by Kyle Johnson
Rather than push harder, Aranos allowed his thoughts to relax and drift freely as he considered the problem. This was a trick he used frequently; while his conscious mind drifted, his subconscious could chew over the information and guide him down the proper path. Often, he found himself so bogged down in minutiae that he missed the forest for the trees, and this trick was his mental equivalent of taking a step back and seeing the bigger picture.
He stopped as he considered that concept. He was looking for details, trying to pin down one thing that would distinguish this person from every other human out there, but those details didn’t exist. That didn’t mean that he didn’t have any information, though; he did have a series of vague impressions of the human eating messily, how their clothing was spotted with burns, that their voice rumbled, and so on. Individually, none of these were very distinguishing; taken together, though, they might provide enough information to single one person out of the multitudes.
Instead of concentrating on a specific sense of the target, Aranos mentally wove a tapestry of those ephemeral impressions, wrapping them about an unknown human form, and willing that form to appear before him. The dreamscape around him shuddered, tensed as if it were about to shift, but settled, unmoving. Aranos took a breath and tried again, pouring his focus onto that admittedly vague image and demanding that it appear before him. Once again, the dreamscape shuddered, shifted slightly…and slowly began to slide past. Aranos bent his will to the task, and gradually the dreamscape picked up speed until it was zipping past him in a blur of chaotic imagery.
Still, he could tell that he wasn’t moving as quickly through the dreamscape as he had before, when he had a better sense of the individual. Holding the mental image before him required a great deal more of his Willpower, meaning there was less energy available for him to pour into their transit. They were moving at a decent pace, though, and he felt he could probably hold the image for long enough to reach their destination, wherever that might be.
As he slid through the Realm of Dreams, he recalled how, on his last trip in the dream world, he’d drawn energy from the Realm itself to power his travel and speed his trip. Curious, he reached out mentally and grasped the raw dream energy about him, channeling it into his body and trickling it into his mental construct. The world about him shuddered for a moment, but immediately, he felt his speed through the dreamscape increase. He drew more power and sent it rushing into the construct, and once more, his speed drastically increased.
“Hold, my student,” the High Dreamer’s voice echoed warningly around him. “The sense of your presence is beginning to escape from your shield. Guide some of your energy into the barrier about you, or release some of the power you have gathered from the dreamscape.”
Aranos obediently redirected a tendril of energy into the whirling sea of reflected visions surrounding him. He hadn’t even noticed that the mirrored dreams had grown faintly transparent, but they immediately grew opaque, obscuring the nightmarish chaos beyond them once more.
“That is more than sufficient,” the High Dreamer said in approving voice. “I can barely sense your presence now, even from such a short distance. I recommend that, if possible, you always empower your mental barrier so.”
Their passage through the dream world was seamless and silent after that, and as they slowed, Aranos’ clock told him they had been traveling for only 20 minutes or so. Once more, he widened his stable zone and willed the image before him to appear, trickling power from the dream world into the image as he did. The form that materialized before him only distantly resembled his mental image of it. This man sported a large beard, wasn’t quite as heavy-set as Aranos had imagined, and had a scarred face with multiple pock marks dotting it. The figure also seemed a bit more solid than it normally did, and the man looked about in seeming confusion at the swirling kaleidoscope of images.
“What…who are you?” the man demanded in a deep, rumbling baritone, his gaze settling on Aranos. “How’d you bring me here? Is this the dream world?”
“It is, Master Thunderstrike,” the High Dreamer’s voice spoke soothingly. “My newest pupil has learned how to bring you here somewhat more fully than my previous students. Please forgive the intrusion. Lord Evenshade, please release him.”
Aranos complied, and the man’s image slowly faded away rather than vanishing instantly. It first lost its solidity, becoming indistinct and blurred, before it swirled back into the surrounding maelstrom. “That was different,” the Sorcerer murmured softly. “I’ve never seen that happen before.”
