“No one who would care to be remembered and I shall not take up much of your…” the figure managed to sneer with a verbal pause, his body motionless, “important time.”
“I see. What is the purpose of your visit then?”
“Oh, I am here for information. You will answer my questions. I will instruct you what to do. Then, I shall leave you to your own devices.”
A chill ran down Vencel’s spine. There was not even a hint of argument in his thoughts. He would obey without hesitation.
“Were all troops ordered away from the town of Brélék prior to the raid?”
“Yes of course, I checked reports afterwards. It was done.”
“Are you aware of any magic wielders in the kingdom?”
Something important was nagging at Vencel’s mind, trying to get his attention.
“Certainly not. They were all banished under pain of death many years ago.”
Was it a feeling of Déjà vu? No, it wasn’t quite that.
“Is it possible that any other warriors, scouts or guards could have been in the town without your knowledge?”
“Well, one or two perhaps, off duty and visiting family I suppose but they…” Vencel fell silent as a memory surfaced slowly.
“But they… what, exactly master Vencel?”
“Samuka could have been there. He was headed that way the last I could be sure.”
The hooded head tilted almost imperceptibly to one side.
“Samuka,” the figure said, clearly thinking about the name.
“Ah yes, the lord of the Southernlands. I believe he has been causing you difficulty.”
“Not for over a month! I managed to deal with him permanently,” said Vencel triumphantly.
“You mean he is dead? How fortuitous for you. However, you seem to be implying that he could be reincarnated and fighting against raiders in a small town in the south.”
“Not dead as such. He has been missing for some weeks now and I convinced the Duke that he was responsible for all the raids. He’s wanted for treason now. Even if he’s alive, he can’t show his face in the kingdom anymore. His own people believe he betrayed them.”
“Indeed? And I assume by responsible for the raids you mean to say the Duke believes he was using knowledge of troop movements to expose towns?”
“Yes exactly! Very clever don’t you think?”
“I see. Well, master Vencel, I still expect you to arrange for a steady stream of slaves. However, I suspect you have just made this task infinitely more difficult for yourself by stupidly blaming this man for the attacks. I would suggest using your talents now to divide the remainder of loyalties within the gentry to ensure your control. After all, I would hate for you to disappoint me.”
The figure’s last comment was barbed and lethal.
“Now, do please enjoy your walk back to the office.”
The figure started to fade, as did the room.
Vencel sat up with a start at the sound of an owl call in the tree tops. The back of his head was pure agony, not helped by the vivid memory of his just finished dream. He was not so stupid as to think it was a coincidence. The contact had evidently knocked him out cold and left. Vencel made a mental note never to look away from the minotaur whenever they met again. In the meantime, there was evidently a lot of work to do. The master was right. How could he have been so stupid? If Samuka was to blame for the attacks but was now on the run, how could he explain away fresh attacks? It was time to proceed to the next major phase of his plan.
✽ ✽ ✽
The road twisted and wound higher into the mountains. The resort was not too much further away now. The range rover was hardly a sports car but Martay was grateful for the choice of vehicle on the cold slippery roads. It never budged or slid but powered gracefully and effortlessly up into the pass. The roads got busier as they entered the little village at the heart of the resort where they encountered their first real problem.
The cheaper accommodation was all booked out, not to mention the fact that two very young people looking for cheap accommodation despite driving a brand-new luxury car would draw all kinds of the wrong attention. Rather than risk this they resigned themselves, without much difficulty, to the fact they would need to go to a nicer resort.
They pulled into a car park full of BMWs, Mercedes and other big expensive four-wheel drives and paid for a room for the week at an exorbitant cost.
The next day was filled with crystal clear skies and a biting chill in the air, which was incredibly refreshing. Before too long they found themselves staring down a long but relatively gentle slope. As Snipping would have to learn from scratch, they agreed to keep to the easier runs. However, this didn’t please Snipping who was determined to show that he could do anything that a human was capable of. He may have had a point. After just a few runs of snow ploughing he announced that the technique was too easy and that he wanted them to show him exactly what they were doing when they skied. Martay carefully outlined each step of the turns and stops and Snipping listened with unnerving concentration. The results were astounding. After Martay had finished, Snipping shot off down the run demonstrating a perfect parallel technique. Martay was speechless.
“No way! Nobody learns that fast! He has to have done this before!”
“How can he have? He didn’t technically exist before we met him and he definitely hasn’t skied between then and now.”
“I’ll give ya one thing,” Snipping said when the others caught up, you humans know ‘ow to ‘ave fun!”
His laugh turned into a joyful cackle as he tore off down the hill with gleeful cries that sounded distinctly like ‘wooooo yeeeeaahhh’.
By the end of the day they were all exhausted. Snipping was still brimming with enjoyment as they shouldered their skis and proceeded back to the lodge. The resort was so large that there were still many areas left to explore and Snipping wanted to get around to all of them. They ordered dinner up to their room like they did at the last hotel, to keep Snipping out of sight.
