He jerked his eyes wide opened, and found himself lying on his right side. The digits of his clock blared a red glow in his face. His heart racing, sweat running down his forehead to the pillow, and the streaming spots at last began to fade. A chill caused him to shiver briefly as he sat up and leaned on his right hand.
Matt looked around his darkened bedroom. He could still feel the sensation of falling. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the red glare from the clock slightly illuminated the dresser and bedroom door. His right arm tingled just below the shoulder. He winced as the pain set in after a few moments. He took several deep breaths, and each breath brought a new throbbing to his entire right side.
“Oh man, I need to stop sleeping on this side,” Matt said to himself as he fell back into the pillow. He lay looking up at the soft red glow on the ceiling. He could almost hear Alie yelling his name. Grimacing from the pain in his side and arm, yet too exhausted to rub his shoulder with the other hand, he closed his eyes and exhaled from the weariness deep within. It felt as though he sank deeper into his bed.
Expecting to find comfort in the release of that breath, he found the darkness behind his eyelids full of commotion. Alie screamed his name at the same time he heard the noise that began his whole restless, fitful night’s sleep: clicking…clicking…then…a loud…
Crack!
He immediately sat up to see a dark gray creature squeal as it tumbled by him; its scimitar flinging high into the air, and its breeches jumbled and knotted around its legs. Matt quickly scooted backward on his hands and heels to get away from the thing that came to rest only a few paces away.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” shouted Matt—finding himself sprawled out before the castle’s gate in a strewn pile of straw: the castle, the plateau, and Yeor before him.
“It’s about time!” Yeor bellowed while he brought his staff down directly on the throat of the creature, finishing it off.
Yeor leaned toward Matt, studying his eyes like a retinal scanner inspects a subject’s authenticity—the brilliant green eyes of the sage reading his intents, his desires, his very soul. Matt blinked and shook his head, hoping to rouse himself from another dream, but the motion only reminded him of the pain in his arm, neck, back, and he now had a massive headache.
“It’s about time, Matthew,” Yeor repeated in a firm and even tone. “We are under attack, and she needs you.” Without moving his eyes from Matt, Yeor pointed to the tower. Alie screamed, begging Matt to help her.
Dazed, he looked toward the tower and back to Yeor. The sage held out a sword by the blade end, the pommel almost touching Matt’s chest.
“Now go!” Yeor commanded. “Go!”
Matt grabbed the hilt as Yeor took hold of his left shoulder and pulled him to his feet. Immediately, Yeor spun around and struck another rapidly advancing creature in the throat with his staff.
Exhausted and confused, Matt stumbled forward to the main gate. Both the iron and wooden gates were open. Yelling, clicking, and the reverberation of steel on steel filled the warm night air. Without thinking, Matt flung his sword out from his left side upon seeing a dark shadow approaching. A creature gurgled and rasped as Matt’s sword sank into its chest—it fell backwards, dead before hitting the ground.
He stepped over the creature. Its charcoal eyes remained opened and a tiny gleam of green light in the center of its pupils faded to blackness. Matt drew the sword out of its chest, wondering if the thing had eyelids.
What the hell is going on?
“Matt!” shrieked Alie.
The sound sent goosebumps up his spine. “I’m coming, Alie!” he yelled as he spun around and ran toward the main gate.
The pain in his arm and the headache dissipated with each stride he took. He passed through the gate and saw two warriors engaged with a number of creatures. He couldn’t count how many there were when he rushed by, but slowed his pace when one of the warriors turned to face him, it was Jake. Matt stopped and gaped. Jake indicated an entrance past the courtyard with a lift of his chin. Matt paused, then acknowledged the unspoken directions with a nod of his own and headed for the doorway.
Matt felt something greater than himself pulling and directing him. He couldn’t understand how he could just instinctively wield a sword, why Jake was there, what Yeor meant by “it’s about time,” or how he knew where to go in the maze of stone hallways. His emotions for Alie were now all-consuming when he arrived at the base of the tower’s stairs. Alie’s anguished voice pierced the dank stairwell from above.
No! blasted through Matt’s mind as he ran; her screams punctuated the chaos as he sprinted ever upwards. He reached the top landing gasping for air. Directly in front of him, a plain, heavy wooden door to the upper chamber was wide open. He burst through the doorway. Alie’s eyes brimmed with terror. With her arms lifted in self-defense, he noticed her forearm was bleeding while she backed away from the attacking creatures.
Six of them flooded the small chamber, holding their curved blades at chest height. Four immediately turned to face Matt—he and the creatures hesitated momentarily. Alie’s blood dripped in a continuous pattern onto the stone floor as she shuffled backward, closer to the rounded wall of the chamber.
Now, more conscious of his surroundings than other dreams in the past, he noticed the dark gray creatures stood nearly five feet tall: slender beings with a tiny speck of green that shone from the center of their blackened eyes. They wore the same earthen breeches as he had seen before; no covering at all on their upper-body to reveal a well-defined muscle tone in their chests, shoulders, and arms.
He tried telling himself that this was just a dream, but it only increased his frustration. Everything—the creatures, Alie’s screams, her blood, the beads of sweat streaming down the sides of his face—everything was real.
