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Chapter 14
Demeron lay flat on his back breathing heavily as he waited for the pain to subside from his head. The room was utterly silent, dark and altogether unchanged. The walls swirled endlessly and the orb on the table sat like a hole in reality. The only thing out of place which suggested that something remarkable had happened was Demeron himself and he tried to put his thoughts together cohesively.
What had happened?
He had so nearly broken into the girl’s mind, no easy task as he had discovered, then right as he thought he could break in… he tried to remember but all that had been clear was the searing pain that had filled every last millimetre of his being. That must be what had caused him to fall.
Or was it? No… he remembered, he had been thrown back… but only in the dream plane. Or so he had thought.
He brooded a while longer.
Dreamwalkers… he thought. He was feeling bitter and hateful as he thought about everything that had done to him but realized he was also feeling impressed by this girl. He consciously tried to suppress the thought.
He was not one to underestimate his enemies but what had just happened was unheard of. It was as if the girl had filled his own head with a searing light that burnt him from the inside. He knew it was possible to enter dreams, get into people’s heads and manipulate them, but it was meant to be impossible to physically harm somebody through the dreamplane unless you tricked them into hurting themselves.
A new feeling was beginning to make its way into Demeron’s head. It was the fluttering of fear. Say what he might, he had always feared the elves, but had considered the girl safe prey. She was not even an adult by human standards and practically an infant by elven measures. Demeron had intentionally neglected to mention her existence to Gorhoth in the belief that he would consider Demeron’s interest a waste of time and efforts, something that Gorhoth did not readily forgive. But now the evidence was overwhelming. Whatever powerful echoes Gorhoth had supposedly felt through the dream plane, they had clearly stemmed from the girl. It was time to take his discovery to Gorhoth.
Demeron picked himself up stiffly and strode to the section of wall he knew would part for him.
Knocked out for a time or not, Minotaurs did not lose their sense of direction underground. There was a good reason why human myth believed that Minotaurs were found in underground labyrinths. On the unlucky chance that a human had strayed into an area controlled by Minotaurs they would inevitably get utterly lost. Unlucky, that was to say, for the human. Rare few had ever made it out alive to tell the tale and sow the seeds of the myth.
The wall parted smoothly and Demeron began the long dizzying journey upward, all the while pondering how best to deliver his information to Gorhoth. If he was to reveal that he was chasing the girl he would need a solid reason as to why he was not tracking down her mother. Fascinating as the girl was, it would not excuse Demeron in Gorhoth’s eyes for disobeying orders. The best option, he felt, was to tell the broad truth but leave out the details of the timing. He had been hunting for the elf when he discovered the girl and her abilities. When one considered her relationship to the elf… yes, surely Gorhoth would see that to try and capture her instead was a sensible decision.
The stair wound ever upward but Demeron’s steps were relentless and soon he reached their end, atop the great spire which loomed over the whole citadel.
The weather seemed to be reflecting his mood. Black clouds were nestled over the mountains, giving off deep growls of thunder, threatening but not yet broken into a storm. The wind was not howling but rather came in buffeting gusts and then died off as if it was restless. The only sign that it was mid-afternoon was the sky failing to achieve pitch blackness. Subdued light still lingered as Demeron made his way through the parapets with purpose, heading towards the throne room.
There was a significant amount of activity in the Citadel as Demeron passed through its hallways. His dark master’s following had grown substantially and the plan was to launch an attack on the humans soon.
Officers were hurrying about to discuss plans, organise rations, armour and troops while slaves were shuffled around to carry out work where it was required. The sound of whips behind them was a normal part of the background noise here, typically followed by a muffled cry.
Demeron sneered as a group of dirty, gangly kitchen slaves were ushered past him with bowed heads and dead eyes. He felt no sympathy for them. They were meant to be a slave race and their cowering submission was proof of it. With this thought he bent around the last corner and stood in the empty entryway to the throne.
The massive archway which led in had been left wide open, unlike Demeron’s last visit here, a positive sign that he could enter without fear of interrupting his master.
His footsteps fell oddly dead against the walls rather than echoing as one might have expected. It was a strange trait of the construction materials that it seemed to absorb sound rather than reflect it. Demeron was accustomed to this by now and paid all his attention to staring up at Gorhoth as he approached the dais. His master seemed large and looming, filling the majority of the throne on which he sat. It was unnerving the way he always seemed to change size, Demeron thought. Gorhoth might have been his best way to get revenge against the elves but Demeron tried not to stay in his presence any longer than he had to.
He bowed deeply and tried to deliver his report but Gorhoth cut across him to speak first.
“You do not have control of the elf, yet you have come before me. I am not impressed.”
His voice cut through the Minotaur like a freezing cold wind. Demeron’s skin twitched nervously. It wasn’t just his master’s voice. With his words, the physical temperature in the room had dropped.
“You were supposed to contact me in the dream plane once you captured the Queen, or did that order slip your memory? Why are you here?”
