“Jess.” A familiar voice. Firm and soothing all at once. She felt a soft paw patting her cheek, and felt the first stirrings of wakefulness as the dreams began to recede. “No, Jess. Don’t wake up. Just open your eyes. The trick is to sink back into slumber, even as your eyes awaken. That’s right. Excellent.”
Jess found herself sitting up, gazing intently into her cat’s brilliant sapphire eyes, even as she felt her back resting comfortably on the stuffed bed beneath her.
Her cat nodded his approval. "Yes. Keep the link strong, just don't focus on the bed too much. Focus on me instead. I'm far more interesting." At that, Jess reached out with a ghostly hand to gently stroke her familiar's lush fur, and he purred under her touch.
Twilight smiled, flipping onto his back for a tummy rub. “Yes. Excellent. You have a gift, my dear Jess. One of the many reasons I so enjoy looking after you.”
“Looking after me? Isn’t it I who looks after you?” Jess mused, confident only her cat could hear her.
Her cat quirked open a single eye. “Do you really think so? Hmm… you do have the grace to feed your kitty only the tastiest of morsels from plate or tureen, so I will concede that we both look after each other. Now come, dear Jess, I want to show you something interesting.”
Bemused, Jess followed her cat, curious to see him slide right past the door. Jess blinked and rubbed her forehead. It was almost as if he had moved at right angles to everything, stepping over the barrier like someone wading through a shallow puddle who then leaps over a particularly deep spot. Somehow, she twisted her thoughts sufficient to propel her in the exact direction her familiar had ventured, only to behold a scene of utter horror and nightmare.
A land of smoke and fire. Thousands of spirits twisting and screaming in tortured agony. Their souls tormented, sundered, viciously unwound like silvery spools of thread, slowly devoured by unspeakably hideous creatures beyond count. And Jess's breath, stinking of sulfur in that terrible, endless pit, caught in her throat as she realized those creatures had caught her scent. In terrible concert, those nightmares below, though below was at right angles to any direction she normally understood, snapped their crimson gazes up, just as Jess's head gazed downward, and they screamed.
Words filled with such wrath, vitriol, and hate. And to her horror, Jess understood. They wanted to devour her. Utterly. While she was weak and helpless before them. - Or so they thought. - As a swarming mass, first hundreds, then thousands of those ink black demons spread batlike wings and flew upward, claws extended, screaming and hissing toward Jess until the blood-red skies Jess peered through became a black cloud of hate rushing toward her.
Jess jerked her head back down in an instant, shuddering, suddenly dizzy, hit with the horrific realization that her beautiful wondrous world, including the vast seas to the east, even the massive mountains demarcating the borders between Erovering and her continental neighbors to the west, peaks that stretched so high were, in one sense, no thicker than a patchwork quilt stretched tightly over endless dimensions of horror and pain below.
Jess shuddered, suddenly sickened, crying silvery tears that tinkled as they hit the well-polished floorboards her ghostly form rested upon.
"Jess! What by the Abyss do you think you're doing?" Twilight scolded. "Don't try to follow me that way. Go through the door, like a ghost! Not at right angles to it." He sighed, gently batting Jess's arms until she reached down and put him in her lap, whereupon he did his best to sooth her, purring and butting her chin. "I'm sorry, Jess. I should have warned you. It's okay. Stop shaking. They were more afraid of you than you were of them, that I promise you."
“What are you talking about, Twilight?” Jess blinked in puzzlement, even as she lost herself stroking her cat’s fur until all the terror and anxiety roaring through her of the darkest pits of Hell flooding upward to devour her slowly faded and left her, like a figment of a soon to be forgotten dream. “There were so many of them. Why would they be afraid of me?”
Twilight grinned. "Because they know what you could do if you stuck around, and so would do anything to drive you off. And on that alone, I and they are in agreement. You are best off safe and comfy with friends, family, and lots of tasty fishies here, than causing endless havoc down there. Relax, Jess. That's better. Just relax and stroke my exceedingly luxurious fur. You know you are incredibly lucky, my mistress. No one else upon the face of Dawn has been given the privilege of stroking fur quite this lush and lovely."
