Seth nodded. She was absolutely right, this was a very tricky situation they’d suddenly found themselves in. He’d heard about Mikael and Lyght going on this “mission” too, from Lyght, but hadn’t heard any real details about what it entailed.
Seth unscrolled a piece of paper from the spot on his gauntlet, and wrote a quick question on it, handing it to Iri to read aloud. She raised her eyebrows and looked to Troy and Kiara on the screen, “He was wondering whether the existence of this ‘mission’ means the Heirs have been corrupted to the King’s side. That definitely is a concern.”
Troy puts his hands out, “No way to know for sure, is there? I mean, I would say it’s unlikely that they’re completely in with the King, considering the work Seth and Lyn did introducing them to the Dream Syndicate and our mission; but they definitely seem to be leaning the Legion’s way. That shouldn’t come as a surprise to us – after all, their whole goal is to join the Legion. However, they also planned to destroy the Dark themselves in the first place, and that’s the basis on which we need to align ourselves with them. We need to find them now, first of all, and then get to work on bringing them around to our side. We’ll have to tell them everything – all of the information about the Dreamscape’s history and what the Dark really is, to convert them over. But I think we can do it.”
His twin Kiara nodded next to him, “They are the Heirs, after all. Lyn’s always known something that we haven’t; I’ve always believed that. He just knows the Heirs are going to be the ones to destroy the Dark. How he knows, I have no idea. But I believe in him; because he’s the only one, outside of Decimader himself, who truly knows the way things were before. That has to count as something.”
Seth nodded and looked down. He wanted to have the same hope too, but well… he could at least say he did trust in Troy, and Kiara, and Iri. Even if he felt he didn’t know Lyn that well, he knew that his friends trusted the man, and he trusted their judgment. They’d built this whole movement together, and he couldn’t balk on the way forward now that they were so close. No, it was time he put his fear aside and just go for it.
As Seth was thinking, Iri was still looking at Troy and Kiara, “Just be safe, okay? Has it occurred to you that now that Decimader has Lyn, he might know Lyn was supposed to meet you at the first spire? I don’t want to believe Lyn would crack either, but…”
Troy nodded his head firmly, “Yeah, we know. And we’ll be ready when we cross that part of the bridge tonight. We’re going to hurry up from here, try and get there a little bit early. We’ll scout it out, and play it safe it we have to.”
Seth and Iri nodded, and Iri pulled the pen out of its sheath at her waist to erase the screen in a minute. “That sounds like a plan guys. Stay safe tonight, and we’ll try and meet up with you, say, northwest of the Zone tomorrow? Look for a stand of maple on the banks of the channel, a stone’s throw away from the Zone. No one should see us there.”
Troy nodded, “Will do.” He glanced over at his twin sister, looking exhausted, but looked back at the screen smiling, “I have to say, I’m looking forward to seeing you guys again. I really –” Troy stopped all of a sudden, his violet eyes growing wide as he stared off past Seth and Iri. He jumped up all of a sudden, “Guys! Look out behind y–”
Suddenly, Seth felt the weight of the world – a crushing, icy cold thunderbolt – slam down upon his head, battering his ravaged body into the ground, broken. Seth tried to get up and defend himself, but his skull felt pulverized, in bits that grinded against each other at the slightest movement. He yelled out in pain as his vision flashed black and red. A sea of deep blue flashed across his vision before the rip tide grabbed him, yanking him away, away, away…
No…
Seth’s vision flashed sickeningly. Blue. Indigo.
Black.
Chapter Forty-Five
Lightning flashed through the thick layers of swirling clouds above as night fell. A Dark night was coming, and indigo was turning swiftly to black as the swirling black matter in the sky crept towards the horizon, trembling as it prepared to drop down and choke the night with its suffocating dark mass. The air smelled of rain as a strangely calm wind blew out of the west, foretelling a massive storm that already blotted out the horizon with massive, anvil-shaped thunderheads – like giant black cathedrals in the sky. The last vestiges of the day’s light barely illuminated the storm in the west, fading fast into oblivion as the Dark night approached. It was only a matter of time now.
