Visioness (36 page)

The white dome and spire
atop the Halls of the Oen’Aerei appeared on the horizon, and Charlotte picked
up the pace of her running. A gentle sound began to ring in her ears as she
ran. She couldn’t pick its source, and yet she could hear it. It was a gentle
flowing tune she recognised from Adabelle’s violin playing.

The Dreamer’s Lullaby,
she thought, hearing the
words in her head as it played. Adabelle had told her about precursors, and how
Therron would appear whenever she heard that song and smelled that sickly
cologne. She imagined a cold, frightening tune, though, like the gentle tap of
metal-on-metal made by a music box, the slow, distorted noise echoing through
the Frequencies. This was a warm, loving tune, played on what sounded like a
violin. Or maybe a viola. It sounded a little deep for a violin. Her head began
to pound, and she stopped her running for a moment, catching her breath and
clutching at her head, wishing that the beating would stop.

Charlotte,
she heard. A voice. A
familiar voice. A woman’s voice.

As she took in a deep breath
through her nose. She caught a whiff of vanilla. It was sweet and warm
and…motherly.

Charlotte.

The voice chimed again in
her head.

Keep running, Charlotte.
Keep running. Be brave, my love.

The pounding in her head
worsened suddenly, like a knife through her skull. And then the pounding was
gone, but so was the music and the voice and the perfume. All gone. The wind
was cold once more, the only sound she heard being that of a distant marching
and the wind whistling in the morning.

Keep running.
It was her own voice that
time. She had to keep running. Adabelle and Rhene were doing their part. She
had to do hers, too. She had her role to play, and she had to be there for it.

Keep running. Keep running,
she thought.

I will,
she replied to herself.

The boundaries of the Dream
fuzzed as Rhene pushed Aunt Marie through into another person’s dream. She
seemed rather settled in his care, considering how distrusting she had been
only minutes ago.

At least, he hoped it had
only been minutes. Time did move strangely here.

Within the Frequencies,
Rhene saw Aunt Marie’s mind in a strange way. It was like he could see her
thoughts projected about her head, in a clouded mass of mangled thought and
muddled musings.

The wheelchair stopped with
a sudden creak, Rhene’s breath catching in his throat.

“Hello, Rhene,” Matthon
said, standing before him, mere metres away. He appeared only moments ago.

“Matthon?” Rhene asked,
“what are you doing here? How are you…?”

“I came to check on you,” he
said. “I was marching with the army and I couldn’t feel your mind at all
nearby. It was there one moment, and the next it was gone. I separated myself,
found a quiet place to lie down and then entered the Dream, and look what I
have found.” He paused, glancing down at Aunt Marie. “Who is this woman you are
pushing?”

“Marie,” Rhene replied.
“She’s Adabelle’s Aunt. We need her.”

Marie began to mumble under
her breath. The words were mostly inaudible nonsense, but she babbled
nonetheless.

“You
need
her?”
Matthon said, disbelief very apparent in his voice. “Need I remind you what the
task at hand is. There is currently only half an hour or so till dawn, and you
are here in the Dream pushing some mad woman in a wheelchair?”

“She’s not mad,” Rhene said.
“She’s sick, and she might have the key to Therron’s defeat in her head, but
only if I can get her to the Oen’Aerei in time.”

“Have you forgotten you
post?” Matthon asked, eyes narrowing, finger pointing angrily. “Have you
forgotten that you are fighting for me? You are meant to be in the minds of the
Oen’Aerei and keeping our soldiers safe from any Dreamers. Not here, pushing
this
mad
woman about.”

Marie’s babbling turned
angry.

“I’m doing this because this
is the right thing to do,” Rhene explained, stepping aside from Aunt Marie’s
wheel chair. “There is a reason for all this. I have to help Adabelle because only
then can we defeat Lady Morphier and Therron.”

“And what of the Oen’Aerei?”
said Matthon. “What of those that killed your parents?”

“The Oen’Aerei didn’t kill
my parents, Matthon,” Rhene said. “Therron did.”

