by Lincoln Law
She had heard many things about the Dreamless. She had heard they had the ability to snap people away from Dreams, the way Slugleaf tea could. She had heard that they were trained with an almost religious zeal to deny the Dreamers, but especially the Oen’Aerei. The Oen’Aerei in their mind were the demons of the world, able to intrude on the minds of others. People like Lady Morphier and Count Therron were the reasons the Dreamless existed. They knew and were trained to accept that those who could Dream were dark and evil; they knew no alternative.
“What would happen if he knew we were Dreamers,” she thought. “What would he do to me? Would he send me off to get snapped? Would he turn me in to the police, suddenly believing me evil?” She imagined all the possibilities, like nightmares playing before her, each one gradually turning darker.
As they began to trouble her more deeply than she wished. She stopped herself, having something of an epiphany. This was Rhene she was thinking about. Rhene, the one she cared for, the one who was watching her sister, the one who had saved her from the burning University. He was concerned enough to do that, and that meant he would not abandon her suddenly or without discussion.
She trusted Rhene. He was one of the first people she had come to trust in a long time. The last person she’d come to trust this much was dead now. She had to have faith that he would not leave her untended. She paused here, as his body gained substance within the Dream.
But he’s a Dreamless, she thought. He’s not meant to be dreaming at all, in any capacity.
She was curious to see what the man’s dreams were like—a person’s mind revealed the true character that sometimes lay dormant beneath.
Yet with this solidity came a new set of clothing for the man who had, up until that point, being lying in bed in only his undergarments. He opened his eyes glancing about. Much to Adabelle’s surprise, her surroundings didn’t change at all. There was neither sight nor sound nor miniscule hint of his dreams at work.
Then, he turned to face her, his eyes widening with shock, his entire figure freezing. For a moment he seemed to forget he was dreaming, his appearance wavering and fuzzing. Her clothes faded and for a moment he was naked. Adabelle felt heat rush to her face. He regained concentration, though, and his clothes snapped back into position.
And this meant only one thing.
“Rhene,” she said, exhaling. “You…you’re a Dreamer.”
Rhene was silent. His mouth opened, yet no words came out. There were sounds that could have been parts of words, yet this piecemeal explanation would hardly suffice for an actual response.
“Don’t be afraid.” She stepped forward, and he retreated towards his bed. “Rhene,” she said, sounding firmer this time. She attempted to put concern in her voice, a hint of warmth to show she wasn’t frightened or worried. He still sat before her, dumbstruck and shaking. She extended a hand, and he retracted his own. Realising she’d have to act quickly to calm his shock, she simply grabbed his arm.
The man yelped, eyes closing. His entire body seemed to shift before her, fuzzing and then solidifying. She realised he was escaping the Dream, and because she was holding him, he couldn’t. He was attempting to break the rules of the Dreamscape, and that would result in Oblivion if she wasn’t careful.
“Rhene!” she yelled, only moments after he tried to drag himself from the Frequencies. “Rhene don’t do this! You’re breaking the rules!”
Her own image, she could tell, was changing too. Her hair was receding, he face coating itself with rain and dirt as she stepped closer to the material world. Yet with each millisecond that Rhene fought for waking, Adabelle fought to hold the Dream.
There was a second, where Adabelle though Oblivion would consume them both. The space between dreams threatened to consume them, to end them. Then there came an almighty snap, her body suddenly warm, forgetting the wind and the rain. The next snap drew her out of the dream and into Rhene’s room, Rhene still quivering in her grasp. She was dry, her legs pressing against the thick doona on Rhene’s bed.
“This is impossible,” she said, suddenly realising what she had done.
“Adabelle?” Rhene said, eyes wide with shock.
Somehow, she had used the Frequencies to move from one place to another. Somehow, she had done what she knew only Sturdings could do. She had travelled within the Dream, and had brought her physical body with her.
“I didn’t know you were a Sturding,” Rhene said.
