by HP Mallory
“And what if it was a recurring set of dreams? I don’t believe it would be as simple as visiting once.” He took a breath. “What if you were able to prove the truth through their subconscious minds by consistently enlightening them?”
I thought about this for a minute. “But then they’d just tell Luce. They’d figure out that it was us.”
“Perhaps.” He shrugged.
“Or they’d talk to each other and realize everyone was having the same dream.”
“Perhaps.”
“And then they’d just believe that we were attempting to brainwash them.”
“Perhaps.”
I scowled at him. “Why do you keep saying that?”
He laughed. “Because you raise good points.”
I sighed and considered his suggestion further. “I think it would have to be only one or two points of contact. And I’d have to provide them with some way that they could prove the truth to themselves. It wouldn’t be enough just to provide them with the information.”
“How would you prove it?”
“I don’t know; that’s the sticking point.” I sighed again. “Every time I think of an angle, I hit another wall. It’s like there’s nothing but dead ends.”
“The answer will come to you,” he assured me, with that smile of his that said everything was going to be alright.
“I’m not so sure.”
Just as he opened his mouth to respond, the expression on his face dropped and his eyes widened. He began clawing at his throat. Before I could understand what was happening, he collapsed to the ground. His body began to jerk and twist, like he was having a seizure.
“Dureau?” I yelled as I dropped down to my knees. I put my hands on his body, trying to keep him from thrashing. He was hot. Really hot. “Dureau, what’s going on?” I screamed at him, glancing around to see if there was who could help me. We were far enough from Kinloch that no one would hear me if I called for help. And there was no way I was strong enough to carry him back on my own.
Before I could think another thought, Sinjin materialized directly in front of me. Gazing up at him, I felt intense relief. “Sinjin, we have to get him back to Kinloch.”
He didn’t say anything but nodded and immediately gripped both my hand and Dureau’s. Almost instantly, we were flying through the air, the wind biting my cheeks. I was so shocked by the entire situation, I didn’t have long to ponder the fact that Sinjin had been following me… us.
When we materialized back at the palace, Sinjin lifted Dureau, who was still jerking and twisting, and carried him straight to Mathilda’s house.
I knocked on the door and she answered it before I had even let my hand drop back down to my side. Her expression was one of curiosity, no doubt wondering why we were calling so late. But her question answered itself as soon as she saw Dureau’s condition.
“Come in at once,” she instructed, opening her door wide.
Sinjin strode through the doorway and placed Dureau on a long wooden table that took up the majority of Mathilda’s living room.
Dureau continued contorting himself in strange positions, seemingly losing all control of his bodily autonomy. Mathilda placed her hand on Dureau’s forehead as Sinjin held him down.
“What appears to be the problem?” Sinjin asked.
“He’s being attacked mentally,” Mathilda answered, but her eyebrows were furrowed as if she were surprised by the way this attack was taking place. “He appears to be in a strange form of sleep at the moment.”
“It’s the same as when Luce attacked Damek,” I said.
“Perhaps,” she responded.
“Can we help Dureau the same way Rachel and I helped Damek?” I asked, desperate.
“I believe that’s the best chance we have,” replied Mathilda, whose concern appeared to be increasing with every passing moment.
“I will collect Rachel at once,” said Sinjin, immediately dematerializing.
Rachel, I called out telepathically.
Bryn?
Sinjin’s coming to get you—Dureau’s being attacked by Luce, just as Damek was, and we need your help.
Before I could wait for Rachel’s response, Mathilda grabbed my wrist.
“Bryn, we can’t wait for Rachel to get here.” Her hand was still pressed to Dureau’s forehead, and her eyes had rolled back into her head. When she released him, she faced me in earnest. “Dureau’s getting worse, and at an overwhelming rate. If we have any hope of him surviving this attack, you need to enter his mind now.”
“Alone?” I asked, realizing what that meant. Luce could trap me just as surely as he’d trapped Dureau.
