The Dream Hopper (Those Whom the Gods Wish to Destroy Book 2)

by Shawn Mackey

  I traveled back through the ruins of Gorgo’s village and through the jungle of ravenous trees, back to the emerald ocean. I reached the sandy beach by sunrise. The tide beat against my ankles, leaving behind a trail of greenish foam whenever it subsided. I watched the sun peak and the yellow sky take a brighter hue. The alien landscape seemed more like a color swap with the real thing.

  Something soft brushed against my leg. The tide ebbed and flowed. It hit me again, a bit harder, then again and again until it stopped at my feet. Each time the tide ebbed, I fought the urge to look down at the waterlogged flotsam. It could have been anything, from rotten wood to jelly fish. There was only one thing it couldn’t be. I took a quick peek to make sure.

  I looked right into Beatrice’s dead eyes, her half submerged face stiffened into a contorted horror. I looked back up at the sky. The object kept rubbing against my leg with the tide. I looked back down and saw Beatrice’s pale lips frozen in a sneer only communicable through rigor mortis. Her sleek black hair was the only thing untouched by rot. It was swallowed by a wave.

  Who was this girl? Not even she could provide an answer. I thought she was Angela. Throw on a curly blonde wig and they were the same. Our bridge encounter ended as mercifully as her drowning. A grisly corpse was a small price for sweet sleep and forgetfulness. The woman would wake up as mindless as the rest of the phantasms and eventually grow bewildered and terrified when some strange sickness latches onto her mind. I’d rather experience that terror a thousand times over if I could just forget.

  I threw myself into the sea and started to swim. The tide smashed me into waves and pulled me under. My limbs lost the strength to battle the ocean, and warm salty water filled my lungs as old memories flooded my mind’s eye.

  I remembered sloshing around, a warm liquid coursing through a rubbery pipe. I sucked up the liquid like a sponge and flowed through the pipe, and it became darker and hardened, causing me to travel faster and faster down the winding tunnel. A sensation akin to joy swelled up in my nonexistent heart when the tunnel emptied into a red ocean. I was in a million of those tunnels at once, draining them of their delicious juices. Through a pair of dark eyes, I watched my hand open and close, veins blackened from the ineludible one, ready to satisfy the impulses of many insatiable appetites.

  In this realm, I had no shortage of forms to take. Why did I crave a body to call my own? In the grand scale of my lifetime, it was just a fleeting desire. I always thought it was proof of my former humanity. I thought I could find sanctuary from this nightmare in the mundane world. I was wrong. Was annihilation a luxury reserved only for the living? I was about to find out.

  Chapter 18:

  Homecoming

  I found myself standing near a riverbank. The white water flowed rapidly, with a current too strong to cross. It couldn’t have been deeper than waist length, but my fear wasn’t of drowning. Something about the river didn’t bode well. I had seen it before and knew to avoid the lake it emptied into at any cost.

  My hands trembled violently. I initially assumed it stemmed from nervous excitement at the prospect of being home, but soon realized the inhabitants were hostile to me. This was hallowed ground, my mere presence enough to negate its sanctity. Formally a home away from an unwelcome home, the underlining sense of encroachment signified some sort of danger.

  All prior events faded like a hazy dream, forgettable and nonsensical in comparison to my current surroundings. I couldn’t tell how much time passed between that moment and this one. It seemed much longer since I’d been here, so for the sake of my sanity, I settled with a long time. Shrugging off an eternity was easy enough.

  The smell of smoke roused me to action. The source was across the river, and judging by the pungent odor, it couldn’t have been far. I looked carefully past the vast rows of trees, squinting to catch even a glimpse of the smoke. They seemed to reach toward the clouds like verdant towers. I half expected to be assaulted by giants.

  I walked along the riverbank for some time before finally coming across the outline of a bulky figure and the small wooden bridge behind him. As I came closer, he appeared to be gazing at me in alarm. His right hand tightly gripped the handle of a giant axe. He brandished the weapon with both hands as I neared. I slowed my pace, and he gradually lowered it.

