by Lincoln Law
“Up here,” Adabelle pointed to a set of stairs. “We’re still in the apartment. Our room’s up here.”
He followed her up the stairs and into another room, where they found Charlotte still asleep and the rifle still on the ground. Rhene quickly checked it—yes, the bullets were still there—and picked it up.
“Charlotte,” Adabelle said, shaking her sister. “It’s time to get up. We have to go. Come on. Hurry!”
Charlotte stirred sleepily, somewhat confused. She saw Rhene, though, as she sat up suddenly in the bed.
“Rhene!” she exclaimed.
“We’ve got to hurry,” Adabelle said. “Put a skirt on, grab your red coat. We’re escaping.”
She nodded. Rhene turned away while she pulled on a black skirt, and tugged on her favourite red coat, and then turned back around when Adabelle said it was safe.
“Right,” he said, “let’s go.”
From the room, they went up the short hallway towards the stairs. Rhene kept the rifle ready, in case they needed it.
With light steps and quiet breathing, they descended the stairs, heading towards the door.
“Stop right there,” Mr. Corbine said, emerging from the room to their left with swing of the door.
Without thinking, and without quite knowing what he was doing, Rhene pumped the rifle, turned and pulled the trigger. Mr. Corbine was thrown off his feet, knocked into the room once more, the sound from the shotgun like a thunderous snap.
“Oh, God!” Charlotte screamed.
“I think you just killed him,” Adabelle said, her voice quavering. There was a moment of silence, and then she hugged him, tightly.
Rhene ran to the room and found Mr. Corbine lying on the ground, eyes facing the ceiling. Blood stained his shirt from a large and bloody hole in his chest.
“We can’t just leave the body here,” Adabelle said.
“We could hide the body within the Dream Frequencies,” he said.
“Or perhaps a Dream within a Dream,” she suggested. And then she stopped herself, handing grabbing for Rhene’s arm. She gripped it tightly. “Wait.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not sure,” she whispered. “I think…” she glanced at Charlotte. She shook her head and turned back to Rhene. “Hide the body.”
“We need someone asleep,” Rhene said.
“Oh, right,” Adabelle muttered.
Rhene lay down beside the man, hand gripping the man’s shirt.
“I’ll only be a moment,” he said.
“Okay,” she nodded.
He closed his eyes, forcing his thought tendrils out. They grasped at the corpse, wrapping around him like string around a package. Then, he willed his mind into restfulness, approaching the Dream Frequencies with sudden assurance. One moment he could feel the ground below him, and the next he was in the Frequencies, with Mr. Corbine beside him. He’d never done that before except when going to sleep. He felt an odd moment of pride at his achievement, and then felt it quashed as the corpse rolled against him.
Adabelle watched Rhene disappear, her own words echoing in her mind.
Dream within a Dream, she thought. She turned to Charlotte again, whose eyes glistened and hands were shaking.
“What is it?” Charlotte asked, eyes shimmering with shock.
“What I just said,” she muttered. “A Dream within a Dream.” She paused, mouthing the words again. “I think I’ve just cracked your mindlock.”
Rhene imagined the body burning, and so it did, bursting into flames, brilliant, white and blazing.
From there, he left the Frequencies, stepping out of his own mind once more. He opened his eyes, feeling the floor beneath him.
“Rhene,” she said, the second he was in the room again. “Quick, tell me, do you think it’s possible for there to be multiple layers to a mindlock?”
“What? As in what your sister has? I can’t see why not…why?”
“Because I think I’ve just solved the mindlock. I think we can break the seal. And we need to do it now, before we face Therron. We need Lady Morphier and Aunt Marie together.”
“But Charlotte has seen both of them,” he said. “She has sat in front of both of them.”
“And both times I’ve had headaches,” Charlotte interrupted, stepping into the conversation.
“Oh, God! You’re right!” Rhene said.
