Tyler's Dream

by Matthew Butler

  “Stack the sails! Pull them down! Heave, men. Hurry!”

  “They’re pulling down the sails?” asked Tyler. “Why?”

  “I cannot guess my father’s plans,” said Irrian. “And now is hardly the time to ask. But have faith. He has been at sea longer than you know and understands what needs to be done.”

  One nervous glance up the mast confirmed that the sails were indeed being tucked away. The Eye of the World slowly slid to rest while The Albatross’s Wing and The Seal sailed on past. The two enemy ships behind them suddenly seemed to jump faster through the waves. They were almost upon them.

  “Tyler, get down!” called Irrian. “They’re going to sail either side of us!”

  Irrian pulled Tyler to the floor so that his chest and cheek pressed flat against the deck. In the strange hush that followed, in that utter still, Tyler became acutely aware of his mortality. It was then that Irrian began to softly sing.

  May Whistis

  Fill our sails with song,

  Of rushing wind and spray.

  May Odus

  Make our boat stay strong,

  To crash through swirl and wave.

  May Irrith

  Lend her luck with us,

  When sailing through dark storm.

  And when our battle horn sounds war,

  May Krulum

  Enter all our hearts,

  So our enemies will fall!

  Cannons erupted on either side of them at the same instant. Tyler clamped his hands to his ears. The deck warped, and wood chips splintered like rain. One cannonball struck not five feet from where he and Irrian lay, completely obliterating the wooden railing. All Tyler could do was pray. What a game of luck! At any moment and without warning, he could be hit and instantly killed.

  There was a rumble from below deck. The Eye of the World had begun firing in return. The stink of gunpowder billowed over the deck in a sheet of vaporous, stinging cloud.

  Why did we begin firing so late?

  Then silence. It was over as suddenly as it had begun. Tyler’s ears were still ringing as though an inner bell had been sounded in his head. In a quick bound Irrian was on his feet, and he helped Tyler up with a wink. “Ha! And still we live!” Irrian hailed, gesturing to the deck.

  It was quite a sight. The Eye of the World seemed to be shattered as badly as The Sparrow had been.

  The enemy ships had sailed on past, the wind still blowing at their raven sails. Both their sterns had been almost completely destroyed, but the damage was not bad enough. Tyler supposed they would be back, and it was doubtful The Eye of the World would survive the onslaught of the cannons again.

  Irrian began to laugh. “My father is a genius. He’s destroyed their rudders! That must be why we began firing so late.” He waved off at the receding enemy ships as he talked. “They won’t be able to turn back for us.”

  Tyler laughed at Thorfinn’s cleverness. Their single ship had taken out three enemy vessels! It was now an even match … if The Seal and The Albatross’s Wing made it back in time. Otherwise they would face the remaining three ships alone.

  Thorfinn burst out from the hold, and an entourage of half a dozen people followed with equal velocity.

  “Arm yourselves, everybody! Although we have done very well indeed” – the crew cheered, and Thorfinn waved his arms for silence – “We are now disabled. This is where we will make our last stand, and we can only pray the others make it back in time.”

  Irrian grabbed Tyler by one corner of his leather armour and guided him across the deck. They stopped close to the centre of the ship, where the mast sprung from its boltings on deck. He scraped away the debris littering the immediate area with his foot. “We’d best make this as easy on ourselves as we can. I’d rather not slip in the middle of battle and lose my head. It’s better to prepare now.”

  Eventually they were as ready as they would ever be. They turned to watch the Dhimori’s ships approach.

  “My people say that the surest way to know life is to understand death,” said Irrian. “That life is nothing but a preparation for the end. I have never understood this until now.” Irrian’s gaze was fixed on the black ships as he spoke. “I think it means that an awareness of death makes one appreciate life far more than if we assume we are eternal.”

  “This is grim talk!” said Tyler. “You are further away from death than you think. I will make sure of that today, Irrian.”

