Stillbringer (Dreamwalker Chronicles Book 1)

by Zile Elliven

  It looked as though Marshall’s caution was unwarranted, though. His senses told him the whole place was empty.

  “Nary a serf to be seen,” Jack said in a hushed tone.

  “It all seems perfectly normal, though.” Adelle said.

  Marshall looked around. “Maybe so, but we should still look around. Even if no one is asleep right now, there should be something here. A colony from a family as old as the Blaikes should be self-sustaining even without its dreamers.”

  Early dreamwalkers discovered that—aside from having a personal Dreamscape—groups of people with a common interest, such as families, companies—or in modern times, fandoms for television shows—could create a colony for like-minded dreamers. Most people tended to have a main colony that housed their personal Dreamscape, but they weren’t limited to it. As a person’s interests changed throughout their life, they might find themselves visiting dozens of colonies in a lifetime.

  Fire Team had a minuscule colony, including just the three of them, and each housed their personal Dreamscape in it. Of course, being dreamwalkers, their colony had layers upon layers of protection and modifications added to it, so it couldn’t accidentally or intentionally be entered by an outsider.

  Marshall sent Jack to inspect the towers then instructed Adelle see if she could find any underground passages. He didn’t need to set up a link to join the team this time. In the ’Scape, it was the matter of a thought to communicate with another dreamwalker.

  As he explored the outer bailey, he yawned and rubbed his eyes, idly noting the absence of animal life. Not that there had to be, but why would the Blaike family’s subconscious create a perfect replica of a medieval castle and not add in the ubiquitous horses, dogs, and cats one assumed they’d find there? Now that he thought about it, the fact that he had ruminated on the concept long enough meant at least a mouse should have manifested itself by now.

  It wasn’t until he passed though the inner portcullis that he noticed the strange thrumming sensation building under his skin. He needed to check in with his team. Everything is perfectly normal here. Either of you see anything interesting?

  Adelle’s thoughts touched his. All I could find was a set of catacombs stuffed to the rafters with a lot of really gross dead people. Otherwise, not a single soul to be seen. Perfectly normal.

  Jack?

  No response.

  Addy, have you seen anything alive here? Anything at all?

  She gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. No, but that’s . . .

  Perfectly normal? Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around. He should be more worried about not hearing from Jack, but for some reason, it seemed like it wasn’t a big deal. Marshall closed his eyes, and the thrumming intensified, making it difficult to think. I think you should get back here.

  Are you okay?

  Perfectly normal.

  I’ll be right there.

  Marshall leaned against the wall of the inner bailey, and the rhythmic vibrations became so strong he could feel his teeth rattle. He let his body slide slowly to the ground, needing a minute to rest and gather his strength.

  That wasn’t right. He put a hand against the stone floor and tried to lever himself back to standing with limited success. A dreamwalker didn’t get tired in the Dreamscape—the source of all their power literally flowed all around them, continuously creating reality. The only time a dreamwalker got tired was in the Real after using too much magic.

  Panting, he forced himself up and held out a hand, for the first time in his life calling out for power in the ’Scape. All he felt was the thrumming sensation growing stronger. What if he wasn’t the only one this was happening to?

  Jack! Report! He tried to sense him but was getting too much interference from whatever was affecting him.

  “Marshall, I don’t feel so well.” Adelle walked to him slowly, looking wan and bleary-eyed.

  “Same here.”

  “It’s perfectly normal, though . . . right?”

  “Yeah.” His eyes fought him for their right to close shop early, but he forced them to stay open.

  Pain. Tentacles coiling around his body. Trapped. Cruel eyes behind a sharp beak. Too many, too close . . .

  “Jack!”

  A massive pulse of rainbow energy battered Marshall's senses, and his vision dimmed as the world spun around him. Adelle's sharp nails dug into his arms as she held him up, helping him to focus.

  Marshall braced himself and pushed her away. “You get out of here, I have to find Jack.”