Lyght crouched, hidden, in a small stone room high in the reaches of the first spire of the massive Central Bridge. Made of dark steel with soaring stone battlements and towers, the bridge “spires” doubled as a kind of fortress that shielded the capital city of Glory from any possible attackers. Not that any attack was likely – for it would be almost impossible for invaders to cross the bridge, a few days worth of travel, with these fortresses dotting its length every few miles.
Lyght was prepared, however, for a battle of sorts as he stared through the narrow arrow slit in the soaring tower. Dressed in full armor with his helm on now, Lyght crouched next to Mikael and looked down at the bridge where the two leaders of the Dream Syndicate, their targets, would soon be arriving. They were supposed to show up at midnight, to meet with someone who wouldn’t be showing up, as it turned out. Decimader been tipped-off about the meeting somehow or other, and the two criminals would meet a vastly different welcome instead; an ambush from two fully armed Dreamcasters. They wouldn’t be expecting it, and they would fall under the onslaught; just as the King intended. They would be captured, and presumably brought to the King for judgment. And of course, Lyght and Mikael would be inducted into the Legion for their achievement.
It all seems so simple when I think of it like that. But…
Lyght turned to Mikael, about to voice some of his concerns, but his friend cut him off by clapping him on the shoulder, “None of that right now. We got this. Dreamcasters or not, we have the advantage of surprise on them. They won’t hear us coming from up here. We’ll go right down the third floor when we see them, just as we’ve planned, and jump down behind them to immediately take them out. If we use all our spirit in one strike, as Lyn taught us, there is absolutely no way they can protect themselves in time. Remember what Lyn said in training?”
Lyght nodded, “The Dreamcaster who strikes first, wins.”
“Well there you go”, Mikael said, “you and I both know that we’re prepared for this. And if it comes to a fight, which I can’t see how it will, we have the advantage of chemistry and teamwork ‘cause we’ve always known each other. We’ll be fine. And anyway, it won’t come to that. Like I said, we’ve got this.” He held out an armored fist, still on one knee, and Lyght met it, feeling a bit more confident. Lyght never had understood it, but his friend always had a way of talking to him that made him feel more encouraged. While Lyght considered himself a confident enough person, he always enjoyed the fresh optimism his friend could bring, even to the direst of situations.
It was only a few short minutes until the Dark finally fell, obscuring the visibility significantly as they remained watching up in the tower. Almost-blindingly bright, burning lights clicked on all over the exterior of the tower as soon as it hit midnight, and it was just enough to maintain a dim view on the bridge surface below – albeit not for more than twenty feet or so. Lyght kept his eyes peeled for any movement, watching the bridge surface below. When their targets approached, Lyght and Mikael would have to place their attack just right to ensure the targets stayed in their line of sight. Lyght waited, and waited – waiting for their enemies’ approach at midnight.
Speaking of which…
It was a few minutes past midnight now, Lyght realized, frowning. He couldn’t see much below, but he could see enough to realize that the two Dream Syndicate leaders were not where they were supposed to be. Lyght glanced over to Mikael, a little surprised to see a bit of concern etched upon his face as well, “I guess they’re late? They were supposed
to be here at exactly midnight, right?” Mikael nodded, thinking.
After a few moments of silence, Mikael stood up, armor groaning slightly in the silence of the tower, “We need to move. If they are late, they will see that their man is not here as they approach, and might decide to retreat. We’ll move over to the next platform, fifty feet or so to the north, so we’ll see them before they see their spot is empty.”
Lyght nodded, “Good idea”, so they ducked out of the small room they were in, headed down the hallway, and jumped out of a window onto the thick dark steel beam that ran down the length of the bridge, a good hundred feet in the air. Careful to keep his balance in the low visibility, Lyght crept along beside Mikael to the nearest “platform”, a small rectangular structure of dark steel that connected the beams of the bridge. There was barely enough room for both of them to crouch on it, so Lyght balanced carefully, toes of his right foot dangling over the edge, and waited. Waited for their enemies to approach. Watched, and waited.
