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

by Shawn Mackey

  I was confined to the dungeon. Since I had done everything in my power to obey Torgos’s command, I was not treated harshly. One of Dezzy’s maids was assigned to dispose of my Sap. During my captivity, Vargrim had returned after hearing about his wife’s bravado. The maid also mentioned that the mistress was once again with child.

  The plague had come to an abrupt end. This proved my innocence, yet left the mystery unsolved. The sleepers awoke with very little memory of their illness. Before being granted freedom, I urged Torgos to search for any of Delisius’s writings, even if it meant destroying them afterward. His scornful glare was the only response. He ordered that I attend dinner at least once a week to dispel lingering suspicions.

  I returned to the woods and found Vargrim haranguing the humiliated Lefnir, who claimed that Torgos had used some kind of trickery in battle. The two were going back to the island soon. To suppress the dreadful feeling of being watched, I took extra care of my creations.

  Dezzy gave birth to a son. Upon hearing the news, Vargrim returned at once, along with Lefnir. He proudly held his son and proclaimed that Alda would continue their ancient bloodline. Lindy, his daughter, would remain unsullied and forever chaste. During the celebration, Lefnir boasted that his son would be the one to deflower Lindy. Vargrim thought this was a jest, until his friend wagered his life. Vargrim staked his sword, entrusted to Alda from that day forth, for only the strongest steel could protect chastity made flesh.

  I begged my husband to forget such foolishness, that if he honored Vargrim’s friendship, he would leave his kin unharmed. Lefnir responded there was nothing to honor, for he and Vargrim were not friends. I asked if this also pertained to our marriage, and he lapsed into a long silence. At that moment, I realized my husband’s true nature was still as mysterious as our child’s.

  His words only cemented this realization. Lefnir claimed this world was an illusion; all but the island’s spawn were false. The first of Vargrim’s race and the Kay would eventually emerge from Lefnir’s cave long after the Yod were driven to extinction. When I asked him to clarify this, he laughed and said that all things living were proxies of a final manifestation, an incalculable number of rehearsals for the true production. We did not matter because we were not yet made of such. He had no concrete way to prove this, but his belief was so strong that it was more truthful than any fact, a feeling in his gut akin to hunger, the part of him he was brought into this world to appease. If his appetite could be quenched, then so could his divination.

  We did not yet exist, for our creators did not yet exist. I recalled something Delisius once said. I had asked about the stars, and if it were possible to travel to one. He lamented that the source of those lights were long dead. Due to the immense distance and the speed at which light travels, we were watching its ghosts. At the time, I did not comprehend death and to this day cannot grasp the concept of a ghost. I imagined what Lefnir had just divulged was something like those dead stars.

  After returning from a long campaign, we had another feast celebrating the victory over the island’s spawn. Peace would once again return to Yod. I was present and all together indifferent to the affair. The food was plentiful, and tasted a bit strange, though no one else commented on its excessive bitterness. Lefnir claimed it contained a special ingredient that helped digestion.

  Because of my blindness, I cannot relay the next event properly. Perhaps this is for the better, because none of the Yod were the same after Lefnir’s last trick.

  At the bottom of each bowel was a mirror. The reflection cast, from what I’ve been told by Vargrim, was much like the island’s monstrosities. Every attendant simultaneously looked around, and to their horror, found one another transformed into chimeric nightmares. I was not wholly unharmed by the event. Though I was spared the sight, I still hear the grotesque cacophony of bellows in my darkest hours.

  The transformation did not last long. The inhuman howls were soon replaced by the Yod’s pitiful cries. The pandemonium did linger, though, and in a moment of sheer madness, Dezzy’s sister, Prima, plunged a knife into her eye in an attempt to relinquish her sight. The tip pierced her brain and left her dead. Torgos regained his senses first and quieted the hall with a single command. He seized Lefnir and pronounced him guilty of his final crime.