“Semantics!” Matthon
accused.

“It’s not semantics; it’s
the truth. Therron had nothing to do with the Oen’Aerei when he killed my
parents. Absolutely nothing at all. He’d already detached himself by then. The
Oen’Aerei are as much at fault for my parents’ deaths as I am.”

Matthon’s mouth curled into
a snarl. “I don’t think you quite understand my words,
boy.
” He took an aggressive
step forward. “You are a member of the Dreamless, those are the Dreamers out
there with whom we are at war. If you are one of the Dreamless then you are on
our side. Else you are an enemy. I have told those people out there that we are
protected by someone wise and strong who will keep us safe from the Dreamers.
His breathing deepened, like a bull preparing to charge. “Have you made a liar
out of me, boy?”

“You mean like how you
yourself can dream?” Rhene asked.

“That’s different!”

“Hardly!” Rhene retorted.
“You’ve built this entire society on a foundation of lies. From the very
beginning you have made it out that the Dreamers are the enemies, that they are
evil and wrong and liars and scoundrels, but they’re not. Therron is, Lady
Morphier is; the others are just Dreamers, who were born with a power they
couldn’t control and who chose to go somewhere they could be accepted for their
abilities.”

“They’re all evil and you
know it!” Matthon replied.

“I have Adabelle to prove
that statement wrong!” Rhene said. He stormed up to Matthon, fists clenched.
“She is kind and beautiful and loving and would do anything to protect those
she loves. Her sister is the same. She is selfless and sweet and innocent.
Innocent,
Matthon, just like so many other people; people, I’m sure live in the Halls!
And you would risk destroying all that beauty in the world because they happen
to be born with one so-called defect.” He paused here, but only for a moment.
“And might I remind you that you were born with that exact same defect, just
like me!”

“That bloody girl!” cried
Matthon. “You were never meant to love that girl! Ever since she came into the
picture, matters have only gotten worse for you, you stupid boy! Don’t you see
it’s toxic? She’s turned you into a traitor!”

“I’m not!” Rhene replied,
eyes a hairs-breadth away from Matthon’s own. “I am simply doing what I feel to
be right, just like you!” He pressed his finger into Matthon’s chest, harder
than he had expected.

Matthon threw his hand up,
flinging Rhene’s own away. “Spy! Traitor!” he accused, pushing Rhene back.
Rhene corrected himself to stop from falling, but he reacted by shoving back.

“Punishment for betrayal is
death,” Matthon said as Rhene’s push met his chest. Matthon barely shifted,
returning with another push, this one harder. Rhene stumbled on his own feet,
falling to the ground with a loud thump. He looked up to Matthon, who had
pulled something from somewhere behind him.

An orbitoclast. The same one
he used for snapping, tipped with a brilliantly vibrant emerald.

“Don’t you see the mistake
you’ve made in trusting this girl?” asked Matthon. “She’s changed you. Mutated
you into something horrible! And she will only betray you in the end.”

Rhene rose up, balling his
hands into fists.

“How dare you say anything
about her!” Rhene cried. He couldn’t help himself now. Without any inhibition,
he punched at Matthon’s face. A loud groan escaped Matthon’s mouth as fist met
cheek, and the man began to fall. There was disbelief in Rhene’s expression,
but also triumph.

Matthon’s body struck the
ground with a satisfying smack. Rhene was breathless. Anger pulsed through him,
dark and molten. Matthon scrabbled to his feet, though, eyes full of rage. Rhene
threw himself on top of Matthon. Matthon was ready, though. He raised his own
arms, deflecting Rhene’s blow to the right. Rhene tumbled to the floor, body
aching. His head struck the ground. The room spun, and Rhene sought correct
orientation. He got to his feet, looking about. Where had he gone?

“Once I’m done with you I’ll
kill her, too,” said Matthon, his voice coming from somewhere to the right.
“With her out of the picture, Therron can’t return.”

