Dream Stalker: Talented: Book 1

by Hopkins, Amy

  I stepped forward into the room and the golem turned its head to me. It couldn't attack me; golems were formed according to certain conditions that prevented it.

  It attacked me. Everything went black.

  * * *

  I woke lying in bed. Well, a bed. It wasn't mine and I didn't know whose it was. Grey walls and a white ceiling surrounded me. The room was empty, except for me and the single bed I lay in. How did I get here? Where was here? I remembered seeing Opius, then... nothing. Cautiously, I sat up. My body ached and felt oddly out of proportion for a moment, then everything righted. A pain pierced my head and I touched it gently, feeling a large bump that I didn't remember getting. It was tender from my hairline down to my cheekbone and I had a feeling it would look as bad as it felt.

  My feet met a cold linoleum floor, and I stood gingerly, looking down at the hospital gown I wore. I shook my head in confusion, pain making me regret it immediately. I needed to get out of here... where was the door?

  Right in front of me. It hadn't been there a moment ago; I was certain of it. Gingerly, I padded over in bare feet and opened it to peek outside. Instead of the hallway I'd expected, the door led into a stone room. It looked like a child's nursery, with a small bed and some toys scattered about. Sunlight streamed in through a large window, warm on my skin. Across the room, a small boy sat atop a toy horse, talking to something in his hand. He didn't notice me watching.

  "Now Jones, Father says we mustn't dawdle. The new tutor starts today and we must show our best selves. I've been practising my Talent, watch."

  He pulled out a small wand and flicked it in the air. Nothing happened. He tried again and this time a tiny ball of light appeared. It was one of the first spells taught to a young Talent. This boy was strong; despite the brightness of the day, his globe was blinding. He paid me no heed as I edged around him towards the door, as if he didn't even know I was there. I fled the strange room and its inhabitant through another door, almost tripping on a crack in the floor on the way.

  Somehow, I'd become trapped in Opius's dream. His gift had flared as his body failed, catching me and drawing me in. Vague memories of being attacked by the golem lurked in my mind. Was I lying unconscious on the floor? What would the golem do with my body? Shuddering, I turned my thoughts back to the immediate problem. I didn't know enough about dreamweaving to say for sure, but I could guess that being here when he died was probably not ideal. Escaping would just be a matter of embracing my gift and... wait, what about Harrod? If Opius was this close to death, I might not have time to use the knife. I'd somehow undone the damage the Fae had caused to Harrod. He must be here somewhere, so if I could find him, I might be able to bring him out of the dream with me.

  With no idea how this dream world really worked, unsure if I could use my gift intentionally, going after Harrod could be risking my life on a hunch. Harrod might not be here. Even if he was, I might not be able to save him. What were the chances of a weak half-blood being able to rescue a Talent so much stronger than myself? I stepped through the door. Giving up wasn't an option, not if I had even the slimmest chance of saving Harrod. A low rumble shook the building, and a shower of crumbled stone drifted down from above. Dread settled in the pit of my stomach.

  The next room held a study. The boy again, now at a desk and writing furiously. His free hand darted into a pocket, fumbling at something, then returned to the desk. A moment later, the hand was in the pocket again and this time I saw a tiny white rat poke its head out to sniff the air. The boy quickly put his hand back to the desk.

  Crack!

  A thin stick slapped down across his knuckles. I started. A thin, pallid looking man in blue livery had appeared.

  "You will concentrate Mikael. If I see that rodent again I shall drown it like the last one."

  The boy looked stricken for a moment. I edged towards the next door. Before I turned away to open it, the boy turned to me.

  "It doesn't matter if he kills it again." His eyes bored into me. "I'll die soon anyway, won't I?"

  Something tickled my shoulder. It was another crack in the ceiling, wide enough for plaster to trickle down from the gap it created. I turned back to say something to the boy, but jumped when I realised he was now standing right next to me.

  "Why won't you save me?" My skin prickled as the serious boy with the dark eyes returned to his seat. His instructor hadn't seemed to notice that he'd even moved.

