mirth. The grey sky had gone black and there, moving towards them, was a cloud darker than all the rest. Its shape was not random, it was that of a skull, a skull with horns and a thousand huge fangs. The maw raced across the sky with a blanket of darkness at its back. Beneath that darkness there flew countless angels and demons, all the might of Bloodren and Archaven.

  Before he knew what was happening Balg-Miur had swept the prince, the silver claw and the dreamer up in his hands and was running across the snow. Behind they heard Golgoleth roar, “Run, run like fools. Gulgazish has come, he will devour you along with your dreams, Haaaaaaaaa!”

  The giant ran fast, impossibly fast, but it was not enough. The sky darkened and the shadow of the clouds overtook them. From the east came hell and they could not outrun it. Balg-Miur turned, beyond the black clouds over them they could see other things, huge pieces of sooty red rock moving through the sky dotted here and there bearing fortresses made from bone. It was as if the realm of Bloodren itself had come.

  The air above them was filled with demons of every ilk, wing spans as wide as the valley in which they stood, chattering, hollering fiends with maws big enough to swallow a man whole. Flying around and with them were angels, the legion of Archaven. This union of the despicable and the pure was an abomination. It was as if the presence of the dreamer in Avalen had warped not just the weather but the psyche of every dream which lived in it. What madness could have taken hold of Arcturion that he would align his people with the repulsive minions of Bloodren, thought Karmalaine.

  These were thoughts which the Prince would never find the answer to, howeve
r, for the enemy were now upon them. The demons flew down, laughing and roaring as they came. The air was thick with them and Prince Karmalaine steeled himself for the inevitable. But when they were close enough that he could count the spikes on their wings an explosion occurred within the ranks of the first wave of demons, then another, then another. Brilliant balls of blue fire exploded with a radius to swallow dozens of demons at a time. Prince Karmalaine turned in Balg-Miur's hand and saw that from the north there came salvation, a salvation which the Prince would not have thought himself thankful for until now.

  Under the dark sky of Bloodren there came a host of silver sorrow hawks and on their backs rode the talented jackals in their thousands. Within moments the firework display to end all others had begun. Balls of flame, blue, red, orange, an array of colours flew through the air. Those demons and angels caught in it were vaporised or knocked from the air like swatted flies. The huge mouth in the clouds seemed to roar and from it flew even more demons and angels which responded to the flaming projectiles of the jackals with flaming swords and power bolts of their own.

  The wings of the sorrow hawks were true and much of the demonic and angelic assault was absorbed by them, but Prince Karmalaine saw a number of the jackals tumbling through the air. His elation at the timely intervention was tempered by the fact that he saw a number of the jackals swooping down in their direction. They had their own agenda, of that the Prince was certain.

  “Balg-Miur, go south, we have no friends here”, the giant nodded and started to run. The battle raged overhead. Fire and lighting carpeted the clouds. On and on the waves of sorrow hawks came. In many cases the jackals riding them stood on their saddles to cast their dream weaves at the enemy. The air crackled as they lay about them with pure energy. The angels and demons reeled from the initial assault but quickly started to recover. Both airborne armies came south after the giant and his cargo and as they flew through the air alongside each other they exchanged volley after volley which saw hundreds incinerated.

  The speed of the giant and the interference of the two foes with each other’s progress meant that soon they started to gain some distance from the battle, a respite for which they were thankful. Sadly the respite was not to be a long one. Balg-Miur was only a league or so from the shallow ridge at the southern end of the basin which they had traversed but days before when he stopped.

  “Why have we stopped?” asked Vulthian.

  “Yonder armoured dwarf, look yonder”, said the giant who breathed heavily. Prince Karmalaine had been so intent on the battle going on in the sky behind them that he'd paid no heed to their path, save for his desire that it lead away from battle such a hope had seemed futile. Yet lined up on the ridge was a mass of grey armoured figures. Here and there in their ranks the Prince could see cannons mounted on wheels.

  “Vulthian”, the Prince called to the Lord Captain who was held in the giant’s other hand, “are these silver claws?” They looked similar, the same build, the same colouration on their armour.

  “No, My Prince”, shouted Vulthian over the noise of the battle, “they bear no claws and they have no familiarity to my mind.”

  “I recognise them”, said the giant, his tone guarded.

  “And?” said the Prince.

  “No friends will you find here either, little Prince”, said a sombre giant.

  “Who are they?!” shouted the Prince in exasperation. But before Balg-Miur could answer the air was filled with the sound of ten thousand cannons firing. Purple fireballs filled the sky as they streamed from the army of grey knights on the horizon. The cannons which could be seen along the ridge were obviously a fraction of those which were hidden in the forest behind them. From the trees the cannons thundered and sent their deadly projectiles screaming through the air. Some were aimed at the giant, but many soared high into the sky over them where the jackals and the demons and angels had closed in.

  Balg-Miur turned his back as the fireballs reached them. They exploded against his frame and Prince Karmalaine heard him grunt in pain. “Balg-Miur, run!” shouted the Prince. But the giant did not move.

  “There is nowhere left to go, little Prince, and Balg-Miur has had enough of running.” With that the giant put the three of them down on the ground and turned. He bellowed a war cry and ran at the grey knights which Karmalaine saw had started to descend the slope in neat well-ordered ranks. On and on they came and the Prince knew that the forest hid the largest part of their numbers. Already he could see many thousands and from the looks of things, from the sound of unseen boots marching and the momentum with which they came, there was no sign of them thinning out.

  The giant ran into their midst and started thrashing and stamping at them. With each strike more and more of them were crushed beneath him, but that did not seem to deter them. On they came and those who got past the raging giant reformed their ranks and continued to march towards where the Prince stood in the snow, with Vulthian at his side and the dreamer sleeping at his feet.

  “We must go, My Prince”, said Vulthian. The Prince nodded and knelt down to grab one of the dreamer’s arms. As he did so he saw the dreamer’s eyes open.