Visioness
Page 31
Rhene, not wanted to give Therron a chance, threw a third punch, and a fourth, before he threw the man to the ground and proceeded to kick him.
“This,” kick, “is,” kick, “what,” kick, “you,” kick, “get,” kick, “when,” kick, “you,” kick, “threaten,” kick, “the,” kick, “person,” kick, “I,” kick, “love!” And lastly came a stomp. He threw all his weight and hatred into the final pump of his leg, driving his foot down, forcing the air from Therron’s lungs.
Therron groaned. Rhene felt for the edge of the Dream, wishing he could force his way through it. Despite beating the man, bloody, he still seemed strong enough to hold up that barrier.
“I cannot die in here, boy,” Therron said. “You can hurt me all you want, but while I’m here, I’m just a thought…a dream. You want to kill me? Have Adabelle drag me into the real world! Kill me there, where I may have a body.” He chuckled under his breath, coughing on the blood that rose in his throat. “Do not expect it to be easy though.”
Rhene heard what he said, but barely processed it. All he knew was that he had to run; he had to break free.
“No,” he grunted, speaking only to himself. He turned away from Therron, who writhed and groaned on the ground. “I won’t let it end like this.”
Rhene stepped on Therron as he crossed to the very edge of the Dream, where he felt the barrier stopping him from escaping. Once there, he pulled a fist back and threw it at the wall. His hand struck the wall, jolting pain up his arm. He ignored it, though, forcing himself to pull his hand together into another fist. He punched. Again and again, he struck, groaning with pain.
Therron simply laughed. “You will not break through,” he said. “No one is strong enough to do that.”
“I’m not always strong enough,” he replied, pausing a moment to gather his thoughts. He stared at the wall.
“It’s not always a matter of brute strength,” Rhene said.
“No?” asked Therron, triumphant brimming from him.
“No,” Rhene said, “But sometimes it can be.”
He threw all of himself at the wall—all of his mind, and his body—and every bit of his strength. All the while, he thought of Adabelle. He expected to meet glass and pain, but the wall gave way. Glass separated around his fist, the wall parting before him by his sheer force of will. It seemed to scream as it fell, and yet it also shattered silently, falling away like water.
I’m out, he thought, turning for a moment to see Therron still bleeding on the ground. He was reaching for his knife now, ready to fight again. I should go. He ran.
He would have his revenge on Therron before too long.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Army Marches
“…and then the barrier fell away,” Rhene explained, his arms miming the punching motion with which he’d bashed through the glass wall. “It just shattered and it was gone.” He clapped. “Bang. Gone.”
Matthon—he had stopped referring to him as Dreamless quite some time ago—folded one leg over the other as he sat on the other side of his desk. He crossed his arms, brow furrowed, eyes staring towards the ceiling.
After a period of silence, Rhene said, “What do you think of this?”
“I honestly don’t know what to think,” Matthon replied, removing his arms from his chest and leaning onto the table. He seemed fidgety, as if unable to find a comfortable position to sit in. His eyes darted about the room, from one corner to the other, taking in seemingly meaningless details. He wasn’t fidgeting, Rhene realised; he was troubled. He was stalling.
“But this is Count Therron Blaise we’re talking about here,” Rhene said, speaking each part of the man’s name as if it were a sentence unto itself, banging his fist against the desk. He kept his other hand under the desk on his lap, wrapped in bandages. He had damaged it somehow in the dream. The nurse had said it was only a minor injury—a bruise more than anything—and that it would only take a few days for the swelling and darkness to fade.
That hickey on the other hand, Rhene thought, thankful his uniform was mostly collared shirts and coats. He couldn’t bear to think what other Dreamless would think of him if they saw that. Days had passed, and yet it still hadn’t fully faded. A gentle red spot on his neck, left as a reminder of his and Adabelle’s single night of passion.