  I was not present for the trial, but somehow Lefnir had managed to change his sentence from execution to exile. Perhaps they discovered he was impossible to truly kill. I visited him in his final hour, presenting him a vial of Sap for his journey. Exile seemed far crueler than death, and perhaps I could grant him some company. I instructed him to add a drop of his blood to it if he wished for another offspring. The mixture blended into a light pinkish hue, and my husband’s final words to me commented on its sweet appearance. I have yet to find the result, so he probably drank it.

  Vargrim was given the task of banishing Lefnir. He seemed gravely disappointed by the outcome, yet relieved to be granted the responsibility. The entire kingdom was present for the flinging. Vargrim sat cross-legged, seemingly asleep for hours. I knew he was resting his body for the tremendous hurtle. The two seemed to exchange words, though the conversation appeared one-sided. No doubt my husband was begging for his life. He could not stop Vargrim from throwing him into the sky. Lefnir was out of sight in an instant, sent hurdling far beyond those dead stars.

  Vargrim visited me that night in a somber mood. Lefnir had requested that the island would be mine on the day it ceased birthing monsters. I would be able to do as I pleased when this time came, and in even more distant time, communicate with Lefnir. Vargrim left my forest, and we have not spoken intimately since.

  I still paid frequent visits to Dezzy, who mourned the death of her sister. She had been even more beautiful than Dezzy, who was now considered the pinnacle of allure. She fiercely argued that she was plain compared to her daughter, Lindy. The Yod laughed at this for years, until Lindy reached adulthood, and her claim was proved correct.

  Alda guarded Lindy like a faithful pup. Dezzy coddled the two, especially her son, whose hawkish eyes uncannily resembled his father’s. Vargrim scarcely returned home in those days, for the island’s spawn had grown much stronger. The loss of Lefnir’s battle prowess was not matched, and the creatures were barely kept at bay.

  But Alda made the people of Yod feel secure. As a child, he amazed his seniors by assisting in the restoration of many of the older buildings. He had the strength of ten men, and by early adulthood, one hundred men. The project, which many had worked on for nearly a generation, was easily finished. A statue in Alda’s likeness was created in place of King Yod, which irritated Torgos.

  If not for his incredible strength and keen mind, Alda would most likely have been outright hated for his obsessive devotion in the Yod’s affairs. The safety of the kingdom was his only concern, and since his mother forbade him from joining his father’s side, he prowled the highways at night to aid travelers from hungry animals and the occasional rogue.

  He spent a great deal of time in my woods, always by Lindy’s side. As she picked flowers, which flourished now as they did in my old home, he stood vigilant. He once killed a wolf that had been in the process of hunting a stag. I scolded him, far too harshly than I intended. The animal was sacred to his father and rare in these woods.

  Alda knelt and vowed never to harm any of my creations, for this was my domain. His innate sense of honor disturbed me. It had no precedence and seemed wholly unnatural. I still adored the boy. He respected my creations and the adamant allegiance to his mother and sister stirred my heart. It reminded me of my old friend.

  One day, he asked me about his heritage, for his mother was unable to answer properly. I told him that his father’s ancestors, their race’s name long forgotten, and the Kay were closely linked. In the beginning, there were no Yod, nor any semblance of a kingdom. Only clans existed. The males impregnated the females, who gave birth in a matter of days, and in weeks the infants were full grown adults. The population was immense
and lifetimes were slim.

  The clans were in constant conflict, internal and external. Generations of families were born, raised, and slaughtered in the span of months. This cycle had no purpose; it was simply the way of the world.

  Through a matter of luck and cunning, one of the clans survived longer than the others. Its members grew older, even elderly, and passed down knowledge of battle tactics and crude architecture. It was said that this clan was the Yod, though Vargrim strongly disagreed. Our mother told him the War on Nemesis bled all the old blood away. The remaining clans united under a single banner due to war fatigue, and after an extremely long period of peace, considered themselves a separate bloodline. The island’s spawn suddenly appeared, forcing the decadent Yod to mobilize against the new menace.

  The story fascinated Alda. He realized that he shared a common ancestry with me, and from then on referred to me as Aunty. It was simultaneously affectionate and venerate, which pleased me.

