Authors: Lincoln Law
“Yes.”
“And not a single dream?”
“Until the one the other day,
nothing.”
Lady Morphier’s gaze passed
from Charlotte, to Adabelle, and then down to the table. She seemed to think
deeply for a moment, before looking up suddenly.
“Do you mind if I touch your
hand?” Morphier asked.
“Not at all,” Charlotte
replied. Her answer sounded less certain than the words she had chosen. “Why?”
“I can feel things in
person’s mind when I’m connected to them. Rather special gift.”
Charlotte rose from her
chair and approached the desk with uncertain steps. She seemed to meander
slightly, in the small space between them. Yet when she arrived, she extended
her hand bravely and allowed the woman to grip tightly.
Lady Morphier closed her
eyes, her fingers appearing to play with the skin about Charlotte’s wrist. Against
her sister’s skin, Lady Morphier appeared so pale and white, shockingly so. She
looked unwell, even, as if fear had drained the colour from her.
Adabelle saw beneath her
closed lids, Lady Morphier’s eyes darting about swiftly back and forth. Her
expression changed from one of serene calm, to one of troubling, to one of
concern and then frustration. It all happened very quickly, and yet the shift
between each of these expressions was smooth.
Finally, with a slight and
resigned sigh, she released Charlotte’s hand and fell back into her seat.
Despite the exhaustion painted on her face, she still dropped gracefully, like
a swan into a lake.
“It is indeed some kind of
mindlock,” Lady Morphier said, “but what has caused this, or how, I cannot
tell. What needs to be blocked or hidden has got me absolutely stumped.
Sometimes, if I push hard enough against the barrier I can make out something
through the shadows. But not today, not right now. I do not wish to harm your
sister. The human mind is a fragile thing. With the mindlock in place—and for
so long—Melrear knows what could happen if it’s broken.”
Charlotte looked frightened
as she turned from Lady Morphier to Adabelle.
“So it’s definitely a
mindlock?” Charlotte asked.
“Oh, without a doubt. I
suspect the dream you had was a temporary weakening of the wall between the
minds. It can happen sometimes. Like the tides of an ocean, there can be times
when the mind is somewhat weaker than others.” She looked down slightly.
“Moments of extreme emotion are one of them.”
The funeral!
Adabelle thought.
“But who would want to do
that to me?” asked Charlotte. “And why?”
Adabelle turned to Lady
Morphier, eyes widening. They both spoke at the same time.
“Therron.”
Adabelle paused at that
moment, thinking back to the night her and her mother had run. Her mother had
been pregnant at the time, but that had been the last time Adabelle had seen
her mother. Yet Charlotte was alive and well. How had she not thought of that
before?
“Mama was pregnant with you
when we ran,” Adabelle said. “I always forget that fact. The night we ran was
the night Therron got hold of her. After that—and much later—you’d arrived. I
was told I was your sister and that was that. I didn’t question it.” All the
memories came rushing back now, like a dam that had broken its banks. The
memories cascaded into her mind and she saw them all as clear as if they were
happening before her just now.
“But that would mean mama did
something.”
“She made a deal to let you
live,” Adabelle said. “She bargained with him to make sure you could survive.” She
hesitated on the edge of a thought. “He needed something to hide,” she quickly
realised. “Therron needed to hide a thought inside you. A truth. Something he
dare not have anyone discover. And in return you were allowed to live.”
“So I’m a vault,” Charlotte
said, looking terrified.
“You are an unbreakable
vault,” Lady Morphier said. “But Therron is an incredibly smart man. He would
have hidden the lock far away. He would have insured it could not be broken
easily. He would have stowed it away into someone he trusted deeply; someone he
knew would not give up the key easily.”
Adabelle looked from
Charlotte to Lady Morphier, her mind reeling. “Well you said the mental key
could cause madness.” Then, she turned to Charlotte. “You don’t think it could
be Aunt Marie?”
“The one with the Buffer
sickness?” asked Lady Morphier.
“Well, think! It makes
perfect sense, really! I mean she’s mentally unwell, she would have been easy
to get to for Count Therron.”