Matthon threw himself at
Rhene. He stabbed as he flew towards Rhene’s face with the orbitoclast pointing
forward. The tip glinted with malicious brilliance. Rhene raised his arms.

Adabelle knew she had
arrived at the Hall of the Oen’Aerei because of the sudden fullness the Dream
Frequencies held. Usually, the Frequencies were a patchwork of thoughts and
minds, with spaces in between where one could pass through. The Halls, however,
were alive and buzzing, a multi-levelled, multifaceted dreamscape. Minds on
minds on minds, all stacked upon one another almost to bursting, like the Dream
could somehow snap into reality. Some, it appeared, stretched even beyond the
gates of the Oen’Aerei’s halls and out into the streets across the river. It
seemed odd that those didn’t move the same way these others closer by did, but
Adabelle didn’t have time to question. A mess of images barraged Adabelle as
she arrived, a mix of sounds, smells and sights; far too many to comprehend
quickly. She remembered Lady Morphier explaining that Slugleaf Tea was employed
during class time to insure no extracurricular adventures occurred; apparently
that same rule didn’t apply for bed time.

Quickly finding herself
bedazzled by the mass of Dreaming skill, Adabelle made her way to the nearest
singular mind she could find—as there were very few that didn’t seem to overlap
to some degree—and stepped out of the dream.

A gentle light of near-dawn
met her, the grey overcast clouding outside blocking the sunrise from view. It
was close, though. Perhaps less than half-an-hour.

Without disturbing the
sleeper—apparently, they were quite used to feeling people wander through their
dreams—Adabelle left the room and entered a long hallway, with a high ceiling
and paintings all the way along. The red carpet was soft beneath her feet. She
had not brought shoes with her in the rush, but she didn’t mind. The
Frequency’s foundations were quite soft, and so was this carpet.

She ran with a gentle step
up the hallway, padding along as she searched for Lady Morphier. She had not
been able to sense her mind when she had arrived, leaving her to assume that the
woman was awake and waiting for the battle. Therron had been feeding
information to the woman from Rhene; she was sure to have some idea by now when
the battle was meant to take place. These halls were silent and empty, though,
leaving Adabelle to assume that most people were still asleep.

I just have to hope Rhene
gets here in time,
she thought.

As she turned a corner of
the hall, she stopped suddenly, meeting Lady Morphier. The woman was dressed in
a cloak of crimson red over a gown of some kind—certainly not warfare attire at
all —yet in her hand Adabelle saw a pistol. She was waiting for something.

“There you are, Blaise,”
Lady Morphier said, in an awfully cool and calm tone. The fawn she had draped
over her shoulders seemed even more shockingly alive now she had seen it move,
despite that being a limitation of the Frequencies. She didn’t raise the
pistol, but Adabelle noticed her finger move to the hammer.

“My name is Adabelle,”
Adabelle replied.

“And your surname is
Blaise,” Morphier said, “and since we are hardly on first name terms I will
refer to you by that. Now,” she raised the pistol, “I suggest you come with
me.”

That was easy,
Adabelle thought, as she
nodded.

“How did you know I was
here?” she asked, as Morphier pushed her to the front, keeping the pistol in
her back.

“I knew you were here the
second you stepped into the boundaries of the academy,” she said. “We have
alarms in place for foreigners such as yourself.”

Adabelle heard it now. There
remained that false sweetness in her voice, a sickly kind of geniality to hide
her fury at the girl’s infiltration and actions. Adabelle picked up an odd
scent in the air, though. Vanilla? It smelled exactly like her mother’s
perfume.

Going to war,
she thought.
Odd time to
spray yourself.
Then  again, she reconsidered, Lady Morphier was an
odd woman. Nothing would surprise her now.

“And I’m assuming you know
about the Dreamless army, then?” Adabelle asked

“Oh absolutely,” she
replied, over a slight, mirthful chuckle. “We’ve known for weeks now. We’ve had
time to prepare. I’ve only just spoken with Therron, and he has assured me the
battle will go to plan.”