  Every inch of the man’s body was covered in steel armor. Only when we were a few feet apart did I see his eyes blink behind a small opening in his visor. Both of us scanned each other closely for about a minute. As I was about to speak, the armored man threw his head back and laughed. It sounded almost robotic behind his mask, though I couldn’t deny its mirth.

  “I often wonder if this bridge was built for you,” he said. “You’re the only one who ever crosses.”

  “Is that so?” I asked. A mere moment after those words left my mouth, I could vividly imagine a smile fading behind that mask. It was either something I said or something he saw.

  “Lefnirkin!” he shouted, raising his weapon.

  I easily dodged the first blow. When the axe sunk into the mud, I expected him to raise it for another strike. He surprised me with a swift backhand to the jaw. The force behind it, combined with the steely armor, caused me to stumble and slip in the mud. I felt the raging river slosh against the back of my head and struggled to my feet in a panic. The man kicked my chest and planted his foot into my gut, sinking me deeper into the mud. The top of my forehead was engulfed in the river, and soon my entire brow. Just as my eyes were about to be swallowed, he reached over toward the axe, easing the weight planted firmly on my stomach just enough to inch myself up.

  With the man in armor slightly off balance, I managed to throw his leg off me and send him flying backward. Even in a suit of armor, he had an easier time than I did getting back to his feet. I narrowly side stepped the next blow. As he lifted his weapon, I threw all my weight into his side. He screamed as half his body landed in the river. The current pulled him in, sinking the heavy weight to the bottom as it carried him off.

  I wanted answers, not a battle to the death. I brushed some of the mud off my clothing and crossed the surprisingly sturdy bridge. The smell of smoke was still pungent, almost nauseating. Though I may not be welcomed in this land, I couldn’t shake the need to see the fire. The odor became more powerful with each step. In a few minutes, I heard crackles and pops, even above the loud stream.

  I found a large clearing, utterly barren of grass or trees. The massive fire was at the center of a large pit. A group of green-haired women were circled around the blaze, sitting cross-legged with their hands folded across their laps. They stared unblinkingly into the flames. I noticed a few log cabins and small tents not far off in my peripheral vision, but paid them no heed. I was as entranced by the fire as those hypnotized women. Something was at the fire’s center. As I continued to stare, it became more and more clear.

  It was a black ball. The tiny object floated and spun at incredible speeds, seemingly increasing the longer I watched it twirl in a thousand different directions. To say the effect was hypnotizing would be a severe understatement. I couldn't move, let alone blink. The swirling mass expanded rapidly, swallowing up the entire fire yet somehow retaining its glow. The pitch substance had a filmy skin, absorbing the light and casting a white glare that hurt my eyes. It gradually dimmed to a tolerant brightness and swirled into a milieu of colors. As vague shapes formed, a tremendous strength sent me sprawling backward.

  I was gazing at the gray sky, blinking and heavily panting. My head pounded. I rubbed my eyes and tried to shake off the burning in my skull. Those shapes were imprinted in the back of my mind, an immeasurable amount of lines that formed an indecipherable language. Like an antibody to a virus, my brain tried to purge the memory, despite lacking the means. I needed to remove them at any cost.

  "Don't be foolish," a stern, yet soft voice said. I felt cold and slender fingers wrap around my wrist. I had fresh blood under my fingernails. Tiny drops oozed down my brow into my eyes. A damp cloth wi
ped them away. Through strained vision, I saw a green-haired woman, much like the others, kneeling over me. I stood as she asked: "What did you see?"

  "I don't know," I responded. I turned to face her and gasped. Coarse black stitches clasped her eyelids tight. Despite the obvious blindness, she smiled at my reaction. I cleared my throat and mumbled an apology.

  "Here," she said, standing in front of the fire. Her plain white dress resembled the others. They were clearly much younger, while this one looked well beyond middle age. She twirled her finger in a circle. "Turn around. It’s best not to look twice."

  "I'm starting to feel better," I said. She stood by my side. I didn't have the courage to look at her. "What was that?"

  “It is a window,” she said. “Through this window, we are able to see our lost memories.”

