Grimm breathed a sigh of relief; Harvel had defused a nasty situation before it erupted into meaningless violence. “I didn't choose my words carefully enough, Crest, and I apologise. Tensions are running high here, and I guess we're all a little highly-strung at the moment. What I meant to say is that these people are not really alive at all, except in Gruon's dreams. If they ‘die', they could be reborn whenever he falls asleep. Once we die, I have no idea what happens to us, but I'm sure we'll never be reborn just as we are, if at all. Whatever happens to the people of Brianston, they won't die a slow, painful death like their ‘sacrifices'.
'Now, I'm pretty nervous about what I intend to do, but I'll risk it if, and only if, you all agree to it. I may make things worse than they are; I don't know. All I do know is that we have to do something, and soon. The prospect of launching myself into an unknown mind scares the living daylights out of me, so I need to do it soon, before I lose the nerve.'
Crest looked into Grimm's eyes and nodded. “Well met, Questor. I want to die in battle, or in some willing woman's bed, but not as some pathetic, subdued milk cow. I accept your rationale. I only argued because I'm nervous, too. Go ahead.'
I wish you hadn't said that, Grimm thought, scanning the faces of his other conscious companions. All seemed happy for him to risk his soul, although the mage acknowledged that most of them had no idea of the danger involved in the process.
'I'm glad to hear that, Crest,” he said. “Are we agreed?'
Somebody say ‘no', a part of him pleaded, while he tried to suppress the renegade voice.
However, no more dissenting voices were raised. The only response was that of the formerly worried Numal: “It's worth a try, Grimm.'
The worried mage lay down beside the sleeping Tordun and folded his arms across his chest. He closed his eyes and pulled back self-pitying tears; these would not help. After a few, deep breaths, he nodded to the hovering Numal.
'I'm ready.” The delivery was not as cool and forceful as Grimm had wished. “Let's go; please keep a close eye on me. I've never done this before.'
He began to drift away, and he looked down at his slight, pathetic body as he began to rise above it. Now, all human cares and worries had flown away from him, and he was only keen to see what happened next, free of physical and mental fetters.
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Chapter 16: Voyage of Discovery
Grimm tried to clear his mind of all extraneous thoughts, as he had been taught in Magemaster Faffel's meditation classes. However, he had always found meditation to be an unpleasant and almost painful discipline. It was no easier, he found, when one intended to invade the mind of a creature of unknown origin and species, and his mind roiled and twisted, denying him the quietude he sought.
The more he tried to force himself to relax, the more uneasy he became.
How can you nag yourself into serenity? he asked himself. It's a logical impossibility! I'm going to need some sort of soporific…
Despite Grimm's loss of Redeemer, his abductors had left him his pouch of medicinal herbs, and the mage's thoughts drifted to the linen bag and its contents.
One herb in particular came to mind: Trina.
Don't go there, the Questor thought, suppressing a shiver. You know, only too well, what that stuff can do to you…!
The Barony of Crar had once been a ghastly parody of a real town, its citizens forced into grotesque stereotypes by the demon Baron, Starmor. The Questor and his companions, Dalquist, Crest and Harvel had faced the lone Starmor and attacked him with magic and more mundane weapons, but to no effect.
As a result of this abortive confrontation, Starmor banished Grimm to an extra-dimensional pillar, whose guardian was his now-fast friend and Seneschal, Shakkar. Having persuaded Shakkar not to eat him, Grimm learned from the titanic, grey-green creature that Starmor's powers were derived from strong, negative emotions, such as fear and anger. With a fair knowledge of medicinal herbs, gleaned from Arnor House's well-stocked Scholasticate Library, Grimm had selected the strong narcotic, Trina, to suppress his emotions, and a stimulant, Virion, to give him strength of purpose. He had inhaled a goodly quantity of fumes from a smouldering heap of the substances, and this had allowed the mage to face Starmor alone.
Overcoming Starmor had not been as easy as Grimm had supposed, but the herbs worked just as he had hoped, screening his emotions from the demonic Baron. However, soon after Starmor's defeat, the young mage discovered that the substances he had inhaled worked their medicinal wonders at a serious cost: he had inhaled so much of the smoke that he had become habituated to the drugs, needing greater and greater dosages just to remain on an even keel. Despite the fact that he was now free of the herbs’ insidious powers, Grimm remained wary of the risk of falling once more under their thrall.
I won't touch that awful stuff again, he told himself, shivering at the painful memories. There must be another way… a touch of Inner Calm, perhaps?
Inner Calm was one of the Minor Magics, a simple incantation taught to all Guild Students, and Grimm knew it as well as any other mage. However, his internal agitation was so strong that he doubted his ability to reproduce the runic incantation with the accuracy required for even such a simple spell. Two years as a Questor had left him somewhat out of practice.
When he had re-united the souls of Numal and Guy, he had come up with his own Questor spell to achieve the same effect, but he could not marshal the clarity of thought needed for a Questor spell to… clear his mind!
Sighing, Grimm opened his eyes and sat up, shaking his head.
'Is everything all right, Grimm?” a nervous-looking Numal asked.
'I can't seem to relax, Numal. I know it'll sound silly, but would you mind casting a spell of Inner Calm on me? I don't really trust myself to cast it. It's been a long time since I last had to cast a runic spell.'
Numal shrugged. “Of course, Grimm: it's a simple enough spell.'
A thought flashed into the young mage's head. “Oh, just one more thing, Numal.” He cast a glance at the far side of the room, where his other companions were still gathered around the sleeping Tordun. “Just keep it as quiet as you can, would you? I don't want Guy to think I can't cast even a simple incantation such as Inner Calm. I'd never live it down.'
Numal nodded, the ghost of a smile flitting across his face. “I understand, Grimm. You can rely on me. Lie down again, and just try to go along with the spell. I can't do it if you fight me-after all, it is only a simple Minor Magic spell.'
'I'll try, Numal.” Grimm sighed lowering himself back onto the thin, uncomfortable mattress and closing his eyes.
'Indetrayara-neboulikatra-shimiduto…'
Grimm barely heard the familiar, muttered runes, but he began to feel the spell take hold. Feelings of security and serenity began to wash away his doubts, fears and worries, and pleasant warmth suffused his bones. The Questor, now quite relaxed, allowed his mind to drift. He was now quite familiar with the phenomenon of astral projection, and the dislocation came with practiced ease.
He looked down at his supine body, as his soul began to wander towards the door. After a momentary blur, as he passed through the flimsy portal, he was in the stronghold's central plaza. Picking up speed, he headed for the north wall, impelled by some dull, inchoate pressure. The stone walls of the compound might as well have been made of fog, for all the impediment they posed to his drifting soul.
As he moved through the internal walls, he saw couples engaged in frantic coitus, but this spirit-Grimm was immune to feelings of embarrassment or disgust at the sights of fervid coupling. He merely was; a passive observer with no wants, desires, fears or tastes.
At last, he gained the city outside the formidable stockade, and he saw scenes of wild celebration in the streets of Brianston. Couples were dancing, singing and carousing. Some engaged in unrestrained sexual congress, as abandoned as their Breeder counterparts in the compound, but with the evident approval of the
