by Sam Ferguson
As for me, I was too caught up in the moment to realize I shouldn’t have been able to strike a memory. I rushed in just after the second downward punch by old me and kicked the drakkul in the head. I heard a sickening crunch!
Old me kept raining down knuckle-bombs while the drakkul tried to fight back with his free hand.
“Go for the sword handle!” I shouted.
Old me shifted his leg and hit the sword sticking out of the drakkul’s abdomen. The lizard-man roared out in pain.
Old me sat up sat up just a bit and smiled. Then the smile faded. The moment was only a fraction of a second, but I remembered what was coming.
“Stay in the fight!” I screamed at old me. “Don’t let up now!”
Too late.
The drakkul aimed his hand and fired a blast of lightning into old me. Old me went flying through the air once more. There was a thump as old me collided with the wall once more. The lightning intensified and old me was losing consciousness fast.
I hesitated for only a second before I realized that the lightning was not stopping. The drakkul was advancing and maintaining his power over old me.
I rushed in again and pummeled the drakkul in the side of the head. His skull snapped to his left shoulder. I then kicked him in the stomach. He roared out and doubled over. The lightning stopped.
Old me slid to the ground.
Neither old me nor the drakkul moved.
I could hear the sirens coming now and knew the fight was almost over.
“Get up!” I shouted at old me.
Old me just stared at the drakkul.
The drakkul was now straightening himself, breathing heavily and flexing his fingers.
“Get up!” I shouted again.
Old me mouthed something inaudible.
The drakkul took a step toward old me and I knew what had to be done. I swung again, but this time my hand sailed through the drakkul’s image harmlessly.
NO! I had to finish this. I couldn’t lose my focus now! I tried to concentrate and swing again. Again nothing happened. I cried out for Indyrith to help, but the elf didn’t move. The drakkul was going to kill old me, and whatever had allowed me to hit him before was now gone.
Old me looked up at the mask.
The mask! It had fallen before.
Instead of punching at the figure, I moved around the drakkul and snatched at the mask. I failed to grab it, but I did manage to knock it loose. The mask fell, and old me now realized what he was fighting.
The drakkul smiled, but this time I realized he hadn’t ever smiled at old me. He was smiling at me. He was looking me in the eyes! In the heat of battle, I must not have noticed that detail, but it was clear now. The drakkul had seen me, reaching back in time somehow.
Katya’s words about the drakkul seeing memories came back into my mind.
Old me pushed up, using the wall for support as the drakkul staggered forward. The drakkul thrusted forward. In my memory, I thought the stab had been slower and indirect. Only now did I realize the truth of it. The blade had appeared slow to old me because the drakkul wasn’t aiming for old me. The blade slid through me as I looked down in horror. I had just been stabbed by my own memory. I cried out in pain.
Old me dodged and then then snatched out and yanked the handle sticking out of the drakkul’s abdomen straight up. The drakkul hissed again. I flinched as old me lunged forward and head-butted the creature in the face.
The sirens were growing ever closer now. I just had to hang on for a few more seconds.
The drakkul spat at old me. Old me recoiled, and ripped the sword out of the drakkul’s abdomen at the same moment the drakkul pulled his other sword out of me.
I sank to my knees while the drakkul turned and leapt for its portal. The hole in space closed. My vision started to go dark. Even as the headlights and sirens poured into the alley, I slumped to the side, clutching at my stomach.
The first time I had been in this alley, I had ended up going to jail, but now, I was about to die. My body felt cold and I shivered. My muscles cramped and burned all through my body.
I barely noticed the hand slip under my head and lift me up.
“Come, Joshua Mills, it is not your time yet,” Indyrith whispered into my ear.
CHAPTER 6
I don’t know how I got into my bed. I assume Indyrith carried me, or perhaps Rolf. All I knew is I woke up in my bed, covered in thick sweat that slimed the sheets and slicked my hair to my scalp. I looked down at my stomach. There was no visible wound, but I could still feel the blade coursing through me. I tried to sit up, but only managed to move an inch or so before screaming in pain and flopping back down.
