fabric of the Nexus. A besieging army … no, that's his image … I think. A power from beyond. A hunter. Ah …!'
Tarrian's voice became a cry of horror and dismay. ‘This is not the dream! This is the now.
'No. That's imposs…’ Antyr began, panic mounting inside him. But before he could finish, Tarrian let out a great howl, a howl that arced up and spanned the length and depths of the Nexus. And even as it rose up, it became another voice. The voice of Menedrion. A voice full of challenge and fear.
Antyr's spirit cried out in protest at the events he felt happening around him. They were beyond anything in his experience. Beyond any of the logic and reason that sustained the Dream Finder's art. Despite Tarrian's presence, he felt lost and alone in a maelstrom of insanity. A maelstrom that he had released in some way and that he must control. But what could he do?
While his mind whirled and fretted, however, some other part of him rose and followed after the cry of the wolf.
And he was by Menedrion again, hulking in the cold darkness. Terrifyingly, Tarrian was not there, but Antyr refused to accept the paralyzing thoughts of the impossibility of this that tore frantically at him. As in battle, only an immediate acceptance of the reality of his position, however strange, could help either him or Menedrion.
And Menedrion needed help. He was beset. Unarmed, he crouched, fists clenched, eyes and teeth gleaming viciously even in the gloom. Round and round he turned as dark shapes converged on him from every side.
Antyr could not make out the nature of this enemy, but he could smell their anticipation beginning to overtop their hesitancy, and he could sense their terrible hunger. A sound like a winter wind blowing through rattling reeds filled the air.
'I am with you, Lord,’ he said gently, gathering the voice from he knew not where, as if Menedrion were just another excitable client facing an unpleasant nightmare. ‘Have no fear, for these are but creations of that fear. I have come to scatter them and bring you safe to the light again.'
Antyr knew the lie in his words, but knew too that in some way, Menedrion's black battle anger would doom him here if he remained.
Standing straight, he gazed around at the dark, closing horde. He had the strange sensation that within him was a flickering light that could sustain him if he knew how to use it. And indeed, as his night-black eyes swept across the approaching shapes, they hesitated.
'Who dares assail my charge?’ he heard himself say, but his voice was no longer gentle. It was deep like thunder and seemed to unfold through the darkness like a great wave, sweeping the din of Menedrion's enemies before it.
'Who?’ he heard himself repeat, but terrifyingly louder. The circling shapes fled abruptly, disappearing imperceptibly into the distant, deeper, darkness.
Only one figure remained. More solid than the rest.
It hissed and swayed and reached out towards Menedrion, hands clawed. ‘He is mine,’ it said, its voice cutting the darkness like shards of glass. ‘He will join the…'
Antyr felt Tarrian beside him.
'Withdraw now, Lord,’ Antyr said, still calmly, his voice a mixture of his own and Tarrian's. ‘Follow the wolf. My power will protect your back like a shield. Withdraw.'
Then both Menedrion and Tarrian were gone, and Antyr was alone in the darkness with the searching figure. It let out a flesh-crawling hiss of anger and frustration and turned towards Antyr. Briefly, he felt the wash of the ancient hatred he had felt as the hooded figure had left him the previous night. Then, abruptly, he sensed … recognition … and the hatred became an overpowering lust. Its corrupt malevolence appalled him, and he raised his arms as if to protect himself from it.
The figure hesitated.
Without knowing what he was doing, Antyr reached up and drove his hands into the darkness. Then, with a great cry, he tore open its very fabric.
Light flooded in upon him like a roaring cataract, and for a timeless moment he felt himself being lifted bodily and swept along uncontrollably.
Then he was falling … falling … falling …
Menedrion burst into wakefulness with a great roar just as Antyr toppled over backwards on his chair and went sprawling on the luxuriant carpet.
As he struggled to find his bearings, Tarrian was by his side, his bright yellow eyes searching into him. In the span of a heartbeat, Antyr saw several images of himself alternating with those of Tarrian as the wolf entered and left him, almost hysterically, seeking reassurance.
'Enough,’ he managed to say, as he struggled to his knees and put his arms about the animal for mutual support and comfort. ‘Enough. We're back. We're…'
He stopped as he became aware of Menedrion, standing nearby, his head in his hands and swaying ominously.
'Lord!’ Antyr cried, scrambling unsteadily to his feet. ‘We're safe now…'
As he stepped forward however, the bodyguard, white faced and wide eyed, interposed himself. He levelled a trembling knife at Antyr's throat.
Antyr began to raise his hand in conciliation but even as he did so he became aware of the bodyguard's focus changing and in the corner of his vision he saw Tarrian, yellow eyes blazing savagely, hair bristling and top lip curling to expose his massive teeth in their flesh-tearing totality.
'Put the knife down, for pity's sake!’ Antyr gasped in dismay. ‘Now! Tarrian will kill you if you don't, and I won't be able to stop him.'
The bodyguard hesitated and Antyr sensed Tarrian preparing to spring. In desperation he lashed out wildly at the bodyguard's hand before the wolf launched his inevitable attack. Momentarily distracted by the sight of Tarrian, the bodyguard was unprepared for the suddenness of Antyr's slap and the knife was knocked from his hand. It twisted and glittered through the bright lamplight to fall silently on to green sward carpet several paces away.
'No!’ Antyr roared, both to Tarrian and the bodyguard, stepping back rapidly and holding his empty hands out in a gesture of helplessness. Then, to the bodyguard, pleading, ‘Don't move. Please. Don't threaten me. The lord's safe and when Tarrian sees I am, so will you be.'
The bewildered man looked from Antyr to Tarrian and then back at his master. Though Menedrion was still obviously in a dazed condition, he was more steady now, and his eyes were beginning to focus.
'Keep your distance then, Dream Finder, and we'll all be safe,’ the bodyguard said, recovering somewhat. Though his voice was unsteady his manner was purposeful. He looked back at Menedrion again. ‘Sir. Are you all right?’ he said urgently. ‘What did they do to you? What happened? The noises you were making were fearful. I didn't know what to do for the best.'
'Leave us,’ Menedrion said, after a moment.
'Sir?’ The bodyguard hesitated, casting another wary glance at Antyr and Tarrian. ‘The wolf…'
'Leave us!’ Menedrion shouted angrily, then, relenting almost immediately, he gave an uncharacteristic smile of self-reproach and reached out a placatory hand. ‘There's no danger here. Truly, no danger,’ he said, his smile broadening. ‘None that I can't handle now I'm awake, anyway,’ he added. ‘Just a particularly strange and vivid dream. And I need to talk to the Dream Finder alone about it now.'
Reassured by Menedrion's easier manner the bodyguard did as he was bidden, albeit with some reluctance. ‘I shall be within call, sir,’ he said with quiet defiance, as he bent down to pick up his knife. Menedrion nodded.
When the bodyguard had left, however, Menedrion's facade cracked and the tumult beneath burst through.
'What happened, Dream Finder?’ he said, his eyes wide with anger and fear. ‘That was not the dream I had last night. The place was the same, and the enemy, but it wasn't my dream. And you were not there then. It was some other … person … and they possessed me. Somewhere between sleep and waking…’ His final words tailed off.
'I know it wasn't your dream, sir,’ Antyr replied simply. ‘But I don't know what happened.'
The answer did not please Menedrion. ‘I warn you, Dream Finder. Peddle me no foolishness in the hope of wringing yourself a higher fee, or ingratiating yourself at court,’ he said grimly. ‘I'm no empty-headed courtier's woman to be gulled by such tricks, and you'll find that life can become most unpleasant if you think otherwise. Do you understand that fully?'