  I requested to return to my homeland, since I had heard a few rumors of attacks, and shamefully, experienced tinges of nostalgia. I was denied by Torgos. He reminded me that I was a hostage for life, bound by an oath sworn on my arrival in Yod. The king had been paranoid since the death of Prima, expecting the return of Lefnir, and probably suspecting me and my Kay magic capable of making that a reality. Leaving could potentially cause unnecessary strife among both people. Delisius would have been able to arrange a visit through clever words, but I lacked the urgency for another appeal. My place was among the Yod.

  Yet, something indescribable lingered that could not be put into words. I saw my homeland in my dreams and yearned to embrace my sisters and relearn the old ways. Upon waking, I strolled around my home and tried to admire its splendor. Unable to see the verdant trees and lively inhabitants, I could no longer bear the loss of my sight. My dreams had been far too vivid. Each morning left me further embittered.

  A familiar coldness seized my ankle, and before I could comprehend the situation, my entire body was enveloped. I went numb, conscious of the horror that had overtaken me. My mind screamed in agony. My first thought was that I had been killed, and life thereafter was a sort of disembodied consciousness in complete darkness, much like my previous dream. The realization may have driven me mad if not for the voice, raspy yet somehow soothing.

  It may have spoken for an eternity, for when its grasp let me loose, my memory was too hazy to recall any concrete conversation. I no longer feared my son, slithering near my feet, emitting a dreadful chill. My mind shifted to numerous thoughts, focusing on none in particular. It was dizzying, yet I felt cleansed of something inexplicable.

  Later that day, I heard the announcement that the sleeping sickness had struck the Kay. Through Vygore, I found out that the island’s spawn had nearly wiped out the army. Only Vargrim could stand toe to toe with the new monstrosities, which were stronger and appeared more menacing than ever before. The news spread to Yod, and the general populace thought it was incoming doom.

  Alda, during his first night in Yod’s hall, stood and asked the entire audience for silence. He announced that he would join his father’s battle and requested that Torgos join, as well. When the king did not respond, Alda denounced him as a coward, revealed his sheathed sword, and then stormed out of the hall. The entire audience remained silent, their eyes fixed on the humiliated king. His shame soon morphed into a red rage, for he stood and announced that he would cut down Alda for the grave insult.

  As the hall emptied outside, Dezzy and Lindy came to my side, weeping incessantly and blabbering about Vargrim being unable to protect his son. Alda waited patiently outside the doorway, his arms folded and mouth curled into a wicked grin. He called Torgos a false king, grown fat and indolent by the war waged by those greater than he. Torgos retorted that every king of Yod had been granted immense strength, but the life would instantly drain from their body if they struck an enemy more than once. This had happened to all the sons of the first king. Alda asked if Yod’s kingdom took precedent over his pride and claimed that a true king would finish one of his lowly subjects in a single blow.

  The king swung his fist, intent on smiting his antagonist. Alda swung faster, for his sword separated Torgos’s head from his neck. Dezzy collapsed with such a shutter I thought she had died from the shock. The headless king was not yet finished. In silent fury, he swung at his foe’s back. Alda scarcely managed to duck, and raised his sword in reprisal, but it was unnecessary. The corpse of Torgos collapsed at his feet. By defeating the king in single combat, Alda could either declare himself sovereign ruler or leave Yod a free man. He chose the latter.

  The event left Dezzy in a constant state of agitation. As a result, Lindy frequently visited my home. She was a delightful companion, and like her mother in her youth, was utterly enraptured by the Kay and their ways. I told her everything I knew, under the condition that she spend time with her lonely mother.

  Word quickly arrived from the Kay. Alda had discovered the plague had come to an end, but the Sap had been corrupted into an oily black substance. I felt the need to help relieve the unrest in my homeland. Without a king to bind me to the Yod, I decided to return to the Kay.

