The Champion

by H. P. Mallory

  “What is this place?” I asked.

  “I believe we’re in the collective dream cloud ,” answered Dureau. “Just at the edge of it.”

  “So, we’re walking on a cloud?”

  “If you like, yes.”

  “What do we do?” I asked as I started to get used to the feeling of air beneath my soles.

  “We keep walking,” Dureau answered with a shrug. “Until we reach the dreams.”

  “And how will we know when we reach the dreams?”

  “You’ll know.”

  I decided to take his word for it and began to almost relish the sensation of walking on a cloud. I was unlikely to ever experience it again.

  Before long, strains of music could be heard. Slightly discordant, I thought at first. Possibly jazz. Then, through the mist of colors surrounding us, came a full-size, New Orleans jazz funeral. I only knew what it was because I’d seen the spectacle in real life while exploring the French Quarter a couple of days earlier.

  First came two white horses, black feathers bobbing on their heads. They drew an open, black carriage, the coffin sitting on top. And sitting on top of the coffin was an Elemental who looked vaguely familiar.

  The mourners came towards us, gathered around the sides of the carriage and trailing behind it. Some sang, some danced, others played brass instruments—saxophone, trumpet, French horn and drum. All moved slowly, dressed in variations of black or white. I was about to get out of their way, but Dureau held onto my arm.

  “There is no need,” he said.

  “But …”

  Sure enough, the first mourner, an elderly man wearing a suit bedecked in flowers, passed right through me. I barely felt him—only a slight tickling sensation. Then half a horse went straight through my body right afterwards. It was like I was a ghost.

  “Concentrate on the dreamer,” said Dureau. “Ignore the rest.”

  The Elemental, seated on the coffin, was coming closer to us.

  “We will take this one together,” said Dureau. “You follow my lead.”

  I nodded, grateful that one of us knew what to do. I clearly didn’t have a clue.

  As the coffin drew alongside us, Dureau leaned over and whispered in the ear of the Elemental closest to him, “Luce has been lying to you all these years. He’s been brainwashing you into believing things that aren’t true, just so he can control you.”

  The reaction of the dreamer was curious. He looked up and around him, almost as if a bee were buzzing around his head. Then he stopped looking around and faced forward again, as if he’d convinced himself that whatever voice he was hearing was just his imagination.

  I leaned in close to his other ear. “Luce lied to you about your ancestry and your lineage. Witches and Elementals are the same species.”

  Again, the frantic head turning.

  Dureau leaned closer to the man again. “The massacre in Austria wasn’t led by humans. It was an uprising led by Luce against the government of magical beings in place at that time. That government was known as the Council.”

  “Luce has brainwashed you. He lied to you and he’ll continue lying to you,” I said. “You need to find out the truth for yourself. Don’t believe Luce’s lies. Find out the truth.”

  “Find the portal that leads to Balmoral,” Dureau said.

  I looked up at him, surprised because we’d never managed to get the portal opened. He looked back at me and merely shrugged.

  While it was questionable whether or not this Elemental would take the time to find out what had truly happened in Gratz all those years ago, I figured it was the best way to plant doubt in his mind. If he did consult the magical history books—which he could find online and even Luce couldn’t keep his people from the internet—he would come to realize the message we bore was the truth.

  We kept up with the coffin for a little while, then allowed it to drift slowly by. I looked down as the Elemental passed and was amazed to see the same man lying in his bed—which appeared to be about twenty feet below the cloud—fast asleep. Dureau turned to me.

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s more satisfying than I thought,” I answered.

  “You think he’ll take the time to research the truth?” Dureau asked.

  I shrugged. “There’s no way of knowing, but our only intention was to supply the spark of doubt, right? What they do with that spark is up to them.”

  “True enough,” he said, and then sighed. “We have hundreds of dreamers still left to visit. We should split up. We’ll get through more that way.”

  “Isn’t that risky?”

  “Yes,” Dureau answered with a nod, and then took a deep breath. “But I think it’s a risk worth taking. We don’t know how long Guarda’s potion is going to last.”

  “Okay. But we stay within sight of one another, as much as possible.”

  “Agreed.”

  We advanced cautiously. Every now and then, a gap in the clouds would reveal a figure sleeping in a bed below. At the sound of a noise up ahead, that of metal against metal, I watched as a scene began to paint itself before me—this one a training session.

  I moved toward the sound and allowed the scenery to paint itself around me. The whole thing had a level of familiarity to it that bothered me. I’d taken part in so many such training sessions when I’d been a member of the tribe. To look at it now, I felt like I’d been thrown back into one of the training camps.

  A pair of fighters passed through me, swords and all. Then my heart nearly stopped as Luce appeared directly in front of me, his long grey hair blowing back in the mist. He stared at me angrily.

  And it was too late to do anything.

  I opened my mouth to scream for Dureau, but before I could make a sound, Luce’s form shot through me. It took me a couple of seconds to understand that he’d just been part of the dream. He wasn’t real.