His last question positively rang with anger and power. Demeron stood his ground.
“My Lord I was close but I have made a discovery which I am certain you will want to hear. Once I explain I am sure you will understand why I came to you immediately.
“I would NOT be so sure Demeron. If I were you I would instead hope that my news was invaluably important or else fear for my life.”
The Minotaur was not shaken by this remark. He had expected to be rebuked for disobeying orders but the fact that he wasn’t already dead meant Gorhoth believed there could be merit in his actions. He proceeded cautiously nonetheless.
“As you knew, the elf was travelling with the human Szekeres but I did not know how long it would be until they returned. I was patient. I waited, collected what information I could while watching for their return and the information I collected would later prove to be invaluable. You see, my Lord, it appears that the elf and the human are now bonded. They even have a child.”
A cold light flickered perceptibly in Gorhoth’s eyes. Demeron paused for a moment in case Gorhoth wished to respond to this startling news.
“Go on.” He said simply.
Although the response was short, Demeron was certain he had struck the heart of Gorhoth’s interest and his voice swelled with confidence.
“I presumed the daughter must have been with her parents, travelling, for I had not seen her at the house but then I was distracted by a disturbance. It was not nearly so big or so powerful as the echo you felt earlier, which led us to the new world but it was more substantial than all the little human creations. It had the strength of an elven dreamwalker. I traced it quickly to its source but whatever had been created and whoever had created it had disappeared before I could gain control of a human in the area.
Nevertheless, fortuned smiled upon me Lord, for a human had witnessed the creation. It had been an… Auto. They are some kind of self propelled carriage that humans use to get around. I wasn’t sure where to begin searching. Stupid as the humans can be, I cannot deny that their auto creations are exceedingly fast. They could have trav
elled an exceedingly long distance.
Fortunately, as clever as the invention itself is, the humans have managed to include stupidity with it. You see Lord, humans attach identifying numbers to all of their autos and the human witness had memorized this identity number. So how to track it? It did not take me long to find out. The human society was starting to make some sense. All of these identifying numbers made it possible for the human enforcers to track the other humans and their belongings so that they can make sure they are not breaking laws.
Sure enough, after taking control of some of these enforcers, these ‘police’, I was able to determine the auto’s current location. I needed to hop between minds near to each other for I had no way of getting the right physical location based on the human information. Nevertheless, I got there in the end, I found the vehicle and its creator.”
“The elf.” Stated Gorhoth with malice and satisfaction.
“I had expected exactly the same Lord. I was certain the elf was there but it was not so. Surprising as it was, I found only the daughter and the very same boy I found in front of the home of Szekeres. There was no doubt I had found the source of the dream creations.”
Gorhoth stood and descended the dais.
“You are certain the girl is the offspring of the elf and the human?”
“I could not prove it with certainty but there is no doubt in my mind. The house was full of portraits depicting the three of them together from the time the girl was but an infant. I cannot conceive of any other conclusion. Has there ever been a cross between humans and elves before?”
“Never, my good Demeron. The occurrence represents many possibilities. How did you proceed after the discovery?”
Gorhoth strode toward the archway, beckoning Demeron to follow him. Demeron fell into step confidently. The report was going splendidly. His footsteps, solitary in the throne room blended in with the bustle and movement of the citadel’s inhabitants as they proceeded through the corridors. Gorhoth, however, was utterly silent in movement. The shadowy form of his feet made no sound at all. The only stirring caused by his passing, if one was observant, was that the very walls themselves seemed to writhe anxiously in his presence. All the while Demeron continued with his report, outlining in detail his following of the youths.
“I believed if I could isolate the long transport machine, this… train, with the girl onboard, somewhere remote ideally, I would be able to trap her physically before trying to break into her mind. Both her and the boy seem to be protected from outside influence. Even during the night, I had been unable to so much as locate them but when I stopped the transport, she must have been injured.
Using a puppet, I followed them off the machine into the mountains but eventually the cold broke my control over the human subject. His mind refused to remain unconscious. I felt it fruitless to try and locate the girl in the dreamplane after having failed so many times before but I tried nevertheless in a desperate attempt to avoid losing her again.
I was shocked to discover a strange void in the plane. Beforehand, her mind had been completely hidden. Now it was as if she had lost all control. Whoever or whatever had been protecting the girl was clearly unable conceal her completely, like before. I tried to break in. It was not easy. Her mind was still firmly closed by her protector but I realised she must be unconscious. Her presence in the plane did not abate.”
Demeron realised that Gorhoth was leading them back to the orb chamber. They strode at great speed along the parapets outside and up the towering spire. Gorhoth intended to personally confirm Demeron’s findings. He was going to try and find the girl himself.
They were nearing the top of the spire when Demeron reached the conclusion of his report and the two of them stopped dead in their tracks.
“I was certain I was about to gain access to her mind when suddenly…” he hesitated for a moment, “I was consumed by a burning, overwhelming light which threw me out of the dream plane and more than that, threw me backward in the physical world as well.”