“Because you have never empowered your image so, before,” the High Dreamer’s voice responded, sounding a bit cold, and Aranos detected a distinct undertone of irritation in it. “You also did not tell me that you had the Skill Dreamstriding, rather than Dreamwalking, Lord Evenshade. Is there a reason for this?”
Aranos shifted uncomfortably as he replied. “Yes, there was, I guess. I didn’t know you at the time, and we’d just been through that whole thing where the other Dreamer and I encountered…”
“Do not speak his name here!” the Dreamer’s voice rang out sharply. “I know of whom you speak.”
Aranos paused; could Morx really hear his name being spoken in the Realm of Dreams? It sort of made sense: the god was the Lord of Nightmares, so Aranos assumed he was pretty powerful in this world. “Okay, so, yeah, that had just happened, and you were already kind of flustered because I’d learned the Dreamwalking Skill. I thought that if I told you it had Evolved, you might get angry.”
The High Dreamer sighed. “One more way that the Dreamer’s betrayal harmed us both, Lord Evenshade. Now that I know you possess this Skill, I believe I have a way that you can reach the Expert ranking today…it will be dangerous, though, so I cannot command you to do it.”
Aranos started to volunteer for the task – anything that got him to the Expert ranking was worth trying, after all – but hesitated. If the High Dreamer considered something dangerous, Aranos should definitely at least hear what it was before agreeing. “What do you want me to do?”
“I will give you an image to find, but it will not be a comfortable one. This individual is not of the Light and dwells in the Lands of Shadow. They are also not precisely mortal, so you must be cautious in your dealings with them. Do you wish to attempt it?”
Aranos frowned thoughtfully. “What would I have to do?”
“As you are aware, a Dreamwalker’s Abilities are powered solely by their Willpower, no matter how skilled they are. Even I, with all of my training, can only use my inherent will and knowledge to interact with the dreamscape.
“A Dreamstrider, though, has learned how to tap into the energies of the Realm of Dreams to empower their Abilities. It is an ancient Skill, and while it is very rare, it is not unheard-of in the Elven Realms. You can do much that a Dreamwalker of your Skill level would deem impossible, for the simple reason that without being able to empower themselves, they simply lack the Willpower to perform these tasks.
“Traveling across the border into the Nightmare Realms is one such task that one of your Skill should find impossible,” the Dreamer continued. “However, by empowering your travel, it might be possible. Should you make the trip and return, I would consider your Quest fulfilled, even should it not push you to the Expert ranks. Are you willing to make the attempt?”
Aranos considered the proffered task for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll give it a try,” he said slowly. “But why is crossing into the Shadowed Lands so difficult? I’ve never had a problem crossing the Blightlands.”
“They are two very different things, Lord Evenshade,” the High Dreamer said solemnly. “The Blightlands are not representative of the Realms of Darkness, except perhaps for the outermost parts of the Darkbringer’s Blood Realm. The Shadowed Realms are empires in their own right, populated with great cities. Farmers work the fields beneath the blazing sun, merchants peddle their wares, and adventurers travel the countryside, seeking fame and fortune. However, al
l exist under a shadowy pall, as each knows they exist at the sufferance of the more powerful around them. Life is cheap there, and hatred, terror, and murder are constant companions.
“Those dark emotions resonate here in the Realm of Dreams, my student, and it exists as a barrier that must be crossed. To do so is to step into a sea of torment, as the dreams of those in those lands are nightmarish and often quite bloody. Even worse, creatures of much darker souls than mortals possess make their homes in the Shadow, and you may see the dreams of those beasts, as well.
“The journey requires an incredible will, for you must pass that barrier both traveling there and returning. However, for a Dreamstrider, it is possible…if just barely.”
Aranos sighed; this sounded pretty dangerous, but he couldn’t actually die in the dreamscape, at least. The worst that could happen is that he would awaken in his own body with a serious debuff but otherwise unharmed. At least, that’s what the High Dreamer had told him, and so far, the elf hadn’t been wrong about the Realm of Dreams.