  With my composure restored and my heart rate slowing, I studied the training scene before me. On closer inspection, I could see that one of the Daywalkers was more detailed than the others in the colors of his body and clothing and the lines that delineated them. He just seemed more … solid. I looked down through the first available gap in the cloud and my suspicions were confirmed. He was the one lying in the bed, dreaming. I positioned myself beside him and whispered in his ear, saying things along the same lines as Dureau and I had whispered to the first sleeper.

  It was another few seconds before this particular dream scene drifted on, and I was on my own again.

  I could have sworn I heard a baby laugh. Immediately, I thought of Emma, the princess. Of course, I wondered if I’d merely imagined the sound, or mistaken it for something else. But, no. The next scene drifted towards me, bringing with it the unmistakeable sounds of a baby.

  This vista was smaller and more concentrated. It consisted of just two beings, a mother and her baby. I didn’t recognize the mother and imagined she must have been a new recruit.

  The scene was heart-warming. The mother, a young woman, her brown hair tied back casually, knelt in what appeared to be a summer meadow. She lifted her child, a boy, above her head and beamed up at him. The child laughed down at his mother, waving his dimpled arms and legs in excitement. I knelt beside her. My mission here was slightly different. This woman already had a good idea of how awful Luce really was.

  “It’s all going to be okay,” I whispered.

  The woman looked around her, her expression of surprise and confusion similar to the expressions of the Elemental and the Daywalker.

  “You will make it out of this place,” I continued. “There’s a better life waiting for you and your son. Queen Jolie and her people are your friends, not your enemies. There are those who , just like you, escaped Luce, and they’re now living happily in Queen Jolie’s court.” I paused a moment as I noticed a smile taking hold of the woman’s mouth. “Don’t give up.”

  I had tears in my eyes as the two drifted by. But if felt good. Finally, I could do something for these wome
n, if only in their dreams.

  I lost count of the dreamers, just as I lost track of time. I whispered into countless ears. Some of the dreams were pleasant, even delightful, like the one of the mother playing with her baby. Others were more disturbing, and some were outright nightmares. More than once, I had to remind myself that they were no more than dreams. The images were so life-like, and twice more I came across Luce. Hardly surprising. He loomed so large in the lives of these unfortunate Elementals, Daywalkers and hybrids.

  From time to time, as the mists parted, I caught glimpses of Dureau as he was doing the same. A day could have passed. A night? Both? I had no way of knowing. Time passed differently in the dream world than it did in the real world.

  At last, Dureau and I reconnected. He came striding across the cloud, looking immensely satisfied. I smiled broadly at him.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” I said.

  “You too. How did you get on?”

  “Good. I’ve started to see a few dreamers more than once.”

  “Me too.”

  “Do you think that means we’ve covered everyone?”

  “I hope so,” he answered with a nod. “I know I’ve reached a couple hundred, anyway. You?”

  “Same.”

  “I say we can go, then. Congratulate ourselves on a job well done.”

  “Agreed.”

  We clasped hands and walked in the direction from which we’d come, counting our steps all the way back to the flame—our way home.

  But when we finished counting, there was no flame to be seen.

  “We must have counted our steps wrong,” I said. “Let’s do it again.”

  We did. Still no flame and no way out.

  I was starting to get nervous. Dureau appeared calmer, so I kept my fears to myself.

  “The flame must be hidden in the mist,” he said. “You go that direction and I’ll go this way.” He pointed ahead, and I nodded.

  “Don’t go far, though,” I said.

  “I won’t.”

  The mist seemed to be moving faster now. It was almost as if it was being whipped up by a breeze. Then the breeze grew stronger, until it could be characterized as a wind. That was when I realized something was definitely wrong.

  “Dureau!” I called, but the wind whipped the sound away.

  I called out again, this time louder, but it was as if the wind swallowed any sound I made.

  The wind was now a full-force gale. I had difficulty staying on my feet. What was going on? Was I in the eye of some dream hurricane?

  Then I heard a strange, familiar clicking sound. A sound which passed as laughter in a certain shanty on the outskirts of Slidell. Realization dawned on me as I was knocked off my feet and carried away by the winds.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Bryn

  It was the oddest sensation. Almost like being in a dream.

  On second thought, it was more like those seconds between sleeping and waking, when you can’t remember the particulars of your life. You just exist. I could feel Dureau’s presence, but I couldn’t see him. Couldn’t see anything. It was all kind of … blank.

  There was a recurring sound which I vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. A clinking sound. Glass against glass?

  Dureau. I thought the word, trying to reach out to him telepathically, since I couldn’t seem to make my voice work. I could feel Dureau trying to push through whatever wall was keeping him out of my conscious mind. It felt like pressure—like a mild headache, almost.

  Bryn? I heard his voice in my mind.

  Yes, I’m here.

  Thank God.

  Why can’t I see you? Why can’t I see anything? What’s happened? I asked in thought as I tried to understand how it was that everything was so completely confusing.

  Guarda.

  Guarda? I repeated. I don’t understand. What has she done?

  Even though I couldn’t hear it with my ears, I could have sworn I heard Dureau sighing.

  She’s trapped us in her spirit bottles.

  Her what? I asked as my stomach dropped and a sick feeling hit me.

  Remember the bottles hanging on the tree outside her house?