The door opened and Katya came in. gun in one hand and a book in the other. “You alone?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. What are you, my bodyguard?” I asked. I almost laughed, but that sent burning pains shooting through my abdomen as well.
Katya arched a brow and shook her head. “I am guarding the people out here. If you get attacked in your dreams, it will be too late for you.”
I looked at her with wide eyes.
“Just kidding,” she added, a wicked sneer curling the corners of her mouth upward.
“Not funny,” I replied.
“Well, I was half joking. I will try to save you too, but I am here to keep intruders out. You have been marked.”
“Marked?” I said as I reached down and gently placed a finger over the spot where the sword had entered my body. “I was stabbed.”
“Not really,” Katya said. “I’ve been stabbed. You were just…dream stabbed…”
“Tell that to my stomach. Feels like a piece of rebar is running through me.”
“Is he awake?” a voice called from behind the door.
Katya nodded. “He’s awake.”
“Bout time,” Hank said as he moved in around her. “It’s been three days.”
“Three days?” I blinked and looked back at my stomach.
“Aw, sit up, it’s all in your head.” Hank reached down and pulled me up.
Trying to sit up by myself was an eight out of ten on the pain scale, and I don’t complain easily. I once had a broken finger and the doctor had to x-ray it to make sure it was broken because I was playing with the detached portion of the bone. I could feel it move, but it wasn’t painful. But, if trying to sit up by myself had been an eight out of ten, Hank yanking me up was an eleven. I squealed and screeched. I couldn’t breathe. My vision began tunneling and I think I might have tried to punch Hank in the stomach. I’m still a bit hazy on that part. All I know for sure is Hank called me a few choice words, and then I passed out again.
The next time I awoke, I was not in a bed. I was on a table in a room I had not been in before. It was cold, and my shirt was off. I had to blink the darkness out of my eyes a few times before I could look around. I was on a medical examination table. No IVs, no wires, and thankfully no bloody rags or organs hanging out. I took in a deep breath, slowly at first, allowing the air to expand my diaphragm, figuring that would be the least impactful test of how my stomach was feeling.
No pain.
I moved my arms, then my legs. Finally, feeling brave enough to try once more, I moved to sit up. This time there was only minimal pain. A sharp stab right next to my navel, but nothing I couldn’t push through. That was followed by a dull ache that radiated through my entire torso. Fun times.
The door opened after a minute or so and Hank entered the room. He didn’t mention anything about the last time he had tried to get me up. He just smiled and held up a steaming cup.
“I have some soup. You should try to eat.”
“Sorry… ‘bout before, I mean,” I said.
Hank shrugged. “Don’t trip on that. Here, drink your soup. You’ll need your strength.”
“How long was I out this time?” I asked. “Another three days?”
Hank shook his head. “No, it’s been seven.”
I stared at him incredulously. “A week?
”
Hank nodded. He pressed the soup into my right hand. “Drink the soup.”
“How am I still alive?” I looked around again, sure I had missed an IV somewhere, or a feeding tube perhaps.
“Indyrith saw to that,” Hank said. “He and his daughters have been tending to you each day.”
I lifted the cup and sniffed it. Sometimes, there is nothing better than a cheap, hot cup of chicken soup. I scarfed it down without coming up for air, and then I set the cup down.
“Thanks,” I said.
Hank smiled. “He has some questions,” he said. “Says you might be a dream walker, or something like that.”
“A dream walker?” I asked.
Hank shrugged. “It isn’t my place to talk for Indyrith. Once you feel up to it, let’s go and talk to him together.”
I pushed forward and slid off the table, landing solidly on my feet. “I’m good now,” I said.
Hank’s smile widened. “All right then, let’s go.”