  Unnerved, I ducked through the next door. Room after room, each one with a different scene being acted out. The boy was always there, at different ages. He grieved over the death of a beloved horse. He found the rat, Jones. He took his first class. He met with an old woman, a Talented Evaluator who told him he had the capacity to be the most powerful Talent in centuries. He met with a Talent healer, who sadly shook her head while delivering bad news.

  I saw him as a teenager, crying as he struggled to stand. I saw the bright, vibrant light globes he produced as a child and moments later, the dim, weak ones he made as an adult. I watched Mikael Opius go through life, the bright promise of an extraordinary childhood torn away by an incurable illness. I saw the shame and disappointment of once proud parents, the cruelty of tutors who came expecting a prodigy and found something else. I saw how he was taught that power meant respect, that weakness was a failure of character. I watched as he fought for equality, then was ostracised by his few remaining friends for it and ridiculed for his inability by those he tried to help.

  I didn't forgive Opius. I couldn't, he killed my friends; but I started to understand him.

  Another door, but no childhood memories this time. Instead, a long corridor stretched out on either side. Cobwebs drifted down from the ceiling and the slate floor was gritty. No doors. Which way did I need to go?

  I slapped the wall beside me in a bout of frustration. The corridor stretched out in both directions with no end. Running around blindly wouldn't just waste precious time, it could be downright dangerous. I'd accomplish nothing that way. I needed a plan, a way to navigate a world that had no consistency and defied the laws of physics. Closing my eyes, I tried to calm down and focus, tried to think of a way to navigate this world made of dreams and inconsistencies. When I opened them a moment later, I staggered back in surprise. Instead of the never-ending hallway, I was in a large, opulent room. Tapestries decorated the walls, showing many of the scenes I'd passed earlier, and a window looked out into a dusky sky. The room was dominated by a round table surrounded by empty chairs. There was a map covering the table showing a rough layout of a castle. It was dotted tiny figurines - like chess pawns, but with faces carved on the tiny nubs. Careful not to touch anything, I circled around to see each one.

  I found my own first. A white pawn with my face, sitting on a circular room on the map labelled 'War Room'. Harrod's figurine was in the dungeon. That didn't inspire confidence. Opius was in the Ivory Tower. The guy had delusions about his own importance, so why not? Something skittered across the page, then stopped next to my own piece. It was a fourth pawn, smaller than the others. Without thinking, I picked it up. It had a tiny rat face carved into it. I frowned, then carefully placed it back on the map.

  Examining it more closely, I used my finger to trace a line from me to Harrod. Then, I did it again. The second time, the route was different. The map wasn't constant. In fact, everything about the map had changed. I hadn't seen the shift, but the colours were now washed out, the edges tattered. I darted a glance around the room to see a fine layer of dust coating everything. The rich tapestries that had hung on the wall were now rotting away and some of the chairs were missing, one upturned and missing a leg. That wasn't good.

  If the map layout was changing, what use was it? I refused to believe it wasn't here for a reason. I'd needed it, and it had appeared, so why would that happen if it couldn't help in some way?

  This was a dream and the rules of real life were different. Like the Otherworld, things were different depending on perception and need. Like the Otherworl
d...

  I thought for a moment, then looked at the layout of the war room. The rat piece was in the corner, behind me. My mouth twisted into a grin when I turned to find a live, white rat.

  * * *

  He skittered into my hand when I leaned down and called him. Holding the rat up to my face, I looked into its little dark eyes.

  "Ok Ratty, this is how we're gonna roll. You've been here a long time, right?"

  The rat watched me. He didn't just look at me; he watched me.

  "I need to find my friend. He's here."

  I set the rat on the table and pointed to Harrod's likeness. The rat ran across the map to Harrod, then back to the room we were in. Then, he ran to Opius.

  "He's dying."

  Squeak. He still sat next to Opius.

  "Do you understand that? He's going to die, and if he does, bad things will happen."

  Squeak. A little more insistent this time.

  "Fine. But Harrod first, OK? I need to get him out, then I'll try - I'll try - to get Opius out. No promises; if we run out of time, I'm leaving without him." How does one effectively bargain with a rat?