Gorhoth gazed intently at the Minotaur, a lustful burning light gleaming within him.
“A force affected you simultaneously in the dream plane and the physical plane?”
“Yes Lord. I realise this should be impossible, let alone achievable for a young girl. I…”
Gorhoth waved his hand dismissively to silence Demeron and stared out to the horizon thoughtfully.
“Such things are not truly impossible. A well trained dreamwalker could achieve such a thing with a great deal of practice but certainly not an untrained infant. You have encountered the power of either the elf Amriel or perhaps even the Arbiters themselves. You are lucky to have survived my friend.”
He was still for a few moments. Demeron waited patiently but his mind was racing. Gorhoth was almost disturbingly knowledgeable about control of the dream plane, so if he said that the Arbiters may have been responsible for what had happened he was probably right. Yet Demeron could not get the nagging feeling of doubt out of his mind. If it had been an Arbiter who was protecting the girl, why wait until the last second to force him out. Furthermore, he was almost certain the protection around the girl had been lifted or broken, allowing him access to her mind before the event.
“This is concerning news Demeron. You see, the Arbiters have not engaged with the physical world since their war with the elves. So, we must ask ourselves, why have they suddenly done so? Clearly, they are seeking to protect the girl, and quite zealously at that. It should not even be in their nature. They exist only to maintain the stability of the worlds. In short, we need more information and very likely we will need to adjust our plans.”
“I see Lord. What do you plan to do first? Try to find the girl?”
“That would be highly unwise my friend. Not with the Arbiters keeping such a close watch over her. I do not wish to reveal myself to them just yet. No Demeron. I simply feel it is time I saw this world for myself to better understand what is happening and to better plan a way to achieve my goals. From your report I would say the elf may not be essential anymore.”
The two dark figures made their way down the long, spiralling staircase into the depths below the citadel.
The discussion was put on hold the entire way down until eventually they reached the flat unyielding wall which blocked entry to the orb chamber. In the presence of the two beings it quickly melted away to allow them access. They stepped inside.
“Yes, it is so.” Gorhoth muttered.
“How foolish of them to try and protect her in this way when it was not even I who assailed her. Now they cannot catch me off guard. Then again, they never were very imaginative.”
He laughed cruelly, revelling in the snide double meaning of his own remark.
“My good Demeron you are lucky indeed. The power that you experienced was beyond your understanding. In fact, it still lingers in this room, a raw essence of pure energy.
Strange how the Arbiter’s powers, though specifically designed to contain and organise matter, can cause such chaos. You see, what they did here, when they used their strength against you, was to inadvertently strip the untempered magic from its host forms, leaving behind pure…” he pulled a dagger from Demeron’s belt and threw it deftly into the air, “…potential”.
As the dagger rotated slowly above them it suddenly transformed into a dove, which flapped hysterically to escape the only way it could, upward.
“As a result, I suggest you leave. If left unexposed to this essence for too long, anything could happen to you and you have proven to be rather more useful alive than dead. Well done.”
“You do not require my assistance here any further lord?”
“No indeed. I have rather more need of it elsewhere.”
“I am ready to serve.”
Demeron bowed his head in a sign of respect. It was highly unusual for his master to be in such a good mood, a sign of his great success in reporting his findings. Demeron intended to round off their meeting as favourably as possible
.
“Would that I had more like you in my command. Regrettably, I do not have many others and as a result I am frequently disappointed. Which brings me to my current problem, one which I intend for you to solve.”
Demeron was expectant. Clearly someone had made a grave error or failed miserably to carry out orders. Gorhoth probably expected him to remove the problematic person. With a rising sense of hopeful excitement, he wondered if it was finally the kitchen master, even though he knew this was unlikely. His thoughts were cut off as Gorhoth continued to speak.
“We are preparing for war Demeron and every day more and more forces commit themselves to my command, forces which need to be armed and readied for battle. To do this we need a great many resources. As such, the operation of our mines is paramount to our success.”
Demeron’s heart started to sink. For one thing, it was clear that his task was not going to be the butchering of the kitchen master. For another, the mining operations had been consistently interrupted by skirmish attacks and prisoner escapes, most of which had been disturbingly successful. If Gorhoth did, in fact, want him to resolve this particular problem it would mean working with the filthy, winged scum that his people disdained. The Minotaurs were never openly aggressive against the Hartiani but they considered them third rate beings, not worthy of their attention. Being forced to work alongside them would be a cause for great personal shame. The image of a terrified begging kitchenmaster was replaced with the same face laughing at him scornfully. As it happened, Gorhoth seemed amused by the tension between the two races.
“I fear the Hartiani have a rather disturbing propensity for failure. After giving this careful consideration I decided that what they needed was a more able commander. It would be madness of course to simply dismiss them. They are powerful tools for fighting magic wielders. They are also uniquely suitable for the guarding of mountain regions… when they do not lose their heads of course.”
Bridge Between the Worlds (Dreamwalker Book 1) Page 34