“I know it’s dangerous to go in on your own, but he’s fading,” Mathilda admitted as she glanced down at Dureau. Sure enough, the pallor of his skin was growing whiter by the second and his breathing had slowed to almost nothing. She looked back up at me. “I believe in the Flame,” she said succinctly.
That basically meant she believed I was powerful enough to go in alone. “Then we don’t have time to waste,” I said and grabbed Dureau’s hand, closing my eyes. I imagined a bright, white light surrounding Dureau and enveloping me, forming a telepathic link between us.
Immediately, I saw Dureau and Luce, but it was as if I were watching the scene unfolding as a movie. I felt strangely detached from it—far away. I hadn’t yet entered the dream, I realized.
I watched Dureau fall onto the ground in front of Luce and Luce launched what appeared to be a stream of blue light directly into Dureau’s chest. Dureau rose up into the air, his arms and legs out straight on either side of him. His head hung loose and he seemed to be unconscious.
Every second counts, I reminded myself. But when I tried to enter the dream, I found myself violently thrown backwards as if there were a protective bubble disallowing anyone from breaking through. I opened my eyes to find myself back in Mathilda’s house. She opened her mouth like she intended to say something, and I noticed Mercedes had joined us.
Quickly, I closed my eyes again and tried to re-enter the dream. I imagined that same bright, white light that should have formed a telepathic link between Dureau and myself. No dice, sadly—I was somehow blocked.
I opened my eyes again. “I can’t,” I started, gasping for air. My heart was pounding and I was having a hell of a time catching my breath.
“You’ve been blocked,” explained Mercedes abruptly.
“What does that mean?” I demanded, my voice strained.
“This doesn’t seem like a simple attack.” Mercedes studied Dureau with tight lips and narrowed eyes.
“We believe Dureau’s been trapped in a vision state,” Mathilda continued.
“How do I get him out of it?”
She shook her head. “We don’t know yet. It’s going to take a more complicated solution.”
“We don’t have time for a more complicated solution! Luce is killing him!”
“I’ve begun to prepare a potion that might help,” Mathilda said as she walked over to a pot that was sitting in the middle of her fireplace, surrounded by purple flames. She reached through the flames and stirred the concoction as my heart continued to race.
Just then, Rachel and Sinjin materialized.
“I’m sorry it took us so long,” apologized Rachel.
“We’ve been blocked, regardless,” I admitted and felt so lightheaded, I had to sit down in the nearest chair.
“Are you well, my pet?” Sinjin asked with concerned eyes, taking the seat next to mine.
“I just need to rest for a moment,” I answered, shaking my head. “Trying to get into Dureau’s dream took a lot out of me.”
“The potion is nearly complete,” announced Mercedes, completely unaware of the intense emotion pumping through the room—or maybe she just didn’t care. “Bryn will be the only person to enter the vision-state, given the vast risks associated with such an activity. Rachel will maintain physical contact at all times with Bryn’s body, so we can attempt to pull her out of the trance if nee
d be.”
“No, absolutely not,” Sinjin argued, glaring at Mercedes. “If this is as dangerous as it appears to be, there is no way I will allow the princess to risk herself alone.”
“Sinjin, we have no time for this.” I looked up at him, hoping he could read the seriousness in my eyes.
“You can barely stand from your recent attempt to help Chevalier,” he pointed out and shook his head.
“Sinjin, Dureau is dying!” I nearly screamed at him. “If I don’t go now—”
“It already could be too late,” Mercedes interjected.
But Mathilda shook her head. She stood above Dureau and held his wrist, checking his pulse. “It is faint, but still there. We don’t have much time at all.”
“I have to go,” I said to Sinjin as I stood up and approached Mathilda.
He didn’t say anything more, but his lips tightened and I wasn’t sure what he was thinking.
“Lie down next to him, please,” Mathilda instructed as Sinjin moved Dureau slightly to the right—a difficult task, given that Dureau’s body was still jerking and twisting unpredictably.