“I didn’t know you were a Dreamer,” Adabelle replied. “Or a Dreamless.”
Rhene, still wide-eyed and apparently unable to open his mouth fully at the present moment, simply glanced about the room, searching for the words he could say. “I’m actually a Sturding, too,” he replied.
Adabelle gasped quietly.
They both stood there, breathless for a moment. Adabelle couldn’t help but feel self-conscious before this young man, dressed in ruined clothes, face matted with dirt. Her hair was so short; so disgustingly dirty. Her mouth felt fuzzy from a lack of brushing, her hands sticky from a simple lack of bathing.
But Rhene wasn’t entirely presentable at the time, either. Dressed in nothing more than his undergarments to cover his lower regions, she could see his muscled torso, the long legs that were usually covered by trousers. He hadn’t shaved in a while, either, his face sprinkled with stubble.
Yet in that moment, regardless of appearance, the pair found themselves drawn to one another. Ignoring cleanliness or appropriateness, the couple embraced tightly, lips locked in a passionate kiss. Adabelle forgot for a moment how hideous she felt, how empty her stomach was, or how short her hair was; for this second she felt beautiful before this man she loved, and then all she felt was his lips upon her and a tremendous warmth pressing upon her cold body.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, breathing the words into his neck.
“I have, too,” he replied, hands gently stroking the small of her back. He then hugged her again, and for a moment longer, she forgot all of her troubles and Rhene and the world.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Distant Fog of War
Rhene showed Adabelle to the female bathroom, where she had her first warm shower in a very long while. She washed out her hair with the shampoo she found within, running the soap over her body, gently scrubbing away the dirt and muck. She spent a long while in there, enjoying the scent of the soap and the steam. She was alone in there, and basked in that peaceful, warm space while she could.
She towelled herself down. The hour was late, the halls empty, and Rhene’s room only a short distance away. She picked up the dirty clothes from where she’d left them and then, with light, quick steps, rushed back to the safety of Rhene’s room. The towel was long, covering her up to the same degree a dress would. Yet somehow she still felt exposed, like Rhene could see more than what she intended him to.
“Tomorrow, I can buy you some fresh clothes,” he explained, “but we can’t exactly have you sleeping entirely naked tonight.” He glanced over at his single bed. “It’s going to be quite a…cosy night.” He attempted a laugh to cover up the fact that he was really quite embarrassed.
Adabelle blushed, joining in the awkward laughter, perhaps to suffuse the tension. This tension was different somehow, though. This felt…warm rather than hot and angry. There was love there, passing between them in waves. A second after she had blushed, she felt like she didn’t care that she was practically wearing nothing before him.
He rose from the bed, his eyes clearly pausing on her body.
“If you want, I can find you some trunks for you to wear so you’ve got something. And I probably have a clean shirt somewhere.”
“That would be nice,” she whispered, holding onto the place where the towel folded in so as to avoid it falling. With her shivering and her nervousness, it attempted to unravel.
From his bed, Rhene crossed the room to a chest of drawers, riffling through it for something for the girl to wear. He seemed not to mind that he was
wearing only his undergarments before her, that tiny piece of fabric modesty hiding enough so as to not seem rude.
She blurted the words before she could stop herself. “I don’t have to sleep with clothes on,” she said, surprised at her audacity.
What are you saying? she gasped inwardly.
“What?” Rhene asked, turning and rising back to full height before her.
“I don’t really need to sleep clothed,” she said, letting her hands fall from the towel. It stayed in place, keeping her breasts and stomach and legs shielded from view.
He crossed towards her, suddenly wrapping his arms about her. He kissed her on the lips, quickly but warmly. Her shivering only worsened. Despite being embraced by his kindly, strong arms, despite how warm and safe she felt, she still shook. His arms tightened, warming her, absorbing the shock of her body’s shaking.
Before she grasped what was happening, she realised suddenly she was kissing him again. This one wasn’t quick, though. It was fast in a different way, and passionate, like the pair of them was madly trying to improve on the kiss before that one. These kisses grew furiously fervent until she noticed they were now upon his bed, her towel about her hips, his excitement apparent.
