the process.
Antyr drew in a sharp breath. The figure was Nyriall, his face fearful and his eyes still like pools of night.
'Who are you, Dream Finder?’ Nyriall said, his voice shaking and his posture defensive despite his age. ‘And why do you pursue me?'
'I'm sorry I frightened you, Nyriall,’ Antyr replied hastily, concerned at this response from the old man. ‘Please don't be afraid. I mean you no harm. I'm Antyr, son of Petran. I'm not pursuing you. I came after you to find out what had happened.'
Nyriall looked at him narrowly for a moment then put his hand to his head as if trying to remember something. ‘You came to find…’ he muttered vaguely.
Antyr waited.
'I remember now, I think,’ Nyriall said slowly. ‘Grayle was suddenly no more. Not torn from me. Just no more.’ He took Antyr's hand anxiously. ‘Where is Grayle, how is he?'
'He's safe,’ Antyr said, as reassuringly as he could. ‘He's lying in your room with my own Companion, his brother, Tarrian, by his side. And I'm there too. And one of the Duke's own Mantynnai guards the door.'
Nyriall touched his head again. ‘Room?’ he said, puzzled, then, ‘Mantynnai? Mantynnai? Yes … The Viernce mercenaries … Serenstad … Ibris.’ His voice grew louder. ‘What are you doing here?’ he burst out suddenly.
'We found you…’ Antyr hesitated. ‘We found you, in your room, in the Moras. You were…’ He changed direction. ‘You were … unwell … but searching … and with no dreamer. I was anxious about you so I followed. With Grayle and Tarrian. I don't know how I came here. I was hoping you might be able to tell me.'
Nyriall seemed to be recovering from his confusion. ‘You found me?’ he said. ‘Unwell?’ Antyr nodded unhappily. Then, very calmly, Nyriall said, ‘I was dead, wasn't I? They killed me. Severed me from Grayle and from that reality.'
Antyr felt suddenly cold, but there was no comfort to be found for him. ‘Yes,’ he said, reluctantly. ‘I'm sorry. There was no sign of life in you … your body when we arrived. And Grayle was greatly disturbed.'
He retreated into the reassuringly practical. ‘Tarrian managed to calm him somehow. He didn't hurt anyone.'
Nyriall was silent for some time then his mouth dropped open and he looked at Antyr. ‘And you followed me?’ he said in disbelief. ‘I'm a Dream Finder, I don't dream. And you followed me? Into a dream that I couldn't have had? And a death dream at that? What possessed you?'
'I don't know,’ Antyr said, a little irritated at Nyriall's tone. ‘And I didn't question. I just followed an impulse. Tell me what happened to you, Nyriall. I don't know how much time I have. Where are we? How did you come here? Who … killed you? … and how? Your room was empty and Grayle uninjured.'
Nyriall looked around at the field. Sunlit meadows and forests rolled into the distance towards white-topped mountains. He breathed in deeply. Antyr copied his actions. The air was sweet and cool and laden with the scents of rich grasses and flowers. It was a beautiful place.
'I don't know where I am,’ Nyriall said softly. ‘Nor can I answer any of your questions. My mind is still … scattered … confused. Something to do with dying, I suppose,’ he added with an unexpected flash of humour.
It faded rapidly however. ‘And if I could answer, how would you return to … Serenstad … with the knowledge? This is no dream, man. I think this is … one of the dreams beyond dreams. A place that only the likes of us can reach, and then perhaps only by chance.’ He took Antyr's arm, unexpectedly excited. ‘I think this is part of the Threshold, the ante-chamber of the Great Dream itself.'
Antyr grimaced. ‘I want no children's tales,’ he began. ‘I want an explanation…'
Nyriall rounded on him before he could continue. ‘Children's tales!’ he said angrily. ‘Look around you, man. Do you doubt what you see? Ask yourself why I'm here, when you say I'm lying dead in Serenstad. And ask why you're here, real and solid, crushing the grass beneath your feet and feeling the sun on your face, when you're sitting next to my corpse.’ He reached out and slapped Antyr's face lightly as he spoke. ‘And if your Earth Holders rest in my room with you, where are their dreamselves, Dream Finder?'