Their spirits were high. The food was excellent, the conversation friendly and light-hearted. None of them felt like discussing plans any further ahead than the next day. Nevertheless, as pleasant as he was being, Snipping did raise the matter of training with Amy good naturedly.
“I believe yer right miss Amriel,” it was a telling sign of how happy he was that he referred to her in this way, “the physical exertion of the day’s activities should ‘elp you sleep soundly. You could get in a very solid trainin’ session tonight before tomorrow’s adventures.”
Amy couldn’t help but agree, though at the moment the prospect felt a little daunting. It was like she had just been told that a ten-mile marathon would be a great thing to do in between a thirty-mile swim and a full day workout at a gym. She was tired already. They planned to engage in even more physical activities again tomorrow, and dreamwalker training the last times had left her feeling as though she had been awake all through the night and not slept at all. Nevertheless, it had been her own idea and she would have to stick to it. She concentrated on the Arbiter’s image as she nodded towards sleep in her warm, enveloping blankets.
Amy was walking through the forest from her last dream. There was no doubt about that. Her mind was astoundingly clear, her thoughts ordered and cohesive. In her last dream she had been sure this forest was her home but now she could tell that outside of that one dream, she had certainly never been here before. It did feel oddly familiar but she assumed that was merely because she had visited it only the day before.
She looked around expectantly, straining her eyes and ears for the sight or sound of an owl. After waiting a short while with no sign of its appearance she decided to actually call for him. Snipping had said that the more she focused her thoughts on the Arbiter, the easier it would be for him to find her in the dream zone so she called out aloud.
“Arbiter? Are you there? I have come for my next training session. Arbiter?”
“Tonight, you are
in an eleven dreamstate Amriel. Do you think anything you may have done has something to do with that?”
The Arbiter had stepped out from behind one of the enormous tree trunks, like the base of a skyscraper building.
“By concentrating on you, the thought of training and needing to learn control, it must have kept my mind focused and conscious somehow. I was aware that I was entering the dream plane. Why didn’t you fly in as an owl this time?”
“Very good. Yes, it is the way in which you order your thoughts, of that I am sure. Though your case is highly unique so we cannot be certain. I did not fly because I was already so close by. Your dream actually sought me out with great accuracy, one tree apart to be precise. Unfortunately, the trees here are so large that one tree is still a bit of distance to cover.”
“Will we try to work on actual dreamwalking tonight? I thought you wanted to do that when I was in an elven dream state.”
“Yes, we will do that later but first I would like to ask you something important. Why is it that you require training for your dreamwalking?”
“So that I can control it I suppose, to use it safely?”
“Yes, but why is that important right now?”
“Because… well… I guess it’s because Gorhoth is trying to find me and uncontrolled dreamwalking could show him where I am.”
“Indeed. Now I presume that your parents explained what he is.”
“They said he was a fallen Arbiter. One that wanted the power of creation himself and that he was banished for trying to control it.”
“A very rudimentary summary but essentially correct. Much more important, however, is understanding how this makes Gorhoth dangerous and powerful. You see, Arbiters are the very essence of natural laws. They do not truly exist like physical realities or even the realities of the dream plane. They are the rules which bind these things together in a stable arrangement. I make no hesitations in saying that it was a grave mistake to banish Gorhoth’s spirit to a physical existence. Can you imagine why this is the case?”
Amy sat pondering what she had been told but a clear answer was not forthcoming and the Arbiter did not seem to expect one.
“Since he used to be a spirit of the natural and fundamental laws, he knows them as a person knows their own flesh and blood. You function with grace and proficiency because your control over yourself is second nature. So it is with Gorhoth and these fundamental laws. Now do you see the danger?”
Amy did. She remembered very clearly how the Arbiter had explained that to control reality you had to understand its binding rules as best you could.
“He would have… perfect control of the world around him, know every way in which it could be manipulated.”
“Yes. The Arbiter’s deprived him of the ability to create but they gave him the perfect opportunity to control all of creation around him and so long as he does not break the laws, the Arbiter’s cannot stop him from doing so.”
A sudden thought overcame Amy and she burst forth with a question.
“What does Gorhoth actually look like? I mean, how can a rule be trapped in a physical form? Is he sort of human, or like an animal or completely different?”
“Before the elves came close to destroying him, he had been forced into human form. How he has reappeared we can only guess.”
“What do you guess he is then? You must have some idea.”
This time the Arbiter was slower to respond and did so with a question rather than a direct answer.
“Gorhoth has one particular burning desire. To retrieve something that was taken from him when he was outcast. Has anyone, per chance, told you about the origin of dragons?”
“Well, I know that people are meant to see Arbiters as dragons. Isn’t that the form that you usually take? I figured I must have misunderstood after I started training with you.”
