by Rob Kinsman
“Will you stop doing that?”
This was red rag to a bull. Zoe started spinning faster. Nick went over and held the chair so she couldn’t move.
“We need to talk about this,” he hissed. He remained close, not releasing his grasp. Close enough to kiss.
“Will you let go of my chair? I’ve waited six years to have a go on this.”
Nick didn’t move. His eyes sparkled in the fading summer light.
“Don’t you want to know what I saw in my dreams?”
“No.”
Even if his crazy story was true, it didn’t sound like her life in the other world would be any less full of frustration and misery than the one she remembered here. Better the devil you know. She opted for more swivelling.
The one thing they had managed to mutually agree on was that they didn’t want to attract any attention by turning the main light on. Instead they’d switched on all the monitors, bathing themselves in the flickering glow.
“Shall we tell ghost stories?” asked Zoe.
“I don’t know any.”
“Nor do I.” She hesitated for a moment before impulsively adding, “You hurt me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Nick, but what were the words of a professional liar worth? Zoe felt ridiculous admitting how much he’d got under her skin. They’d only spent a few days together, it wasn’t like he’d run out on their marriage after ten years.
I knew him in a different life.
She stubbornly tried to ignore this thought.
“Go on then,” she said, desperate to shift the conversation away from her injured pride. “If we’re sitting here you may as well tell me. What did you dream last night?”
The shadows danced across his face as he peered at her in the dim light.
“Are you sure?”
Seventeen
They had spent the night in another cave. They’d headed so far into the outer kingdom that they’d started finding small settlements along the road, outposts which survived beyond the scorched land around the castle. It was no comfort. The king’s influence may be weaker out here, but nobody knew for sure how far the mages’ spells could reach. So, while it was still an option, Nicholas had insisted they make camp in the mana caves. He only hoped that the twinkling crystal walls provided the protection against magic that legend suggested.
The jester was the only one of the trio who seemed untroubled by their makeshift accommodation, although after years sleeping under a table in the kitchens he wasn’t exactly accustomed to luxury. Conversely, the rogue had spent countless nights on the silk sheets of other people’s beds. Rumour was that he didn’t even have a dwelling of his own, although this was not true. His own abode was admittedly humble, but its location was one of his most fiercely guarded secrets.
The queen emerged from the cave, grumbling about her aching back. Nicholas smiled to himself. This inability to deal with anything less than luxury was always the problem with noble women, even those like Amelia who were not born of pure blue blood. She had been the daughter of socially aggressive parents who’d sacrificed everything to have her schooled at the prestigious academy. It couldn’t have been easy for her, forever being the butt of jokes told by girls to whom privilege came as naturally as breathing. But young Amelia had caught the eye of the king, much to the alarm of the maidens whose whole life had been a preparation for the day when they hoped he would choose them. The pairing had caused a constitutional crisis, but the king remained as stubborn in his choice of woman as he was about everything else.
Nicholas offered Amelia the meagre remains of last night’s meal, a rabbit he had cooked over an open fire. The jester had trapped the creature the previous afternoon, but instead of offering it up as food he’d named the beast Alphonse and petted it until they’d both fallen asleep. The rogue had wasted no time prising the rabbit out of the sleeping jester’s hands, and soon Alphonse was history. When he awoke, the jester hadn’t taken it well and had spent the rest of the night sulking some distance from their camp.
“We’re going to need more food,” said Nicholas. “We can’t rely on that madman befriending rabbits, and there’s little prey in these mountains.”
“We brought food,” replied Amelia.
“Yes, and we ate it.” He looked off into the distance. “If the map is to be believed there’s a town some leagues to the east. I’ll go and see what I can barter.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No. The king’s spies will be searching far and wide for you.”
“And for you.”
“But nobody knows what I look like. I’m not on the back of their coins.”
Her sharp look soon quelled his playful smile. It was easy for him to joke, but he had to remember that she had survived a marriage to a king whose views were as flexible as granite. Tenacity was therefore not something she was short of.
“I didn’t flee life at court so I could spend my time hidden away in a cave,” she said, her voice subdued but firm. “I want to see the realm.”
“We’re not making this trip for pleasure.”
“For years I’ve only mixed with highborn lords and jealous women,” pleaded Amelia. “I want to move amongst real people, the better to understand them.”
“In my experience, real people are vastly overrated.”
She remained unmoved. The rogue felt caution slipping away; perhaps she was right. They had risked their lives in order to run away together. If they were to find the truth about the sleep stories, they were going to have to take bigger risks than this.
Seeing the weakness in his eyes, Amelia called over to the jester. “Sidonius, prepare yourself. We are going to seek out a town to buy provisions.”
Despite his better judgement, Nicholas led his two companions through the treacherous mountain pass. As the landscape opened up before them they could finally see the small town on the eastern edge of the charted lands, the notorious hive of villainy known as Ramford.