  A pause. Squeak. Ratty ran back over to Harrod's place on the map, chirped again then dashed up my arm. Hoping beyond hope this would work, I headed for the door. This time, it opened into a different corridor, one with several doors. The white rat darted down to the ground, then across the hallway and up a little. It stopped twice to sniff the air, then settled in front of a large wooden door, licking its paws. I followed and placed a hand on the door. I took a breath, and pushed.

  It opened into a spiral stairwell winding down a circular tower. The balustrade was broken and bent, offering no support and once the door behind us swung closed, it was dark enough to make seeing difficult. Would magic work here? Of course it would. I chided myself for being so fearful, then traced a globe of light, one of the few spells I could work without a wand. It was dark enough that even my weak globe seemed to light it well, if only for a short distance ahead. I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding.

  My rodent guide led me down into the dark stairwell. Dungeons, I assumed, were generally located in a downward direction. The steps were uneven and crumbling at the corners, slowing my progress and almost causing me to fall more than once. We passed more doors. Just as we neared the next one, I stepped on a loose rock and went tumbling down, the little light globe bobbing as it followed. Arms over my head, I screamed as my body bounced down the stairs, smacking limbs and head on sharp stone corners.

  Instead of slowing, I picked up speed. I panicked, knowing that if I rolled just the wrong way, I'd be over the edge and into the black darkness below. My foot caught on a bit of old balustrade jutting up from the side. It slowed me, but I tipped toward the edge. Heart stopping, I twisted myself towards the wall, and somehow managed to roll that way. Finally, I came to a stop, battered and bruised.

  Crying in fear and pain, I leaned against the wall. I felt my limbs, prodded my face. Nothing felt broken as far as I could tell, but one foot was sore enough to make me whimper when I tried to stand on it. Using the wall for support I stood, balancing on my good foot. The effort made me pant, dank air filling my lungs. I looked around, and found the white rat staring at me unsympathetically. I tried the foot again. This time, it held up a little better. I could have sworn rat-face raised an invisible eyebrow at me.

  I hobbled down a few more stairs then, thankfully, through the door indicated by my whiskered guide. It led to a tiny outcropping attached to a bridge. The bridge- if you could call it that- was frail and narrow. It and stretched across a yawning chasm of nothingness. As I stepped forwards I felt the wind. It whipped through the void, buffered only by the shelter of the doorway I stood in. I backed up, but the door I'd passed through was now closed behind me. I tried it, more a reflex than any conscious thought. It was, of course, locked.

  I had nowhere to go but across.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I gripped the railings on either side of the rickety bridge. It wasn't so much a fear of heights as it was a sensible respect. Traversing a broken down bridge over an abyss inside the head of a madman? Not sensible. I didn't think I had much choice though. I tentatively placed my sore foot onto the wooden structure. The rough surface made me wish I had shoes on. I took another step. So far, so good. The bridge didn't shake, collapse or turn into a giant snake, so I kept going. I had to lean forwards against the gusty winds, one hand on the railing to support my injured foot. My light globe bobbed beside me, throwing shadows out into the nothing. By the time I reached the centre of the bridge I was moving a little faster.

  Snap! The railing I held onto gave way, taking me with it. I toppled over the side of the bridge, my body yanked again as my descent was halted. The railing I gripped hadn't come all the way off. Instead it dangled from a splintered post a short distance above me. On top of the leaning post sat the rat, calmly waiting to see what I'd do.

  I couldn't do much. A rough wooden pole, barely attached, was all that kept me from certain death. Suddenly there was a wrenching sound. A portion of the bridge tore away, tearing one end from the other. The structure lurched sideways and I was jolted along with it, screaming in terror. My hand slipped a few inches along the railing. Splinters dug into my hands and my arms ached. I spasmed and nearly let go as something ran over my hand. It was the rat. He stopped and sat on the rail just above where I gripped it and twitched his nose at me.

  "Lend me a hand?" I gasped.