“Okay, show me who I have to find,” he said at last. Instantly, an image appeared in his vision, with crystal clarity and perfect detail. The individual in question was a young-looking humanoid, of a race Aranos didn’t recognize, with dark hair and unusually ruddy skin. His appearance was immaculate, and Aranos could sense that he took inordinate pride in it, to the point of narcissism. Beneath that veneer, though, Aranos felt a presence far darker and more ancient. Anger, hatred, and betrayal radiated from the man, directed not at an individual but at the world in general, and Aranos knew that, given the chance, this creature would raze civilization to the ground.
Aranos hesitated for a moment; the sense of his target was something alien to anything he’d felt before. He wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, in all honesty, but it was the only way to complete this Quest before leaving the Stronghold. Sighing, he called up the image and bent his will to it, urging it to appear before him. At first, nothing happened; the dreamscape didn’t even shudder in response to his efforts. He stopped and tried again, this time reaching out into the sea of chaos about him and drawing power into himself. He dumped that energy into the image, again willing it to appear before him, and instantly, the dreamscape began to shift and slide past him. As he moved, he shifted a tendril of power into the shield of dreams hiding his presence, and he felt it solidify around him. He continued to pull power from the maelstrom, guiding it into his two constructs. The dreamscape sped by, the minutes passing as he raced along with ever-increasing velocity.
Suddenly, the dream world shook and trembled about him. Flashes of crimson and ebony streaked through the maelstrom, drenching his skin in a bloody light. It felt as if his bubble had run into a thick morass of some foul liquid, and his forward progress all but halted. Gruesome faces flashed across his barrier, leering and screaming in agony, and a spike of pressure gripped his mind as the visions squeezed his shield, clamoring to be let into his safe zone.
The Sorcerer felt a surge of anger rise up in him, driving back the mental assault, and he shoved aside the hideous images and tuned out the wails of torment with an effort of will. He pulled more power from the maelstrom, ignoring the slick, almost greasy feel of the energy, and drove his will toward reaching his goal. Once more, the dreamscape shuddered, and he heard an audible groan as if the realm itself were pained by his presence. The sensation of being stuck lingered for a moment until suddenly, the world around him lurched, and he was once more speeding toward his destination, slowly gaining speed as he traveled.
He saw instantly what the High Dreamer was talking about; the Realm of Dreams was subtly different here. The swirling visions were just as chaotic, but they felt darker, more menacing. Blood rushed through many of them, and faces filled with terror and pain flashed across his barrier time and again. A palpable sense of fear, loss, and anger filled the dreamscape, and he had to concentrate to keep those feelings from rising up within him to match his surroundings. Even the power he was drawing felt tainted somehow, as if the despair surrounding him had soaked into the energy of the dream world.
He continued to concentrate, but he was starting to feel the strain of this journey. Fatigue nibbled at the edges of his mind, and it was becoming more of an effort to hold out the cacophony of madness surrounding him. Still, he set his jaw and plowed ahead; he’d always believed that anything worth doing was probably hard to do.
The dreamscape slowed about him, and he relaxed his hold on his image, easing his will away from it. From what the High Dreamer had said – not to mention the sense he’d gained of the creature he was about to meet – Aranos had no illusions that this would be a peaceful or calm meeting. To paraphrase a classic movie, only a very great fool would go into this encounter unprepared, and Aranos wasn’t a great fool. At least, he hoped not.
He reached out into the maelstrom, gathering power around him and forming it into a Spell. Normally, this was considered impossible in the dreamscape; Wizards were cut off from mana, here, so they were unable to cast Spells. Aranos knew how to use the energy of the dreamscape instead of mana, though – a discovery he’d made in extreme desperation – so he could at least make himself as prepared as possible. He began by layering energy about himself, coating his body in an invisible layer of force that would shield him from most attacks. He pumped energy into his body, empowering his dream form, and built a disc of power under his feet that would protect him from attacks from below.
