Shadows of Reality (The Catharsis Awakening Book 1)

by Christian Martin Jr.

  I nodded. Anna just would not let go of me, even when I tried to move a little to free myself; and that was okay, I finally relaxed and accepted her comfort.

  Jake opened up and explained what happened. The drugged-up fool that ran from them, tore off across the highway after his crazy dog with Matt in pursuit. Running up a few seconds behind, he found the man crawling away from Matt, who had already gone to the ground with this guy. Jake tackled the guy near a big tree and Matt was scrambling on his knees at the time to help Jake put this jerk into cuffs.

  Then, through the trees and bushes, they thought this guy’s dog was coming back to attack them, but it wasn’t. Two creatures that Jake saw in a dream before his shift, looked like the same as those charging through the trees: two black silhouettes, a small and a large one.

  He yelled for Matt to watch out, but Matt didn’t turn around in time. The jerk they arrested was freaking out and Jake had to fight with him while Matt dealt with whatever was coming through the trees at them.

  Jake told me that he knocked out the idiot with some sort of strike to the neck so he could help Matt, but Matt was already out cold. That’s when Jake called for the code-nine. He made my skin crawl with goosebumps when he told me that the large one shouted, “It is done!”

  Jake told me that he fired a round off at the large silhouette that was standing not more than five feet away, the smaller figure squealed and both ran off like startled deer. Matt was under a few large branches, and when Jake got to him, he was still out cold. The dog was already dead on the other side of the tree and the jerk they had in cuffs came to and Jake had to fight him again—pinned him to the ground and wasn’t able to help Matt too much because of this asshole.

  “So what did Eldret say when you told him all this?”

  “Well, I started to tell the undersheriff what occurred but when I got to the part of black monsters,” said Jake with his fingers making quotation signs, “well, he gave me the most weirdest look.” Jake took a deep breath.

  “Well, what did you tell him?” A little perturbed that all three of us felt this unspoken need to keep quiet about our dreams.

  “Our drugged-up dude wouldn’t shut up, and kept going on about how we killed his dog. How aliens were after him and how he chased them out of his house back down to the highway—I understand from the toxicology that came back on him that he was on meth and very drunk.

  “Anyway, I gave the undersheriff a quick run down on scene while this guy was getting trucked off on the ambulance pram…” Jake paused and scratched his chin, “listening to his craziness, I decided to tell Eldret, once we got back to the office for the official interview, that Matt and I chased this guy into the woods. Fought him. His dog came at us aggressively, so I had to put his dog down. Matt at some point hit his head on a large tree limb and probably cracked his head open as he fell back onto the rocks we were standing on.”

  “Hm,” was about all I could say.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening, Alie. Things seem to be getting more intense lately.” Jake’s head was down, looking at Matt. “I’ve seen these things in dreams but not even so much a glimpse in reality, like Matt has…until now.”

  “Me either, Jake,” I replied. Anna released her comforting grip off me.

  “Dear…”

  “Yeah?” he answered and looked to his wife.

  “…perhaps we could go get something to eat?”

  “Yeah, good idea.” Jake looked at the clock on the wall, then back to me. “Do you want to come with us? Almost lunchtime.”

  “Naw, thank you guys, I think I’ll stay with Matt here for a bit.” I gave Anna a hug and told her thank you for her kindness.

  “Oh,” Jake pointed a finger at me at the thought of something that widened his eyes, “Trish was in here for a little bit when we got here. She told us that the doc took Matt off the drugs overnight and took him off the ventilator early this morning.“ Jake pointed at the machine on the shelf behind him.

  “Oh wow.” There was that rush again. “Will he wake up today?”

  “She said there’s no guarantees, and no time frame when they think he’ll wake up, but it sounds like the swelling is down.”

  That’s when I finally looked around the room. No nurse, no Yeor—only his staff under the seat—and…the tube coming out of Matt’s head: gone. I was so happy.

  “Jake, that’s great news!”

