Dreamcatcher
Title Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Epilogue
Dreamcatcher
Published By: Christian Rosnell
Copyright 2014 Christian Rosnell
Prologue
To the casual observer, it might seem odd that the imposing young man kneeling on the black marble floor was completely ignoring the prone figure behind him. Down on one knee, his eyes closed and head bowed, he was muttering urgently under his breath and focusing intensely on something that apparently he alone could see. As a breath of wind stole over the black, silent room, he looked up. Apparently content, the man drew himself up to his full considerable height and threw back his shoulders, relaxed. His stormy gray eyes glinted in the dying torchlight as he glanced around the room with mild interest.
As large and powerfully built as the man was, the gigantic room he in which he stood reduced him to an ant’s significance or less. It was too dark to make out the sky high ceiling or distant walls in the flickering torchlight, although one could make out several towering pillars looming ominously over the silent hall. Richly adorned with countless jewels and rare metals, these pillars bore epic paintings along their full length that seemed to transcend the skill of mere men. Powerful human-looking figures in white or gold danced, fought, and conversed against bright, airy backgrounds. In darker and grimmer sections, great battles were fought between enormous bright figures, elegant shadows, roaring beasts, and mere men. Other nondistinct figures peered out from between trees – and some hulking, dark creatures were to be found occasionally amidst a slew of dead enemies. Countless other painted pillars, towering statues, and expertly chiseled sculptures crowded the room, leaving only a long straight path to the back center of the room clear of ornament, save for a long gold carpet embroidered in white.
The tall man’s gaze drifted inevitably over to this far end of the cavernous room, where a massive throne atop a pedestal. Constructed flawlessly of black and white marble with veins of pure gold cutting across its surface, one of the epicenters of power in the realm of Aether now sat empty and dark. The cold, hard silence in the room seemed to seep from the heavy throne. For years, the young man had dreamt urgently of a day when he could stand in this room as the rightful king he deserved to be. He did deserve it, regardless of what any of the others said. After years of expecting to inherit this throne by right, here he was, having stolen it. He regretted nothing, however – he never anticipated it being stolen from him in the first place. So he’d unfortunately had to take back that which had been taken from him.
And now he was about to throw it away.
He felt somewhat let down. After all the years of dreaming of this day, here he was. He had won – only to find the victory meant less than nothing to him. He was about to leave this all behind for the promise of an even greater ambition. Something only he could accomplish. Something that needed to be done, but something none save him had the guts to take control and actually do. That ended today.
Yes, it was over. Time to turn around and walk away. Easy for you to say, said a small voice in the man’s head, you can’t really predict what’s going to happen. What if you fail? What then?
The young man cursed and spun around. He glared at the dark, high ceiling and exhaled. True, he was throwing away his great prize, but he sure as hell wasn’t giving up. His new path was necessary to shatter the pathetic fetters placed on him and others of his kind. He would not, and could never gain the true power he wanted by only taking bits and pieces. He needed to do the whole thing, or none at all. This was sure to be the first step of the greatest journey of all time.
After a second’s hesitation, the young man turned and began to slouch towards the exit. He slipped almost immediately, and was hard pressed to remain standing. Scowling, he looked down at the swirling pool at his feet.
Blood.
Shaking his head, he turned to look at the elderly, yet powerful man lying sprawled on the ground. He could be sleeping, were it not for the dark streams of blood coursing out from under him. At least the old man’s mortal weakness would be turned into something far greater, and more powerful. Where he was going, all obstacles and weaknesses would be obliterated. It was his right, no… his responsibility to act where his kin were afraid to transcend the foolish limits they had set for themselves.
No, they couldn’t be saved. It was too late for them. But the towering young man did have something in mind that would revolutionize an entirely different people, in a different time and place. An age of glory and prosperity was nigh upon them, whether they knew it or not. Here was the end of one era and the beginning of a shining new one. And it would have his name all over it.
Collecting himself, the towering young man tapped into his newfound inner power. He closed his eyes and envisioned everything as he was about to create it, seeing his own role in great detail. Once he had the full picture in his mind, he accessed the full flow of the power now charging through his veins. A fierce wind sprang up in earnest in the dark throne room, even though he was inside. The floor and walls began rattling in protest, and a sharp crackling sound cut through the turbulent air.
The young man’s eyes snapped open, and there was triumph in their stormy gray depths. In a voice so soft it could scarcely be heard over the howling wind, the man proclaimed with finality, “let it be”…
A blinding, searing blue light rippled silently across the room, and he was gone…
As the silence stretched on in the now dark throne room, a chill crept into the air. The only sound was of a note, tattered and burnt, floating to the ground. It landed atop the broken corpse on the floor, a warning to all who read it. One last faint gust swept the room, shuddered, and died. Oblivion took over.
