The Dream Crafter (21 page)

Amana held no fear of the man. This was the man who Merc spoke of, the one who had trained him, and only curiosity coursed through her, the possibility of learning Merc’s origins exciting her in ways she’d never before believed possible while within a dream. “Merc’s originally from the Magic Realm?” Amana asked. No one knew how many humans from the Magic Realm survived the Great Collision. Part was because so much damage and chaos occurred, reliable records were non-existent. The ones who wanted to join society at large were able to slip right in and never needed to tell their history. Those that were not comfortable losing their way of life stayed closer to the changed lands, where dwarves and elves made their kingdoms, and lived as they had before, under the protection of other races who did not answer to anyone.

It was one of the reasons for so many problems, so much us versus them. Humans were from one Realm, monsters and other races from another, and the twain oftentimes did not like to meet.

The man began to walk forward, an easy gait where he never glanced their way, his manner of a man who was used to others following. “He was my initiate,” he said, and then nothing else, the answer frustrating in its vagueness.

The other was walking but keeping a distance from the man, but Amana rushed forward to be beside him. “He said you had him from birth. Where was his mother and his family? Does he have any siblings?”

“Such curiosity for a man who kidnapped you. Shouldn’t you ask how to defeat him? Shouldn’t you ask even what I know of your powers?” Now they were in the castle, in a huge room filled with scrolls, and in the middle a woman with dark, dark hair sat at a desk, transcribing. On her right was a large dusty collection of scrolls tied together. Of all the scrolls in this room, Amana’s gaze settled on those, a vague recognition tickling her senses.

Amana circled the woman and saw Merc’s mouth, the shape of his nose. The woman looked up and it was Merc’s honey-gold eyes in a feminine face. “Why are you here, thief?”

Amana’s surprised double-take wasn’t even finished when Merc’s voice said from behind her, “Looking for a scroll, of course.”

The woman…Merc’s mother?…hadn’t been talking to her, but at a man behind her, and Amana turned to see a near replicate of Merc. With a moment to reflect, it hadn’t been Merc’s voice. This man’s voice was coarser than Merc’s, a hint of accent where Merc had none, but with so many similarities, this had to be his father.

The monastic stood beside her, watching the scene with the same placid expression he’d shown throughout this strange meeting. “Merc’s mother was from a clan sworn to protect the Spellbook. She was the thirteenth generation who had taken an oath of blood and magic to protect the Spellbook unto death.”

The room gave way in slow dissipation, but the last look of Merc’s parents showed them looking at each other in hungry fascination. The space reformed, a dark alley, echoes of men and women yelling and laughing from a nearby tavern filling the space, and Merc’s mother covered in a dark cloak and holding a bundle. Merc’s master was now part of the vision, standing before the woman, his eyes on the bundle even as he spoke to the woman. “I will not give him back.”

“I would not ask for him back,” the woman said. “I will have him free from my clan and the oaths they would demand from him. Will you train him to forge his own path?”

The monastic pushed the covering on the bundle to reveal a baby, Merc’s bright hazel eyes in the round features all baby’s possessed. Merc was awake but silent, staring at the man in quiet contemplation. “I guarantee nothing.”

“I ask for him to have a chance, nothing more.”

With those words, Merc’s master reached out to cradle the baby. There was one second where Merc’s mother’s hands and arms tightened, a small pulling of the bundle back to her, but she gave way and Merc was nestled into the monastic’s arms. Without any hesitation the man left, and Merc’s mother’s gaze never wavered from him until he disappeared from sight.

They were back in the castle, Merc’s mother once again at the table of scrolls, the lines on her face a bit deeper. As the woman continued her work, Amana rounded on the monastic. “Why haven’t you told Merc any of this?” she demanded, fighting back tears on Merc’s behalf. The way Merc had deadened his voice when talking about family, it meant Merc had no idea of where he came from. He had lived his whole life not knowing about his parents or why his mother gave him up.

“Because it is not my place. That is for his mother to explain.”

“His mother? His mother is–”

The ground began to quake. Bits of ceiling began to rain down as scrolls fell to the floor in large numbers. The woman’s eyes widened and her mouth parted in shock and surprise.

The monastic smiled, grim and dark, the most emotion Amana had seen from the man since their meeting. “Behold, the Great Collision arrives.”

Before Amana could process his words, multiple men burst into the room, weapons drawn, splitting up to surround Merc’s mother. She stood, surprise vanishing, a transformation from scholar into a warrior taking place between one breath and the next. The woman grabbed a sword by her desk Amana had not noticed before, and leapt at the closest man.

The clash of swords was loud, a metallic chorus of death and skill, all the while the ground rocked uneven beneath them and outside, thunder cracked and the sky split itself into two, a blood red brightness Amana had never witnessed before even in the colorful skies of her home.

A feminine scream, and Amana turned from the sky to the woman on her knees, a sword thrust into her belly, other men surrounding her and bringing their own weapons down to strike her again.

Amana’s eyes closed against the vision, regret rocketing through her though there was nothing she could do to stop what had happened. The scream stopped, and Amana’s eyes opened to see one man grabbing the bundle of scrolls that had held her attention earlier. The surviving men left with the scrolls.

Merc’s mother was on the floor, grabbing at the wounds on her chest, her mouth a twisted grimace of pain, her eyes resigned to what was to come. She turned until she was on her side and began pulling herself toward the door even as the floor buckled under her, a trail of blood following in her wake.

“Talia!”
The cry came from the almost Merc voice, and the woman’s eyes lifted from the floor.

“Matthias?”
Bleeding from multiple wounds, the woman kept on her making her way to the door.

Merc’s father entered the doorway, and his face crumpled in despair for a brief second before he smoothed his features out, crouching above her, making to grab her but his hands pulsed, hesitated, as he searched for an area on her mutilated body that would be safe to touch.