  “Then what’s the harm in taking a look? I’m pretty forgetful. It’d be nice to remember a few things for once. My name, for instance.”

  “You and I both know that those inklings are the pangs of a parasite. Your own hands were ready to open your skull to tear out your brain. Cast aside those lingering doubts, for you are not a man,” she said, wrapping her arm around mine as we walked back toward the river. “Let’s leave this place. Please, do not look over your shoulder.

  “I’ll take your word for it. So, who are you and where am I?”

  “I am Lina of the Kay. Forgive me. My speech has been far too presumptuous. You have had a long journey, and I wish you had the time for a deserved rest. I know it is difficult to be deprived of your sense of purpose, but the Kay have it much worse, if I may be bold enough to claim. You may act, while they watch. There is more than eternity inside that fire. They see all that ever was, ever will be, and all that could have been, in search for scraps of information. Imagine reading a book with infinitesimal pages to find a very specific line. Some are lucky to find it in eons. Others have been searching since the time of my ancestors.”

  “Thanks for getting me out of there,” I muttered, almost peering over my shoulder. The thought of eyeing that fire made me shudder. “Can’t you just pour water on it? Save your friends the trouble?”

  “Water,” she said with a smile. In contrast to those gruesome stitches, it looked quite pretty. “I would not do so, even if it were possible. To tear them away abruptly would be cruel. Their consciousness has become so ingrained with the fire, it could only shatter their minds. They need to wean themselves away when their task is complete.”

  “What were you looking for? You did have to look at some point, too, right?”

  “I was searching for my son, but it appears he has found me.”

  “I knew I was home the moment I arrived. Can’t say I ever considered a mother would be waiting for me. Especially not one with green hair. No offense. Mind if I ask a stupid question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Who am I? The guy back at the bridge called me Lefnirkin. Now he’s in the river.”

  “Vygore? Oh dear,” she sighed. “I’m sure he’ll find a way out soon enough.”

  “As long as I’m not there,” I said. “I barely won that round. Don’t think I’ll be so lucky in the rematch.”

  “He is one of the Yod. One of the kinder, despite your encounter. He is not privy to our ways, else he would have let you pass unharmed.”

  “Seemed like he mistook me for someone else. Mentioned I was the only one who ever crossed the bridge.”

  “Yes,” she said, then continued after a pause: “That’s quite complicated. You are Lefnirkin. There’s no doubt in my mind. After an eternity apart, it pleases me that fate allowed us a moment together.”

  “Me too, though I’ve never heard of a Lefnirkin or a Kay. You’ve got plenty of time to explain.”

  “The Kay were the former inhabitants of this forest. The ones you saw are the last. There are even fewer Yod. Vygore may be the sole survivor.”

  “What happened to everyone?”

  “You have arrived at our final hour, my son. Our time is brief. A battle awaits, and if you are victorious, the reward will make your tribulations seem a trifle in retrospect. It is my task to entrust you with a weapon and means for transportation. A ghost haunts the island, and only you have the power to cleanse the meddlesome specter. Vargrim’s sword, passed down to his son Alda, will feel familiar in your hands. The blade is strong enough to put Lefnir back to sleep, at the very least. I will watch from a distance, for I lack the heart to see my lost love dispatched in such a way, even if it is barely a shadow. My presence would only hinder you. That is how sure I am of your victory.”

  “Alda?” I said, holding back a gasp. My hands trembled again. Something about the name frightened me. She held tight.

  “He’s gone.”

  “And the girl?”

  “What girl?”

  “I want the girl. You know her. If you know me, you know her.”

  “Lindy?”

  “Lindy,” I repeated. The name rolled off my tongue, a blissful sound. “Her name is Lindy. Lindy and Alda. What’s my name?”

  “You are the son of Lefnir.”

  “What’s my name?” I asked. She kept silent. “What’s my name?”

  “I never named you. Some of the Yod called you Lefnirkin. If any were old enough to remember the war on Nemesis, they would see it differently. In a way, you are the son of an entire era. The monster of monsters. There is no name for you.”