His brief anger gave way abruptly to near panic. ‘Maybe you're right,’ he said fretfully. ‘Maybe this isn't the Threshold.’ He shook his head. ‘But wherever it is, we're lost. I know no way back for either of us. And if you say a Mantynnai guards our bodies somewhere, then he may soon find he's guarding two corpses and coping with two demented wolves. What possessed you to follow me?’ he said again.
'A way back will be found for me,’ Antyr said urgently, suddenly determined to take control of this rambling debate. ‘Perhaps even you. I don't know. All manner of strange things have happened to me these last few days.’ He, in turn, began to ramble. ‘A presence in the Duke's dream. A visitation from a figure that looked like Marastrumel. A separation from both Companion and dreamer with Menedrion. And menace in all cases. Some evil's afoot that I seem to be being drawn to. And now I'm here, as a result of who knows what impulse, perhaps to find out what had happened to you, perhaps because you have knowledge that I need. To help myself and to help others. I don't know…'
Nyriall took a pace back during this tirade, then lifted his hands to stem it.
'I hear you, Antyr,’ he said, almost apologetically. ‘You look a poor soul to be Dream Finder to such wealthy and powerful men, Antyr. But I hear you. And I believe you. Calm down. I understand. Truly.'
'But…'
Nyriall waved him silent. ‘I understand because I too have felt strange things,’ he said earnestly. ‘But not just recently; over many years. Small things. As you said, a … presence … in the dreams, as if there were another Dream Finder there, watching, listening.’ He shook his head, his brow furrowed. ‘And occasionally…’ He hesitated, searching for words. ‘The feeling that the dream was being … changed … manipulated. It wasn't good.’ He looked at Antyr. ‘I know my craft, Petran's son. And I practice it well, and with caring.’ He curled his lip derisively. ‘Not like the clowns and dandies who fop around the Guild House, dancing to the whims of courtiers’ and merchants’ foolish women.'
Antyr winced at Nyriall's suddenly vitriolic tone even though he sympathized with the comments. Then he found his conscience pricking him. Perhaps if he'd spent more time practicing and studying his craft and less time carousing he too might have felt what was happening the sooner. He dismissed the reproach quickly. Whatever had been, was no more. And now was now.
A cloud drifted briefly over the sun, bringing a momentary chill to the two men.
Nyriall let his passion subside before he continued. ‘It's been getting worse, I'm sure. Then a week or so ago, it broke out like plague. And always this feeling of someone searching, or worse, someone changing things for some reason. I had one client, a middle-aged man-a sensitive, I suspect. All of a sudden, nightmares. Appalling things. As bad as any I've ever searched. And unequivocally from outside. I feared for his life; certainly his sanity.’ He shook his head, his black eyes looking at some other place far from this pastoral idyll. ‘Then … today, I suppose … I was resting, very still, very quiet. Thinking about him. What I could do or say to help him. It wouldn't be putting it too strongly to say that I was desperate. Then I felt something, nearby, and before I knew what was happening, Grayle and I were prepared.’ He turned and looked at Antyr, his voice suddenly awed. ‘We moved into a dream … but not a dream … when no dreamer was present. I've heard of such things. And not only in children's tales,’ he added. ‘Gateways through into the Threshold of the Great Dream. Accessible only to Dream Finders who had become Masters of the craft…'
He stopped and looked down at his hands. ‘But I'm no Master,’ he said. ‘Competent, yes. Perhaps above average. But no Master. Where a Master might walk with measured step, I suspect I tripped and blundered in.'
'To here?’ Antyr asked.
Nyriall shook his head. ‘No,’ he said grimly. ‘Some other place. Dark and barren. A great bleak plain with a bitter wind blowing across it.'
'And figures, shadows, waiting for you?’ Antyr said, unable to contain himself.
Nyriall nodded. ‘Two,’ he said. ‘And they radiated the menace that had been haunting me. Without thinking about what had happened or where I was, I just challenged them.'
He wrapped his arms about himself and his face became drawn. ‘They seemed surprised as they turned to look at me…’ His voice became hoarse and he shuddered at the memory. ‘I panicked. Suddenly I was aware that Grayle was gone and that I was in this awful place with these strange, frightening people. I had to escape. I ran. They followed, hissing, whispering. Then I felt … hope … in front of me. I ran towards it and suddenly I was in the bright daylight.'
He caught Antyr's look, but shook his head. ‘No, not here. It was bright and sunny, but I was on the fringes of