“Is this really part of the kingdom still?” asked Amelia, as the three of them cantered down the foothills towards the Gods-forsaken place.
“It takes much of its culture and etiquette from the badlands to the East, although technically it is part of the protectorate.”
They rode in silence for some time, broken only by the jester occasionally rasping ‘murderer’ at Nicholas. He clearly wasn’t going to let the death of his rabbit friend go easily.
The journey took longer than they’d counted on, and the rogue began to question whether they might be safer spending another night in the caves and heading for town the following day. Of course, if he’d gone alone they could have been dining on meat carved by a skilled butcher by now, but there was no way of travelling swiftly when your party included a sulky jester on a mule.
Whatever happened, it was imperative that they left the town by dusk. Even the agonies the king’s men could inflict on them would pale next to the horrors of spending a night in Ramford, so notorious for its cheap gin palaces and the feuds that would often spill over onto the streets.
Finally Amelia broke the silence.
“Will the people in the town be able to direct us to the Night Rangers?”
They had not mention of the object of their quest since leaving the castle. Hearing the words aloud filled Nicholas with a sense of foreboding, a reminder of the possibility that the Night Rangers would turn out to be nothing but an ancient myth.
“When we are in the town we must make no mention of them,” he said. “The people here would sell us out in a heartbeat. We dare not trust a word they say, and we must not speak of our quest. Is that understood?”
Amelia nodded, tight-lipped, but she wasn’t the true object of the rogue’s threat. Sidonius shrugged his reluctant agreement, although it seemed perverse to trust their lives to the promise of a madman. Not for the first time, the rogue wondered if he should find some way of abandoning their companion. In many ways it would be a kindness: Sidonius would be as happy playing wit
h the spiders in a cave as he would in the company of humans.
The rogue spurred his horse forwards.
“Did you have the sleep story again last night?” he asked Amelia.
She nodded, solemn. Although every breath that contained mention of the sleep stories enchanted Nicholas, the shame and fear the subject still stirred in Amelia wouldn’t be discarded easily.
“What wonders did it tell of?”
Amelia considered for some time before answering. “I saw glistening buildings which scraped the heavens. Metal cages carried citizens to the rooftops. I saw a realm made of mighty councils. And there was a competition where nation competed with nation, sending their most revered singers as ambassadors of their culture.”
“We had bards competing with each other back in the citadel.”
“This was different. The songs could be seen in all the lands at once.”
“How was this possible?”
“I didn’t understand it. Boxes of flickering magic.”
Nicholas feasted on the details. If they were to have a future together then it wouldn’t be in Nocturnia, the land they had been born into. No, if the object of their quest did indeed exist then their future lay in the fantastical worlds of Amelia’s sleep stories. Together they would explore and discover wonders unseen by any human eye. It would bind them together in ways the mere longing of a mortal heart could never match.
When they finally reached the town of Ramford it was immediately clear that Amelia hadn’t really understood how much depravity she was about to witness. On the dirt roads walked women with barely enough cloth to cover their modesty.
“Are they that short of materials this far out?”
Nicholas laughed at her.
“It is the fashion in these parts.”
Nicholas supposed he could forgive her naivety; in the court even a glimpse of ankle was enough to cause outrage. The sight of so much flesh at least seemed to liven up the jester, who finally stopped crying about the damned rabbit.
Ramford was bursting with ale houses and wineries of every description, all competing with one another by increasingly vulgar means. ‘Virgins Drink for Free!’ claimed a poster outside one particularly dank looking establishment. There was no mention as to how eligibility would be reliably determined.
The sun was only just starting its descent, and already plenty of the menfolk had been rendered senseless by the intoxicating brews on offer. Many of them jeered at Amelia in the street as she passed.
“If they spoke to me like that three moons ago my husband would take their head.”
“That was three moons ago.”
The small party rode their animals through the dismal town. It took some time to find a store selling something as basic as food, most of the businesses seemed more concerned with personal grooming. The women of the town seemed compelled to trim their nails into ornate shapes and colours, presumably as part of an obscure offering to one of the forty-seven gods – probably Vagus, the Queen of Female Pleasure, whose rites and rituals had long baffled men across the kingdom.
When they eventually found a shop selling foodstuff, Nicholas tethered his horse and told Amelia to wait for him. She promptly delegated the task yet further.
“Sidonius, stay with the horses.”
She followed the rogue inside.
It was the first time since childhood that she’d set foot inside a common man’s store. Rather than the fresh, succulent cuts of meat she was used to, this place seemed to be selling the leftovers that even the animals wouldn’t eat.
Nicholas set his eyes on some strips of dark flesh that were crammed into exotic breads, accompanied by onions and a sauce whose origin he didn’t dare contemplate.
“We’ll take nine of them,” he said, fishing in his pouch for coins.
“Nine?” muttered Amelia in a low voice. “I don’t believe I’ll be able stomach even one of these foul things.”
“They’ll sustain us for now.”