“Well I can get to Lady Morphier if you can get Aunt Marie,” Adabelle said. “It might be tough, but we’ll have more luck bringing Aunt Marie to her. Charlotte, once we’re gone, do you think you could make your way to the Oen’Aerei?”
She nodded. “I can.”
“But there will be the soldiers there,” Rhene said. “The battle.”
Adabelle glanced out the window. “We have about an hour till the sun rises. Do you think you can get to the Halls in time?”
Charlotte nodded again.
“And you can get Aunt Marie from the hospital, Rhene. If you ask for her at the counter, they will guide you. Once the nurses are gone, take her. There’s not enough time to risk a fight. And, Rhene, her mind is addled. I do not know how she will respond to the Dream world.”
“But she is a Sturding?”
“She is,” Adabelle said.
“I can work with that. I promise I will get there.”
The pair kissed.
“Let’s go,” Adabelle said, running for the door, beginning the search for the nearest sleeping mind she could intrude upon. It was only now Rhene noticed that her hair had grown back. Apparently she had brought that back from the Dream with her. It made him smile, watching it shimmer like an inky, iridescent wave as she ran.
It’s time, thought Rhene as he followed close behind her, Charlotte racing up the rear.
We have an hour.
PART FIVE
Oblivion
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Role She Has To Play
It’s a double mindlock, thought Adabelle, as she snapped into the mind of the nearest sleeper she could find with an open window. It’s the reason Aunt Marie’s mind is so addled. She holds a metal key within a mental lock. Her mind is already full…maybe even broken.
She paused, remembering Larraine’s funeral.
It’s the reason she had that moment of lucidity when she and Charlotte were together. The key was trying to free itself, but it couldn’t without the other key from Lady Morphier.
It made so much sense. Therron had needed two minds that would never meet, unless forced together for this exact purpose, and who else to trust than two women on opposite sides of the battle. Two sides of the battle, forced to come together, to unlock a mind. There was a simple, poetic beauty to it, Adabelle couldn’t deny, and yet it also made her sick inside. It was the reason Lady Morphier knew so much about the mindlock; she was part of the lock itself.
Binding two minds together could cause instability, she remembered. But three minds led to…well…Aunt Marie.
She could feel the army marching through the street, a strange, extrasensory sensation reaching out and touching the minds of those men and women despite them being awake. She felt pride in their hearts, and murder in their minds, and she was sure now if she did not hurry, there would be blood in the streets before midday. The shifting darkness acted as a constant reminder of the pressure at hand.
The question of what Therron had locked away eluded her still, though. What would he need to hide within another’s mind? What aspect of his life was he so ashamed of he had to hide it within the mind of his daughter.
What part of his life was he so willing to share with Lady Morphier? she thought. Aunt Marie would have been forced to do this mindlock against her will, but Lady Morphier had to have been in cahoots the whole time. What did she herself know, too, that she was willing to let it be sealed away?
In the distant real world, she heard the clock tower chime the hour. Their time was lessening quickly. Can I get into the Halls?
These questions plagued her mind
as she ran through the dreams of those who slept. All the while, she thought of Rhene, and hoped and prayed that he would find Aunt Marie in time.
Rhene stepped out of the Frequencies and into a quiet ward of the hospital. Around him, people slept.
He’d left his rifle in the Dream, now, realising he would not need it any time soon. And even if he did, he could Dream one up. A man in uniform in a hospital was one thing. A man in uniform in a hospital with a rifle was a different matter entirely.
He ran to the nearest counter and asked for Marie, who was Adabelle Blaise’s Aunt—he’d forgotten to ask Adabelle for a surname.
They seemed to recognise the name, though, and quickly directed him.
He ran as swiftly as he could manage up the hallway, arriving at the ward indicated by the staff.
She was awake and sitting up in her bed when he arrived. As he entered, her expression changed from one of relative serenity, to concern.