  Oh, God.

  Yes. But, how …

  She’s trapped our spirits in her bottles.

  I couldn’t understand how or why. But what’s she done with our bodies?!

  Our bodies are, hopefully, still safely on the bed in my hotel room.

  It was hard to process.

  So how do we get out of here? I asked, wondering if there was a way out of being trapped in a spirit bottle.

  I don’t know, Dureau responded. He sounded annoyed.

  The others will be wondering why we haven’t woken up yet.

  Perhaps, he answered, and then his voice grew silent in my head. I realized he was just thinking. But we don’t know how long they think we’ve been gone. You know how time moves differently in the dream world. Maybe as far as they’re concerned, we’ve only been gone a few minutes.

  That was a sobering thought. It could be days before they figured out something had gone wrong. And who knew where Dureau and I would be by then?

  How did you work out where we were? I asked. I can’t see anything. Can you?

  Your eyes will adjust after a while. I think I’ve been awake longer than you.

  Before long, I started to become aware of my surroundings. I couldn’t explain why or how, but I started to see things. Only shadows at first. Then the colors—such as they were in this godforsaken place—began to seep through. I first became aware of Guarda’s shack. Black blobs moved across the ground, which gradually revealed themselves to be chickens. And the tree from which I hung, so dead-looking it almost seemed to be made of bones.

  I had no actual tears to cry because my body was back in the hotel room. But my spirit cried. A passer-by might have thought it was the wind whistling through the branches.

  Had I been asleep? It was hard to know. What was asleep and what was awake and what was alive and what was dead? Was the baby in here with me? I didn’t think so. Hopefully the baby was just blissfully asleep in my belly back at the Pontchartrain.

  I focused on reaching Dureau again.

  Are you still there? I thought.

  Bryn? His voice sounded smaller and further away than before. I didn’t know what that meant, if anything at all.

  There was a protracted creaking sound.

  What was that? I asked. I couldn’t see anything.

  It sounded a bit like … a door opening, he responded.

  A dark shape approached the tree. I recognized Guarda.

  What have you done to us? Let us go immediately! I tried to scream at her, but my voice wouldn’t work, so I was forced just to think the thoughts again.

  She clacked her monstrous laughter.

  Why would I do that, she hissed, when I could give you both to Luce? I’d imagine I’d get a very good price. Especially for you, my dear—his estranged daughter and bearer of the Flame.

  I’m not his daughter and never was, I insisted, even as I realized it was silly to be focused on such a useless detail.

  Turn us over to Luce and we’ll reveal the fact that you allowed us to reach his tribe in order to turn them against him, Dureau said. I doubt he would react well to that.

  Well, then. Perhaps I will use you as my thralls. Get you to do my bidding.

  We will never do anything for you! I railed back at her.

  I think you will both find that you won’t have much choice in the matter. Your will is mine, now that you’re trapped in the spirit bottles.

  She turned and hobbled back into her house as I wondered how in the world we were ever going to get ourselves out of this.

  Sinjin

  There were two things that kept me sane. One: Bryn continued to appear robust and healthy—and beautiful, though that went without saying. Two: the baby’s heartbeat continued to beat both steadily and rhythmically.

  What exactly had hap
pened to Bryn and Chevalier, we could not tell, but it had been two days now since they had first ventured into the dreamscape. Still, they had not awakened. They appeared to have lapsed into some sort of coma. Yet their health did not seem to be compromised. It was as if they were both in a deep and peaceful slumber. The trouble was that this sleep was too deep. They were not able to wake up. The three of us were quite at a loss as to what had happened, though we kept a watchful vigil at their bedside, ever alert for the tiniest sign of wakefulness.

  Audrey looked wretched, the poor girl. Chevalier was the only family she had, she kept telling me. I knew how she felt. And I had not quite realized before how attached to Bryn Damek was. It seemed he viewed her as some type of honorary auntie or big sister. He wore his shades at all times—to hide his tears, I guessed.

  “It’s Guarda,” Audrey said, not for the first time.

  It was the end of day two of our vigil, and I had just undertaken a particularly vigorous bout of pacing, an activity which drove the other two to distraction. I confess I could not help myself.

  “You think Guarda did this?” I asked as I looked over at Bryn. Her face was both wan and pale.

  “She’s the only person who could do this… and who would do it,” Audrey said as she worried her lower lip.

  “Very well. I will go see her.”

  Audrey stood up in alarm. “Careful, Sinjin. You don’t know what she’s capable of!”

  “I can see quite clearly what she is capable of,” I said as I motioned to the princess and the frog. I faced Audrey resolutely. “Guarda will reverse whatever she has done at once, or she will suffer my wrath.”

  Damek rose also. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No, Damek,” I said as I shook my head. “Although I much appreciate the offer, I will be quicker and more efficient if I go alone. And you are needed here to support Audrey and to protect Bryn and Chevalier while they are in this most vulnerable condition.” I took a breath. “Besides, I owe it to your mother to keep you safe.”

  He sank back down in his seat, appearing crestfallen. I was not without sympathy. I knew first-hand how maddening it was to sit back and do nothing while your loved ones were in danger.