Jess grinned at her eccentric cat. “You are a funny one, Twilight. But why are we sitting around? Wasn’t there something you wanted to show me, the whole reason why I am chatting with you in my dream?”
At that, Twilight caressed Jess’s cheek with one dry rasp of his tongue and flipped back to his feet.
“Very good, Jess. Now follow me, but try to stay within this dimension of existence while you slip through the door. It's okay, the wood likes you.”
Bemused, Jess did just that, feeling the gentle grains of wood tingle through her, as if she was somehow tickling them, and they welcomed her presence with warmth. Jess smiled even as she slipped through, thinking it might be a lovely thing to spend a season or two in the heart of her favorite tree, feeling the warm summer sun caress her bark and feed her leaves, growing hale and strong, roots sunk deep into the earth, leaves whispering ancient secrets for all those with the ears to hear.
“Come on, Jess. Slip through the door. Don’t become one with it, we don’t have time,” her familiar cautioned. And with a ghostly sigh, Jess slid the rest of the way through, blinking to see the common room empty, her mother no doubt fast asleep, having soundly scolded her wayward eldest daughter.
Jess smirked. If only her mom could see her now. Not that that was likely, her being a dreaming ghost, or a ghost that was in a dream, assuming she was even there at all.
“Twilight?”
“No time for metaphysical thoughts,” Twilight said, as if reading her mind. “Come on. Your guards are all asleep, through the door we go.”
And after sliding past a few more doors of stout oak glad for her presence, Jess found herself in the hallway once more, though she appeared to be floating just a bit, and somewhat immaterial at the moment. “It's a shame I didn't think to bring my mithril armaments,” she sighed, feeling strangely naked without them.
Twilight grinned. “Then it would have been a tad bit more difficult to get past your mother, even had you been able to manage it, as they wouldn't have slipped through the door. And as much as it might be a most excellent chuckle to watch your overbearing mother turn pale as a ghost and collapse in a whimpering heap at the sight of shimmering sword and armor floating through the rooms with doors slamming open before them, gods forbid she die of fright for the prank. Now come, dear Jess. To the library we go. I believe we shall see something interesting unfold.”
Jess nodded, quietly following her familiar as they wound their way through the well-appointed halls filled with exquisite sculpture, dainty tables, and masterwork paintings. The Turnsbys really had acquired no small amount of wealth with their fishing enterprise, Jess reflected, for all that they were ostensibly under the wardship of their baron, Jess's father.
As her father had explained long ago, though the many lords under his banner owed him tithe for land use and soldiers during times of war, he levied fees no greater than what was needed to maintain the holdings, roads, and soldiers under his care.
Thus it was that Jess’s father was considerably poorer than lord Turnsby in terms of sheer coinage, as all of the tithes he raised served only to maintain the barony's conscripted men and infrastructure, a complex enough task that, along with the needs of Court, left him little time to do more than oversee his family's personal orchards, whereas Lord Turnsby was responsible for little more than his allotted soldiers to care for and feed, and was able to devote himself fully to mercantile pursuits, and thus could afford far more luxuries than Jess’s family.
That Jess's father practiced the ideals pre
ached but almost never taken to such extremes helped to assure that he stayed in the king's good graces, and made him fabulously popular with the lesser lords who owed him fealty. It also assured that those dukes who resented the power he had accrued as a mere baron had little pretext to strike out at him. And for all that a number of powerful men would be happy to see his downfall, the baron's honor and integrity made him an ideal ally one didn't have to worry about being stabbed in the back by later, assuring that Arthur de Calenbry had any number of allies as well.
Jess sighed, well aware that her father's unshakable ideals and the resultant overly slender purse was but one reason why her family was so very admiring of her horticultural talents, and why her parents strove to tie her to Calenbry lands with praise and the calling of duty both. The coins she earned her family by dint of the potent herbs she grew that were so in demand by the most discriminating healers in the kingdom almost entirely covered the upkeep costs of their private lands, no matter the state of their apple crops or brandy production.