“She sometimes gets like this,” the nurse said. “She’s quite stable at the moment. Feel free to go in and talk to her. She’s having one of her more lucid episodes.”
Finally, he thought, sighing. A bit of good luck!
“Hello, Aunt Marie,” Rhene said, approaching the bed slowly, hands at his side, open palms. He spoke in a gentle voice. He had nothing to hide, and she needed to know that. “Aunt Marie, you don’t know me but I’m a very good friend of your nieces, Adabelle and Charlotte.”
Aunt Marie seemed to quiver in her bed, distrusting eyes glancing from Rhene, to his hands, to the door and back to him, all in quick, triangular succession. She let out a soft moan of worry, and Rhene raised his hands in the hopes of quelling her troubles.
“Shhh,” he whispered, “it’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you.” He paused, searching for something to say. “I need to talk to you.”
Marie seemed to calm at that, the wild fear in her brown eyes waning slightly. He took that as a sign, and sat a hand on the bed. He did not touch her, but he left his hand on the blankets.
“It’s about Adabelle and Charlotte,” he said, speaking softly, as one would speak to a child. “They’re in trouble and I want to help them. You see, I love Adabelle, and I need to protect them from their father, Therron.”
At that name, Marie’s entire body jolted into a kind of rigid palsy, fingers quivering, legs kicking up and down, her eyes unable to quite stay open.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Rhene said, quickly. He began the shooshing noise again, touching her shoulders softly. “I can see that name hurts you.”
Aunt Marie sobbed, nodding. A small collection of tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, but she settled.
“Then you understand the danger they’re in. You see, this thing that’s happened to your mind…the trouble you’ve gone through is all because he’s put something in here and we have to get it out.” He pointed at her head. The woman raised her hand, touching the same spot where he had touched. As he withdrew his finger, it was sticky with sweat. She was hot with a fever of some kind.
“Now I know he’s done something bad to your mind, to your dreams. Do you remember how you used to walk through other people’s minds?”
It took a moment, and it was tentative, but she eventually nodded.
“Well if we can fix what’s in there,” he pointed at her head again, “then we might be able to do that again. We might be able to have you back to normal.” He paused here, slightly taken aback at how aware and lucid the woman was. Her eyes were so calm now, in comparison to how they had been when he had first entered. She seemed so settled, so gentle.
He saw so much of Adabelle in her aunt in that moment.
“Would you like to be fixed?”
Aunt Marie licked her lips, revealing teeth that looked a little broken and rotted in places. The years spent without much independence had not been kind on this woman.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice croaking from somewhere deep. Her voice was rich and strong, and he imagined she might have been a beautiful singer at one point. He wondered whether Adabelle had inherited any of this musical talent? He’d never considered asking, really. He imagined her for a moment, singing, her voice like heaven. Perhaps with an instrument of some kind. Not a piano or a flute…but a violin. A violin sat quite well in his mental image of her.
“Well we have to go.”
He pulled back the blankets, fixing up the woman’s nightie so that she had some kind of modesty before she was carried out. Then, he swept her up in his arms, her body light. Everything about her seemed so thin and worn. This was a young lady, thrown into old age by the machinations of some other person. It made him want to see Therron die all the more, and yet it also made him tremendously sad.
So many people’s lives have been cut short because of the actions of this one man, he thought, his stomach churning with sickness at the thought. So many lives ruined and broken and… he thought of Adabelle, …put on hold because this man had his plans. This is why we have to stop this. This is why we have to fight till the end.
He only hoped no one else had to give up their lives before the end. The pulsing fear in his chest suggested otherwise.
“Excuse me!” yelled one of the nurses. He hadn’t noticed, but he was already part way down the hall with a sedate Marie in his arms. The nurses had called out a number of times, but he had been so lost in his thoughts, he had not noticed.
“Excuse me!” she cried again. Rhene turned.