“I know what you mean,” Matthon said. “He is a powerful Dreamer, and if what you say is correct about him only being a thought within the Dream, then we have no way of really discovering the extent of his powers.” Matthon’s eyes widened. “Imagine the strength he’d have if he were a Sturding.”
“But he was a Sturding,” Rhene replied. “In the past he was. Adabelle told me so.”
“But he can’t be a Sturding now if he’s just a memory, a thought. He’s no more a Sturding now than he is a real human.” He hesitated here, looking Rhene in the eyes. “That said, how he manages to seal people off from their dreams has me stumped. He’s only a memory…a sentient thought.” He paused, laughing. “He’s like one of those Nhyxes of theirs. Except he can harm us.”
Rhene absorbed all Matthon was saying now, listening intently. If Matthon wasn’t able to piece this all together, he needed all the information he could gather so he could pass the knowledge on to someone who could.
“And you said that Adabelle is the only one who can bring him out?”
“She’s his own flesh and blood,” Rhene replied. “It has to be either her or her sister, and her sister is currently sealed away from the Dream by some kind of mindlock.”
“You mean those bracelets?” asked Matthon.
“No,” Rhene replied, “it’s a mental thing. Therron has the key within someone else, and only once those two people meet can…whatever it is that’s been sealed away be released and Charlotte’s mind will be her own again. But even then, we don’t know if Charlotte is a Dreamer, or even a Sturding for that matter. From my understanding, Therron needs his own flesh and blood, and they have to be a Sturding. They have to have the ability to pull dreams out of the Frequencies and make them realities.” And I’m helpless to wait and see what happens.
“Well we can have some small comfort in knowing we have only one person to worry about. If we can get Adabelle out of the picture, we’ll all be safe. The Dreamless can take it from there. We may even be able to have him sealed away in a Dream Sphere once more.”
“But Matthon, the whole reason this has started is because on the Oen’Aerei decided to release Therron.” Adabelle had never received precise confirmation, but Rhene could guess who had been the culprit. Lady Morphier was the only person with access to that place, and who would not be questioned. The sheer fact she is in love with that madman is just a sign she was the one to release him. Another thought, not wholly his own. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to bring him out of the Dream and kill him? I know he won’t go down without a fight…heavens! He’ll probably have an army waiting to fight those who try to kill him! But surely something more final, like that, is better than having his conscience sealed away with the possibility of having his prison broken again?”
“It’s too risky,” Matthon retorted, waving his hand dismissively. “The number of things that could go wrong! And putting our trust in an Oen’Aerei like Adabelle?”
I suppose it’s impossible to lie in a Dream.
He suddenly realised what Matthon had said. “Adabelle’s not Oen’Aerei,” Rhene corrected. “She’s just a Dreamer. She holds no stake in that place.”
“Regardless, there are too many risks involved, and unless you know someone who’s willing to drag themselves into Oblivion with him, then we don’t have any other option.”
Rhene settled back in his seat, having only just noticed he’d shifted to the very edge of it before when he’d piped up. He wanted to argue more, but Matthon was right; there really weren’t many options. He had to accept that.
Who knows? he thought. This kind of action…having him sealed away again, might help make a temporary treaty betwee
n the Dreamless and the Oen’Aerei. It seemed a distant idea, and highly unlikely, but a shaky treaty was better than no treaty at all.
“But we can discuss the terms of this after we go to war,” Matthon continued.
Rhene nearly fell out of his chair with shock.
“What?”
“Well we need to have something to barter with,” Matthon said. “If we just go up and knock on that gate, they’ll think we’re mad and send us on our way. We need to have something to hold against them, something that will genuinely make them tremble. And what makes humanity tremble more than the fear of mortality itself?”
Rhene was silent here. He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. Matthon’s logic was, once again, sound.
“So with that in mind,” Matthon went on, “I will be informing the army tonight that we will be marching before dawn tomorrow.”
“What?” Rhene cried.