  I went home, intending on traveling in the morning. I passed by the area where Lindy and I usual met and brushed against a pile of bones. Without further inspection, I ran through the woods, screaming her name. I could hear the ooze bubbling and popping, even feel that utter coldness. I sprinted closer and closer, cursing my blindness as I tripped several times. In one of these falls, I felt my elbow sink into a puddle of cold goo. I plunged my hands inside, and clasped what I knew to be an arm. I tugged with all my might, begging my son to be merciful.

  I clung to the freezing Lindy. She sucked in tiny breaths, shaking back and forth in delirium, then muttered an apology before lapsing into a deep sleep. I dragged her to the edge of the woods and was lucky enough to find a man drawing water from a nearby well. He brought us into his house, where Lindy was permitted to stay while I fetched Dezzy.

  When we returned, Lindy ensconced herself tightly under a blanket, shivering and chattering her teeth. She said the creature intended to harm her in ways she could not comprehend. Lindy once again lapsed into a sleep, which she did not awaken from until days later. I was forced to explain the situation in greater detail to Dezzy. I knew from that day forth that our friendship was at an end.

  Alda returned and went immediately to my woods. He demanded I bring him to my son and begged that he did not have to force me to do so. It was unnecessary, for moments later, the ooze dripped off a tree branch and smothered Alda. He managed to fend off my son. I followed the brief struggle through the sound of metal sloshing against gelatinous muck and the steam emitted whenever my son touched his adversary’s flesh. Alda brazenly plunged the sword into the ooze, slashing his own armor but sending the ooze slithering away. He told me it was the corrupted Sap. Before I could get a further explanation, he chased after the fleeing puddle.

  I visited Dezzy one last time. Lindy had made a full recovery, and the coming of her brother had set her at ease. I told her I was going back to the Kay, and it would be sometime before I would return. We embraced and parted on good terms. I did not see her again.

  When I returned to the Kay, it was only slightly more populated than currently. They had just begun to bury the bones of the dead, picked clean by my son. I was fortunate to meet Alda as he was about to depart. He looked weary and aged, closer to his grizzled father than the young man who had dubbed me Aunty. The ooze was headed for the island, and he intended to chase it to the edge of the world.

  The Kay, overcome by boundless grief, looked to me for guidance. I taught them much of my learning from Delisius, and they retaught me the old ways. The remaining Kay were not corrupted by the black taint, and to this day I have not discovered the reason for that plague, though I highly suspect my son. We continued to send fresh Sap to the island, whose spawn were eternally at war with Vargrim, who came to the Kay only on
ce since my arrival. He was in need of a messenger to Yod, sending fresh troops, for not a single soldier had been left standing. He also had an additional message: Alda had followed my son into the cave, which had once been Lefnir’s home.

  -

  I rowed the tiny boat across the lake. A shroud of white mist clouded my vision beyond a few feet. The water had been abnormally warm, an eerie contrast to the bitter chill that seeped into my bones. I shivered in a mad amalgam of fear, excitement, and awe. My eyes focused on the sword at my feet. It had sliced through the neck of King Torgos, and fended Lefnirkin into the cave. If this was true, then how did it pass down to Lina?

  Lina had said the island was where men went to become immortal and where immortals went to die. Any glory the Yod gained in battle dissipated long before the rot consumed their corpses. I didn’t want to be skeptical, but the facts weren’t adding up. I arrived near the river and not the cave where she insisted I’d been stranded all this time. It was all too elaborate for a dream, and I couldn’t suffer the disappointment of my homecoming. I tried to mull the entire story over again and again. It all amounted to a bunch of nonsensical garbage, far from the sufficient explanation I desired. Why had Lina gone through the trouble of telling me? Where was Vargrim and his everlasting war? I was on the outskirts of the island, yet the only sound was the water trickling from my oars. Surely I would hear the titanic battle from a mere mile away.

  Through the vast fog, my destination appeared ghostly compared to the mainland’s vibrancy—much smaller than I had imagined, and far less lush. The landscape had been thoroughly mangled, evident by rows of bent trees and gaping holes in various spots, as though a massive hand scooped up fistfuls of rock and tossed colossal boulders as mere pebbles.