  But instead of smiling at this, Irrian looked at Tyler with a sudden urgency. “Tyler, you must promise not to risk your life to save mine.”

  “My life is no more valuable—”

  “You know that is not true. Every man on this vessel would give his life willingly today, if it means that you should survive. You are our hope, Tyler. You are what we are fighting for.”

  “I am not a coward,” said Tyler with an edge of anger. “I would not want anyone to sacrifice their lives on my behalf, including you.”

  “Friend, I do not mean to affront your honour, but remember why we are here.” Irrian gestured to the ship and to the crew on the deck beside them, making peace with themselves before the final battle. “The Dhimori is here for you. I know it is hard, to put your own life before the rest, but you must, Tyler. I think the future of this world now depends on your life, and I will gladly die because of the promise that you bear, for the hope that will only live if you do.”

  “You shall not fight his cause alone, Irrian.” Odinn walked up towards them, with Kol by his side.

  “I have failed you once before Tyler,” Kol said. “Not so again. The shame of what I did …” Kol paused and lowered his head. “It can only be replaced by the blood that I shall spill for you today.”

  And so the companions stood together, each individual feeling the strength of the whole, to face what could very well be the end of their lives and the end of these short, young days of hope.

  “A mist rises.”

  A strong wind still blew into the enemies black sails as hard as before, yet a strange grey fog now trailed behind their masts, floating against the breeze. Gradually it spread until the enemy ships dropped from sight.

  “I have never seen such power that might bend the weather to one’s will,” Odinn whispered.

  “A Dhimori rides in one of those boats, my friends,” growled Kol. “Or perhaps they both do. Only they, or She, could have summoned—”

  Tyler’s vision blurred and then whipped back into his head, squashing inwards to an infinitely fine point, and then to eternal night. He gasped. A bead of sweat escaped to glide down his jaw line and stop on his chin. The blackness was alive. It was hard to see at first, but as Tyler widened his eyes, he could make out thousands of dim spheres floating in the air. Occasionally one glowed brightly for a time, before sinking back into a dull glow. The Dhimori was here. Tyler could feel His gaze, although he could not see Him.

  “YOU HAVE NO PLACE TO HIDE. I SEE YOU PLAINLY.”

  Tyler’s eyes lolled back from behind their sockets. The Dhimori could see him, even now. The fiend knew he was on this ship, in this very spot.

  In the time he had been unaware, the mist had thickened to cover everything from the sight of men. The sight of men – but not the Dhimori. He could see Tyler as though the sun still blazed down, as though the air was still crisp and clear.

  Irrian peered intently into the grey-green sea of fog as he held up his sword. But for the ominous lapping of the sea and the creaking of the boat, all was still. Tyler stared until his eyeballs stung, but his vision stopped at a couple of feet. That was his world for the moment, and it fit his mood perfectly. How would The Seal or The Albatross’s Wing ever find them in this abomination of the weather? There would be no hope of rescue. He found himself thinking of Varkon and Haranio. Where was the old shamif when he was most needed?

  A long pole slid fro
m the cloud, slowed to a stop, and then hung as though suspended in the air. Dread took Tyler then.

  “We will do whatever we can to protect you,” whispered Irrian. “You saved our lives, Tyler. You’ve rekindled our hope.”

  A hissing started, and thirty points of light sprung to life both left and right, unveiling the two ships at either side.

  “Archers! Look out!”

  In each of the sudden pools of light, shadowy figures were unveiled. Ghatuan archers held their flaming arrows whilst their comrades thronged impatiently behind them in a mass of thriving bodies. There were so many. A horn sung low, and with a single shout the ghatu archers let their arrows fly.

  “Tyler!” Odinn pounced ahead of him. An arrow punched deeply into the warrior’s chest and sizzled at his flesh. The giant snapped its filthy, oiled shaft and tossed it aside.

  The arrows caught against the sail, and fire danced above. At least this allowed them to see more clearly through the heavy mist. The dying echoes of the horn were still humming in the air when the world erupted into chaos. Ghatu poured through the fog from all sides, and even from above, swinging in from long ropes to randomly hurtle into the unsuspecting defenders.