  “That last part is the only thing that makes sense.”

  “Take heart, my son. I have seen the lives of all, and none have pleased me more than yours. In the loneliest moments of my solitude, I recall your strength and find comfort. What name could possibly suit you? Any and none. You wear the skin of Alda, a hero to the Yod, and even he pales in comparison.”

  “That’s not true. If it weren’t for Alda, I’d be a monster. I got a piece of him inside me. He insisted it, and I can’t help but agree. There’s a part of me that thinks you and this Lefnir are an evil pair, yet I want to find the one who ruined your eyes and make him suffer.”

  “It has been a long time, I suppose. You are neither Alda nor the monster I birthed, rather a blend of the two and a bit of more. Your suspicion of me may be warranted, and your violent solution not wholly unexpected. You are a valiant hero and a base brute. Why extend the latter toward me?”

  “I’ve been away from home for a long time. You promise me the only thing I really want. It all rings so right to me, but it could easily be just as false.”

  “Will you fight Lefnir?”

  “Show me Lindy first.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Why?”

  “Because that is the end. A mere peek is enough to ruin everything.”

  “I think you owe me a better answer than that. You’ve been helpful so far. I just wish you’d make some damn sense.”

  “Very well,” she said. “I will tell you a story. It will be severely abridged, and I can’t promise it will make any sense. Still, would you like me to continue?”

  “Yes!”

  -

  Our world became known as Lakustria in recent times. My people called this forest and the lake it surrounds Kayvale when our race thrived, though some now consider it slanderous to be associated with the dreaded island at the lake’s center. The monstrosities born from that place have troubled the Kay since their appearance. The slaughter of my sisters was only a fraction of the loss due to a war between the Yod and the island’s spawn, though my ancestors took no part in the war. The Kay were exiled during the founding of the Yod kingdom because my mother, Matralina, violated an agreement with the king.

  The gap between the exile and the invasion was tremendous. The Kay were always subject to superstition, but it reached a ludicrous pique. Since our race is female, the Yod assumed that we used the island’s spawn to procreate. A hostile confrontation was inevitable. Before a blow could be struck, the Yod quickly realized we were much like them and proposed a truce.

  I was given to the Yod
as a gift, set to marry the elder Delisius when I reached the proper age. Until then, I was to be raised under the Yod’s care. I can barely remember their warriors surrounding my home, but I vividly recalled the fear of leaving the Kay. Fortunately, my new brothers and sisters welcomed me warmly.

  Delisius was my teacher and caretaker. I learned much about the Yod’s ways, and in kind taught him about the Kay. He asked many questions about the island near my native home, but alas, he knew far more than me on the subject. The island was as equally revered as it was feared, which seemed to fascinate him to no end.

  Upon reaching adolescence, I produced Sap for the first time. This frightened Delisius so badly that he forbade me from leaving our house. Though I had explained the process to him in great detail, his curiosity was quickly curbed by sheer horror. The Kay sent the syrupy stuff off to the island out of custom. When the substance transformed into a slithering serpent, Delisius cowered like a child. I had seen the Sap form into such things before, so it didn’t seem strange to me. The creatures usually wandered off and never returned.

  Delisius informed me that the serpent was a creature indigenous of that dreadful island. Whenever I made Sap, he warned me to place it in a jar and forbade me from seeing the other Yod. He explained that the Sap was a secretion from tiny glands in the palms of my hands. I don’t know how he came to this conclusion, but he said that I would be unable to leave his care until we both understood the true nature of the substance.

  I was only permitted to speak with my brother, Vargrim. This was a disappointment, since he was a bit too brutish for my tastes, due to him being a different blood than the Yod. I was deathly afraid of his grim countenance and shook with fear whenever he flashed that yellow grin, which seemed reserved only for me. Delisius spoke in reverent tones, though Vargrim was much younger.

  My brother often cooed and spoke to me like a baby. It became increasingly oafish, almost silly. Judging from his simple speech and slow wit, I pegged him as idiotic as he was fierce. This made me even more fearful.