We walked through a series of corridors while Hank quietly whistled the melody from Dancing Queen. Man, this guy really liked Abba. We went into the main hall where I first met the others and sat at the table. A minute or so later, a door opened and a big, hairy thing came out from the back. I started to panic, as it looked like some sort of bad wookie costume, but Hank was quick to steady me.
“He’s a friendly,” Hank said.
I studied the creature. His hair was thick and long, covering every inch of him from head to toe, even his face. He walked slightly leaning forward, but I wasn’t sure if that was how he walked all the time, or if it was to keep his head from smacking the doorways and ceiling. His visage was unmistakable, though I could hardly believe my eyes. “Bigfoot?” I asked.
The large, hairy creature grunted and came toward the table.
“He prefers Nick,” Hank said.
“Nick?”
Hank nodded. “What, you think all squatches run around calling themselves Bigfoot? That’d be like all humans running around calling themselves Human.”
“But, his name is Nick?”
“Not what you expected?”
Nick draped a white towel over his left arm and approached the table. “Drinks?” he asked in a very low voice.
“I’ll take a whiskey on the rocks,” Hank said. He then pointed at me with his left thumb while making a circular motion next to his head with his right index finger. “He doesn’t drink, he’s a Mormon.”
Nick made a sound that seemed a mix of laughter and growling. “Milk,” Nick said with a nod.
“And a shirt,” Hank added.
“I’m being waited on by Bigfoot,” I said with a shake of my head. Elves can read minds, and Bigfoot is going to fetch me a milk.”
“You forgot the Vikings,” Hank said.
“Yeah, the ren-fair guys are a bit over the top, but I’m sure not going to tell them that.”
Hank burst into laughter. “Ren-faire?” he echoed with a shake of his head. “No, son, you got it all wrong. Those are three actual Vikings.”
“No,” I said. “Impossible.”
“With all you have seen and you are hung up on that as being impossible?” Hank whistled through his teeth.
“They’d be hundreds of years old,” I said.
“Yep,” Hank replied.
“But…” I shook my head and decided to let it go. Hank was right. Why get hung up on that? “So they’re like some kind of Highlander kind of Vikings then?” I asked. “Or are they more like Wolverine?”
“Bit of both, I suppose,” Hank said. “A bit meaner, perhaps.”
Nick returned with a shirt draped over the white towel on his arm and a tray with two drinks balanced on his other hand. “Drinks,” he said.
Hank and I thanked him. I slipped the shirt on, wincing as a sudden jolt ripped through my body where the sword had stabbed me.
“It’ll wear off,” Hank promised.
“So you’ve been wounded in memories too?”
Hank shook his head. “Nope. I’ve only ever gone into my memories a few times. Never been able to interact with them though.”
I was about to ask another question, but as Nick moved his giant bulk out of the way, I saw Indyrith. I moved to stand as Rolf and I had done before, but the tall elf held out a hand and shook his head.
“Remain seated, please,” he said.
I nodded.
“How are you feeling?”
“Hungry,” Hank said with a smirk.
Indyrith smiled slightly. “That is good. There has been no sign of fever or infection. You should be completely healed within another day or two.”
“Infection? How can I get an infection from a memory?” I asked.
Indyrith nodded once and his smile faded. “I had thought this gift lost. I have searched many times for one such as yourself. Unfortunately, the minds of men are not as open as they once were, even among the reservations.”
“The reservations?” I glanced to Hank. The man picked up his whiskey and took a small sip after swirling the amber liquid around the giant cube of ice in the cup.
“A dream walker is most commonly found among the Native Americans.”
“Well, obviously there is an exception to that rule too,” Hank said as he set the glass down. “This guy is as white as they come. Look at him, I bet if he went outside without his shirt, he’d reflect sunlight better than a mirror.”
Indyrith tolerated the joke with a nod, but barely offered any hint of a smile. He turned back to me. “But you have Native American heritage, do you not?”
I nodded. “Cherokee,” I said.
“Bah, everyone has Cherokee blood,” Hank dismissed with a wave.
