“Then the Arbiter was right!” she yelled back. “I have to choose between two appalling options and anything I do will just cause death!”
“Amy…” Martay's voice was pained and faint. “Amy please…”
She kneeled down next to Martay, so overwhelmed by her tears that she couldn’t even see him clearly.
“Amy don’t give up yet. What if… what if you just block us off from them? Fill in the bars or something?”
“Well, I could try. I still don’t have this all completely under control. What if I manage to do that but then it takes me too long to create something else to get us out of here? We don’t have much time.”
“Find… find the Arbiter again. Do you really think that if you help the enemy he will let us live? Not likely. Let’s… let’s try everything else while we still can.”
The sound of his pleading tone went to Amy’s heart. She would try for him, pointless though she thought it was. She collapsed beside him again and closed her eyes tightly. She felt him take her hand in his. It didn’t feel warm like it had on the plane. It was cold and clammy and it was shaking slightly. She heard Snipping take a seat beside them.
They were a strange sight, the injured man, the weeping girl and the curious companion huddled together in a cell. One was struggling to stay conscious, two were actively trying to sleep. The silence was almost serene, a lull in a fierce tempest of emotion and turmoil but the storm wasn’t over yet. Far from it. To Martay, the quiet was disturbing, as if things only seemed calm because he was slipping away from them uncontrollably. To Amy, the calm was a lie. Inside her emotions were overflowing and she had to strain to control them so that she could return to the dream plane. Snipping was tense and expectant, like an experienced sailor who knows he has a few moments to prepare before the winds smash into him again.
✽ ✽ ✽
Arnorial had been listening to the debate for some time and it was starting to head in the wrong direction. Samuka may have been the people’s Lord back in Aerandos but here in the wilderness, as much as they still respected him, the people had realized that this was a somewhat arbitrary position. Two humans in particular seemed to have become unofficial spokesmen for the others and right now they were voicing the opinion that people should start returning to the Kingdom. At the very least, they felt the Kingdom should be warned.
Arnorial had hoped he would not need to intervene. After all, he was an outsider, respected but also feared. If the humans could see the sense of remaining secret themselves, they would adhere to the necessary protocols. If they only obeyed because Arnorial had been firm on the matter, they might well rebel in his absence. And he was absent a lot too. Nevertheless, Samuka was struggling to calm the dissenting voices and it was vital that they should remain here until Arnorial had a chance to work out where the corruption in the Kingdom stemmed from.
It was a problem that Arnorial, Samuka and Eva had been struggling with. The freed slaves couldn’t tell them much that they didn’t already know and even Arnorial’s hunting in the dreamplane had failed to find any new leads. Until they had something to go on, the only sensible course of action was to keep their rescue efforts secret. Besides, one thing Arnorial had seen was that the situation in the Kingdom was deteriorating. Anyone who returned would have less safety than they had in the hidden camp with Arnorial’s protection. Some of them simply didn’t see it this way.
“How long then Samuka? Many who were rescued thought they were going home, only to be stuck toiling in the wilderness a few days from the monsters that took us in the first place.”
Arnorial finally stood up and approached the group, who fell silent and apprehensive. He might have been their savior but humans always had a tendency to fear and distrust power they didn’t understand.
“Good people, you speak fairly, but you would do well to have some more faith in your leader, who risked everything to save you. Do you think your interests are not in his heart? Of course you should be able to go back to your lives at home but do you believe those same homes will be waiting for you? You know first hand that the borders are not safe and that the Kingdom must be breeding dangers from the inside as well. There is great turmoil there that has gotten even worse since you were taken. I can show you if you like.”
“How exactly can you show us,” queried the young spokeswoman.
She had tried to use a confident tone but it hadn’t quite worked.
“With some clear water I can recreate the images that I have seen in the dreamplane. It is quite a simple… ‘spell’, I suppose you would call it.”
The woman hesitated. “Umm, yes, well, much appreciated. What is it exactly we would be seeing?”
Arnorial felt a wave of frustration wash over him. Only a human could possibly ask to be told exactly what they were going to see right before they were going to see it.
“You would see the clear picture of people’s dreams from inside the Kingdom.”
“You… you can see our dreams?”
“Indeed. It is a skill of the dreamwalkers. I believe many well-trained humans throughout history have also achieved this ability. Elves have a more natural affinity of course. Now would you like to see what is on the minds of people back in your homeland? I assure you it will help you to understand why Samuka is asking for you to maintain your secrecy here.”
“Well, alright then. Though I must say it seems very improper that anyone should be able to see the private thoughts of others.”
Arnorial kept a straight face but internally his metaphorical eyes were rolling. This human woman was pushing him past frustration and into anger. It took veritable mountains of arrogance to complain that seeing into people’s thoughts was wrong, whilst simultaneously agreeing to do it for her own benefit. Nevertheless, he needed to convince both of these people to do the right thing and anger was not going to achieve that. He put on a faint smile and nodded gently.
“I assure you, it is not an action dreamwalkers take lightly, and back when there was still an order for managing dreamwalkers, it strictly banned the use of this skill for any use other than protection. Now, allow me please,” he said, gesturing towards an empty bowl in front of the woman.