At least, Jess thought, her gift with plants meant her mother could smile with approval upon one aspect of her character, even if she seemed to fail at achieving every other aspect of womanhood that meant so much to the matron of their House. Jess wondered with some bemusement if the disparaging ladies below even realized that the vials of such sweet scent they paid top coin for came from flower stock she herself had bred, her family's first trade arrangement with the diOnni clan that had arrangements with various perfumeries, glass blowers, and trade centers throughout the continent, Duke diOnni himself sending a message regarding how pleased he was with the arrangement, delivered by none other than Raphael and Josie who had come for a visit, not so long ago.
It had been a sweet reunion earlier that spring, Jess having spent a wonderful week reminiscing and feasting with Josie and Raphael, both swearing that they loved her like a sister, and would never forget the debt they owed her. Jess had blushed at that, grateful for their friendship and care, promising to visit them at their country chateau soon, once they said their goodbyes. Yet she had never followed through on that visit, and she couldn't even say why.
“Here we are, Jess. The library door. Come, cease your woolgathering, and let us go inside.”
And Jess did so, slipping through the welcoming door effortlessly, beholding a vast room filled with bookcases, grand oaken tables polished to a warm glow, and plush leather reading chairs. But what captivated Jess most was the wondrous display of knowledge, the grand display of scrolls, maps, and tomes as impressive a collection as she had ever seen, outside the grand libraries of Highrock.
Jess was pleased to see as well that the grand room was lit by magelights similar to the one in the greenhouse, and a careful glance also revealed the silver blue strands of a protective ward laced throughout the room. No doubt a very expensive enchantment indeed, if she was to judge by the potency of the throbbing magics even now tingling about her feet, but worth every copper feather in Jess’s opinion, if it protected the library against fire and vermin. That and the lack of lamps assured that whatever else happened, this library would remain free of rot and flame.
“Yes, Jess. Never mind the pretty web of power. Let's focus on what’s important.” Her familiar's words quickly brought Jess back into the moment.
And it was then Jess shivered, hearing Sissela’s strangely slurred voice, and she gazed upward to find the great lady focusing upon the countenance of the man before her. He cut an imposing figure, dressed at least as well as the most fashionable of guests, and with the arrogant gaze to pull off the role of liege lord better than most, for all that Jess knew he was not of named rank. His rich purple cloak barely concealed the exquisite cut of his silken jacket, his golden necklace flashing brilliantly with an assortment of gems twinkling in the firelight. The man's eyes were the intense green of a stormy sea, saturnine features complemented by a carefully maintained mustache and goatee. He gently held the dazed Sissela's hand in his own.
“Please, dear Sissela. I implore you. I need but a few drops of her blood. You know what a skilled naturalist I am, trained in arts scientific, and arcane. I believe I have finally found a cure to that terrible illness that so plagued your nephew and perhaps, with your daughter’s assistance, I can save future families the terrible grief we have all had to endure, and I can at last put an end to my son's suffering!” The man's tone was pleading and insistent in equal measure.
Sissela’s eyes were dilated, though whether from drugs or desire Jess wasn’t sure. “Dear Lessel, we have discussed this before. You promised that last time would be the only time, and she was so weak when she returned.” Lady Turnsby shivered and began to tear. “It was days, days before she had the strength to get up, before her cheeks regained the rosy blush of youth! Honestly, Lessel, I had feared for her life!”
Lessel took the opportunity to soothingly stroke Sissela’s cheeks. “Shush, my poppet. You need not stress such things so unnecessarily. No harm was done, and my drugs and medicines took away all memory of the transfusions. She was bright and cheerful once more within a short span of time, and the work allowed me a commission sufficient to afford you the sweetest of prizes, to show you my gratitude.”
