But then Selene showed up.
She had exhausted herself from miles away, launching the tidal wave against Anuen. She had expected the battle to last less than an hour after that. But Vye had countered her, and now the army actually had to win a battle. And they were motivated more by the fear of Grimsor behind them than the glory of victory before them. They had lived too long without Grimsor. They didn’t know what it meant to serve the great demon.
Grimsor himself did not want to be in this battle. He had other fronts of the war to fight, namely in the minds of his enemy. So Selene would have to do cleanup in the land of the waking.
She flew in, as mages are wont to do. And she wasn’t subtle about it either. She had been waiting on the galleon, way at the back of the armada, watching the progress of the battle. But as the sun set and the moon rose, she streamed out across the water. Aglow with the pale blue light, as though channeling the moon through her body.
The lookout saw her coming, and the alarms were sounded. It was odd, sounding the alarms in the middle of a battle. Danger was pretty much three paces in every direction from any living person. But Selene was dangerous, and it was clear she had to be handled.
She landed in the middle of the battlefield, halfway up the slope of the beach. She spun once around, a stream of lightning arching out of her fingers and smashing into every Rone and Turin soldier within thirty paces of her. They crackled in the electrical stream before falling over, dead.
Landora swept into the medical tent. Nuria was there, scampering from bed to bed, healing every soldier in turn. Just enough to keep them from dying. There were so many injured, she had to conserve what energy she could.
“Nuria,” Landora called, “We have to go. One of the mages who attacked Countess Vye is out there.”
“I’m too tired to fight,” Nuria said. “I’m worn to the bone.”
“Then you’re going to have to fight with your bones,” Landora said. “It’s going to take everything we have to deal with her.”
And she ran out of the tent. Nuria took a deep breath. She didn’t think she could do much, but if anything could motivate her, it was the opportunity to hurt one of the people who had attacked Vye.
---
Nuria ran out onto the beach, where she found the fight with Selene had already begun. Landora had joined the Twins, and the three of them were attacking Selene from three sides. Nuria decided it was time to make it four.
Selene saw that she was surrounded, but she had other tricks up her sleeve. She launched herself into the air, floating above the others. While Nuria could do some minor levitation, and the Turin-Guarde could do a little more, none of them could maneuver the way she could.
“Keep her away from the city!” Landora shouted, repeating the command in Rone for Nuria’s benefit. The mages all ran north along the beach, forcing Selene to float in their direction. The villainess fired bolts of lightning down at the others, who could only throw their hands up, deflecting the magical attacks.
Nuria couldn’t keep up. She tried levitating a few feet off the ground and pushing herself north, but that only tired her out more. There was no way she could keep running on the sand at the same pace as the three adult mages.
She tripped and flopped into the sand. Every ounce of her body was bruised. But she was still angry enough to want to destroy Selene. Fine, she thought. If I can’t fight her with my body, I’ll fight her with my mind.
She rolled onto her back, staring up into the clear night sky. The stars sprinkled light over the naked beach, and Nuria closed her eyes. She hoped she was far enough out of reach of the battle that she wouldn’t get trampled by some random soldiers.
She reached out in her mind, tracking her steps back along the beach, up the slope, to the West Tower, and into Castle Anuen. Her mind drifted down the steps, into the armory. The battle had happened so suddenly, none of the nobles had been given time to get their armor on. And even in the hours since, it didn’t seem helpful, as the sandy beach was the worst terrain for them.
So Nuria found plenty of empty suits of armor lying around. Her favorite. But then, on her way to the armory, she saw something else. Something even better...
---
Landora shielded Xanathos from another blast from Selene. The flying mage may not have been fighting at full strength after launching the Wave, but she was still packing quite a punch. And none of the attacks the Turin-Guarde had fired back seemed to do much at all.
She got even more worried when she felt a thump in the ground. It was like four tons of rock had just dropped on the beach, and she was feeling the impact through the soles of her feet.