“Before dawn, we’re marching,” Matthon repeated. “We cannot risk these things any longer. We have to deal with the Dreamers before they are well-and-truly prepared, because I’m sure by now they are getting prepared for some kind of assault. With Therron involved, with you involved with this girl, we need to strike while we still have the element of surprise. So tomorrow morning, we will move through the city under the cover of darkness and then we will march on the gates. If we go under the cover of night, they should all be sleeping so we can tackle them before they’re fully aware. If it’s at morning, too, the number of minds a Sturding can pass through should be lessened simply by way of everyone waking up.
“Hopefully once we have the Oen’Aerei, we can work on getting back Adabelle.”
“She’s got those dream shackles on her,” Rhene said, running a finger around his wrist. “You don’t know any way to get them off?”
“Not without the key,” Matthon replied, shaking his head. “Which is why we need Lady Morphier. Dead or alive, she has the key. From there, we know Therron will lose his power within the Halls and then we can take on that gentleman who has her captive. I promise you, we can deal with all this easily.”
“But I was able to break through that wall of Therron’s.”
“That’s a little different. That’s a mental barrier he’s somehow able to put in place. Therron has always been a powerful Dreamer; there’s things he’s able to do I’m sure a lot of people haven’t.”
“But I was able to break it!” Rhene replied. “I broke through the barrier. Can’t I do that for Adabelle?”
Matthon bit his lip, brow furrowed in frustration. “The rules are set in stone,” he replied, tone firm. “There’s nothing we can do to break them. Admittedly, those rules are still only theories, so it might be possible for a powerful Dreamer to break the seal, but if Adabelle hasn’t been able to break the shackles herself, there is very little chance you can. I’m sorry.”
Rhene lowered his gaze, feeling the pain of his sadness well up towards the surface. “But tomorrow?” he asked. “Isn’t that a bit…early. I mean, I understand why, but it all seems a bit rushed to me is all.
Matthon shrugged. “No better time than the present.”
Rhene nodded in agreement, but couldn’t quite convey the certainty he’d wanted to.
“What’s wrong?” asked Matthon. “Is there anything you’re not telling me? You don’t seem entirely prepared, nor willing.”
“Well…it’s really just facing the Dreamers in general,” he said. “I don’t think we can really generalise with them that they’re all evil. I mean, there’s Therron and Lady Morphier, but even if we destroy the Oen’Aerei, there will still be Dreamers in the world. And worst of all, they’ll be wildings with no control over their ability. Is it really worth what we are risking in this battle? I mean, there are so many other options. Surely a hundred well-trained Oen’Aerei are better than a hundred people lost to Oblivion.”
“A hundred Dreamers,” Matthon corrected.
“You’re a Dreamer yourself!” Rhene retorted, pointing accusatorially across the table. He did not mean to speak as loudly as he did. But it was out now. He might as well go on. “And Therron and Lady Morphier…they’re the enemies here! Not every other Dreamer in the world. You think that because you have made it your mission to fight the Dreamers you’re right in your ability? Well you’re not. You’re a hypocrite, like me! There’s no other word for it. We’re liars and hypocrites. We are fighting for a cause that we ourselves are breaking! The Dreamless began, in case you forgot, as little more than a small group of concerned people. And now its aim has been warped and darkened to this…army! It’s meant to be a peaceful group, and now we’re going to war.” He wasn’t sure whether he should stop. A wiser part of his mind told him he ought to calm down before he said anything he would regret, but on he went, unbridled by the fear he once held. He could thank Adabelle for that.
I always have a choice! he thought.
“There are innocent humans in that place out there,” Rhene said, pointing out the window towards the Halls of the Oen’Aerei, its white dome just visible over the city skyline. “Just as surely as there are innocent people here, in the Dreamless. We’re sending people off to their deaths, Matthon. I hope you know that.”
