by Lincoln Law
Adabelle sat in shock, saying nothing as she turned from Morphier to the window, where her sister was, indeed, walking through the battlegrounds, protected by the Oen’Aerei, shooting the Dreamless who targeted the dark girl in the red coat.
Matthon was rearing for attack, preparing to tackle Rhene. If Matthon could wrestle him to the ground, he could take the orbitoclast from Rhene’s hand and finish the job.
“Bravery,” Rhene said, feeling his courage well within him. Feeling Adabelle’s own strength beat in his heart, “is making a difficult choice, when you know the consequences may be severe.”
Matthon roared. “LIAR!” He threw himself at Rhene, and Rhene raised his unspiked hand in protection. Matthon drove forward, carried on the speed and strength of his own legs.
But Matthon was distracted by the hand Rhene had raised, and had not noticed the orbitoclast now trained for his heart.
He may not be a Sturding, Rhene thought, but that does not mean his mind is safe.
Rhene pulled the spike from his hand, grunting. He ignored the pain and the blood, though, holding up the spike and driving it forward. The spike sliced into Matthon’s chest, spraying blood against Rhene’s hands. A prickle of pain burst through Rhene’s hand as the sheer force of Matthon’s weight panged up his arm. Matthon’s body shivered slightly as Rhene removed the spike. Then, he looked down at his ruined hand, at a gaping hole of only muscle and sinew and blood. The orbitoclast dripped with blood, hot and steaming. He wrapped his hand tightly around it, raising it high, and stabbed it through the man’s eye, aiming for where the brain lay. More blood, but no screams. Matthon began to babble, and he dropped to the ground, his body slowly fading.
Sometime in the morning, somewhere in the street of Odilla, a person would find the body of Matthon, babbling madly, lost to fits of insanity. Of this Rhene was suddenly sure.
“Bravery,” Rhene whispered, “is loving someone, when everyone else tells you not to.” He turned to Aunt Marie, who seemed entirely unperturbed considering what had just happened.
He could not heal that hole in his hand. The damage was far too great for his skill. But he could imagine a bandage, so at the very least he could stem the bleeding.
“Right, Aunt Marie,” he said, grabbing the chair and pushing it onwards. “It’s time to find Adabelle.”
The pair drove deeper into the Dream, Rhene feeling a mass of shifting Dreamers nearby. He was getting close to the Oen’Aerei. The closer they got, the more Aunt Marie shifted in her chair and shuffle, uncertain and unsure. She moaned quietly in her seat, glancing up at Rhene with frightened eyes.
“Don’t worry, Marie,” Rhene said, patting her gently on the shoulder. “It’ll all be over soon. You’ll be free. Your head will stop hurting. I promise you.”
Aunt Marie nodded, her eyes unblinking and wide with fear. She was shivering now, and sobbing on occasion.
Rhene sniffed the air. He could smell cologne—Therron’s cologne—mixing with the gentle smell of vanilla. He knew from where the cologne was coming, but he didn’t know what made that other scent. He had to move away from that before Therron could intervene. He was late enough as it was.
He arrived in the mind of a sleeper, hoping he was within the boundaries of the Oen’Aerei’s walls. He could feel Adabelle close by, though which direction he was suddenly unsure. There was so much movement within the Dream Frequencies here, of people coming and going, of Sturdings shifting each other through, that Rhene’s mind was muddled by it all.
He found a mind he could use, and stepped out…
…into an infirmary of some kind. He was surrounded by beds, of people in crimson cloaks bleeding out into the whites of the sheets. It was madness and chaos in here, as the wounded were tended to.
“What are you doing here?” asked one of the nurses. “You’re not meant to be here!”
Rhene swore under his breath. What is it with me and nurses today?
“Can someone take these two to Lady Morphier,” the nurse yelled, as she worked with a needle and thread to stitch up a nearby wound. “Have her sort them out.”
A pair of crimson-cloaked guards appeared almost out of nowhere.
“Escort this man and woman to Lady Morphier please,” the nurse said. “Get them out of here.”