It was, in fact, four tons of rock that had just landed on the beach. Well, not landed so much as walked. The massive collection of volcanic bluestone was actually shaped into the form of a person. Specifically, King Michael Rone IV. The Statue had come to life, and was traipsing across the beach.
Nuria was a little unsteady in piloting the monstrosity. It was heavier than any suit of armor she had ever used. It had been really hard to even get the thing off the pedestal. But she had possessed the statue just as she had the suits of armor. So it wasn’t a matter of trying to break the rock. It was a question of trying to move her feet.
And taxing though it was, she got it. She hopped off the pedestal (to a vibration felt inside the Castle, if not on the beach.) She launched up the stairway four steps at a time. She jumped out of the castle, and landed on her feet in the middle of the beach.
And now, with long, steady strides, the stone reincarnation of King Michael marched north, catching up to the fight between Selene and the Turin-Guarde.
Nuria held up the sword in her hands, not even aware that it was the Saintskeep. She would have liked to have yelled, “On guarde!” to taunt Selene, but talking through the Statue was something she hadn’t managed yet.
Selene naturally tried to destroy the golem, but her lightning strike was harmlessly absorbed by the Sword of Kings. Nuria knelt down...
And jumped. The Statue leapt into the air, sword over his head...
And she chopped down on the airborne enemy. The sword cut clear through, from Selene’s right shoulder to her crotch, splitting the millennia-old woman in half in a matter of seconds.
The Statue landed a second later, along with both halves of Selene. Nuria took the pose the Statue had been holding before she borrowed it, standing, facing the sea, and holding his sword up in the air. Then, she took her mind out of it. Her consciousness whipped back to her body, where she promptly fell asleep.
Grimsor’s army, already disheartened by their depleting numbers and the resilience of the Rone and the Turin, lost all morale when they saw Selene go down. They got back in their rafts, turned, and fled, now fighting the high tide back out into the water. Duncan ordered the nearest fleet to launch into the bay, guarding against further invasion. The Battle of Anuen had ended.
At least, the waking battle...
Chapter 57: No Rest For the Weary
Duncan watched with relief as the enemy fled. Anuen had been caught off guard, but they had pulled through. The Rone and the Turin had, somehow, fought side-by-side. And now that the battle was over, Duncan was hoping to have a moment of calm. He would organize the relief effort, help heal those who could be healed, reorganize the troops--
But there wasn’t a moment of rest. Because while they had been occupied fighting Selene and her troops, Grimsor had been busy in the Dreamscape. As each wounded soldier fell asleep, recovering from his wounds, Grimsor invaded their minds.
Turning Sarah, or Jareld, or Rajani took effort. When Grimsor wanted to command someone who wielded power, someone who had control, he had to study them. Learn their fears. Find their weaknesses. But for the common soldier, the task was much easier. They were all close to death. They all feared their families would burn in an invasion. They had all seen the tidal wave that almost wiped out their beloved city.
It’s not that each soldier went down easily
. Grimsor still had to catch them in a dream, and still had to Turn them. But any who put up a modicum of resistance, he ignored. He didn’t want the leaders this time. He just wanted numbers, because chaos was his friend.
The first thing to go was the medic’s tent. Those soldiers who Grimsor could Turn woke from their dreams and burned it down. Next, a fire started in the kitchen under the Castle. Some of the servants who had actually managed to get to sleep once the battle had started were sent in. They used knives to kill the other servants, and then set the place ablaze.
But Grimsor’s favorite move was when he captured the mind of a wounded Turin Captain. While the Turin were fighting alongside the Rone, they still took their wounded to a separate area to recover. When Grimsor caught this man, he marched him up to a Rone Captain and stabbed him in the heart. No warning, no words. He just murdered him.
And that was all it really took. If Grimsor had tried this in the chaos of the Battle, it would have gone unnoticed. It would have been chalked up to an accident, or confusion. But this was clearly after the battle. This was as the soldiers were collecting the weapons of their dead enemies.