“But she has the Buffer
Sickness,” Lady Morphier replied. “She doesn’t have the mental ability to
hold
the key on the lock. One moment with the two in each other’s presence and that
lock would be permanently undone. It doesn’t take much to let go of a key to a
mindlock. It’s made to be easy to undo.”
“Have you ever had a
mindlock upon you, Lady Morphier?”
“Oh, a few times, but they
all got unlocked after some time. I’ve always been more of a key holder anyway.
A few keys here and there. I still hold a handful from what I can remember, but
to whose mind they go to I am lost.”
And you two have touched
minds, so she can’t be the key holder for Charlotte.
Adabelle began to piece
together a mental list of possible identities of this key holder. The more she
swept her mind, though, the further away the names seemed to be. She found
herself grasping towards impossibilities, knowing fully that there was no way
any of those people could be key holders. Once she’d swept the mental list she
found it blank once more and quickly gave up considering possibilities.
“But at the very least, you
have something to work with,” Lady Morphier went on. “You know what’s happened
with her mind, and you can go from there to infer reasoning and meaning. And
perhaps it might help in your work towards deciding what your father is doing,
if he is indeed back.”
Adabelle fought the desire
to shake her head at the woman. “He is back,” she said, rather more bluntly
than she had intended. “And I have to protect myself and my sister. And I
suggest you come to terms with that fact before he targets your own students.”
Lady Morphier appeared taken
aback by Adabelle’s forwardness. “I promise, Adabelle, we are doing all we can,
but until we find something conclusive we cannot make any formal statement to
the police about these matters. I understands you distress in the matter—I
really do—but we can’t just go about falsifying evidence.”
“But the sphere was broken,”
Adabelle said. “He had to have broken free from that.”
“But a dream can’t kill,
Adabelle. You should know that.”
Adabelle rose from her chair
suddenly. “My cousin is dead because of my father. I am losing sleep
because
of my father
. What anyone else says in my opinion is meaningless because I
am innocent and there is nothing anyone else can say against that.”
Lady Morphier leaned back
slowly in her chair, crossing her arms across her lap, hand grasping hand.
“Well if you are going to speak like that to me then you can leave, both of
you. I’ll withdraw any assistance I can provide.”
Adabelle’s heart raced, her
face brightening from frustration and anger. She held back the intense desire
to yell at Lady Morphier.
“Charlotte, it’s time to
go.”
Charlotte looked scared and
confused, but did as requested.
“Don’t come back here, Miss
Blaise,” Lady Morphier said as Adabelle walked quickly towards the door with
her sister, “until you’ve thought long and hard about your actions today and
are ready to apologise for your rudeness.”
Adabelle paused before the
door. “I’m not being rude,” she whispered. “I’m defending myself.”
She then thrust open the
door and slammed it shut with all the force of her anger. Charlotte followed
close behind her, but kept her distance as they marched down the halls and out
into the gardens.
“Call me rude,” Adabelle
muttered under her breath. “I’m not rude! She’s ignoring plain facts because
she’s smitten by Therron’s own…
greatness.
” She hated using that word for
her father, but it was the truth. He was a great man during his life, doing
many great things. Many of those things were horrible and unthinkable, but they
had been grand and sweeping in their scope. And now the head of the Oen’Aerei
seemed entirely smitten by the man.
“It doesn’t matter what’s
happened now,” Charlotte said. “We’ve got what we needed. We know I have a
mindlock in here,” she tapped on her head.
“But we still don’t know
what she’s doing as far as the investigation goes. I’m classified as a suspect
in a murder, Charlotte. I don’t think you quiet realise how bad this situation
is.”
The huge gates opened before
them, Adabelle pushing her way through.
“She’s smitten by our father
and wouldn’t dare sully his good name.” She shook her head. “She will deny it
until the bitter end. She doesn’t want to see Therron in a bad light ever.
Just…just get me home.”
Charlotte haled the tram
down as it arrived at the stop, and handled Adabelle’s money for the ticket.
Adabelle really couldn’t be bothered with doing anything for a little while, so
she didn’t talk for the entirety of the tram ride, and not once again until
they were in her room.