Rhene looked at the two guards, both of them burly, both of them apparently ignoring the blood seeping through the bandage wrapping his hands.
“Well go on!” Rhene said. “Take me to Lady Morphier!”
Sure enough, they began to march him up the halls.
That was too easy. His thoughts extended out to Charlotte, who he hoped was with her sister now waiting for his arrival.
The gates opened before her, allowing in the green-coated Dreamless and the crimson-cloaked Dreamers. A sea of emerald and ruby, exploding with the flash of gunfire and roaring cries of agony.
She watched around her as those that targeted her dropped, as if sniped by some unseen angel. Whoever it was, she thanked them in her mind, ducking and weaving her way towards the front door.
A person emerged from the huge building before her, as the stone statue of the stag above them rained rocks upon them, struck by a stray bullet.
“Charlotte Blaise?” said the man in the cloak.
“Yes.”
“Come with me.” He wrapped a hand around her and escorted her into the Halls of the Oen’Aerei.
Her head pulsed more heavily as she went. She took a moment to catch her breath, to ease her quivering heart, as they ascended the stairs. Her mind felt ready to burst open, for the bone and skin and brain to explode and spill onto the carpet before them.
“Are you well, Miss?” asked the escort guiding her.
“I’m fine,” she said, gripping her head. “Just the gunfire…it’s loud.”
“How you managed to get through all that has got me stumped,” he went on. “I do apologise, but we must hurry. Lady Morphier does not like to be kept waiting.”
“Of course,” she said, following along behind him.
Charlotte, the voice in her head whispered. Charlotte. You’ve been so very brave. You’re almost there.
The voice seemed so familiar, yet somehow not. The wafting scent of vanilla perfume was almost overpowering now, choking her lungs as she strove to get her breath back. Why did she feel so tired? She had run so far, she had dodged so many bullets. She, in truth, had no idea how she’d managed that herself, but she was here. She was playing her part. It was all she could do.
I have been brave, she thought, feeling an excitement and a happiness welling within her. I’ve been so very brave.
They arrived at some kind of sitting room.
“Lady Morphier,” the escort said as he stood in the doorway. “I have Charlotte Blaise for you.”
“Let her in,” came the clipped, polite tone of Lady Morphier. The man stepped aside, allowing her into the room.
The first thing she saw was Lady Morphier holding a gun. The second thing she saw was Adabelle, turning to look over her shoulder.
“Charlotte!” Adabelle screamed, a smile crossing her face, tears streaming. She got up from the chair, and wrapped her arms around her sister. Charlotte felt so warm here in her sister’s arms, and she didn’t want to let go. Yet with this warmth and safety came the headache, stifling her thoughts, making it difficult to make sense of what was happening.
“Thank goodness you’re safe,” Adabelle whispered, running her hand through her sister’s hair, kissing her on the forehead.
“Of course I am,” she replied, looking up into her sister’s eyes.
“Come now, Adabelle,” Lady Morphier said. “I have done what I needed to. Take a seat next to me with your sister and watch the remainder of the battle. Then, we’ll bring your father back.”
Adabelle’s gaze moved from Charlotte to Lady Morphier. Charlotte saw it in her eyes: hatred. Hatred for Morphier, hatred for her father, hatred for the battle that she was forced to watch.
Charlott
e could feel him now, though. Rhene was close. Aunt Marie was close. Her head deafened her with the pounding, pulsing agony it unleashed. It took her a moment, but she suddenly noticed she was on the ground screaming.
“What’s happening?” asked Lady Morphier. Charlotte watched her rise from her chair, pointing the gun directly at Charlotte. Charlotte screamed something, but she didn’t know what. Wait! No! She could hear it now! “Mama!” she screamed. “Mama!” So loudly, so strongly, she screamed it. Then, she only heard mumbles, and whispers…someone whispering her own name…Charlotte…and the throbbing, drumming beat of the pain that wanted only to tear her head open.
Then she heard a name. Adabelle said it, joyfully and fearfully.
“Rhene!”
Everything went black.