The creatures glanced at each other and suddenly engaged Matt. Their blades came at him furiously. Stroke for stroke, Matt met each one with his own.
The other two creatures inched toward Alie. One would feign a strike, and the other would deliver an actual blow. A slice across her forearm, then a slash on the other. She was covered in blood, streaming red rivulets off of her elbows that formed pools on the stone floor. She shrieked from the pain of each new wound. It seemed like a game to these beings. They seemed to enjoy not only torturing her but also having him there to witness it. The other four kept him at bay near the entrance.
“No!” shouted Matt. He desperately fought toward her, slashing and hacking at his attackers.
A large window hewn from the stone fortress opened wide into the blackness of the night behind her. Alie, not realizing the danger to the rear, continued to retreat. She screamed again, but he couldn’t gain any ground in the fight.
It felt like he was fighting off the creatures for hours. Their blades loomed larger than they really were. How can this be! his mind reeled. Then, Matt saw the inevitable. A secondary danger to the creatures he was fighting: Alie stumbled and fell backward out of the chamber’s window.
Sudden anguish surged through Matt’s veins as he watched her disappear into the night. Fresh blood smeared the window’s stone sill. Alie screamed his name as she fell.
His steps faltered. Rage exploded in him. He ruthlessly sliced and swung at everything in his path.
As quickly as the battle had begun, the chamber fell silent. Full of death.
The now lifeless creatures lay on the flagstones. Alie’s blood trail swept across the floor like a flowing river. Matt stood motionless, staring at the red stains around the sill. Sweat streamed down his face.
A strong hand gripped his shoulder from behind.
“Perhaps, Sire, she has awakened,” Yeor said, attempting to comfort his lord.
13
SPEECHLESS
Matt found himself sitting on the edge of his bed when he came to his senses. He made out the silhouette of the bedroom door with the help of the glow of his clock, and sighed in relief. The sweat running down his cheek was warm at first as
it coursed down to his chin, but it soon left a chill that caused a quick shiver.
Peering into the darkness, the red glow danced around his knees while he tried to focus on the floor between his feet. His left hand rested on his thigh and his right arm hung along his side—numb from his shoulder down to his fingers.
He looked up at the door again. The glow from the clock projected a fog into the bedroom; it vanished from the hallway lights when Trish opened the door halfway and peered around the opening.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Hi, um…” squinting against the glare of the light that flooded the bedroom from behind her, Matt leaned to his left to drag his right arm onto his leg. “Yeah…um, I’m fine. Thanks. How are you?” The hallway lights seemed to spawn another massive headache. Wincing at her, he began to rub his right fingers with his other hand.
“Nightmare?”
“Uh…yeah.” Matt looked down at his hands. A tingling sensation in his fingers caused him to groan.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I think so. I must’ve slept wrong on my right side. It’s all numb.”
“Okay. Well, I thought I’d check. You yelled, ‘No,’ a couple of times.”
“I yelled? You could hear me all the way from the spare bedroom?” Matt asked as he grimaced at each throb in his skull. The tingling in his right hand was slowly moving upward past his elbow.
“I did. But, you’re okay?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“All right then, I’ll go back to bed.” Trish almost shut the door but then peeked in once more, and asked, “Are you the supervisor on call tonight?”
“Yeah. I think I’m also the primary deputy on call too.”
“Hm, maybe someday this county will realize that it needs 24 hour coverage.”
“Well, like I’ve said before, we’re all at the mercy of the commissioners getting more bodies in uniform,” Matt replied. His entire arm was coming out of its somnolent state as the tingling traveled into his shoulder. He started to move his right hand—making fists and moving each finger—and then rubbing his elbow with his left hand.
“It’s not safe for any of you guys getting woke up in the middle of the night to go handle a domestic.” Trish paused, looked down and said, “Well, goin’ back to bed. Goodnight.”
“Night,” Matt replied.
Trish closed the door behind her. The ambient light of the hallway now extinguished by the closed door and the small beam that escaped from the gap between the carpet and the door vanished as Trish turned off the lights and returned to bed.
Matt was delivered up to the darkness again, rubbing his entire arm now, he looked at the clock: 0425. Figures, he thought.
He stood up and immediately lost his equilibrium. Matt lurched forward and caught himself on the edge of the bed with his left hand while his toe rammed into the bed’s metal support post. He gritted his teeth and groaned under his breath. He flexed his toe for a moment, then continued to stagger toward the adjoining bathroom that was adjacent to the bedroom door, separated by his dresser.
En route to the bathroom entrance, he plowed into the edge of the dresser with his right arm. Matt stopped, leaning his arm against the dresser and grimacing from the throbbing in his right arm. “God da—“
“You okay?” shouted Trish from the spare bedroom.
“Yeah. Fine! Just staggering into the bathroom like a drunk elephant!” Matt shouted back.
Catching his breath, he realized his entire right side was tender and sore. Another deep breath, fighting through the pulsating headache that seemed to be turning into a migraine, helped ease the throbbing in both his arm and head. One more deep breath and he walked a bit straighter into the bathroom to relieve himself.