“I’m going to go to prison,
I know it,” Adabelle sobbed. “There’s no one to help me, and anyone who can is
just going to turn their back on me anyway.”
Adabelle pulled a
handkerchief from her drawer, dabbing her eyes.
“I just wish I could escape
this all,” Adabelle said. “I wish I could just end this all now. Get rid of
dad, get rid of your mindlock, get rid of all…” she threw her arms in the air,
“
this
.”
Charlotte wrapped her arms
around her sister, holding her closely, tightly. Her grip grew tighter and
tighter, until it almost seemed to hurt.
“What are you doing?”
Adabelle asked.
Charlotte didn’t move from
her embrace, but she did speak. “I sometimes feel when I hug someone, that if I
hug them hard enough, I can just take some of their troubles away. That’s what
I’m doing.” She tightened her hug again.
Adabelle laughed, placing a
hand on her sister’s head, running her fingers through her hair.
“You’d take all the troubles
away?” she asked, smiling.
“If I could, I would,”
Charlotte replied. “So let’s hope this is working.”
Adabelle laughed again.
Despite all the troubles that lay before and behind her, somehow that hug and
that promise made her feel better.
“I think it’s working
wonderfully.” Adabelle’s hands settled upon her sister’s back. “What would I
ever do without you?”
Rhene slept very little over
the next few days, afraid what he’d find within the darkness. When he did
sleep, though, it was deep and dark and dreamless. Not a single fearful note,
not a single whiff of that sickly cologne. He thanked the heavens each morning
he awoke alive and well, and without any cuts.
But with each day that
passed, he knew it was another night he would have to risk the Dream
Frequencies and facing Count Therron once more. He had considered on a number
of occasions telling Adabelle about her father’s appearance, but was quick to
decide it was probably not the best way to go about things. For the time being,
he was still discovering who she was as a person; he didn’t want those sorts of
things clouding his judgement. She was beautiful and kind and sweet and thought
he was funny. He couldn’t fault her!
After some time, his arm was
removed from its cast and the sling undone. His fingers were stubborn in their
movement, and stiff, too, though the doctors assured him it would be like that
for quite some time to come.
“For a little while they’ll
hurt sometimes, but it’s just because they haven’t been moved much in the last
few weeks. It should be better soon.”
“Thank you,” he replied,
thankful he could get back into training with the other generals now that that
incident was out of the way.
The next few mornings at
training were some of the most difficult he’d ever had to endure. He was out of
practice, and the others, it seemed, had excelled in his time away. In keeping
to Matthon’s beliefs, though, he didn’t slow down for Rhene, insuring he would
either catch up or fall by the wayside.
After each training session,
once the others were gone, Rhene stayed back to talk with Matthon, hoping for confirmation
he was improving. They were nearly always a short conversation, with a few
comments from Matthon. Rhene would hint at plans for the time to assault the
Oen’Aerei, but Matthon would not budge.
Yet each time, Rhene felt he
was getting closer to the answer. He didn’t know how or why he was able to
gauge that, just intuition told him he was getting closer to the answer,
drawing nearer to Matthon’s inner circle of trust.
One morning, after training,
it was Matthon that approached Rhene. Rhene was entirely taken aback, as he
towelled his face down, when Matthon said, “May we speak privately, Rhene?”
“Of course,” Rhene replied,
following the man to the corner of the courtyard, away from the others.
“I was wondering if you
would be willing to meet me within the Dream tonight,” Matthon said, whispering
as softly as he could manage. “I’ve had some thoughts, and I think you might be
able to help me.”
Rhene, confused and tired,
simply nodded.
“Good,” Matthon replied.
“I’ll see you then.”
Rhene spent the remainder of
the day quietly curious, wondering what Matthon possibly had to restrict to the
Frequencies. He also spent it terrified of what he would find upon entering the
Dream. Therron’s words remained in his mind, echoing on forever into insanity.
I’ll let you rest now, my
boy,
he
said.
Goodnight.
The thought of that exchange
still sent chills down his spine. What if he made an appearance in their
meeting? What if he tried to harm Rhene and revealed him as a Sturding? So many
possibilities, so many fearful results. He decided to remain quietly hopeful of
a good outcome.