I laid down next to him. “Alright, I’m ready.”
“Rachel,” Mercedes called, and Rachel walked closer. When she reached my side, she smiled down at me consolingly and took my hand. I felt her give it a squeeze, which did little to comfort me.
“Open your mouth,” Mercedes commanded as she appeared above me with a ladle. I did as I was instructed and she poured a mouthful of bitter syrup onto my tongue. I swallowed it and closed my eyes, waiting to be returned to the vision state.
The last thing I saw was Sinjin’s ice-blue eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Bryn
Everything was blurry and translucent.
It took me a second to realize I was now in the dreamworld.
It was hard to define one object from another. In dreamscape, things were not so clearly delineated as they were in the real world. Everything existed in blobs of color, but the longer I focused, the more things began to define themselves.
To my left, I could see a little fire floating in the air beside me, burning with a blue flame. I recognized the flame—I had seen it before, when Dureau rescued me from the first dreamscape I’d found myself in. The flame represented my entry and exit point into this vision. And if it operated the same way as the last flame I’d witnessed, that meant I’d need to remember where this flame was located if I was ever to get out of this place.
I took a second to gather my thoughts and to examine my surroundings, in the hopes of figuring out where I was and what my first steps should be.
It appeared that I was standing before a French château—the looming, three-storey house towered in the distance. I found myself on the grounds, which were manicured with lush lawns and blooming roses that filled the air with a sweet scent. Rows of lavender bordered the lawn and led up to the manor house.
I had the distinct feeling that I was in the region of Lorraine, although I didn’t understand how I knew that. I just did. Maybe it was Dureau somehow informing me. I was positive he could feel me when I entered his mind. And if he could feel me, that meant Luce could, too. Which meant I didn’t have time to waste.
I was ripped from my reverie by the ear-splitting sound of a scream—it was coming from the house, and even though the house was far from where I stood, the sound reverberated through my surroundings like it was five feet away. It was Dureau. I’d never heard him scream, but I knew his voice all the same.
I clenched my eyes shut. I’m coming, Dureau, I thought, hoping our mind connection would ensure that only he could hear me. Hold on, Dureau. I will be there soon!
And then I ran, sprinting faster than I ever had before. Everything in the dreamscape blended into blobs of color on either side of me, and the more I focused on moving, the faster I went. It was maybe seconds before I found myself at the mouth of the driveway leading up to the chateau.
I didn’t bother catching my breath, even though I was panting. Instead, I took the stairs two at a time until I faced the dark wood double doors. Turning the lion-head knob, I pushed against the twelve-foot door, surprised when it opened as easily as it did.
Inside, the mansion was dark and smelled old—like it had stood here in this dreamland for centuries on centuries. The entryway was ornate with frescoes on the walls and detailed crown molding that bordered paintings of cherubs and angels across the ceiling.
I wandered around the foyer somewhat frantically, trying to figure out where Dureau could be. I hadn’t heard him cry out again, which worried me. But then another scream rent the otherwise still air and I followed the sound down a long hallway that was just as dark as the rest of the house. The only lighting was supplied by burning torches jutting out from the walls, projecting eerie shadows.
As I ran, I passed a series of oil portraits in golden-gilded frames. At the end of the hall was a portrait of a woman who was the spitting image of Audrey and, beside her, a man who looked exactly like Dureau. I was almost too out of breath to think, but my remaining brainpower told me that this must be the ancestral home of the Chevalier family.
At the end of the hall, I met another grand staircase accented by an enormous chandelier overhead. Another panicked scream interrupted the quiet, and I ran up the stairs as quickly as I could.
At the top, I found a hallway with a seemingly infinite series of doors along either side. It appeared to continue on and on, growing so dark that I couldn’t see the end of it.
I wasn’t sure what to do. The air was silent once again.
There was something inside of me—maybe it was Dureau—that insisted he and Luce were behind one of these numerous doors.