Adabelle’s heart sunk for a
moment. “Therron is here?” she asked.

“In the Frequencies?”
Morphier said. “Of course! This is where he’s been hiding when he has nowhere
else to go. He told me about what that boy of yours did to Giles, though.” She
clicked her tongue. “Quite a bold move. I doubt murder will go down well in
court.”

“The body is gone,” Adabelle
retorted. “They have no proof.”

“Bodies go missing every
day. Do you think Therron is against fabricating evidence? It’s not
particularly difficult when you yourself are a Dreamer. And once you’ve brought
him out of the Frequencies then he and I can get to work eradicating the
Dreamless like we promised each other we would.”

“What you’re doing,”
Adabelle said, “it isn’t right. It’s…it’s genocide! There are innocent people
marching out there, and you intend to mow them down like livestock to
slaughter?”

“They’re marching against
us,” Lady Morphier replied bluntly. “It is our right to retaliate. I don’t
think they know how prepared we are.”

The Dreamers in the streets,
Adabelle thought, that
earlier discovery suddenly clicking into place.
That makes sense. They’re
waiting for a surprise attack.

They arrived at the room
where Adabelle had had her first meeting with Lady Morphier. Morphier pushed
Adabelle in, the door slammed behind her. She fell to the floor.

On one side of the room,
there was a wall of books, and on the other windows, looking out over the Odilla
River and the Oen’Aerei grounds. Scattered about the carpeted floor were seats
and tables, meant for games and reading.

“This should be a perfect
vantage of the battle,” Lady Morphier said, nodding to two chairs a the window
and a pot of tea sitting on the table.

Adabelle turned to Morphier,
who indicated with her pistol at the window. “Well go on. Take a seat.”

“You’re sick, you know
that?” Adabelle said. She got herself up off the ground and wandered
reluctantly to the seats. She settled in, staring out the window at the sea of
forest green standing on the other side of the gates. They pressed upon the
gates, demanding Morphier open them. They brandished weapons; rifles and
swords. One group grasped the gate and pushed them back and forth, back and
forth, like a tide upon the shore. Each push set them closer to a broken gate.
Before long, those gates would burst open, the army would pour in, and people
would start dying. “
This
is sick,” she muttered.

“Not sick,” she replied.
“Not even in the slightest.”

Adabelle had been right.
“You’re in love with Therron, aren’t you. This is why you’re doing all this;
this is why you’re working for him. You love him.”

“And he loves me,” Lady
Morphier replied, a slight smile creasing her lipstick-puckered lips. There was
something terrifying about a smiling woman holding a gun, and Adabelle wasn’t
sure what part of that was the most frightening. “He loves me very much.”

Adabelle’s brow furrowed.
“No he doesn’t! He doesn’t love you, or anyone for that matter. He’s evil, Lady
Morphier; can’t you see that? He’s evil and completely incapable of love of any
kind. He’s
using
you because of what you can give him: an army, and me.
You broke him out, you did all the work he could not do while limited to the
Frequencies, and now you’re doing your last bit. Once you’ve done that, he’ll
toss you aside.”
Like he tossed aside my mother.

“No, he does love me,” Lady
Morphier said, quietly and with all the truthful conviction her voice could
contain. “He loves me like he loves you girls.”

“You’re smitten!”
Stupid
woman!

“I’m in love! And so is he.”
The pistol was shaking slightly in her hands, smile completely replaced by a
harsh frown. “I love him and he loves me! And don’t you dare say he is
incapable of love! He is a beautiful person! He is capable of love, and you
girls are the proof; your mother is the proof.”

Adabelle’s mouth gaped with
surprise, eyes widening.

“You are young, you know
nothing of adult relationships. You’ve got that little boy of yours, and that’s
great, but adult relationships are different and complex and complicated.” The
woman’s eyes were welling with tears, her alabaster skin shimmering with a soft
sheen of sweat. Her terse words continued. “In order for anyone to share the
kind of closeness your mother shared with your father in order to have you,
there
has
to be love present. In order for her to have two children to
Therron, your mother had to have loved him, for some time as well. I’ve heard
him speak of your mother, and I know there was love there, and it kills me. It
kills me to know he loved her,” she hesitated, voice quavering, tears rolling
now. “That there’s still love…for her.”