  Jake gave me that happy, big guy grin of his, took his wife’s hand, and told me they’d be back after lunch. I didn’t wait for them to leave. I couldn’t care less now. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t. I took Matt’s hand out of Jake’s, held it tight, and leaned over and gave Matt a peck on the lips and said, “Hi, love.”

  28

  OF YEOR: LAND BETWEEN REALMS

  “Ishtal kahla al itsck…” I whispered. “Ishtal kahla al itsck…”

  Meditatively I whispered the words of the Ancient; taught to me when I was but a youth. Here she stood before me, watching as I spoke the holy words. Words rarely vocalized. Words without translation due to their sacredness. Words used in the most pressing of times. Words, for such an occasion.

  “Ishtal kahla al itsck…” I repeated softly.

  Movement to my left and down the corridor; two women, wheeling Matthew’s body on a bed with many devices underneath of him. The two brought his bed to rest between us. They worked on machines, the bed, and ensured all was in order, then with a nod from the Ancient, they stood up and promptly left.

  Not far behind, the King had followed the procession of the two nurses. I could feel his bewilderment. Truly a jolt for the men of the Waking Realm to have such experiences. Many deny such existence until much too late.

  He is a patient soul—when he wants to be. Yet, at times, one would deem him reckless in rage. He moved to the side as he looked down upon his body, allowing myself full view of Her.

  Elegance, prestige, power, grace—She embodied it now, in human form. This, in itself, is truly remarkable. In the presence of the divine. I was allowed a sacred privilege. A privilege that I had not been afforded before. A privilege that only one other in which I know of was allowed to cross, since the realms began.

  “Ishtal kahla al itsck…” I breathed. Providential words for a minacious time.

  Elbows upon my knees help support my chin in hands: a position which I hoped would hold while away from my body in the Waking. I would leave my staff with instructions for Lady Aletha to collect it later.

  Trishia, his wife in the Waking; an unaware—poor soul—confused, and much pity extends from this realm to hers. She walks away after a short visit; she is torn, not understanding the condition of the hearts of men and women. Much like gardens that must be tended to, else all that is fruitful dies. A pity when man or woman do not allow cultivation of love and peace, but to allow themselves to slip into a dark and shallow existence; ruled by fear, anger, and bitterness.

  “Ishtal kahla al itsck…”

  She signals me. He has been instructed; he met Her without perishing and is now ready. May I succeed. May I not fail Her. May I not fail Him. And may I not fail Oneiron, or the Waking.

  “Quickly, we must leave at once,” I ordered, grabbed his arm, and began to pull him toward the opening to enter The Land Between Realms. Few can enter as we are, and the opening is short-lived.

  He spun around on me in a startle, understandable, but a waste of precious time. Time that we did not have. An enemy appeared at the end of the corridor, attempting a breach through the opening. It had begun—the enemy had sent their scouts, it was only a matter of time.

  The Ancient turned to face the threat and focused Her eyes upon the foul creature, who immediately screamed, curling into a black ball, and then melted into thin air. Matthew protested without noticing or understanding the dangers wrought at this moment.

  “No time!” I bellowed. I grabbed his arm and pulled him hard toward the opening.

  Two more enemies appeared. Matthew again slowe
d down. I glanced to see what it was this time: Lady Aletha standing in the hall. Matthew attempted to contact her, and that’s when I gave him a firm yank.

  “Not now,” I hissed. There were two creatures that appeared at the end of the corridor, they looked up at us and then scurried back down through the opening. Why waking men who enter cognition do not see is beyond me at times. Yet, Matthew was too engrossed in looking back at Lady Aletha to notice anything else. I cannot blame him in this.

  The hallway began its transformation and still, Matthew is without sight. To avoid an outright battle in the Waking Realm, I chose to stop at the mechanical sliding doors. Not knowing which control to enable, I touched both and the bottom one brightened. I looked behind me for guidance from the Ancient and found Matthew was looking back too; however, his eyes and heart fixed on something else.