“Tell me your line,” Indyrith said.
“How’s he supposed to do that?” Hank asked.
I smiled. I guess he didn’t know how much genealogy Mormons did. “I am the direct descendant of a long line of chiefs,” I said. My sixth-great-grandfather fought with Andrew Jackson in the Creek and Indian Wars. After Jackson became president, that same ancestor went to Washington D.C. to try and stop the trail of tears. When Andrew Jackson refused to listen, my sixth-great-grandfather led one of the detachments across the Trail of Tears. In addition to being a chief, he was also one of the Cherokee judges. They had a very well organized system of laws, complete with courts.”
“How far back does your line go?” Indyrith pressed.
I shrugged. “The records I found stop with a Chief Onai in the sixteen hundreds. The trail goes a bit cold after that.”
Indyrith nodded. He held out his right hand. A moment later, one of the blonde elves from before entered the room, carrying a large, green leather book. She set it in his hand and then bowed her head as she backed away. “This is a record of the dream walkers who have joined our ranks over the years,” Indyrith said. “I also have a Chief Onai listed in my records. He had a daughter, her name was A Li Onai. She was a formidable dream walker.”
I nodded. “I have her in my family tree,” I said.
Indyrith placed the book on the table. “I am not the best teacher. Traditionally, a dream walker should be taught by another, but as I have said, those I have tried to work with in recent decades have not proven successful. Their minds are too rigid, formed by the world as they understand it now. Even the purest traditionalists have trouble believing in what you would term the supernatural.” Indyrith smiled and traced a finger over the symbol of a tree on the front of the book. “Perhaps you have not been chosen by accident.”
“We know that already,” Hank said. “His father stole something.”
“Your father, did he come from the Cherokee lineage?” Indyrith asked.
I shook my head. “No, the Cherokee are on my mother’s side.”
Indyrith nodded. “I think we have been looking at this the wrong way,” he told Hank. “I suspect the harbinger wolf came independently of the drakkul when they attacked in Dallas.”
“Why would they do that?�
� Hank asked.
Indyrith pointed to me. “Dream walkers have many things in common. Among the most prevalent are dreams of a wolf.”
I sat back in my chair. “A large wolf?” I asked.
Indyrith nodded. “One that would start at a young age, and continue to torment the dream walker during the nights.”
“I first saw one when I was four,” I said.
“Oh please, you don’t remember things from when you were four,” Hank said as he finished his whiskey.
“Knowing all that you do, and you’re hung up on that, Hank?” I asked.
Indyrith held up a hand to keep Hank silent. “Please, tell me what you saw.”
I nodded. “I was asleep in my bed. My room was at the end of a hall, with a big window that went from the floor all the way up to the ceiling. I can still see the wolf. His face took up the entire window. His big, yellow eyes stared at me from the other side of the glass. I couldn’t move. I was stuck in my bed, as if something was holding me in place. The wolf turned and then growled. He opened his mouth and glass shattered inward like an explosion. I screamed, and then I woke up. My parents ran into my room like any child’s parents would.”
“But that was not the last time you had the dream?” Indyrith asked.
I shook my head. “I had the same dream several more times. We moved around a lot, living in different houses while I was growing up, but the dream was always the same. I was back in that room. The wolf came and roared, and then the window would explode inward.”
“Always the same?” Hank asked.
I nodded. “Except once, when I was fourteen.”
Indyrith cocked his head to the side. “Tell me about that one.”
“I woke up, or, at least it felt like I was awake. I’m sure it was just a dream like the others. This time, the wolf was large, but not as large as the other dreams. It stood with its hind feet on the floor, and its front paws on my bed, on my legs, actually. It leaned forward in the moonlight. It was a massive, muscular gray wolf. It bared its fangs and slowly came toward me. I knew it was going to bite me. Its teeth were long and sharp, and it was staring at me with hungry eyes. Like in the other dreams, I couldn’t move.”