He handed the coin to the storekeeper, who clocked the picture on it. And then looked up at Amelia. Then back at the coin.
“Not you, is it love?” His eastern accent was like sandpaper compared to the refined tones of the castle-folk.
“No,” she said calmly. “Though I wish my brow was as elegant as hers.”
She sounded convincing, Nicholas was pleased to note. He supposed that lying was a skill she’d no doubt become very good at, having married a loveless man many centuries her senior.
“Guess we wouldn’t see ‘er sort round ‘ere?” snorted the shopkeeper, staring at the coin one last time.
“No,” agreed Nicholas.
“Just as well. What did she ever do for normal people like you and me, eh?” The shopkeeper peered up from the coin at Amelia one last time. “Guess you’ve got a few years on this little beauty, don’t ya love?”
At that precise moment Nicholas feared the game would be up, that Amelia would launch into a furious tirade against this common whelk. But she took the insult with good grace and held her tongue. The storekeeper dropped the coin into his money belt, wrapped the meat delicacies and gave them to Nicholas.
“I want to get out of this place as soon as possible,” Amelia told her lover as soon as they left the store.
“I knew we’d both agree on something eventually.”
As they started to leave the town, Nicholas told his companions to go on without him.
“I’ll catch you up. Wait by the crossroads.” Amelia’s brow wrinkled, confused. “There’s something I need to do.”
“What?”
“I cannot say. Please, trust me.”
“Is this a jest?”
Hearing something he mistook for his name, the jester started dancing. Amelia ignored him, the panic gripping her throat like a fist.
“I’ll meet you at the crossroads,” repeated Nicholas, unmovable. “I swear it.”
When he was alone Nicholas slipped down a side street, heading for a place he hadn’t visited for many years. To reach his destination he had to scale walls, creep down hidden alleys and tread paths that no traveller would find by accident.
The temple was a place of worship for the only god who mattered to the rogue: Baltazar, the Lord of Deceit. The twisted walls of the building were designed with rich ornaments to trick the eye. Even the location of the door wouldn’t be apparent to those who hadn’t been trained to divine it. Nicholas found it almost immediately.
The corridors and rooms inside were no more welcoming to the casual visitor. Rugs covered pits, while doors would often lead impossibly back on themselves. Of all the buildings which had survived in the lands beyond the castle this was the most ancient. Even its treasures had never been stolen, which was especially impressive considering that those who worshiped there were among the most amoral and greedy in the realm. The story went that the whole town only continued to exist as a way of providing cover for this architectural curiosity. It was equally likely that this story was itself part of the illusion.
Despite the length of time which had passed since Nicholas was last here, he overcame the defences without incident. His training to join the Brotherhood of the Shadow had left the knowledge seared into his brain.
He eventually came to the inner chamber, where the high priest was busy examining that day’s offerings. Unlike the other churches in the realm, the donations here weren’t voluntary. Every worshipper was expected to bring something of value they had stolen on their travels.
“Nicholas.” The high priest didn’t seem surprised to see him. “It has been many moons since you entered this place.”
“I’ve been in the citadel. It is forbidden to leave.”
“And yet here you are.” The rogue displayed no emotion. Nobody with the skill to enter this church would be so foolish as to reveal what they were thinking through the actions of their frail body. “What offering do you bring?”
Nicholas pulled a locket from around his neck. The high priest peered at it, curious
. Nicholas opened the locket to reveal its contents.
“A lock of hair from the queen.” The priest, looking unimpressed, held out his hand. Nicholas handed him the locket. “She experiences sleep stories.”
This had the effect Nicholas had predicted. The corner of the high priest’s mouth curled up into a smile.
“This is satisfactory. What is it you seek?”
“Sanctuary.”
“You’ll find no peace here. The full wrath of the king has been unleashed. Even this place will not be safe if the council of mages choose to search for you here.”
“I don’t seek sanctuary in the kingdom. For the favours I have done this temple in the past, I ask you for wisdom. Tell me how to reach the Night Rangers.”
Eighteen
Zoe coughed in a way that sounded a lot like she was saying bullshit.
“Don’t take the piss,” said Nick.
“Sorry. Habit.” And for all of twenty seconds she managed to hold her tongue. “Ramford?”
“Yes.”
“Ramford,” she repeated for emphasis. “Hey, you know what that sounds like?” Nick tried to silence her with a stern look. It didn’t work. “Where did they go after that? Dogenham? East Bacton?”
“Maybe those are the true names and what we think of as real are distortions.”
“Because all of this is my dream?”
“Yes.”
“And I invented everything here? Even Romford – you think I’m responsible for Romford?”
“Yes. Somehow your fantasy has become our reality.”
It was a ludicrous notion, of course.
But…
Zoe was the kind of person who, as a child, had invented an invisible friend who didn’t like her. With that kind of track record, it was quite possible she’d create a world where everything was basically rubbish.
“Even if any of this was true,” she said, “what do you think we can do about it?”