He filled it with water from his own water skin before kneeling down and closing his eyes to concentrate. Samuka, Eva and the two spokespeople bent over the bowl as the surface appeared to ripple. In fact, what rippled was an image only. The water itself was perfectly still. As the image smoothed, a picture steadily came into view. It was a first-person perspective looking out over a walled city, which all the viewers recognized as Oszterhaz. But it was under attack. Areas inside the wall were on fire, there were combatants fighting on the walls, troops and siege weapons were laid out on the farmland around the city. The truly chilling part was that the Duke’s emblems were clearly visible on the battle standards. This wasn’t an invasion by some foreign force. The Duke was besieging one of his own cities.
While the horror of the vision settled on the viewers, more ripples spread across the water and the first scene was replaced by another.
It was a person trying to run frantically down an alleyway. It kept tripping and stumbling. A hooded figure appeared abruptly in front of it, drawing a sword. In the figure’s free hand, it held up a paper with the Duke’s seal on the bottom. The figure mouthed a few unheard words and then the sword was rapidly thrust forwards. The water went blank just before the sword connected.
Arnorial opened his eyes and examined the faces of those around him. The common theme was horror and fear. It took a few moments of quiet reflection before anyone spoke.
“There have been a great many other dreams like it but these two are perhaps the clearest and most suggestive,” Arnorial said flatly.
“So… these were people’s dreams you say,” the woman asked.
“That is correct.”
“They’re not really… real…”
It was meant to be a statement but it came out more like a question.
�
�That depends entirely on your definition of real. They are not necessarily depictions of what is happening in the physical world, which I believe is what you infer,” Arnorial replied.
“Exactly. So, there may not be any problems with the Duke at all. I mean…” she was still trying to recover from the disturbing prospect that what she had seen could be real but through sheer bloody-mindedness she was making progress in that direction, “that’s only really two dreams, yes? It seems somewhat inconclusive.”
Eva spoke up for the first time so far in the conversation.
“Inconclusive,” she asked quietly. “You do not believe that nightmares about the Duke attacking his own people is conclusive? Even after the terrible things that happened to you, which suggest that someone inside the Kingdom has been betraying their own people? Well, maybe this will help!”
She slapped a piece of parchment down on the wooden floor where they were all seated. The sheet was battered but not particularly old. At the bottom was a real wax seal. It was just like the one they had seen in the second dream.
Poszon, the male spokesman, picked it up and slowly read through it, his mouth moving with the words. He was a merchant by trade and numbers were easy for him, but his regular reading was still slow. His thinking was somewhat faster.
“Where on earth did you get this,” he asked in horror.
“From a messenger, delivered to me the usual way. He isn’t named but Samuka was the target. Earlier he had shown disagreement with the Duke on the matter of southern defences.”
Poszon nodded in understanding. He was convinced. Susan the spokeswoman, on the other hand, was not satisfied and Eva had her suspicions as to why. She had been watching Susan closely the past week and had noticed with a hint of Schadenfreude that all of Susan’s attempts to win personal favour with Samuka had been rebuffed, whilst Eva enjoyed his absolute confidence. The result was that Susan treated Eva very coldly indeed.
“And why would you receive some kind of order from the Duke? What is it anyway?”
Susan, embarrassingly, could not read and was behind the eight ball on the latest evidence.
“It is an assassination order and I received it because I used to work as one of the Kingdom’s official assassins.”
Susan’s face blanched as she realized that for a little under a week now, she had been behaving cattily towards a professional killer.
“I see. So… the Duke wanted to have Lord Samuka assassinated…” she began.
“Because Samuka challenged him, demanding more support for the defence of the southern provinces, yes.”
Eva was delighting in how dim witted and slow Susan was appearing.
“Surely it’s the Duke causing all the problems then!”
Susan’s assertion was met by four uncomfortable looking faces.
“The evidence certainly suggests it,” Samuka responded slowly, “but we are not sure that we have understood all the evidence properly.”
“What do you mean? He tried to have you killed for goodness sake! Seems pretty damning to me.”
“The Duke also thought he had evidence against me, which was equally damning,” Samuka said as calmly as he could. “Assassination has never been his style though. I think someone else is responsible. Someone capable of copying the Duke’s seal for starters but clearly someone with a low profile.”
A thoughtful silence followed. The air was thick with concern and contemplation.
“Well,” Samuka finally proffered, “are we agreed at least that it is unwise to send people home until we have a better idea of what is going on?”
Eva and Poszon nodded their agreement. Susan looked hesitant and the others watched her with anticipation.
“Yes, alright but I think we should try and find out what is going on then.”
“We have been doing our best within our limited capability,” Arnorial replied. “I shall be setting off tonight for another mission to free slaves. Upon my return, however, I am considering making a rapid journey to the capital in order to investigate more thoroughly.”
✽ ✽ ✽
Amy was in the familiar forest, seated on its flower dotted floor staring up through the magnificent web of branches, waiting impatiently. She flinched visibly as she felt a presence touch her mind. She was relieved when she recognised it as Snipping. He had a very distinct presence, probably because his thoughts and dreams were so different to that of humans. She allowed him to enter the space of her dream and within seconds she heard him approaching from the trees behind her.