His hand dipped smoothly into his pouch and he pulled out a small vial, presenting it to Lady Sissela like a magic trick, as if he were doing her a tremendous honor. Her eyes widened and a curious smile lit up her face. Her gaze met his, imploringly.
“Of course, dear sister,” he said magnanimously. “It is my gift to you, after all.”
Hands shaking ever so slightly, Sissela opened up the vial, carefully sipping its contents, capping it quickly and leaning back, a smile of bliss easing the strain on her features and she sat back and sighed, looking utterly content in her chair, even as Lord Lessel approached, his fingers gently resting upon her bodice and he slowly bent down to kiss her. She began to giggle, almost drunkenly reaching up to grab his cheeks and kiss him deeply in turn, and he returned her affections.
“I just need your permission to enter, dear Sissela, to harvest Onnika’s blood. That’s all. She won’t feel a thing while she is on Turnsby lands, I promise.” Sissela’s drugged countenance began to frown and she shook her head, seeming almost ready to cry.
“Please don’t ask me that, dear Lessel. Just touch me, the way I need you to. I hunger for you. I hunger for you so much!”
Lord Lessel suddenly pulled away, leaving a dazed Sissela blinking and pouting, even as her hand reached out for the vial once more.
“No, Sissela,” Lord Lessel coldly declared, grabbing up the vial, causing Sissela to whimper. “Not until we come to an understanding.” His gaze was calculating even as Sissela trembled under his stare. “I saw how you were shaking at the gala this evening. I know how much you need your elixir. Running out, are we?”
“I only have a few vials left,” Sissela started to sob. “I feel so sick when I try to go without. I just can’t bear it, dear Lessel. And the dreams they give me are so sweet!” She stared imploringly at the lord’s cold, calculating eyes. “Please help me, Lessel. You know how much I need my medicine.”
Lord Lessel's gaze turned coldly mocking. "Oh, indeed I do, dear Sissela. I'm the one who introduced you to its wonderful healing properties, after all. How many times have I brought you to the height of ecstasy? How many times have I delivered you from the terrible pain of neglect? The horrific agony of unfulfilled need burning through your veins?" His voice cut her with contempt. "All this I have given you, at tremendous cost to myself! And you are so penurious you cannot even give your desperately hardworking admirer a single gift of blood? All so I may continue my research, help others possessed by the same terrible illness that so torments your dear nephew, to say nothing of raising the coin needed to keep you under the warm soothing embrace of your potions? Are you truly so cruel, my sweet? What would your daughters say, Sissela? What of your husband, if he knew how cruel and penurious his beloved wife truly was? "
Sissel
a seemed to crumple in on herself. “Please, Lessel. Dear Lessel. Don’t torment me so. You know how sick I am without my potions. You must help me! I will make it up to you, I will make you happy in the ways you love.” Her voice was shaky, gazing with imploring eyes upon the man before her.
Lord Lessel appeared utterly unmoved by her plea. “You know what I need, Sissela. What I need to save my son. What I need to save you.” Sissela began to cry once more, Lessel bending down to hold her, stroke her, sooth her, gently placing the vial back in her trembling grip. “My dear Sissela, don’t be like this, please don't. I am trying to help you. Won't you let me help you?”
Sissela trembled, desperate gaze locked upon the vile in her hand.
“Please. Just say I may have Onnika’s blood. She will feel no pain, save in darkest dream, once I begin my extraction. It will help my research so, and I promise you, when my plans come to fruition, you will never suffer for want of poppy extract again.”
“Do you promise?” Sissela asked, her eyes alight with feverish hope, a desperate need. “Do you promise it won’t hurt her?”
Lessel nodded. “I promise that with those first three drops I extract, she won’t feel a thing.”
With that he gently tilted Sissela’s head back, pouring the vial entire down her hungry throat, her expression soon becoming one of utter bliss, even as Lessel slowly unbuttoned her dress, slipping it off her, revealing a body still firm and lean despite its middle years. “Oh Lessel.” Sissela gave a drunken sigh, opening her legs and moaning at his gentle touch. “I need you.”
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