I turned the knob of the first door; it unlocked with ease, but there was nothing behind it but an empty room, filled only with mahogany furniture and a marble fireplace. I turned the knob of the second door only to find a space set up with purple velvet curtains covering each floor-to-ceiling window while a round wooden table took up the center of the room, bedecked with silk linens and and a silver tea-set for two.
Two more doors, two more luxurious rooms—but no sign of Dureau. Finally, I turned my head to glance down the hallway and found I had reached the end. A gasp caught in my throat because it almost seemed as if the hallway had closed in on me, the wall stopping short just before my nose. I was suddenly facing a mirror and behind me, the hallway seemed to go on forever in the direction I’d just come. I shook my head and faced forward again, reminding myself that there would undoubtedly be many tricks in this dreamscape. Traps would be set to throw me off-guard, to test my sanity—and this was one of them.
There was a door just beside the mirror. I grabbed the knob and tried to twist it, but the knob wouldn’t turn. Figuring it was stuck, I placed both hands on the knob and tried with all of my might to turn it in either direction, but I couldn’t. It was locked.
And then it occurred to me—I possessed the ability to unlock any door. I needed to keep my wits about me and call on the Flame. As I started to summon my power, I realized that I had never used this ability in a dream or vision state before. Then again, there was that time Monsieur D had taken me to the cemetery of House Gedde. I’d been in a dream then, when he’d trained me how to better use the Flame. So, I did have some experience in this land between lands. Even so, I’d never used it by myself in a dream, in a vision state, or in any other alternate dimension, really.
Stop panicking, I scolded myself. This was no time to lose my cool. If I could use my ability with Monsieur D in dreamscape, I could do it here, too.
I put all of my mental energy into summoning the Flame. It quickly heeded my call, bursting up within me in a wave of warmth and power. I could feel the energy tingling on my skin.
Remember, I’m in control, I said to the power, wondering if I could really communicate with it or if I was just going crazy. I control the Flame. It doesn’t control me.
My statement seemed to work because I
felt fully in control of my power, more so than ever before.
I told the Flame to ignite itself and imagined it moving down only one of my fingers, ever so slightly extending my index finger. In response, my arm lit up and the fire traveled down my hand, avoiding all my fingers except for the one I’d specified. I held my finger upward and the Flame traveled just beyond its tip. Then, I poised it directly in front of the lock and the flame disappeared into the metal hole. I turned my finger and pictured the flame heating up, melting the metal surrounding it. The lock singed beneath my finger and molten drops started to burn the wood flooring below.
I asked for the Flame to die down and it responded at once; the flames on my arms, hand and finger glowed faintly blue before they extinguished altogether.
A cry of pain echoed through the door and I braced myself for whatever I was about to see as I gripped the red-hot doorknob and turned it.
When I pushed the door open, I felt my jaw drop at the scene that greeted me. Dureau was tied to a rack, just like the one we’d found Dayna strapped to weeks ago. He was facing me and as soon as he saw me, his eyes went wide.
No, Bryn! I heard his voice in my head.
I took a deep breath and shut him out. I needed to focus.
Luce was also in the room, but he was facing away from the doorway and towards Dureau. I was surprised he hadn’t heard the door open, or maybe he had and was just playing games. That was probably more like it.
For just a second, I thought about rushing Luce from behind, but I immediately decided against it. Attacking an enemy from the back was a cowardly move—and if anyone in this room was a coward, it was Luce. Besides, he would expect me to do exactly that. I was confident that was why he was pretending not to have noticed my entrance.
“Luce!” I screamed.
He immediately turned at the sound of my voice and when he recognized me, his face contorted into a one-dimensional mask of hatred. It didn’t seem like the emotions actually penetrated him, bizarrely. Instead, it was as though he was just wearing them.
But I was more surprised by the fact that he seemed surprised to see me. So maybe he hadn’t heard me come in? That made me wonder if Dureau was more in charge of this dreamscape than maybe I’d thought. If such were the case, that was definitely a good thing.