She grabbed his hand, brought her own around his neck. “Hold me.”

With a strangled cry, he did, bringing her tight against his body. “We must get you to a healer.”

With a soft stroke, she settled her hand over his chest, leaning her head against him and closing her eyes. “I fulfilled my oath. I protected the Spellbook to my death. In these moments before my heart stops, I will be with you.”

The world itself shrieked around them, earthquakes pulling apart the stone room, and the red sky beat down through the broken windows and split walls to show itself in fearsome splendor.

With this background, into the room a woman came, composed and relaxed as if damnation itself wasn’t on display around them. Her white dress floated around her with ethereal lines, enriching the gold of her dark skin. She was shoeless, uncaring of the rubble she stepped into.

Talia’s eyes opened at her entrance. “Oracle.”

The Oracle crouched down before her, and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “My beloved Talia. I came to say goodbye.”

“What is happening?” Merc’s father asked this, undisturbed by the appearance of the Oracle.

The Oracle pulled away. “A Great Collision. A melding of worlds. You are not the only goodbye this day.”

“Our son?” asked Merc’s mother.

“He is with Shisen. He will survive.”

The monastic – Shisen – moved towards the door, and with great reluctance Amana followed. He was right though. She’d stayed too long. This intimacy between Merc’s parents, between them and the Oracle, was not meant for her eyes or ears.

“Us?” asked Merc’s father.

The Oracle hesitated only a moment. “You will remain together.”

There was a calm satisfaction in Merc’s mother’s voice when she replied, “That is all I ever wished for. Will our son be happy?”

At that question, Amana had to look over her shoulder as she walked away, her ears straining for the answer.

The Oracle rose, walking towards the door in a parallel path to Amana. In front of Amana the Oracle paused and said, her eyes fixed on Amana, “He will find his dream.” She exited the room, Shisen a step behind her.

Amana’s doppelganger was now in front of her, and they were both back in the bedroom of the cabin, Merc on the bed and holding the sleeping Amana’s hand. Amana stepped back, surprise and confusion rocking through her, that she had gone through all that without her demon. How? Where had the other been?

Death-blue eyes stared into her own, malevolent anger and, yes, confusion in the other’s face. She didn’t know why Amana had been able to move without her either. “What is it you found?” the other asked, advancing on Amana, those thin fingers curling into fists at her side.

“Nothing,” Amana said, wincing with the realization
too fast. Spoke too fast.

“Now that’s a lie,” the other said, her mouth twisting in anger.

How had Amana experienced that vision without this one around? Wasn’t this one the key to her power somehow? “Lie or not, it’s all you’re getting from me.”

Amana moved to turn away, but the other grabbed her upper arms hard, slim fingers digging into the skin, and it
hurt
, even in the dream. “Keep lying to yourself, if that makes you happy, but you will eventually ally with me. No one is immune to the power we can have together.”

Amana faced her devil. “I’ll admit to many sins, but one thing I’ve never done is lie to myself. If anything, you’re the one who is desperate for me to be a liar, because that means you can take control.” Amana leaned closer, and in a fierce whisper, said “It’s not happening.”

The doppelganger went calm, her eyes considering. “I’m still here, and I’ll always be here. Give me the opening, and I’ll take over.”

Amana woke up, to Merc’s soft snores filling the room and long, slim stripes of bruises on her arms.

‡

H
is hair was
being stroked, and Merc arched into the touch, pushing his head against the hand like a cat wanting to be petted. Loved the light strokes, loved having someone touch him, not having to watch his back, and loved sleepy wake-ups instead of worry…

He jackknifed up, away from Amana’s hand, her fingers tangling only a moment in the long strands before they slipped free.

“Morning sleepy-head,” she said, calm and collected, sitting up in the bed beside him. “You look better.”

How the
hells
had he fallen asleep? He’d… he talked to Nemesis, and closed his to
think
for a minute…

Fuck.

But…Amana was here, still in her pajamas, and the book was still in the safe, sending out the same inviting waves it had been since he first laid eyes on it. “You didn’t escape.”

She swallowed hard, turned her head away, studied the painting of the mountainside as if it held the secrets of life within. “You shouldn’t trust me yet,” she said, pausing to lick her lips, the movement endearing in how visible her nerves were. “I’m still going to save my brother, and if leaving you would have accomplished that last night, I would’ve. But the Guild can’t be trusted, and there is nothing I can do by leaving you that I can’t do by staying with you.”

She was lying to him, the most gorgeous lie he’d ever heard. While her words were technically true, she would have had an easier time and more options if she had left, and she
knew
that. Instead, she had chosen
him
, chosen to stay together. He pushed the fall of hair back from her face, that face which had become dear to him in dreams, but was now becoming dearer in reality. “I know nothing can ever stop you from helping your brother, but can you wait for me? Let me finish this, and I swear, we’ll work together to get him.”

He hated the tentativeness in his voice, but no matter how hardened he was, the prospect of her turning away from him had him wanting to protect his heart, shore up his defenses.

Defenses that were washed away as her eyes lit up, joy spreading across her face as slowly as her smile did. “Are you serious? You don’t know where he is.”

“Somewhere very difficult to free him from if you needed help from the Guild,” Merc said, sitting up more and resting his back against the headboard. “It will be ugly and hard, and after it’s done it’ll mean a life on the run. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Yes,”
she said before he had even finished the last word, before he could add any other warnings. Her eyes were wide and shining, a fervent light and a focused intensity where he could see the future play across those beautiful brown eyes. “
Yes.
It’s everything I want. It’s hard
now
. I’m always running
now
. At least I’ll have my brother, and…if you wanted…you and I…”