“He hasn’t shown up yet. What if he doesn’t come in time,” Amy asked, referring of course to the Arbiter.
Snipping seated himself beside her.
“He’ll come. ‘ave patience miss Amriel, ‘ave hope.”
Amy couldn’t sit still for long. She got up and started pacing about nervously. She had become very proficient at calling on the Arbiter and as such, his delay was all the more concerning.
Just as she was about to give up on waiting, they finally heard the rustle of movement among the leaves. That was unusual though. Normally the Arbiter made no noise at all when he moved.
“Amy?”
A voice cried out and Amy was shocked to realise it was Martay's voice.
“Amy, is that you?”
“Yes, we’re over here!” she shouted in response.
Martay soon appeared, walking slowly and clutching his side. Even in the dream plane his injury had manifested itself. He stumbled a little and Amy and Snipping caught him.
“Amy what’s going on? What is this place?”
Martay was bewildered and confused but that was to be expected, Amy realised. He was a human, this all probably seemed real to him in an odd, illogical way. He didn’t know he was dreaming.
“It’s a bit hard to explain,” she said, “but I think someone else is coming towards us.”
She was right. They could see a strange figure making its way through the tree trunks. It wasn’t the Arbiter. It was too short.
In another dream the Arbiter was currently guiding Amy’s mother as fast as he possibly could towards the outpost where Amy and her friends were being held. Amy’s father was driving, taking only the occasional direction given to him by Amy’s mother as if she was sleep talking. They were getting closer.
Amy knew nothing of this. She was currently watching the approach of the strangest looking man had ever seen.
He was bobbing along with a bent back that suggested tremendous age, and the majority of his body was covered in leaves, almost like feathers. Amy couldn’t quite tell if he was simply wearing leaf covered clothes or not. He wore boots on his feet and his hands and face were covered in wrinkled skin which had a tanned hue. Whoever he was, he stopped right in front of them, staring intently at Amy with a twinkle in his strange, sap coloured eyes.
“Umm… hello.”
The figure raised a bushy eyebrow.
“Ahh… who are you exactly,” Amy asked. This got more of a response.
“Ha! Hahaha!! Who am I? WHO am I? That’s a very polite question, don’t you think?”
The voice was strange and out of place to their ears. It was ancient, full of depth and yet youthful and excitable, or maybe just insane. Amy couldn’t decide but knew that it didn’t give her any sense of fear.
“You could have asked WHAT I was! I love that question! Look forward to it. Feeling a bit deprived right now to be frank but whatever, let’s pretend you DID ask what I was shall we? Hmm?”
“Ok… what are you?”
“HA! You wouldn’t understand if I told you but I’m usually called a prophet. THE prophet really. There aren’t any others.”
This left Amy and Martay utterly nonplussed. Snipping on the other hand had an audible catch in his breath.
“Now,” the prophet snapped, “I need to speak to the girl, otherwise she won’t know what I have said a few minutes from now… Hahaha! Oh, what tremendous fun time is! No wait…is? Will be?... or was it? Why is your language so d
amn uselessly linear? Anyway, anyway, everyone else bugger off because I have, will, am speaking to the girl alone.”
“I’m not leaving her,” Martay said defiantly, not understanding in the slightest what was going on but feeling that leaving Amy alone with a madman was a bad idea.
“Yes, you are, or else you’ll completely realign the continuum and I’ll have to re-see everything that has and hasn’t happened. Then I’ll be no help at all.”
The prophet didn’t sound maniacal anymore, he sounded deadly serious. Snipping pulled Martay away with a quiet word. He was certain that he knew what was happening now and he didn’t dare interfere. They left Amy staring hard into the prophets’ eyes.
“My, my, my, what a mess! What a mess! Could you be anymore surrounded in uncertainty? I guess not. A teenager half human, half elf, hardly surprising. You’re an adolescent and a child, weak and strong, happy and sad. You are the rising and the setting of the sun all at once. In short, unpredictable! Well, almost unpredictable. You have at least set your course for a short distance and I can at least see that far. You want a way out without strings attached hmm? Well you can’t have it. There’s always a string. Always!”
The speech came in an unstoppable torrent so that Amy felt overwhelmed and couldn’t entirely follow the meaning of what was being said.
“I’m sorry,” she replied when the prophet had stopped, “but I still don’t understand. Are you saying that you can help me... escape… or not?”
“Well, yes, of course. Like you want hmm? Mmm yes, the young are often brave and foolish.”
“Are you saying it is foolish to avoid killing people,” she asked coldly.
“Sometimes it is. Of course it can be! No, no, no, no, no, that is not what I mean, meant, will mean… seriously, what a stupid language… NO! The only other way out is foolish should you choose it. Escape the trap? HAHAHAHAHA!! But it is your fate so far as it has been determined. Yes, yes indeed. You will choose the way out of danger into terrible peril. You will walk the bridge between the worlds.”
Amy eyed the creature nervously. It plainly wasn’t in its right mind. Nevertheless, she thought she understood.
Bridge Between the Worlds (Dreamwalker Book 1) Page 44