“Both yes and no on both accounts. The issue of their origin is not addressed. It is true that people have perceived Arbiters as dragons but it is not simply an Arbiter’s form. When humans interact with Arbiters in their dreams today, their minds do not know how to visualize them. They fill in the missing information with the image of a dragon or some similar kind of creature because they need something to fill in the blank. Something about the human mind seems to naturally reject the idea of nothingness. This phenomenon is very widespread. Take Earth for example. Where do dragons supposedly come from on Earth?”
“All over the place! Different countries have their own versions of dragons, they’re all myths. Sometimes they’re creative, mostly destructive, but always just myths and fairytales.”
“So you do not find it odd that cultures all across the world, some which have never had contact with each other until recently, all have concepts of dragon like creatures? It is ok, I doubt many people give it much thought. Just a select few. Nevertheless, it is telling. How is it possible? The idea has come from somewhere. On Earth I believe the notion was seeded unintentionally by your parents but exactly the same phenomenon exists in Otthon. Now this is the curious part young Amriel. The Arbiters have not taken physical form for millennia, not since the dawn of time when the elves were a primitive race creating dangerous and unstable realities. The problem of the young elves became so extreme that many of the Arbiters needed to morph into great beings in the physical world which could destroy the dangerous realities the elves had created and restore balance. Can you guess who the greatest of the Arbiter warriors might have been?”
“Gorhoth?” Amy shot back without hesitation. After all he, was meant to be the whole basis of the discussion.
“Before he was banished,” agreed the Arbiter. “Yes. Gorhoth took great pleasure and pride in fighting and destroying the elves’ creations. It was a long and arduous duty and the elves would not listen to reason, so enamoured were they with their own abilities.
At that point it was not clear what path should be followed but eventually the conclusion was reached that the elves should be destroyed.”
“A suggestion made by Gorhoth no doubt.” Amy proffered with surety.
“No,” came the short and immediate reply.
“The name of the Arbiter who originally suggest this is no longer remembered but we can be certain it was not Gorhoth. On the contrary. When the idea was being debated it was he who argued against the notion, saying that the Arbiters should instead try to understand the elves and to help them learn to control their ability. He said they did not need to die for their ignorance.”
“What!?” Amy didn’t understand. Everything she had heard about Gorhoth had told her that he hated the elves and showed no remorse in killing them other than the select few he manipulated for his own nefarious purposes.
“It was a surprise to the other Arbiters, having come from their greatest warrior, and perhaps his last ever decent act.
Decent though it was, it was certainly not selfless. You see, as proud as Gorhoth was of his talents, he had become deeply envious of the elves’ ability to create. It was a skill not bestowed upon the Arbiters. In fact, that would have been contradictory. So he planned to find out what gave the elves this power. He sought a way to gain this power for himself. It took some time but eventually he had negotiated an agreement with the elves. He was careful and cunning. Not even the Arbiters realised that he was manipulating the elves, tricking them into creating the things that he wanted.”
“How was he discovered then? What gave him away in the end?”
“Ultimately I believe it was his pride. Gorhoth had always considered himself so important and unique that I think he had forgotten that his existence was fundamentally a personification of natural laws. Or perhaps he thought he had risen above this. Nevertheless, he had tried to make the elves gift him with their creative powers by dreamwalking the change in him. He’d had enough of using them to do his work. He didn’t want to rely on others. He wanted the power all for himself. The attempt echoed through the Arbiters’ realm like the resounding bell tone of destruction itself. The elves that
had been tricked into attempting such an act were worse than killed. The laws themselves reeled against the attempt. The elves’ souls were ripped from their bodies and suspended in eternal isolation within the Arbiters’ plane. To this day the trapped souls remain as a reminder of Gorhoth’s evil. The elves never trusted Gorhoth again. They had finally learned their lesson.”
Silence hung heavy in the air. Amy was horrified. The Arbiter switched topic.
“So, now you understand what I believe Gorhoth must look like. I believe that he is trapped somewhere between the human form that was forced upon him, the nothingness into which he escaped from the elves and the draconic form from his past that he so strongly desires. However, he has not yet shown himself, so this is merely conjecture.”
With this last remark, the Arbiter turned and began striding through the forest. Clearly, he was not going to discuss Gorhoth further for now. Amy trotted beside him, trying to keep up with his long purposeful strides.
“Now Amriel, the last time you had an elven dream I quite intentionally asked too much of you for your first attempt at dreamwalking. I tried to make you change something knowingly inside an elven dream state which requires an exceptionally trained mind. This evening you shall try to create something in the physical world that already exists here in the dream world instead.”
It occurred to Amy that he was making for a specific place, something that he knew or remembered, which was odd since they were in Amy’s dream. Eventually though, he came to a small fountain which blossomed from the ground like an exceptionally large flower. Drawing a flask from a pocket in his robes, he drew deeply from the water and then held it up.
“I would like you to draw this into reality, knowingly and in control.”
Amy took the flask from his hand slowly and began to stare at it. She was both excited and apprehensive. What if she couldn’t do it though? She was determined to perform well in front of her trainer but was unsure what to do.
Bridge Between the Worlds (Dreamwalker Book 1) Page 23