He returned to his bedroom without staggering and stopped between his bed, the bathroom door, and his dresser. Thoughts of horses running, Alie’s screams, and dark creatures all came rushing back to him. Then a vivid image of Alie being sucked out of the window of the fortress’ tower and disappearing into the black night. A chill ran through him and he shivered once again that pricked his shoulders and back. The red glow of his alarm clock appeared to brighten as his eyes widened at the remembrance of why he woke up.
Then, he felt a warm sensation of something running down the side of his right arm. He looked down at it, but couldn’t see anything. A flash of a black scimitar slicing into his arm appeared briefly in his mind that sent another shiver through him just before he flicked on the bedroom lights. Squinting from the harsh light that seemed to wipe away his thoughts for a moment, he gaped at his arm—a thin red stream ran down from a gash in his upper bicep. Trickling past his elbow and running toward his wrist, he stared in amazement. The rivulet wound its way around his ulna, picked up speed and made for a direct path to his pinky.
“Shit,” Matt exclaimed as he cupped his pinky with the other hand.
He finally came to his senses and while cupping his hand to keep the blood from dripping onto the carpet, he bolted back to the bathroom. He staggered to one side—his equilibrium having not fully recovered—and slammed his right shoulder into the doorjamb that bounced him into the bathroom. He pitched his hand into the sink just in time: the blood begun to flow more freely from the wound.
“What the hell?” He muttered, gritting his teeth. He grabbed a hand towel hanging next to the basin and began to clean up when Trish came around the corner of the bathroom door.
“What’s going on Matt?” she asked with her arms crossed at the irritation of being woken up again. “Are you bleeding? How on earth did you do that?”
“Sorry. I think I must have sliced it open when I bumped into the dresser a few minutes ago.”
“On the corner?” Trish had stepped near the medicine cabinet to retrieve a gauze while Matt cleaned up his arm and the sink.
“Yeah, I think so. After you went back to bed I staggered into the dresser while trying to make my way into the bathroom.”
“Here,” she said as she carefully applied the gauze and gently pressed the adhesive edges to his arm. “That should do it. Matt, that cut is a couple inches long. You must’ve run into the dresser full speed.”
“Ha, yeah, I was in a hurry,” he said with a grin and a wince. “Thanks for your help.”
“Yep. I’m going back to bed unless you need any more help here.”
“No, I’m good. Just need some sleep.”
“Okay, good night, again,” she told him as she left the bathroom and started to walk to her room. “Oh, and it sounds like your phone is ringing.”
“Great! Dispatch is the only one who calls at this time,” Matt said flatly. “Probably some domestic.”
“Yeah, well, at least you’re awake now.” Trish closed the door behind her.
Matt nodded while he walked into his bedroom and picked up the phone while wincing at each new throb in his head and arm.
“Hello, this is Matt,” he said to let dispatch know it was he who answered.
“Oh my God, Matt!” screamed an hysterical voice.
“Alie!? Are you okay?”
“Matt! I am so scared. Oh my God, Matt,” Alie repeated this several more times. Her voice a cacophony of quivering, rising, and falling tones. Then she began to bawl.
Matt stood next to his bed, speechless for a few moments while he listened to her sob. He stared down at his contour sheet, the top covers were flung over to one side, and on it, a red line stained into the sheet where he had lain.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly.
“Yeah…yeah, I think so.” Alie’s sobs receded as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m…I’m just so scared, Matt!”
“I know,” he tried to reassure her but he couldn’t mask the tremor in his own voice. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Are you kidding me!? You were there!” she screamed and began to sob again.
“Okay. Yes, I was there.” Still staring at the sheet; the bloodstain was the length of the wound on his
arm, which now began to seep through the gauze. “Do you remember falling?”
“Yes!” catching her breath between sobs. “Oh, Matt, it was so re—”
“I know, I know.” Matt reached out and touched the contour with his finger. “Hard to understand what’s been going on lately. I was scared too Alie. I thought you really died.” Matt sat down, head hung and tears began to form.
“Matt,” Alie said while taking a breath, “I’ve never had a dream like that. I’ve never seen those creatures before. That tower…that room has been a getaway of sorts for me.”
“Are you bleeding?” Looking at his own arm he noticed the gauze had almost soaked through completely.
“No,” Alie stated. She took a few more breaths, “But I remember those damn things cutting me, and it hurt so bad.”
Matt didn’t respond, he closed his eyes and winced at every throb.
“Are you bleeding?” she asked. Then added, “I remember there was a deep cut on your arm and you were bleeding pretty bad.”
“Yeah, I am. Right arm, just below the shoulder. Hurts like hell too and…” his voice quavered, “the gauze I put on it, the blood has almost seeped through already; weird, wasn’t bleeding bad when I first woke up.”
Both were silent, listening to each other’s breath over the phone.
“What happened after you fell?” Matt broke the silence.
“I don’t remember much.” she took another breath. “Everything went black. It seemed like I fell forever. I woke up with the covers thrown all over the place and I was sitting up in bed.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re alive Alie.” Matt exhaled in relief. “And, you’re not bleeding or anything like that. What time did you wake up?”
Shadows of Reality (The Catharsis Awakening Book 1) Page 9