And the only thing to break the eternal silence, were the words spun in black.
I was supposed to be the hero.
It was my destiny, my inheritance. And it was stolen from me. I was the light that cut through the darkness. I was everything they needed, and more. I have been beaten, shamed, and cast aside by those who needed me most. Accuse me of nothing – they have forced me to do this! This was
never my intention.
Their blood is on your hands.
This means war. None of you have any idea what I am capable of. I was meant to be your shield, your light, your eternal protector. I was supposed to save us at a time when no one believed we could save ourselves. I always believed it; but those who should have stood with me, stood against me.
My – no, I cannot speak his name – your king has ripped the pulsing heart out of my body and bestowed it upon a lesser man. And by spilling the sacred blood of tradition, this man and all of you have committed the highest of all evils.
I will have my revenge.
None will be spared.
This is not over. Though time may wash over my memory and dust collect on the tragedies done here, I will wait, and I will remember. When the time comes, I will strike. And I will have my vengeance.
I was supposed to be your hero. God knows what you have turned me into.
Chapter One
Silent lightning cracked the sky below as the black sea rushed down from above. A haze of rain arose softly from beneath, or was it mist falling off the sea? Thunder exploded with a vengeance across the sky below... Wait, below?
I’m falling.
A second thunderous chorus brought the confused young man to his senses. A cacophony of muddled thoughts screamed simultaneously through his head.
How did I get here? What happened? Am I dreaming? What?… How?…
Shaking his head violently, the young man flung his arms out wide. Looking down, he gauged that he had only seconds before he would crash into the foaming black waves. Eyes narrowed, he focused in on the cliff face racing alarmingly past to his right. Pointing his right arm downward, he flexed his hand in anticipation.
Wait for it… Wait for it…
With a grunt of effort, he yanked his arm toward his body as if pulling on a set of invisible strings. Thick tendrils of rock shot out from the cliff face below. Holding his breath with concentration as the wind roared in his ears, the young man braced himself and grabbed onto the thickest rock beam as he fell by it. It cracked deeply, but did not give out immediately. The young man quickly swung to the next beam and the next, working his way across the cliff face on this set of makeshift monkey bars.
Looking down, he saw a mere twenty feet between him and the sharp, jagged rocks that sat half hidden in the black waves below. Sighing with relief and exasperation, he tried to recall how he had gotten in this predicament. Still breathing hard, he thought back a few hours. Oh yeah! Because I was persuaded to sleep on an overhanging tree branch by that idiot…
“Keep up!” The shout came from a second, larger young man running on a rocky pathway above that surely hadn’t been there before. He moved with a nimble grace for his size, though his strength was undeniable as he surged forward and leaped across a chasm in the cliff face, grabbing the ledge above and pulling himself up in one fluid motion. He dropped to the ground in a perfect pose, white cloak and silvery long hair flying behind him in the high wind, almost as if he was not taking the near plummet to his death seriously.
Show off…
Turning to look at his exasperated friend dangling below, this large young man with the silvery-blond hair put his hands on his hips and laughed. Laughed as if this was the funniest thing in the world – and only he could see it.
Typical…
“You really shouldn’t listen to me, should you?”, the large one said.
“You’re telling me”, said the young man dangling below, closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he looked up again at his mirthful companion. Hanging with both arms from the last outcrop of rock, there was a good thirty feet between his position and where his companion stood above. “You’re going to have to help me up there, or I will finish you off as you were clearly planning to do to me.”
”Finish you off? How was I supposed to know lightning would strike the overhanging tree branch we just happened to be sleeping in…”
“Mikael, I swear, you think you’re invincible sometimes. Remind me to question your ‘great ideas’ more next time.” But this Mikael had already extended his right arm and was tracing in the air. Somehow, a makeshift ladder of rough stone steps was cut out of the cliff face below in the exact pattern of his arm movement. Mikael did this effortlessly, as if it were easy and walking or breathing.
Swinging backwards and forth again a couple times to gain momentum, the young man below flung himself at the now sculpted cliff face, colliding with a muffled sound and grabbing firmly onto the rough stone ladder. Climbing up quickly and smoothly, he jumped the last few steps and landed with a thump next to his companion Mikael, a slow grin spreading across his face despite himself.