Matthon barely allowed a breath in before he replied. “I know as well as they do that death is a very real possibility. Hell! We’re dealing with Dreamers. There’s a very real chance we could end up insane once they’ve all meddled in our heads. Remember that, boy: Dreaming is by no means a reprieve from damage.”
He still doesn’t know I’m a Sturding, Rhene realised. He kept his expression impassive, remained strong.
“And every person who is going to fight is going to fight with a cause. Everyone has a stake in this battle, and every person who has come here has come with full knowledge of our intent. No one is conscripted, no one has their hand forced. That is, and always has been, the rule.” He spoke slowly here, with intent and purpose and meaning, hammering home each word with all the significance his voice could manage. “And I do not want you, for a second, thinking you have no choice. Leave, if you must; but know that makes you an enemy. If you are not with us, you are with them, and I will not hesitate for a moment in destroying you should the need arise.” He smiled here, nodded.
Rhene had nothing to reply with. He simply sat before the man, unable to contain the quiver in his lips, or the way his fingers seemed overcome with some kind of palsy.
“You may go now,” he said, “but I need to see you tonight before I make the announcement so I know what is to happen. And think long and hard, Rhene. Consider carefully where your loyalties lie. Go.” He nodded to the door.
Rhene rose and soundlessly exited the room with fear in his heart and fluttering in his gut. He felt ill as he walked down the halls, Matthon’s words playing in his mind repeatedly against Adabelle’s own.
Consider carefully where your loyalties lie.
But where do my loyalties lie? he thought. He was a Dreamer in the Dreamless, a lie amongst truths. By all rights, he shouldn’t even be allowed to exist within this group, and yet Matthon had been gracious enough to allow it. Then again, as he considered it, he realised Matthon would be even more of a hypocrite had he not allowed it. Questions of loyalty and picking sides arose in his head. Matthon’s stern expression, his parents’ bodies bleeding out onto the white sheets of their bed, and Adabelle’s voice all the while reminding him, You always have a choice.
“I always have a choice,” he whispered, once he arrived in the silence of his bedroom.
He settled down onto the bed, undoing the buttons on his forest green coat.
Do I really want to wear the uniform of a liar? he thought as he threw the coat aside onto his bed. He stared at it, considering its meaning.
I don’t have to pick a side. I can fight for myself. He grabbed the coat in a fist. I can fight for Adabelle.
He imagined her now, locked away from the Dream Frequencies by the bracelet around her wrist. He imagined her sobbing.
“I can’t not fight,” he whispered. To do so would mean he would have to face challenges from two sources. But on the same hand, he didn’t really want to be the on the side fighting the Oen’Aerei. He was sure, deep down, that there were people in there who were sympathetic to Therron’s cause. But they couldn’t all be, surely!
And then there was Lady Morphier: she was the real challenge here. Her and Therron and the man that held Adabelle captive. Between those three, Rhene had a challenge ahead of him
Matthon needs me to fight, he reminded himself. He needs me in the Dream. He needs me there.
But didn’t Adabelle need him, too? Didn’t Charlotte? Weren’t their situations far more dire than his or Matthon’s own?
There is always a choice, he reminded himself. I always have a choice.
But what if there are far too many ties to allow me a choice? What if I have made more promises than one person can keep without angering another party?
His heart sunk.
I can’t leave Adabelle, but I can’t leave Matthon, without insuring my own destruction.
But there was still Lady Morphier, and Therron, and until Adabelle was free, Rhene was the only one who could deal with them.
Unless I free her, he thought. The rational side of his mind reminded him of that fact’s impossibilities. But then he remembered smashing down the wall of Therron’s making. Surely he could do that again!
I have a choice.
“I’m not fighting for Matthon,” he whispered to himself. “I’m fighting for myself, and for Adabelle. I may not be on the side of the Dreamless, but I will fight Lady Morphier and Therron tomorrow. Matthon himself if he forces me to. But I will fight for Adabelle and for Charlotte, and myself.”