  Waiting at the mechanical doors proved to be a good thing: the opening had enlarged to engulf the presence of the doors where we stood—a rare occurrence whereby the Ancient is able to bend time, yet not change or alter the motion of the laws of nature set forth. A simple bend allowed us the opportunity to enter the Land Between Realms. Now to see how my King Matthew will handle the short journey.

  The mechanical doors opened and I had to pull him into the opening itself, which had already begun to close. A true mercy that I was able to coax this newborn through a series of perils he may have never known existed.

  The lights of the Waking Realm began to dim when he asked me where we were going. Upon my reply, we were already in motion. The blackness engulfed us and we fell toward the space that holds both realms together—without which all would be lost: the enemy knows this all to well.

  What good is a man in the king’s stead that does not believe in himself? Much of the Waking is like this. Titles mean nothing in the providence of waking men if they are bound with fetters of bitterness, pride, and a lack of confidence to hold such positions. Kings must be free of such or die from such.

  The Ancient chose me to help Matthew: to secure his healing, if at all possible. Fool’s hope, but a hope worth trying for. And, to free this one, who has been such a help for all of Oneiron in his dreams. And now here he is, scared as a little child, curled up waiting for his mommy to pick him up.

  “Get up,” I told him. I stood there quite disappointed.

  After he mumbled something, I simply told him, “Trust, accept, and get up.”

  As he finally stood upright, and glanced about himself, he still could not see. Bound and fettered by the disappointment that leads such a man to believe there is some sort of inherent defect within himself. And, not to accept such disappointments caused by circumstance and other men—which are outside of one’s control—may lead to a life full of doubt, frustration, and anger: with others and toward themselves. A perfect tool, and an effective one at that, for the enemy to enfold the mind in crippling insecurities.

  I tell him to accept that he may live in the present. I see his soul churning like the white foam at the edge of the fjord that touches this place. A place that may well have been overrun by now, and we know it not.

  He finally breaks inside as he begins to weep. The sign we had hoped for. A release that I pray remains intact throughout eternity. The Ancient handed to him his writing instruments before our departure. The very thing that began to awaken his cognition. The act of scribing had etched many lines of truth deep into his being; now it will be imperative for his survival to have this moment etched into him forever.

  “What is this place?” he asked.

  “This is the Land Between Realms,” I try to explain. Explain and define a region that I myself have never ventured; only by the goodness of the Ancient we are permitted here.

  After more interruption from Matthew—not only plagued by a temper, and lack of confidence, but also impatience now—I attempt to explain this place. The purpose of Oneiron. But, I must also have a watchful eye toward the pending advance of an enemy. I feel it. They are here. We just have not seen them yet.

  “…is almost too much to handle, “ he blurts out while adjusting himself in the soil of the hollow we sit.

  I peer into his being, all the while, bending my thoughts to the fjord. I continue to explain Oneiron to him. What clouds his sight is the lack of acceptance and forgiveness for himself.

  Then, his vision begins to clear, and he asks the important question, “I must know why…”

  To explain why Oneiron exists to a newly cognitive man from the Waking is as simple and complex as explaining why the sun rises. Because it must. If not, the sanity of man is in jeopardy, and he will destroy others and himself—man has the most difficult time not doing so when he is sane.

  However, I am not able to explain to him why Lady Aletha, Jacobe, and himself have entered into a cognition and are able to pass between the realms at will at the same time. Nor am I able to offer any further explanation as to why the enemy can pass into the realm of the Waking in an attempt to destroy this King, in his own realm.

  I feel their approach. I sense their churning at the shore. I must leave and find out.

  “Time is of the essence, Matthew. I must leave, and you must stay. I shan’t be long. I hope. Write, Matthew.”

  While the King sat speechless, I briskly walked beyond the veil and into the region that would take me to the fjord. The journey was slower than expected due to the lack of any established pathways. No foot paths. No game trails. Nothing. A forest not tended, and the unfettered growth that accompanies such.

  I came to the slope I had hoped for. Taking the descent at an angle allowed me to keep watch on many of the different avenues below where the water created the boundary of both realms.