  He bit me. Piercing pain shot through my hand and I felt the only solid thing I could touch slip. Even holding on with everything I had, pulling every bit of reserve I had, my hand slid off the end of the railing. I fell.

  I landed with a thud on a concrete floor, just a few feet below.

  A rumble above and this time, instead of stone dust, pebbles rained down on me. I clambered back to my feet. I wasn't hurt - at least, not much more than I had been before my fall - and the bridge had vanished. Shaking but determined, I looked around for the rat. He sat in front of me with a patient expression, one paw rubbing an ear.

  "What the hell? You didn't have to bite me."

  Squeak. He ran over and licked one of my toes. An apology? He'd have to do better than that. He skittered off and I followed at my own limping pace. He didn't go too far ahead, occasionally turning back to chitter at me for my slow progress. We followed a wall that ran in a curved line to the left. It then turned sharply right and ahead, a huge stone arch built into it. The wall reached far enough above that there was no visible ceiling, just more darkness. Ratty waited for me at the entrance.

  I stepped through and he ran up my leg and over the hospital gown. Once he was perched on my shoulder, he nestled in and waited for me to proceed.

  We were in a cavernous room, shaped like a dome. A well-made but slightly rusted sword sat beside the archway and I picked it up. Things here had a purpose - I wasn't going to leave a weapon lying around for someone else to use. Across from us, a portcullis locked off another large entrance to the room, making it look like a gladiator pit. As soon as I noticed it, the iron gate rattled and began to rise. A quick check behind me revealed the archway we'd entered through had disappeared. Well then. I raised the sword in what I hoped looked like a battle stance and prepared for whatever was about to come through the gate. If only I had something other to wear than a cotton gown. Weight pressed down on me and I looked down to see a suit of chain mail had appeared in place of the hospital garb. That was handy.

  "Oh for crying out loud. No. No! Damn you Opius." I yelled at the world around me. The words echoed in the chambers, bouncing back to me in a voice that didn't sound like mine.

  My sweaty hands gripped sword tightly as I prayed that whatever dumb luck had kept me alive so far held up. I didn't think there was much chance of it. Before me, snorting and shaking its head, was a dragon.

  The first and only time I'd seen a dragon was on a trip to Alaska with my father. A white scaled mother and child had
flown over, then settled on a glacier to gnaw on an old penguin carcass. If you've never actually seen a dragon, you can't accurately imagine it. They're not just huge. They're not just terrifying. They make your mind spin and your knees give way, they look into your soul and rip it apart.

  Dragons are sentient, but not in the way we are. Nothing about them makes sense - their motives, their strange honour code, or their ability to fly with such aerodynamically unsound bodies.

  This dragon was smaller than the ones I'd seen as a child. It was tiny. And by tiny, I mean it was about the size of a double decker bus. I backed up until I hit the wall, sword out in front of me in a way I hope looked threatening, or at least indigestible. The rat nudged my ear lobe.

  "Yeah buddy, he's big. I can take him though... right?" He let out a drawn out squeak, like a sigh.

  I mentally searched through my arsenal of spells, but there was nothing useful I could do without my wand. The rat squeaked in my ear. He sounded quite frantic. I didn't blame him. The dragon approached me, snorting warm air through oversized nostrils. He bared his teeth and a low growl rumbled through the cavern. I edged to the side, trying to back away from him. His big body swayed to and fro, moving his weight from one giant foot to the other. Chain clinked and I noticed a length of it running along the floor. He was chained up? Well, any good guard beast is worth holding on to. The dragon pulled away from me and my heart dropped back to less than lethal speed.

  He pounced. I flew backwards onto the floor, skull smacking on the packed dirt. My head exploded in pain and spots appeared in front of me. I curled into a ball, wrapping my arms over my head. The dragon roared, then swiped at me with a giant claw. It clipped my shoulder, sending me rolling to the side. I scrambled back on all fours to grab the sword and pressed my back against the wall again.

  The dragon raised another paw but I was better prepared this time and rolled under it. I fumbled, landing on my side to my feet, sword back at the ready. I edged to the side, closer to the only opening in the room. He noticed my movement, and giant jaws snapped at me.