Once he felt prepared, Aranos recalled the image of his target and slowly applied his will to it. The dreamscape shifted once more, but only slowly, and a few moments later, his motion stilled completely. The Sorcerer set his jaw and willed the image in his mind to appear before him. At first, nothing happened, something Aranos hadn’t experienced before. He took another deep breath and drew power from the dreamscape, pouring it into that image, demanding that it manifest.
Slowly, a shape formed from the maelstrom, but Aranos knew right away that what was coming wasn’t precisely what he’d planned to call. The form that coalesced in front of him was large, at least 8’ tall, and so thin it looked emaciated. Its arms were short compared to its body, but each ended in a hand with far too many fingers. The creature’s head was birdlike, with large, blood-red eyes, no nose, and a gleaming, black, raptor’s beak. Its skin was mottled pink and scarlet, and bits of flesh dripped from it as it stood before Aranos. The monster clacked its beak warily, glancing around in seeming confusion, before its eyes settled on Aranos.
“You dare summon me!” the creature’s voice suddenly roared through the maelstrom, whipping the visions about Aranos into a sudden frenzy. Although its beak hadn’t moved, its voice filled every pocket and corner of the dreamscape, echoing with rage and hatred. “Do you know who I am?”
“Not particularly, and I don’t want to find out,” Aranos muttered, releasing his mental image and allowing the creature to fade back into the waking world. “Bye!” The creature’s form faded for a moment before snapping back into an even more solid-looking presence.
“No, you will not flee so easily!” the beast roared, leaping at Aranos, its hands outstretched. At the same moment, a pair of golden chains burst from the edge of the Sorcerer’s safe zone, snaking swiftly toward him, reaching for his hands.
In a moment of panic, Aranos leaped backward, his right hand lifting to point toward the onrushing creature. Power surged down his arm, and a swirling, multi-hued bullet raced from his palm, slamming into the monster’s chest. The creature howled as black blood spurted from the wound, but it ignored the injury and slammed into Aranos, bearing him to the ground. He felt a pair of clicks against his wrists as the two chains wrapped around his arms, pulling them taut and holding them spread out to the side, helpless.
The creature on top of him laughed evilly, and Aranos heard its voice start to echo through the dreamscape, no doubt about to tell him all the horrible things it was going to do to him. Before it could utter a word, though, a pair of stone pillars erupted
from the space to each side of Aranos’ head. The pillars smashed into the monster’s chest, launching it into the air, freeing Aranos from its grasp. At the same time, he released the armor covering his wrists and hands, allowing him to slip free of the binding chains and scramble to his feet.
As he replaced the armor over his extremities, he noticed the chains starting to reach for him once more. He drew more power and wrapped the metal links in a chunk of ice, freezing them in place. He turned back to face the monster, expecting another charge, but the creature stood still, staring at Aranos.
“You have power, aleen,” the creature said, its voice almost purring. “It has been long since I met a Dreamweaver. And yet, you have not touched on the true potential of your Perk. A Dreamweaver can do so much more than toss energy about; you could rule this realm, had you the knowledge.”
Aranos resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Let me guess, you have the knowledge I need, and with your help I can become the master of the dream world? Wow, that’s clichéd. I’m gonna say no thanks.”
“You misunderstand, mortal. Iggullon the Chainmaster does not bargain.” As the creature spoke, a half-dozen more golden chains sprouted around Aranos, all winding toward him. He drew more power and wove a wall of air in a cylinder about him. The chains struck that wall and rebounded; instead of trying futilely to penetrate the barrier, though, they began to wind about it. Aranos groaned inwardly as he saw even more of the chains erupt from the maelstrom and begin coiling about his shield. He felt a gentle pressure as the coils shifted, trying to compress the shield, but he had a feeling that pressure wouldn’t stay gentle for long.