  She smiled weakly. “It’s funny you think that’s going to happen. It’s all of us or none of us, brother dear. Besides, I’m a better finder than you are.”

  He glared at her and huffed out a sigh that ruffled his bangs. “Fine. Take us to Jack.”

  Adelle touched the pendant at her neck and closed her eyes, immediately turning to point to the looming, wooden doors of the keep. Before either of them could take more than a step, the doors swung open as Jack burst out of the entrance, shouting, “There’s an assload of perfectly normal nightmares right behind me!”

  Fear clogged up his throat as Marshall took stock of his resources. His internal well of magic was nearly dry—something that shouldn’t be possible in the ’Scape. One look at his sister told him she was doing no better. He had various magical items ferreted all over his body, but without access to the Source, fighting a hoard of nightmares was certain death. He only had one option.

  “Fall back!”

  Once they got outside the colony, the three of them could convince the place that it didn’t exist, causing it to pop like a bubble. Everything in the colony would vanish, including the nightmares.

  When Jack reached them, Adelle held out her hands to catch him and swing him around to steal the momentum he had built up from running down the steps of the keep.

  As soon as he stopped, Marshall grabbed him and tried to take them away, but the effort took far more power than it should have and threw his mind into chaos. Synesthetic overload shocked his system, and he fought to remain upright as the hands in his grasp began to taste sharp and metallic. He felt his essence begin to unravel in lazy, freesia-scented bursts. “Generator . . .” The sound spilled greasily from his mouth, and he felt himself slide toward the ground, knowing when he landed, he would explode in a burst of colors.

  Hands halted his decent, and his stomach turned over as it struggled to figure out which way was up. Just as he was about to melt through the hands holding him upright, he felt someone thrust something into his hands. It was cold and smooth and rightness radiated from it, racing up his arm, chasing away the sensation of dissolving into nothingness.

  His eyes fought to refocus on the scene before him, and he became aware of his sister’s arms around him, holding him up. He reached out to stroke her cheek. “I’m back, I think.” Hesitantly, he pulled away to stand on his own, feeling loose and buoyant.

  Adelle clung to his shirt as if fearful he would vanish on her. “Gods’ sake! Don’t ever do that again.” Finger by finger, she forced her shaking hands to release him.

  The power boost from his personal generator had left him feeling giddy, and he bounced up and down on his feet. He was fortunate that past-him had siphoned so much of the Source into it.

  “It wasn’t intentional,” he said quietly, fighting to bring his being back into balance. Over his sister’s shoulder, he saw Jack standing between his teammates and the nightmares that had followed him out.

  “So,” Jack said conversationally, “how’s Marshall?”

  “You know, I’ve been better.” Marshall came to stand beside his friend. “Why aren’t they attacking?”

  “Maybe no one wants to be first.” Jack feinted a lunge toward the crowd of assembled horrors, and they all slithered back in fear. “Yeah, that’s what I thought!”

  “Don’t taunt them, you overgrown orangutan!”

  Jack looked at Adelle and gave her a have you met me? look and then turned his attention back to Mar
shall. “What happened when you tried to shift us out? It looked like you were fading, but…that isn’t possible in the ’Scape. Didn’t anyone tell you?” Jack’s levity wasn’t reflected in his eyes. Their impossible color swirled anxiously.

  “I was. If Adelle hadn’t given me my generator, I’d be nothing more than a pattern of pretty lights in the air.” Marshall clutched the stone in his hand.

  While awake in the Real, a dreamwalker couldn’t directly access the Dreamscape and had to rely on stored magic alone. Once they were tapped out, not only would they be unable to use magic, but their bodies would slowly begin to unravel without the magic of the Dreamscape to support them. It was because of this danger that each dreamwalker carried a stone that could serve as a backup source until they could make it back to the Dreamscape to tank up once more. He never imagined that the first time he’d needed to use one would be in the Dreamscape itself.

  On a good day, Marshall was brimming with more magic than most guardians ever dreamed of—it was one of the reasons he was being scouted for the next praetor. But he had used a lot over the past day, and like a fool, he hadn’t bothered to fill up again once inside the ’Scape.