She was surprised how little she cared that her entire body was on display, half-illuminated by the flickering light of the candle on the bedside table. She didn’t even remember him lighting it.
“Are you sure?” he said breathlessly.
“With you,” she replied, “I am.”
That night, while in Rhene’s arms, entwined in his body under the doona of his bed, Adabelle remembered what it was to feel loved, to feel beautiful. Adrift in their shared passions, she lost all memory of Therron’s hunt, or her fear of losing Charlotte to a dark future. For that night, it was just her and Rhene and their love for one another. When she awoke the following morning, with the light streaming onto her face, she looked upon Rhene in his peaceful slumber, and laughed out loud at the red mark on his neck.
Oh dear, she thought. Did I do that?
He stirred at the sound of her laughter, eyes opening drowsily.
“Good morning,” he said, groaning as he stretched.
“Morning,” she replied.
“Why are you grinning like that?” he asked, brow furrowing in a strange, languid concern. “You look like you’ve just heard the funniest joke.”
“Your neck,” she said, pointing at the hickey. “You may want to look in the mirror.”
He threw back the sheets, walking over to the mirror. He laughed at the sight before him.
“Love bite,” he said, shaking his head. He chuckled again.
Rhene got dressed, heading down to the mess hall to get breakfast. He returned a short while later with some toast for Adabelle and a pot of raspberry jam.
“It’s all I could bring back without raising suspicion,” he said. He wore a collared shirt to hide the hickey, yet it still peeked over the height of the collar.
“Anything is lovely,” she replied. She now wore a shirt of his and his boxers.
As she ate, he questioned her about her current appearance.
“Why did you cut off your hair?” he asked.
“I needed to become less recognisable,” she replied. “It was the least I could do to protect myself. The police want me because of something my father has done.”
She cut herself off, suddenly realising what she had said.
“Therron is after you, too?” he asked.
She bowed her head in shame, though she didn’t know why she felt so upset. She was tempted to inquire him about Therron’s own actions, but she could guess.
“I’m sorry about my father,” she said.
“Can you explain that to me?” he replied, taking a seat next to her. “I’m not sure I quite understand. He came to me wanting to know the Dreamless’ movements. I can only assume it has something to do with the Oen’Aerei.”
Adabelle nodded. “You’re not far off. My father has some kind of connection with Lady Morphier, who is the head of the Oen’Aerei. Are the Dreamless planning an attack on the Oen’Aerei of some kind?”
“It’s meant to be classified information, but I can trust you, Adabelle,” he said. “If I can’t trust you, who is there? Yes, the Dreamless are planning an attack on the Oen’Aerei. They’re going to strike sometime soon, with the intention of destroying the Dreamers so that there is no more Oen’Aerei.” He stopped himself here, expression falling to one of sadness. “I’ve tried speaking with my leader, Dreamless Matthon—he’s a Dreamer, too—to convince him that destroying the Oen’Aerei will not destroy the Dreamers, but he is convinced otherwise. He thinks if we can destroy the Oen’Aerei, we can stop people like Count Therron from re-emerging in the future.” Adabelle could tell from the way Rhene spoke about the man, he wasn’t entirely convinced. But there was still some confusion there, too. He didn’t sound entirely certain of very much at all. “He thinks that that place is where the evil seed is planted; where the Dreamers get their capacity for evil.”
Adabelle couldn’t help but laugh. She knew it was false, but she had so far only seen evidence to the contrary.
“At the end of the day, I’m just…really confused. I mean I’ve been brought up believing all Dreamers are evil mind-readers, brain-washers and sanity-breakers, and then not only do I discover my hero is a Dreamer himself, and living a lie, but I am a Dreamer, too!”