“We’re going through the Dreams,” he whispered to Aunt Marie. She seemed to understand, for he felt the tendrils of her mind reach out and touch his own. They seemed to weave together into a tight braid, binding them together before they entered the Dream, so she would not be left behind.
“You do realise she is a permanent resident?” asked the nurse. “She can’t just go out without clearance from the doctor first.”
“Oh, is she?” Rhene asked, feigning surprise.
“She is!” The nurse stepped out from behind the desk and began marching towards him. “So I will ask if you can please return her to her bed immediately before I call the police.”
“The police?” Rhene asked, taking a few tentative steps towards the nearest room. It was still dark in there, and the people in there slept soundly. He let his and Marie’s thoughts reach out towards the nearest mind. They needed to be a few metres closer before they could enter.
“Yes, the police. Also, if you wish to take her out, you need a wheel chair. We are living in the modern age, boy, and there is no need for carrying her about like a babe! Give the poor woman some dignity.”
“Good point,” he said, glancing over to one of the wheel chairs inside the room full of sleepers. He set her down in one, the nurse watching over his shoulder as he lowered her gently. Rhene and Marie kept their thoughts woven together, though, constantly reaching for the mind of the nearest sleeper. She must have trusted him, for her tendrils seemed to grip tighter with every passing moment.
“Now take her to her room,” said the nurse, pointing with a sharp, angry finger. “Now!” she said sternly again, as he fumbled with the chair, hoping to make the distance between him and the sleeper before this banshee of a nurse woke them all.
“I will, I will,” Rhene mumbled, as he turned her around. “Later.”
And then he ran at the bed, wheelchair and all, wrapping his and Aunt Marie’s thoughts around the mind of the sleeper. One moment, it seemed they were going to crash into the corner of the hospital bed, breaking both wheel chair and Marie in the collision, and then the next they were in the Frequencies, standing in the field of someone else’s dreams.
“Right, Aunt Marie,” he said, pushing the chair onwards. “Let’s hurry. We don’t have long. Hold on tight.”
Aunt Marie understood, gripping to the sides of the chair with a firm grip. Rhene ran as quickly as he could from dreamer to dreamer, heading towards the Halls of the Oen’Aerei, and to Adabelle. He could feel her mind already, even from this
distance, sensing the way. Then, he felt Adabelle step out of the Dream.
She’s there, he thought, as he continued on.
Charlotte’s heart pounded in her chest with the force of a thunderous drum, her throat dry from running. Adrenaline drove her onwards, though, giving her the energy she needed to push on.
A small part of her was excited for what was coming, too, though. She would finally dream again! She would finally know what it is like to see those images when she slept, the ones that were usually kept from her by the wall of endless shadow.
The question arose suddenly in her mind: would she be a Dreamer, like her sister? She imagined her mother and father, both incredibly powerful Dreamers themselves. Sturdings, at that! Lady Morphier had said Dreaming was something that needed strength and training to get perfect. It was by sheer skill that her father had been a Sturding from the very beginning of his life. She might be a Sturding somewhere down the track, but a mighty part of her told her for the time being she would be a Dreamer and nothing more. She would not bring objects in and out of the Dream, she would not walk through it with her sister in physical form. She would just Dream.
But the part of her that felt that excitement told her it would be enough for now. You couldn’t miss what you didn’t have, so she was sure Dreaming would be enough to get by. It was enough for what she needed to do.
Who knows? she thought. Maybe my Dreaming might come in useful with stopping papa.
Adabelle had told her to stop calling him father, but a part of Charlotte still knew he deserved to be acknowledged as their father. He was their flesh and blood, and he needed Adabelle now like Charlotte needed her. Despite the horrible events, Charlotte could see the beauty in Therron’s plans, and appreciated his perspective on things.
For almost two decades, Therron hadn’t been able to feel the wind on his skin or the sunlight on his face or see his daughters in any other capacity than in the Dream. Charlotte was sure he wouldn’t even know what she looked like, given the mindlock.