  But before now, he’d never needed to. Once inside the Dreamscape, his soul naturally called the wild magic of the universe to itself until its reserves were awash with power. Until that happened, Marshall could draw from the ’Scape itself for anything he needed.

  He thought about how weak he felt when he touched the walls of the inner bailey. “I think the walls are spelled to draw our magic from our bodies. Can you feel it?”

  “I can. It’s like they are vibrating, though that’s perfectly normal.” Adelle’s voice had grown ragged. “I’m going to have to tap my generator soon.”

  “What about you?” he asked Jack.

  “I still have some left, but now that you mention it, I do feel off my game today. I’ll give it a look.”

  It wasn’t surprising to hear Jack still had reserves. He had always had an even bigger tank than Marshall.

  “Be careful. When I tried to get us out of here, the spell took everything I had left.”

  “Roger that.” Closing his eyes, Jack tested the bounds of the spell while Marshall and Adelle watched the nightmares as they inched closer. “Damn clever witches. They’ve got us nice and trapped. These perfectly normal walls are easily defeated—from the outside. Of course they have that covered by entwining a nothing to see here spell to keep us from being suspicious. Now that we’re all inside, the walls will drain us until we fade into nothing.”

  Marshall nodded in understanding. “That would explain why they’ve herded us against the wall.”

  “They’re just waiting for it to do what they’re afraid to do themselves. Cowards!” Adelle spat.

  It was an apt description. Spawned from the fears of sentient creatures, nightmares had little fight in them once they were faced head-on. One-on-one, a nightmare could never hope to defeat a dreamwalker, but with their current numbers, they were a sure bet against three fading dreamwalkers.

  If Marshall was alone, he would throw himself into the mass of dripping, oozing monsters and take as many of them down as he could before they ate him. He didn’t see his team allowing that. But he knew even if they had been at full power, they would have been hard pressed to defeat a thousand nightmares at once.

  As a guardian team, one of their primary jobs was to keep nightmares from banding together in numbers like these. Fire’s objective was no longer reconnaissance. Marshall knew they had to find a way to destroy these monsters before they established roots in the ’Scape and began to build a power base. Once that happened, they were nearly impossible to dislodge, and innocent people would suffer for it. But first Fire had to make it out alive.

  “You know what we have to do, right?”

  Adelle took his hand. “We can’t let them get out of here to feed on the dreamers.”

  Jack took his other hand. “No heroics, boss. Remember, we have to get out of here so we can stop whatever they have planned for that girl and her champion.”

  His friend knew him too well. “I haven’t forgotten. How much do you have left?”

  “Well, I tanked up when we got here, so almost enough to unmake these guys—but not quite.”

  “Aren’t you special.” Adelle said grumpily, making Marshall think she had made the same mistake he had in forgetting to fill up in Marshall’s ’Scape.

  A wave of dizziness passed through Marshall again. His new supply was being drained at an alarming rate. Even though his generator had packed a punch, it hadn’t come close to topping him off and soon he’d be right back where he’d started—fading.

  “Addy, tap your generator. Jack, have yours ready. I’m going to take nearly everything you have.” He made a silent promise to himself he would get his team out alive. No one else was going to die for Marshall.

  They both responded by sending their power into him. He closed his eyes as Jack’s star-streaked rainbow joined the flickering ember of blue he had left. Before he could do anything, it surged toward his magic and surrounded it like a dragon protecting its horde. Adelle’s warm amber glow followed, smaller, but still brighter than Marshall’s. He felt their worry as they realized how low he was. I’ll get us through this. I promise.

  All of us. His sister clarified.

  Yes.

  The gestalt created by their joined magic might be able to take out the horde right now, but Marshall would surely die in the process and the Blaikes would still be out there. He needed to try something different. Something a witch wouldn’t think of.