  Since Matthew and I had not encountered any Imps upon our arrival, I thought it sufficient to allow him to process the needed release while coming to a place of acceptance; and that, was almost met with disastrous results given the fact he gave into despair during the process. Despair and hopelessness is consumed in this region and the rent in the soil would have pulled him into its clutches forever lest I’d been there, close at hand, to pull him from its jaws. I pray that he scribes the hope and confidence needed, to the very least that he may return to the Waking. Again, a slight hope that it may be.

  My thoughts consumed me to the point that I did not realize how far I had gone down toward the Oneiron Fjord—also known as the Sea of Solace, separating the Land Between Realms, and that of Oneiron. Our fortress—aptly named Fjord—is the first line in the protection of the realm and the many other dominions that lay beyond us, could not be seen from here.

  My suspicions were confirmed; three small ships with a number of Imps—the enemy, bent on the destruction of all realms for no other reason than for destruction itself. In the lead ship, an unsettling surprise, two Cherem.

  The vessels parted ways in the sea, one sailing toward Oneiron, two headed toward a rock outcropping just below myself. A curious event, only one ship, the lead vessel headed toward Oneiron.

  Again, too preoccupied. Too consumed with many questions. Filled with too much anxiety to be mindful of the now. I turned to be met by a blade being swung down upon me.

  I summoned my own blade just in time. There was no warning: ambushed by the same two creatures—Imps—who had entered through the opening and retreated back through it prior to Matthew and I entering.

  I raised my sword sideways after summoning it, but there was not enough time to gain a full grip. My blade was flung from my hand the moment it met the danger bearing down upon me. The creature’s curved blade bounced high in the air after the strike, mine tumbled to the ground between us. The Imp hesitated to watch my blade drop allowing me to grab it by the throat at the same moment and throttled it with its own weapon.

  I reached down to retrieve my sword, and from out of nowhere, another black blade sliced the air just above my scalp, missed, and it stuck fast in the large oak next to me. I came up with my sword with a heated reprisal of my own; I sliced the beast with s
o much force that I cut it in half.

  Having dealt with the two that followed me, I made haste to return to Matthew lest he be caught unawares. I could not remember if I told him that the kings of Oneiron could summon their swords at will.

  As I hurried my pace through the undergrowth—following the path I had made previously—I could hear the enemy not far behind. They are a loud lot when not stalking their prey. I saw a trail that crossed my path several times, made by the two that hunted me. By the time I reached the hollow where the King was, the sounds of the enemy had grown louder as they approached.

  “Draw your sword and be ready,” I urged the King. I immediately spun around and witnessed their scouts were within sight zig zagging through the underbrush, searching and scanning my trail. Thankfully their eyesight is poor and rely primarily on their sense of smell—this gave us a few more precious moments with the favorable breeze.

  “Yeor, I don’t have a sword,” whined Matthew. His hands held outward as he clutched the notebook he had received from the Ancient.

  The enemy’s scouts closed in on our hollow and once they got a whiff of the King, they focused their attention upon him. Matthew saw them now, moving in and out of the vegetation, not understanding what they were doing, nor understanding their methods, he openly complained again about not having a sword.

  I attempted to move toward him to protect him from the pending doom about to fall upon this newly cognitive King, but he didn’t understand the simplest laws set in motion by the Ancient herself; too late, the enemy was upon us.

  “You’re a King of the Realm, use the power vested in you!” however, my explanation was poor and there was no time for it now. He cursed at me, and rightfully so, when three of the four scouts attacked him. The other was upon myself.

  Miracles! He summoned his blade at the time I had to use my own. I cut the careless creature down and attempted to run toward Matthew to help; outnumbered, I couldn’t get close.

  Two more lurched at me from the undergrowth. Fortunately for us, the hollow had a rise all about it before it slightly depressed into soft soil behind us. The Imps—who are thought of by man as cute, mischievous fairies, or some sort, and even plastered among the ancient monuments in the Waking Realm—stumbled out into the open, not realizing I was prepared.