Chapter Thirty
Therron’s Secret
In the madness that ensued upon Rhene and Aunt Marie’s arrival, Adabelle was able to note three things.
First was the fact that all three involved in the mindlock—Charlotte, then Aunt Marie, then Lady Morphier—all dropped to the ground. Marie, who was in her chair, simply slumped back, mouth wide open, eyes staring wildly.
Secondly, she noticed the bandage around Rhene’s hand, and the blood that stained it a shimmering red.
Thirdly, she heard something from the Frequencies. A mighty snap, and then a click and then some kind of explosion, as the wall of a mind was forced open.
Adabelle had been able to feel the Frequencies around her the whole time she had been within the Oen’Aerei halls. Just because she had stepped out of them meant nothing. The tendrils of thought were endlessly reaching out and touching the minds of those who ran through the Frequencies. But in that moment, she felt a new source open up. It was a new part of the Frequencies she had only seen before as a void.
Her sister’s mind became a reachable part of the Frequencies, and Adabelle took the chance while she had it. She threw herself—body and all—into her sister’s thoughts, arriving in the Frequencies.
There was music in the Dream. Beautiful, soft, gentle music, made for lulling people to sleep. It was The Dreamers Lullaby, played on some kind of string instrument. It made Adabelle miss her own violin, miss her afternoons spent playing music.
Then she smelled that familiar vanilla perfume. It floated through the Dream, permeated through everything, through darkness. Mists rolled in. They came from nought but darkness, and sat there, shifting and swirling, making dark shapes all the while. These were the mists of a mind yet to dream. The mists of confusion and discovery.
And then from the mists of the Dream stepped a woman. She had dark skin and the deepest brown eyes, her hair a wild mess of black. She wore a bright yellow dress, too, that flowed and waved about on an unseen, unfelt wind.
She looked so much like Adabelle…only older. Dark hair flowed from a youthful face.
“Mama?” Adabelle whispered, her voice echoing despite her soft tone.
The woman nodded, opening up her arms.
Adabelle ran to her mother, like she had wanted to all this time. She opened her arms wide, tears flowing out of disbelief.
As her body met her mother’s, though, she simply passed through, like she was a ghost.
Or a memory, she thought darkly.
“What’s happening, Mama?” she asked. “Why can’t I touch you.”
“My dearest Adabelle,” she said. “I’m less than a dream, less than a memory or a thought now. I’m just an idea; and you can’t touch ideas.”
“But…why?” she asked. She stared at her mother now. She looked so real…so solid! Yet she passed right through her.
“It was my agreement with your father,” she said, head lowered in shame. “On the night I left you at the University, when I was hunted by your father, he let me make a bargain. I was allowed to let you and your sister live.”
“In exchange for?” she asked.
“What else? My life.” She shrugged. “I had kept you girls from him to protect you, and he found that the greatest betrayal. And then when Charlotte was born, and Therron came to help keep my end of the bargain, he couldn’t kill me.” She paused here. “His threats were empty. He arrived at the hospital and sobbed into my shoulder. He cried like a child and told me he couldn’t do it, that he still loved me. But I had already trapped him. The Oen’Aerei sealed him in a sphere, and as a counterstroke, he had a part of my mind sealed in Charlotte’s own.” She smiled, holding a hand over her heart. “This part. The part that knew his weakness here, the part that knew the truth that he himself could barely voice: that he still loved me. That he still cared, and couldn’t bear to see me die. But I had betrayed him, and when they found our bodies, we were both dead. In slicing my mind he had killed me, and in sealing his separate to his body, I’d killed him. They found our corpses alongside a little girl who could not dream, who would not dream until that lock was broken.”
Adabelle’s mind reeled at the thought. She couldn’t imagine her father loving her mother, let alone sobbing.
Lady Morphier had been right, she whispered. He did love her.
“And he still loves me, as he love you girls. It was the one good thing that remained of the man I once loved, but it was one of the greatest parts of him.”
Adabelle suddenly realised she was crying, though she didn’t know why. She didn’t feel sad, but nor was she happy now, either. She just…was.