As fast as the intense storm had come, it had gone. You never could predict anything about these new mountains, or just about anything else that popped up unexpectedly in the frontier wilderness. Maybe that was why it was so fun to be the first ones on site. As this mountain had to have popped up last night, Lyght was positive he and Mikael were the first ones to investigate it. It was something they were used to doing – they enjoyed this sort of break from their more stressful work.
Mikael leaned into the cool breeze whipping off the ocean, watching the horizon with an amused look on his face. “Nothing like an early morning fall to your death to start your day. I must say, Lyght, with me around I can’t see how you claim to be ‘not a morning person’”.
The young man called Lyght turned away slightly, dark hair whipping around his face. He seemed to be trying to maintain his state of exasperation, but he couldn’t help it – he burst out laughing. Pretty soon, the pair of them were doubled up with mirth, making such a scene that a flock of seagulls burst angrily from their nests below on the cliff face. The sound echoed off the black stone and soared over the previously quiet ocean, reverberating every which direction. The horizon warmed in anticipation of the oncoming sunrise, and the sea took on a light pink tinge in the distance. A rare day was ahead.
Lyght recovered first. Slashing his right arm back and forth, he began to cut a crude but effective staircase up from their exposed pathway up to the cliff top high above. Leaping up and to the right with a triumphant cry, he yelled, “And the first one to the next mountain gets to name it!”
“Way ahead of you, brother”, Mikael muttered, his eyes on the clearing sky. He whipped off his elegant white cloak, embroidered with a swirling light gold pattern – his finest possession. Sighing with resignation, he bunched up the four corners in his left hand, forming a sort of parachute. He raised his other hand toward the Dark mountaintop looming above them to the north. After a moment with his eyes closed, face set in concentration, a prodigious gale erupted from beneath him, ballooning the cloak in his hand and sending him flying into the air. This was no normal gust – this absolute blast of wind sent thunderous echoes shuddering all across the Dark mountain range.
Turning his head and cringing at the sudden blast, Lyght just caught Mikael soaring up past him, laughing uproariously, as if to say – “You’ve let me win already?” Within seconds, Mikael cleared the precipitous cliff face high above and dropped, presumably landing on the grassy knoll that extended out of the pine forests above. Lyght sighed with exasperation – Mikael always had been prone to the grandiose and the unusual. He already had a significant head start to the new mountain, looming black and foreboding ahead. Lyght wasn’t going to lose again, was he?
No, not again. Not tonight. Time to end your streak, friend. Lyght redoubled his efforts, somehow cutting the makeshift stone stairway out of the black rock with his right hand as he climbed up, grabbing and steadying himself with his left arm. He did all this apparently effortlessly, looking deep in thought.
Mikael had to have used up nearly all his spirit on that one trick. As effective as it was, that will drain him nearly to zero. It’s incredible he even had the juice to lift himself that far with mere wind.
Lyght was way behind, for now. But he would steadily gain his way back. And when it came dow
n to it, he would have the power left for one last maneuver; one that he knew would leave him with the upper hand.
It always seemed to go this way. Either Mikael would come up with something brilliant – do something amazing – and Lyght would be left in the dust. Or, alternatively, he would try to do much – as he was surely doing now – and Lyght would simply outsmart him. This was what was the young man called Lyght hoped for now.
Of course, nothing the pair was doing right now was at all normal. They both had a very rare and unique ability, one that a select few in the Dreamscape were blessed with. To begin with, every gifted individual with the “Dreamcasting” ability needed much less sleep than a normal person. In fact, a “Dreamcaster” only needed a few hours of sleep per night to replenish their body, and would never enter the deep sleep stage. From his own research, Lyght had found that this was what scholars called REM sleep, in which a person experienced a fantastical semi-reality, a “dream”. An average person needed roughly two hours of REM a night to stay healthy – a Dreamcaster needed none. Someone special enough to be gifted with Dreamcasting need not dream while slept, for they could essentially “dream” in the real world, while awake.
Well, in a manner of speaking, anyway. There were, in Lyght’s opinion, many disappointing limits to the ability. First of all, you could not create something where none existed, nor destroy something that already existed. Of course, things could be broken down, but the fabric of the universe itself – that which a Dreamcaster manipulated – could not be created of destroyed. This was the Working Principle of Dreamcasting.
In manipulating this fabric, this universal energy, one faced significant barriers and limits. Ones that Mikael wasn’t paying enough attention to right now. Ones that Lyght would exploit to win. He ran through them in his head as he climbed in the increasingly high wind.
First Law of Dreamcasting – A linear increase in power results in a proportional loss in spirit.
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