In his voice, Adabelle heard a deep conflict brewing below the surface. An ocean could appear calm on the surface, yet below the waves waged a brawl between mighty oceanic creatures. So was Rhene’s position. His entire worldview was brought into question, and he knew not how to react. Was he turning to her for answers? For assistance? She was hardly in a position to provide advice; she was just as confused as he was. At the very least, though, she could listen, and listen she did.
“I mean, I’m a Sturding, one of the most powerful of Dreamers. From the day that Therron killed my parents—and I remember now, it was Therron that murdered them—I swore I would stop any Dreamer. And now I am one. Now...” he turned to Adabelle, “…I’m in love with one.”
She raised a hand to his face, her fingers combing through his hair.
“Maybe now’s a chance to learn and grow and change,” she replied, not entirely sure what she was saying, but hopeful it was helping. “When I was on the street, and I thought I was going to die, I was quick to decide I had to change as a person. He’s stolen my money, my life, my own dreams! I have to change from reacting to his movements, to acting in my own way. I have to be the one fighting, not constantly defending. I will never gain any ground in this war if I am constantly stepping back, and recoiling from his movements. Remember, Rhene, no matter what, we always have a choice. Just because my father is causing all these evil deeds, doesn’t mean I have to up and join him. He’s made his decisions, and now’s the time for me to make my own.” She pressed a finger into his chest. “You can do the same.”
Rhene was nodding, listening intently.
Adabelle went on. “You’ve learnt today that not all Dreamers are evil. The Oen’Aerei aren’t all evil, though I wouldn’t put it past Lady Morphier having a private army of dark Dreamers waiting in the wings. The school is there to teach Dreamers how to control their powers—some of them don’t pick it up as easily as others—so it’s there to educate. It’s not there to manufacture nightmares and evil. You may be fighting for the Dreamless at this moment, but that’s nothing permanent. You can change your mind. You don’t have to fight for either side; you can fight for yourself.”
Rhene nodded. “Well I know that now.”
“I mean, I’m sure that for every Dreamer touched by Therron’s evil, there’s another three or four who remain pure. They will not fight. This place here,” she touched the wood of the bed, indicating the Barracks, “This is an army Barracks. You are soldiers, training for war. You have tactics and generals and plans. The Oen’Aerei are not an army. They’re a school, who now h
ave a tiny bit of warning in order to scrabble together some kind of army. I have been into those halls a handful of times, and not a once have I seen people training for war. I’ve seen organisation and books and lessons and learning. If the Dreamless go to war, there will be death and bloodshed.” She imagined the battle now: Crimson cloaks dancing with rifles upon crimson rivers. Flashes of scarlet as silver bullets pierced and blasted at soft flesh. “Don’t aim for the Dreamers—aim for Lady Morphier. She is the enemy here, being influenced by my father. He’s promised her things if she assists in his return to the real world. For that return, thankfully, they need me.”
“Why you?” asked Rhene.
“I’m a strong Dreamer, and,” she hesitated, “I suppose I’m now a Sturding. I can pull things out of the Dream.”
“But why you?” asked Rhene. “Lady Morphier has to be strong enough.”
“She might be,” Adabelle replied, “I’m not real sure on all of this. It might have something to do with the fact I’m his flesh and blood. Charlotte cannot dream a wink, so she’s useless to him.” Not entirely so, with her mindlock, she corrected herself. “I am the only one remaining who can pull him out, because part of him is in me.” She shivered at that thought. He was her father in blood whether she liked it or not. She was the one he needed to escape the Dream.
“He’s not doing very well at gaining your trust if he wants you to pull him out of the Frequencies then,” Rhene said.
“He knows he doesn’t need trust to make me pull him out,” she replied. “And this is what’s most terrifying. He knows he doesn’t need me to want to take him out; he can make me. He’s powerful, he knows his connections well. He took Larraine to her death to show me he could do it, and now he’s contacted you knowing he can affect me through you.” She fell into his arms, hugging him as tightly as she could. She didn’t cry thought; this wasn’t the time for tears. Strength, she thought. Strength! “I’m sorry.”