  Thorfinn appeared by the mast. “Time for one last trick!” he thundered. “Odinn, help!”

  It took fifteen mighty blows of sword and hammer to finally crack the mast. Ropes snapped and beams strained, but then the mast toppled down bright with flame. It smashed into an enemy ship with an enormous a crash of red sparks, crushing and burning any that were caught in its wake. However, this did little to curb the enemies’ determination. The ghatu surged, their losses only causing them to grow more eager for blood. Tyler saw some leap the distance between the ships or scamper across on great planks that were laid down to serve as bridges.

  Kol and Odinn, side by side, leapt into the thick of an oncoming wall of ghatu, crushing through them like a rolling boulder. Odinn swung his heavy hammer in enormous arcs, felling three ghatu at a time on some blows. Kol was just as furious but slew the ghatu singly with skilful sweeps of his sword. Tyler felt the grip on his own short weapon grow weak as sweat greased his palms. The battle had yet to reach him; he was standing with Irrian at the centre of the deck. His eyes darted quickly as he watched the ghatu rush with animal savageness from every direction.

  Then it finally happened: three ghatu broke through the line of men holding the central deck. They ran at Tyler and Irrian, weapons raised above their grubby heads. Irrian leapt ahead and with a fearsome swing cut the first ghatu at the chest. The beast toppled to the floor, its momentum carrying its body all the way to Tyler’s feet. With an abrupt twist Irrian cut through all three legs of the next ghatu, who also crashed to the deck like the first. The third brute slipped past, sidestepping Irrian completely. Its black eyes were fixated upon Tyler, and its tattooed skin drew slick with muscles tried and tested in battle. Tyler gritted his teeth. This was the moment to revenge his family.

  “Ahh!” he yelled as she swung down his weapon.

  The ghatu bared its fangs and whipped up its axe. Their blades met with a crash. Tyler’s arm whipped with vibration, shuddering in his socket so violently that he dropped his sword and fell to his knees with shock. The ghatu cried with victory and swung his blade.

  But Irrian was behind the beast and thrust his sword with such force that the end of his steel blade protruded through the ghatu’s chest armour. With a long grunt the ghatu collapsed, a trail of black blood running from his mouth. Tyler scrambled to his feet, still visibly shaking from the force of the clash. Although his fumbling hands managed to pick up his sword, he doubted he would be able to use it now.

  “AVALON, YOU ARE A FOOL. TO RISK ALL TO A CHILD’S BODY.”

  He looked up and saw Him through the fog. The Dhimori with cloak framed by fire, a wide sword held with both hands almost reverently before His chest. Men scattered or cowered like spineless worms before this spiked vision of hell. The battle seemed to slow. Even the ghatu appeared fearful. Suddenly His long blade swung out. It cut through brave men like corn on a field, effortlessly reaping their lives. Tyler bit his lip hard.

  “YOU HAVE BROUGHT DEATH TO THOSE THAT HELP YOU, AVALON. DEATH TO THE WEAK.”

  The Dhimori seemed to be able to predict where the blade of his opponent would land. Always He would bring up His own sword, effortlessly deflecting any attempted blow. It was obvious that He was cutting a path towards Tyler, who shifted the grip on his weapon and tried to still his terror.

  Something knocked into him violently from the side; it was a ghatu, swinging into the ship from one of the ropes. Tyler was swept off his feet and careened across the deck. As quickly as he could, he clambered upright, realising as he did so that he had lost his sword. The ghatu who had crashed into him rose also, a dazed expression on his ugly face. There would only be a moment to act before the monster would recover. Hurriedly Tyler swung back his body, and then he drilled his fist forward with all the momentum he could muster. All four of his knuckles dislocated from the blow. The ghatu was knocked backwards into the writhing crowd.

  Tyler looked around. He was disorientated, dazed, and unarmed. He blinked and took a dizzy step backwards, and with a surprised gasp he toppled through the hatch and into the corridor below.