“If only you could have seen him before that darker part took over,” her mother whispered, eyes distant, nostalgic. “He was beautiful, once, and loving and kind and caring, and I loved him, and he loved you. You and Charlotte, though he never truly saw her.”
“Come back with me,” Adabelle said. The gentle tune of The Dreamer’s Lullaby was suddenly tainted. It changed from the gentle strings to a music box, distorted by darkness. And then an almighty stench of cologne appeared, as strong as ever. Therron was returning. “We can get rid of Therron together.”
“You can’t bring me out of the Dream like you can with him,” she said, shaking her head sadly. “He is a full conscience, kept whole and complete. I am but a slice, a sliver of a whole human. If you tried to drag me out, I would only fade, as I will now I am no longer bound by the mindlock. I would never see the light of day or feel the wind on my face. I would be but a shadow, and then I would die. It is not a life I want, nor one anyone could suffer through.”
“But I could help you,” Adabelle said. “I’m meant to be a powerful Dreamer. I can do something to help you! I can’t just sit back and watch you here and let you fade!”
“But you have to, Adabelle,” mama replied. “I can’t live in the real world. I can’t. I can barely exist here, yet somehow I have remained. I will go soon, and you have to let me go.” She stepped forward. Adabelle should have felt her mother’s breath on her face, the heal rolling of her skin, the caress of her dress as it billowed in the wind. Yet she felt nothing, saw nothing; only sadness. But also, acceptance. She knew what she had to do. “Be strong, Adabelle. Let me die, Adabelle. Let me fade and remember me as I was. Not as I am.”
Adabelle nodded, sobbing. She saw the woman on the doorstep. Her mama raised a hand, running it through her daughter’s hair. She saw that same apologetic and assuring smile from that night, when her mother left, when her father ruined her life. She felt like that child once more, standing on the doorstep. Only this time, she was alone.
Her mother began to fade into the mists, the darkness of the Dream Frequencies closing in.
“But mama! How am I meant to stop him? How can I stop Therron?”
“Let matters take their course,” she replied. “I find things tend to work out in the end.”
Adabelle went to hug her mother, but her arms simply fell through as she faded. She hugged air for a moment, imagining the warmth of her mother’s arms, the safety she would feel were she there.
“I love you,” Adabelle whispered, tears rolling.
But she was already gone, that sweet perfume lost, tha
t loving voice no longer echoing in her ears.
She was gone, and Adabelle was alone.
A clang within the Dream reminded her that Therron was coming. He was nearer now. Now was the time. This was the chance she had been waiting for.
Now or never, she thought, as she prepared herself for her father’s appearance.
Chapter Thirty-One
A Touch of Reality
A minute after the three women collapsed, and Adabelle disappeared, Rhene saw Lady Morphier begin to stir.
He had already shifted Aunt Marie into the room properly, so he could shut the door and lock it. People were banging outside, yet he remained steadfast.
“I will open it in a minute!” he called, as he ran over to Lady Morphier.
As he passed the windows, though, his eyes fell on the battle playing out on the grounds before them. People in red and people in green were firing guns and slashing swords and stabbing with bayonets on the end of rifles. Blood soaked into the greens, into the earth, as people dropped.
Judging from a cursory glance, it seemed like the Dreamless were winning, but that might have been simply because the green showed more vibrantly against the red than the crimson cloaks did.
He knelt down beside Lady Morphier, who was muttering under her breath. She touched her head with her hand, cradling it as if it held some massive weight.
“My head,” she whispered. “The pain…it’s gone.”
“The mindlock is broken, miss,” Rhene said. He could feel Adabelle with the vines of thought extending from his mind. He could touch Charlotte’s mind, and even Aunt Marie’s. Before there had only been addled madness, but now there was some kind of sense there. Some kind of order and organisation to her thoughts, as they were once again allowed the space they ought to be allotted.
“Oh, Melréar!” Morphier moaned, as she got herself back up from the ground. She scrabbled for her pistol, which had fallen underneath the chair. Rhene grabbed it before she could and pointed it at her.