  He listened to the hypnotic sound of feet, hooves, tentacles, and unidentifiable wet things moving across the stone as the horde began to close around them, tired of waiting for their meal, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. If he was going to have enough power to pull this off, he couldn’t afford to spend it on defense.

  A small tendril of their power reached out toward the wall, questing. When it touched the spell inside, Marshall didn’t resist the pull he felt but instead let go of his resistance. I am you. He told it. I am you and you are me.

  It was faint, but he heard its response, slow and cold. There is only me. Everything not of me will become me.

  Marshall put every ounce of his soul into believing himself to be stone. He knew he was stone, he had always been stone, would always be stone. I am already you. We are you. We are all. Icy, wet claws scraped against his cheek, but he didn’t care. What could claws do against stone?

  After an eternity, he felt the wall relax and accept his team as part of itself. We are stone. It agreed.

  As their bodies morphed and became enveloped by the wall, he noticed how low his sister’s orange glow had become. Her generator must have held much less than his. Panic rose inside him, and he allowed it to flow through him, giving it no impediments, only observing the emotion as it came. Panic would not get him what he wanted.

  Jack’s essence flowed around Adelle’s and cut down her input to their dreamworking to a trickle. Then, flowing over to Marshall, it cut his input almost completely. Once Jack’s magic ran out, they would all die in the time it took to take a deep breath. As the thought came to him, he felt the pull of the spell increase, winnowing away at what little protection they had left.

  We believe in you. His teammates unwavering confidence bolstered his resolve.

  Now that they had been accepted by the physical manifestation of the spell, Marshall focused on the spell itself. A dreamwalker shouldn’t be affected by witch magic in the Dreamscape. It would be like a fish holding an ocean hostage.

  The original dreamwalkers had been physical manifestations of the Dreamscape—the source of all creativity—and could wield and bend such magic as easily as breathing. Witches were norms with a mutation that allowed them to draw directly from the Source, but only as much as their talent allowed. Even if witches physically entered the Dreamscape, their power would be no more than it would be in the
Real. So why couldn’t Marshall defeat this spell?

  He went deeper into the spell, looking past the layers of stolen magic, trying to see how it was powered, but he saw nothing. Adelle, can you do your thing?

  The Adelle portion of their gestalt flared bright amber, shooting out a thin beam for them to follow.

  Gently, he pushed his teammates to the back of his mind, towing them along in silent support as he chased the beam of light. They all knew only one person could drive, and if they were to survive, they could do nothing but wait and do their best to hold themselves together.

  As soon as he saw the dense core of the spell, Marshall felt his mind begin to fragment. He was out of time. In less than a minute he would be gone, followed shortly by his sister and his best friend. He threw himself at the mass, burrowed inside, and found what he had half-expected—the heart of a demon.

  It looked like a diamond, but it didn’t sparkle. Instead it sucked light into itself, hoarding it without giving any back in return. Without hesitation, he drove his hands inside the diamond, grabbed a handful of its essence, and pulled hard. After a brief resistance, the taffy-like substance gave way, spilling itself out of the hole he’d made until it was inside out. Keeping his hands on the oozing, stinking mess, he forced it to reveal its true form—a box with glowing eyes.

  Demons were created when a nightmare fed enough to create and independently maintain a physical manifestation in the Real. In the Dreamscape, a demon’s power was magnified a hundredfold as it was bolstered by the fears of humanity. Judging by its size and the way it cringed from him, this one wasn’t very old. If he had been at full strength, unmaking this demon would be a cinch, but right now?

  Marshall felt his fragmenting mind solidify—Jack must have tapped his own generator. Now he could focus on what he needed to do—unmake a claustrophobia demon.

  The box tried to make itself bigger so it could draw him inside, but Marshall opened his arms and took the fear into himself, allowing it to Be. Terror built inside his chest and tried to suck him down into panic and despair, but Marshall had been doing this far longer than the demon had been around. He would be a poor guardian, indeed, if a shivering box with eyes defeated him. He laughed at the thought, and the demon he embraced popped like a soap bubble.