And waited…
Over ten minutes had passed when Mikael finally spoke up in a whisper, “Lyght, I–”
He didn’t get to finish, as Lyght felt more than heard a sudden swooping above them. Lyght immediately turned, reaching for the hilt of his sword behind him. He caught a glimpse of a large, dark silhouette falling towards him as he lost his balance from the sharp turn, tipping and falling off the small platform with a startled yell. Collecting himself quickly, he cast his eyes around and saw Mikael was indeed falling as well. Lyght concentrated for a moment and flexed his hand, yanking his arm up suddenly to reverse gravity a touch and slow their fall. They remained in free fall, albeit a slowed one, and so Lyght still hit the ground rolling, grunting in pain as the heavy armor cut into his side. Despite the pain, Lyght rolled to his feet immediately, readying his spirit for use and ripping his sword out of its sheath. As he pivoted back towards the Dark steel beams of the bridge, his eyes grew wide as he saw it.
Like a silver bolt of lightning, a wickedly curved sword was falling towards him where he kneeled, aiming directly between his eyes. Lyght didn’t even have time to cry out as he saw the death blow fall, his life flashing before his eyes. Lyght ducked reflexively, squeezing his eyes shut.
And then it hit.
Yelling out in pain, Lyght was blasted backwards by what had to be a spirit-boosted blow. After a wild few seconds tumbling end over end in blinding pain, Lyght came crashing to a stop dozens of feet away, every bone in his body protesting from the sudden attack. Lyght hissed and brought a hand up to his collarbone as he felt a vicious pulsing there. He supposed he must have intuitively lowered his head from the strike, causing the blow to land on his armored shoulder. He jumped up, growling at the pain, knowing how lucky he’d just gotten. He was not at all surprised to see his opponent charging again. This time, Lyght was ready.
Remembering his training, Lyght snapped his elbows up and brought his sword into a standard diagonal guard position just in time as the enemy slammed his curved weapon into Lyght’s, sparks flying as metal met metal – producing a sudden screaming in the otherwise silent night. Lyght immediately sent Dreamcasting spirit burning through the muscles in his right arm, trying to come off the parry with an attack of his own, but his opponent responded in kind and met Lyght’s blade as it was cutting towards his knees, sending sharp clang ringing out across the bridge, cloaked in mist and darkness. Lyght stoked his spirit to full power and threw his weight against his enemy’s guard, trying to knock him off balance to give himself the upper hand. After sliding backward for a second, however, his enemy set his feet and pushed right back – hard. Lyght was suddenly hard pressed to keep his balance, and realized now for sure what he’d suspected from the beginning.
This guy is a Dreamcaster.
Lyght finally got a good look at the guy’s face as they stood locked in combat, and he immediately knew who he was. He’d suspected it ever since the initial attack. Lyght didn’t know how, but the enemy had somehow managed to ambush them; the ones who were supposed to be the ones setting up an ambush in the first place. Lyght stared into the guys face, recognizing who he was from the description the King had given him, as general as it had been.
Troy, the leader of the Dream Syndicate.
Lyght could see it immediately from the burning violet eyes, if nothing else. The leader of the Dream Syndicate was surprisingly young – early-twenties or so, not much older than Lyght and Mikael. He looked elegant, noble, and deadly all at once in wicked-looking black armor with purple accents that matched the color in his eyes. For some weird reason, he smiled as the two struggled against each other, swords locked in combat, “Dreamcaster, huh? Work for the King, I’d guess?”
Lyght didn’t answer, just focused on trying to outmaneuver his opponent. It wasn’t working. Lyght gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes – not only was this guy highly expert at controlling his spirit, he was very naturally strong and fast. Almost at Lyn’s level. Lyght wasn’t bad himself, but right now it was all he could do just to keep himself alive. He lashed his sword out in frustration, trying to confuse his opponent with the odd arcing angle, but Troy met it easily, still smiling.