So when night fell and Rhene
retired to his room, he quickly settled into his bed and entered the Dream. He
attempted to only let his mind wander within, but he knew no other way to Dream
but with his body in there, too. His mind swam with thoughts and he closed his
eyes. He imagined tendrils of thought reaching out, grasping for the network of
dreaming minds around him. As his body began to rest, his mind entered, gaining
a solid footing within the frequencies. Were he a regular Dreamer, the process
would stop here. His mind was free to then wander the frequencies, and return
after a fashion. Because he was a Sturding, however, there was one more step to
follow. With his own thoughts channelling into the Frequencies, he reeled his
body in after him. His body lifted from the bed and he folded in on his own
mind. A shadow on the plane of reality, he stepped from his own headspace and
into another’s.
From there, he leapt from
mind to mind. He found a shadowy wall where people were not asleep, or where the
mind was sealed with Slugleaf tea. The way minds worked in the Dream
Frequencies was nothing short of brilliant. He found they stretched, to
compensate of those who were awake or locked. Yet at the edges of the Dream, he
could see the minds were…stretched thin. He found it difficult to hold himself
together when on the edge of a person’s mind, and even harder to stay together
as he passed the barrier between two minds. It was less of a barrier, in truth,
and more like two junctions joining as one. At least, in the moment of
inception. The second he was in another’s dreams, he no longer felt that
tugging sense of his body torn between two mental planes.
In dreams that weren’t his
own, any alteration he made wasn’t bound by the laws of his own physics, but
another person’s, so sometimes cups floated, or chairs melted or entire
sections of the world changed colour.
He assumed that was why he
felt least in control around those points. It was a mental mechanism to protect
the mind through which he walked.
He arrived at Matthon’s room,
and awaited his arrival. Sure enough, he arrived a few minutes later, fading
into the headspace, giving the world a solid quality it had not held before.
“Evening, Rhene,” he said.
“Good evening, Matthon,”
Rhene replied.
“So what I wanted to speak
about our war on the Oen’Aerei,” he explained. “We have much to do in the case
of preparation with what time we have left. As I have discovered, I have reason
to believe that the Dreamers will be ready to strike back once the battle
begins. And as we know, their playground is the mind. We need to be ready for
that. So what I am hoping is that you can be trained and ready to battle
here
if the need should arise.”
Rhene couldn’t hide his
surprise. He took a step backwards. “But all of the soldiers will be awake when
we fight.”
“It doesn’t mean they can’t
infiltrate our minds later on. Or even use some form of espionage on us to
discover the plans of attack. There are surely Sturdings within those halls,
and they can use any mind they wish to exit, so long as that mind is resting.”
Rhene said nothing. He
nodded, his mind reeling
“I wanted to ask you whether
you would be willing to battle from the Frequencies if the need should arise,”
he said. “They can be dangerous battles. When a person’s mind fights another
mind, the damage can go beyond physical. People have walked away from a battle
of wills without their sanity, and I just want to be sure you’re willing to
risk that for your fellow soldiers. It would mean you wouldn’t need to train as
a general in the physical realm, but I would expect you to practice your
Dreaming so that you’re far from novice level when the time comes for battle.”
“I can do that,” Rhene
replied. “I mean, if you want me to.”
“I do,” he said. “You’re
still allowed in meetings related to the battle, and you’re welcome to train
with us if you wish, but there’s no expectation for you to keep up physical
training.”
“Naturally.”
Rhene considered the
opportunity. Dreamers were dangerous. Oen’Aerei were worse, when he considered
these battles of the mind as more than just ghostly memories forcing themselves
against one-another. Knowing he was a Sturding reminded him that he had his
physical self to think about, too. Death in the frequencies was, for him, just
as final as death in the material world. Matthon didn’t need to know that,
though. Not yet.
“I’m happy to do that,”
Rhene said, nodding. “I—” He stopped himself. A gentle tinkle of music echoed
distantly, the scent of cologne—almost a memory of the scent—wafting in on the
unseen wind.
“Yes?” asked Matthon.
Count Therron is here,
he thought.
He’s
listening.
He considered stopping himself, but withholding information from
the man would result in more cuts, more threats.