  “YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM ME.”

  It was a while before Tyler could breathe again. His fall had winded him badly. Every part of his body ached with pain, especially his right hand, which he was sure was broken. But he had to get up, he had to keep moving. Already he could feel Him approaching.

  The best plan he could think of was to distract the Dhimori long enough so that his friends could at least regain some chance of winning the battle. But it was no use, and he only managed to reach as far as the end of the corridor before he collapsed. He could go no further. The sounds of battle roared from above. He closed his eyes.

  He was in that place again, the one with the infinite blackness and glowing spheres. He could feel the Dhimori’s gaze once again, although the monster Himself could not be seen. The spheres moved slowly in the void, even below his feet, so he appeared to be floating. It frightened him that he could not see the Dhimori.

  “Where are you?” he thought, he wished to the world.

  There was a pause.

  “NOWHERE YOU CAN FIND ME.”

  Tyler’s eyes snapped open with surprise. He had spoken to the Dhimori, had communicated with Him in the same way that the creature had communicated with Tyler all of those long nights.

  “You can have me,” he thought again to the open. “But do not harm the rest. Spare them.”

  “WHY? YOU OFFER ME NOTHING I CANNOT TAKE FOR MYSELF.”

  “I will fight you otherwise.”

  “IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE. YOU WILL DIE.”

  “You haven’t killed me yet.”

  “BE PATIENT.”

  Tyler opened his eyes. His temples pounded with the implications of what had just happened, and with wondrous realisation. What if ordinary minds were unable control which thoughts they let out, and which they kept to themselves? What if every so often, an idea was so powerful that another person would be able to experience it, too? What if his own mind was effectively acting as a cup for all this spilled knowledge, and this cup filled most easily while he was asleep, while he was dreaming? And what if that was the secret to how the Dhimori communicated with him, how He had seemingly controlled Tyler’s dreams? The Dhimori must have been losing His own thoughts, which Tyler would then unintentionally collect in the same way he collected the thoughts of others. That was how He always knew where Tyler was! Tyler was betraying his location just by opening his eyes, just by thinking about his surroundings!

  Ursula would have known this. She had created a fabricated world for the unsuspecting mind, emitting her thoughts so forcefully that others could not help but experience them. Little did she know that Tyl
er had been given the ability to withdraw into this own mind and thus expose her invented existence for what it was: a single dream shared by many. This was Avalon’s Blessing: it was the power of the mind.

  Now how could this understanding play to his advantage?

  When the Dhimori had first come onto the ship, He seemed to already know where the sword blows where going to come from. He already knew, Tyler now realised, because he had been cheating. The Dhimori was listening to his enemy’s thoughts. What better way was there to avoid being killed than to know the mind of your opponents, to have the ability to predict their every move?

  Tyler scrambled to his feet with sudden energy, and he glanced up the corridor. The Dhimori would be here any moment. He needed a plan. The problem was that any idea he came up with would be contained in his mind and would thus have the potential to be betrayed to the Dhimori. Merely by considering a plan, he was betraying it. He was his own worst enemy. He had to be careful.

  “Think, Tyler, think!” he hissed to himself.

  A thought struck him. He guarded it warily, regarded it indifferently. The Dhimori must not be able to see it. This was a game of minds. Somehow Avalon’s Blessing had given him the ability to play it, and thus far the Dhimori had been its champion. The difference now was that Tyler knew some of the rules.

  For a short while he did nothing. He simply slowed his breathing and tried to relax. Then as calmly as he could, he shut his eyes and began to walk. He tried not to think where he was going. He just let his body move. He was travelling down some stairs, and then to the right. His hand touched something. He knew what it was but tried not to think it. He carefully reached down and grabbed the rope that he knew was there. He brought it up to a sharp metal edge and began to saw. It took time, but now he could afford it. He was sure the Dhimori couldn’t see him, because even he couldn’t see where he was.