Adabelle blinked in
disbelief. She hadn’t realised Morphier had stopped.

“You don’t understand what
this is, Adabelle; what this means. To me, to your father.
We
are doing
this together. Yes, there have been motives here and there, but we have emerged
from it in love, and you just happen to be the thing I need to get him out of
the Frequencies.” She looked away from Adabelle, to the gathering army outside
at the gates. There were so many rifles in their hands, so many uniformed
bodies packed onto the bridge, pressed against the gates. “And his return must
happen.”

“How can you trust I won’t
just kill him once he’s out?” she asked. “How can you be sure I won’t take him
with me into Oblivion?”

“Don’t be silly, girl,”
Morphier said. “You can’t drag him into Oblivion. You’re a Sturding; the Dream
world is as real to you as this one. We have our plans in place. We are ready
for everything.”

“Then why haven’t you
dragged me off into the frequencies now?” Adabelle asked. “Why haven’t you just
forced me right now?”

“Because I have to keep an
eye on the battle,” she said, wiping her tears, turning to the window. “I have
to watch from here, just as Therron watches from the Frequencies. Everything is
falling into place and shall begin soon.”

Adabelle’s attention was
suddenly drawn to the window, and the horizon, where the first band of sunlight
appeared, an illuminated streak of gold at the very edge of the world. The
first gunshot fired, but it didn’t come from the Dreamless army.

Behind the army were the
streets of Odilla, and a long row of houses with waterfront views. All of their
windows, Adabelle suddenly noticed, were open.

That’s odd,
she thought, as she
realised what was happening.

“You have Dreamers asleep in
those houses there,” Adabelle said, looking over the wall as the first wave of
Oen’Aerei’s army appeared on the streets, in a streak of flesh and cloth,
emerging from the Dreams of those that slept within. “You’ve got Sturdings, who
are attacking from the rear. A surprise attack.”

“Brilliant, isn’t it?” Lady
Morphier said. “Ten houses, all of them containing at least four medically
induced sleepers, all of them able to welcome Sturdings out onto the streets
and straight into battle.”

Sure enough within moments
the entire street was filled with gunfire, as the rear rows of the Dreamless
were mown down, caught by the surprise of the attack. The Dreamless turned and
began to fire, but a large chunk of their army had already been incapacitated,
and even more Oen’Aerei continued to appear, cloaked in crimson and armed with
rifles and guns and swords and…

“Nhyxes?” Adabelle asked,
noting the odd-shaped shadowy creatures on leashes.

“Sturding Nhyxes,” Lady Morphier
corrected. “Therron’s idea. Quite marvellous the damage they can do when one
considers what
six
did to the University. That place looked like a
warzone at the end of it all. Imagine what an army could do!”

She didn’t need to imagine
it. She could see it all playing out before her, some horrible tableau of death
and murder, gunfire and brutality. Men dropped as bullets struck them,
sometimes thrown off their feet by the force of the fire. The forest green
uniforms of the Dreamless turned to brown with the blood that seeped from open
wounds, some men struggling on the fringes of death as they bled out on the
cobbles. Their blood flowed in the cracks between pavers and rocks, creating a
complex, crimson river, as red as the cloaks of their enemies.

The Oen’Aerei weren’t
entirely invulnerable, though. They had the Nhyxes, they had their own weapons,
but they were only human, too. The Dreamless found vantage points behind the
barrier of the bridge, and fired down Dreamers as they emerged from the window,
sniping them one-by-one. Above the gunfire, she could hear men and women
shouting commands.

Adabelle pointed to one of
the Dreamers who carried a comrade’s body towards the window. His friend was
still alive, but had been shot in the arm and was bleeding rather heavily.