He needs to know. I don’t
want to tell him…but I have to.
“Is there anything you’re
allowed to tell me about the battle?”
“Very little at this point,”
Matthon said. “Suffice it to say that since we are fighting Dreamers, we’re
going to battle in the daytime. We want as few minds for them to jump through
as possible. That, and we plan to go to battle within the month. I am still not
allowed to reveal the date.”
“Within the month,” Rhene
confirmed.
“Yes.”
That seemed answer enough
for Count Therron. The music drifted away, the scent fading, and Rhene knew he
and Matthon were alone once more.
“Now, if you do end up in
physical battle there, against Nhyxes—and I’m sure they’ll be using them to
fight—just remember; they may be taking the form of your greatest fear, but
they are just shadows. They cannot actually cause any physical harm.”
“Really?” he asked. “I
thought Nhyxes could leap out of Dreams and attack people.”
“Oh, the Sturdings can, but
not regular ones. I’m assuming the ones you’ll meet will mostly be the normal
variety. Best thing to do is kill them with whatever you can dream up. They
respond best to bravery. If you can prove you can face your greatest fear, then
they will grow scared and flee. That’s when they’re most vulnerable. That’s
when you,” he made a stabbing gesture, “kill them.”
Rhene nodded in
understanding, wondering if and when he’d have to face a Nhyx. He quietly hoped
he wouldn’t, though the more curious part of him wondered what form it would
take. He had a handful of fears, but which was his greatest fear? He hoped the
Nhyxes knew, because he had no clue.
“In that case, I’ll let you
go,” he said. “You enjoy your time in the Frequencies. And don’t forget to
practice.”
“I will, Matthon,” Rhene
replied. Matthon faded away and Rhene exited the Dreamspace before it could
collapse in on itself.
Rhene took an evening he’d
left free to take Adabelle out again. It was only their second date, yet since
their first they had passed many telegrams between one-another, and he felt he
knew her a great deal more from that alone. He had gone to the bank earlier
that day to withdraw some money for both of them for the night, and told her to
dress warmly again. He intended to take her to the carnival—though again, it
was going to be a surprise.
A telegram arrived late in
the afternoon from her, and it apologised profusely as Charlotte, her sister,
was against being left alone for the night, leaving Adabelle forced to stay
home. Wanting nothing more than to see Adabelle, Rhene offered for her sister
to join them. Back and forth the telegrams went until they agreed on Charlotte coming.
He wondered why the girl was being so difficult, but left that to her perhaps
being a little envious of her sister. He didn’t mind, really. Taking both of
them out for an evening might be a welcome change from their quiet lives. He
imagined Charlotte rarely got to do much aside from what Adabelle could afford.
A night at the carnival might put the younger girl at ease.
I wonder if they know of
their father’s movements,
he thought in the taxi on the way over.
I wonder if their
father knows any more of the army’s plans. Who else’s mind he might be haunting
for information?
When he arrived, he found
her dressed in a blue shirt and a black skirt, her hair allowed to fall freely.
She stood on the side of the road, and for a moment he thought she was alone,
but then he saw a smaller girl beside her. She looked exactly like Adabelle, if
only a few years younger.
The must be her sister,
he thought, marvelling
at how alike they were in appearance.
“I’m so sorry,” Adabelle
said, as they stepped into the taxi. Charlotte following close behind. “She was
so insistent of coming. I’ve brought money to pay for her so that you don’t
have to worry about her.”
“Nonsense! It’s my treat to
both of you. It’s not every night a young man gets to spend his time with
two
beautiful young women. Besides, I’ve been looking forward to a fun night out.”
“Where are we going?”
Charlotte asked.
“The carnival,” Rhene
replied, speaking both to the girls and to the taxi driver.
Both girls inhaled
excitedly.
On the way over, Adabelle
whispered to Rhene, “Are you sure you don’t want some money for Charlotte? I’ve
got some if you need it.”
“No, you put your purse
away,” Rhene said. “You are my date for the night. What sort of gentleman would
I be if I asked for either of you to pay? I’m actually excited, really. I
haven’t been to the carnival since I was Charlotte’s age.”