Once Duncan had both fires under control, he raced back onto the beach, where there was already a large standoff. The Turin faction on one side, the Rone on the other. It was all he could do to keep the two sides on his two sides. But when he saw the eyes of the Turin Captain, he knew what had happened.
Since the Turin weren’t inclined to take orders from Duncan, he ordered the Rone troops back. At that moment, Landora and the Twins returned. And in Landora’s arms, Nuria slept.
“Is she OK?” Duncan asked.
“She’s exhausted,” Landora answered. “But I think she’ll be fine.”
“He’s here,” Duncan whispered to the others. “Grimsor. He’s in our camp. He’s taken the minds of any soldiers who fall asleep.”
“How can we stop him?” Landora asked, the fatigue in her voice apparent. “I’m liable to fall asleep myself any second now.”
“You can’t!” Duncan shouted. “Nobody can. Wake her up.”
Landora rested Nuria against a rock, gently nudging her awake.
“OK, first order of business,” Duncan said, “I have to issue an order that nobody fall asleep.”
“Everybody just fought a battle,” Landora objected. “And we didn’t kill all of the enemy. If they come back, we can’t have our army sleep-deprived.”
“It’s better than having half our army fighting the other half.”
“It’s not even midnight,” Landora said. “You want them to stay up the whole night?”
“I can’t think of a better solution for now,” Duncan said. “But you’re right. This is just a stopgap. We need to find a way to deal with Grimsor once and for all.”
“Flopson...” Nuria mumbled.
“What?” Duncan said.
“Flopson,” she repeated, coming around. “Vye said he’s the key. He knows how to defeat Grimsor.”
“Who’s Flopson?” Landora asked.
“He’s...” Duncan began, but paused to catch his mental breath. He himself had never met Flopson, but he knew enough of the story. “He was a jester. He was the fool of Castle Hartstone when Michael was the Count there.”
“A jester?”
“I guess it doesn’t translate well,” Duncan admitted. “He was a clown. He was there to entertain people.”
“And this is the man who knows how to stop a demon?”
“If Vye says so...”
“I guess I could have been dreaming,” Nuria chimed in. “I mean, I know I was dreaming, but I guess I could have been... dreaming-dreaming. You know?”
Duncan paced in the sand. It was bad enough he was going to have to keep the Turin and the Rone from killing each other. It was also bad enough he was going to have to order the entire population of Anuen to not sleep after the exhausting battle. Now he was apparently going to have to rest all their hopes on a jester who had been missing from the Kingdom for six years.
“Well, we don’t have any other leads,” Duncan said. “So we need to find him.”
“How?” Nuria asked.
“It would help if we had someone who knew him,” Landora said. “The more intimate someone was with the Jester, the easier it would be to make a connection. At least, that’s how Master Eric taught us to do it when we’re reaching out for someone.”
“Corthos,” Duncan said. “The pirate. He was with Flopson on the quest to save Sarah in the Caves of Drentar. And they were last seen together at the signing of the Unity Treaty.”
“Bring me to him,” Landora said.
“OK, Nuria, gentlemen, I need you to spread the word about the not sleeping. I know, nobody will be happy to hear it. Tell them we’re working on a solution, but if they could please not fall asleep and stab anybody, we’d appreciate it. Landora, let’s go.”
Chapter 58: A Dagger of the Heart
Emily couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t that she wasn’t tired, nor that her body would have been too nervous to sleep. It was that she had been told she wasn’t allowed to sleep. So she wandered the halls of the Castle. The Council had been penned up in the War Room for most of the day and now the night. Each had taken a one hour break in turn, and now it was hers.
And since she couldn’t just go back to her quarters and collapse into her bed, she decided to take care of one last piece of business.
She approached Jareld’s quarters. The Guards stationed there were pacing, trying to stay awake. She dismissed them, telling them she had this. They were too tired to disagree.