Come on! This guy’s way too good. At this rate…
“No”, Troy shook his head, “even if you do, I doubt you’ll tell me anything. You Southerners can be annoyingly dismissive of us Northerners, I’ve found. Well, your mistake.” Troy shifted his sword suddenly downwards and Lyght had to bend down a little to meet it; in a disadvantageous position now. Lyght gritted his teeth in frustration, still doing all he could just to hold off his opponent, as the Dream Syndicate leader continued pushing hard against Lyght’s guard.
Troy continued speaking, “Sorry, but I have to take you out. That’s just life. Blame your King, not me. I have nothing against you – I really don’t – but I can’t let potential assassins live. Bad for our business, you see.”
Lyght glared at Troy in annoyance and decided to take a gamble; using the last move in his hand-to-hand combat arsenal that he thought had the slightest chance of working against this guy. Jumping back a half-step with practiced speed and spinning on a dime, Lyght expertly used his spirit to execute a tricky spin-attack move he’d worked on after-hours in training, trying to catch Troy in the side and use an extra burst of spirit to cut through his armor like butter. He’d mastered the move by now, and gotten just the right combination of lightning-fast speed and power down to the point where he could execute the attack in under a second, taking out just about anybody, even a Dreamcaster in most cases. It had definitely worked on just about everyone at the Academy – with the notable exception of Seth and Iri, who annoyingly found ways to dodge or block it. The move was one of the most lethal in Lyght’s arsenal; in terms of physical attacks anyway. Lyght smiled a little, knowing his opponent had made a mistake by talking during a battle. He hoped it’d cost him here.
As he came around from his pivot and leveled his sword for the strike, Lyght suddenly felt like he’d hit a brick wall as his opponent met his attack with impossible speed, even by any Dreamcasting standards Lyght had seen, and drove the point of his curved sword right at Lyght’s abdomen. Lyght had a moment to realize that, again, his life was in danger. He couldn’t –
The attack slammed home with the force of a thunderbolt as Lyght went to his knees, feeling his ribs crack. He coughed up blood, vision flashing dangerously, on the verge of blacking out. Heedless of his injury, Lyght fake fell forward towards the ground, before lashing out at Troy’s feet in a sudden burst of speed and fury. The Dream Syndicate leader jumped alarmingly fast, coming down on top of Lyght’s sword, an easy expression on his face. He kicked Lyght’s right hand with a boot, crushing it even through the gauntlet, and proceeded to kick Lyght’s sword up into his hand. A smile crossed Troy’s face as he caught the sword, flinging it behind him, well out of Lyght’s reach.
Lyght froze, shocked at his sudden defeat. Weaponless, and without the ability to manipulate spirit through his right
hand, he was dead in the water. Vision still flashing with pain, Lyght reached with his left hand towards one of the knives at his belt, but Troy knocked it away with a careless hand, sending the blade spinning across the bridge floor, where it came to a stop about twenty feet away. Through the sudden silence, Lyght could hear another yell as another combatant got hurt. He couldn’t see him, but he knew the voice well enough.
Mikael.
With a sudden motion, Lyght staggered to his feet and tried to get around his opponent – vaguely thinking about retrieving his sword and helping Mikael, who was also apparently under attack. The plan never really had a chance of working however, as Troy flashed over in a second to block his path. Lyght snapped toward him and tried to take him by surprise, sending an armored fist flying at the guy’s face. Troy dodged easily, and flashed forward almost faster than Lyght could see, dropping him – hard – with a straight right to the jaw. Stars flew in Lyght’s vision, and he fell in a blinding sea of pain and blood to the cold bridge below.
As he hit the ground this time, Lyght knew he wasn’t getting up. He tried, every bone in his body screaming in protest, but was barely able to lift himself two inches off the ground before collapsing back with a gasp of pain. He looked up into the face of his enemy standing over him as Troy shook his head.
The leader of the Dream Syndicate spoke to him, almost sounding sorry, “Look, I don’t know who you are. I’m all about treating people with respect, but to be honest, I have no respect for lowly assassins such as yourselves. Especially ones who work for the King. If you didn’t kill people for money, I would probably feel bad about doing this to you.”
Killing people for money? Assassins? What is he talking about?
Dreamcatcher Page 35