She knocked on Jareld’s door. It swung open, loose on its hinges. The broken slats had been boarded over, but the lock and frame were still just there for show. She spotted Jareld standing at the window, looking west over the beach.
“May I come in?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She stepped inside. Just a single stride. She was too frightened to be out of reach of the door. Because Jareld had not been there in her dream. He had not been freed from the bonds of Grimsor. He had been in her dream. When Vye had freed the Council. But he had been an imitation. He was really the demon, and showed his true form in the end. Which meant...
“You’re not yourself,” she said.
“I know,” Jareld answered. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Then you’ve learned nothing. Everyone has their own fears. And those fears can blind and cripple them. Jareld has his. You have yours. You might have escaped me for the moment. You might have freed the members of the Council. But Vye is dead. She can’t help you anymore. And so, one by one, I will take all of your minds.”
“We can overcome our fears.”
“Not all of you.”
“Maybe not. But some of us. And Jareld most of all.”
“Jareld is gone. There is no Jareld.”
“Jareld, listen to me...”
“Are you deaf? He’s not here.”
“No, I think he is. And I think he’s stronger than you.”
“His fears and insecurities run too deep. He will never surface again.”
“Jareld, just listen. I’m here. And I love you.”
“Perhaps you need a demonstration,” Jareld’s body said, pacing to his desk. He grabbed a gem-inlaid dagger. A souvenir from some far-away shore. And he closed in on Emily. “Your faith will get you killed.”
“Bring your dagger,” Emily said, and she unclasped her dress, exposing the top of her bodice. “My heart is here, if you’re looking for it. But I know Jareld won’t stab me.”
“Jareld wouldn’t,” Jareld’s voice said with Grimsor’s mind, “But I will.”
“I forgive you, Jareld. I was angry at what you did. And I’m still angry. And I still don’t agree with all of it. But I love you. I thought maybe that would change because of what you did. But it didn’t. I still want to spend my life with you. Living in a small hut overlooking a bay. Or p
erhaps fields of grass.”
Jareld’s feet carried him closer and closer, the dagger held before him. The sharp blade flickered in the moonlight as he passed in front of the window.
“Your sentiment is touching,” he mocked. “But I have control over this body. Jareld is never coming back.”
“Then I’d rather be dead anyway,” Emily retorted. And Jareld was upon her. He held the knife up. Emily grabbed his wrist, but she wasn’t struggling. She helped him, placing the blade upon her bosom, right through the laces of her corset. Right at her heart. The whole time, she stared into his eyes. If he was in there, she was going to find him.
“Jareld, you’re still a good man. I believe that now more than I ever did. Fight him off.”
“I can’t...” Jareld said, struggling to speak through the puppeteer that controlled his body. The blade pressed forward, pricking her skin. Blood leaked out of her chest.
“You can,” Emily said. “You were in a stone prison for four years and you didn’t give up hope. You escaped that prison all on your own. Now I’m here to help you escape this prison.”
“You should run...” Jareld’s mouth said. It was hard to tell who was saying it. Was it Jareld, worried for her, hoping she would flee? Or was it Grimsor, taunting her. Warning her.
“I’m not running. I love you Jareld, and I’m going to get you through this. Don’t you see? We were separated for years but we were still together. We both dreamt of that house, Jareld. The one on the lake. Or possibly on a field of grass. We met there every night. So wherever you go, I’m going with you. And I KNOW you. I know you couldn’t stab me, even if an ancient evil is living in your mind.”
Jareld’s hand shook. The dagger scraped across Emily’s chest, tearing her corset. Half of his brain wanted to push the blade in, gutting her. And half his brain wanted to pull the blade away, saving her.
So the tiebreaker was his love. Because there was something so fundamental about his love for her, that there was no way he could do it. He was incapable of killing her. It was muscle memory for an inability to act. An allergic reaction to the motion of moving the blade forward.
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