A Dreamer’s Knight
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 by Michael James Wilbur
Cover art Copyright 2009 Izorkin Anton,
A true friend of the Elsewhere Incorporate.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Foreword • Through the Eyes of a Dreamer
Chapter 6 • A City in the Trees
Chapter 10 • Looking for Trouble
Epilogue • Goodnight, True Knight
Foreword
Through the Eyes of a Dreamer
What you are about to read is only a story. Some people feel compelled to find meaning in everything, even if there is no inner meaning to be found. It is for those people that I say again that this is only a story, nothing more, nothing less.
Many will read this and the books that follow and conclude that it is about the young knight, Mikaen. They will compare his troubled life on Earth with the struggle of individuals in any society where people are persecuted for being different. They may believe the good things that result from his arrival on Vinta are elements of Karma, or Luck, or perhaps even Fate. As this is not the case, I again say that this is only a story, nothing more, nothing less.
Others may believe this story is about the Dreamers of the Elsewhere Incorporate. Dreamers could in this instance represent the will of the Creator as they move around the mainstream spreading happiness and battling against the forces of darkness. While this is an interesting concept, Dreamers are not angels, nor would we ever want people to think of us as such. The very idea of Narrator Number Two as an angel is alarming, to say the least. This is only a story, nothing more, nothing less.
Some will think this story is about flying bunnies. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’ve already had environmentalists send me glowing letters of praise for writing about flying bunnies, or ‘fiona’, as they are known on Vinta. There are fiona in this story, but there are also many other animals. This is only a story, nothing more, nothing less.
Perhaps the strangest of all are those who think that this tale is completely true. The events depicted within this book are indeed a part of history; some of the people who read this may even have been involved. Still, to accept the words of any history as pure truth can ultimately lead to trouble. History is only a story after all, and what has already passed is just that: the past. As such, as you read what follows, keep the following statement in mind:
This is only a story, nothing more, nothing less.
-Alan Tryth
Chronicler of the Elsewhere Incorporate
Chapter 1
A Sign from Above
A slight breeze whispered through the trees, brushing against the tall grass of the forest floor and startling a small yellow butterfly from a nearby flower. It fluttered to the shade of the oak tree and came to rest on the tip of the nose of the young man who was resting in the shade.
The man let out a small snort, causing the winged insect to flutter a foot or two away before coming to rest on a small pink wildflower.
The young man, the Dreamer known as Narrator Number One, smiled as he watched the little butterfly flit among the flowers. It was a moment of profound peace that One wished would last forever.
Unbeknownst to One, a strange distortion had begun to form above the clearing. Had he been watching, it would have appeared to the naked eye as though a whirlpool had inexplicably formed in midair. In a matter of moments, the strange disturbance began to bend and stretch until it was roughly as large as the oblivious Dreamer resting below.
Without warning, something fell from the center of the disturbance and smashed through the upper branches of the oak tree.
Hearing the sounds of leaves rustling and twigs snapping, One opened his eyes just in time to see something shiny crashing through the upper branches of his tree at an alarming rate. With a loud yelp, he flung himself aside just in time to avoid being flattened beneath the falling object.
The Dreamer pushed himself from the ground, a faint look of annoyance on his youthful countenance. Brushing the grass and leaves from his shorts and his green and grey-striped shirt, he approached what had so effectively shattered the tranquility of the clearing.
As One drew near, his eyes went wide. “Cyber-cripes! It’s a dude!”
Indeed, the object was in fact a young man with light-brown hair even longer than the crop that graced One’s head, and faded to a silvery white at the tips. His skin was deeply tanned and crossed with numerous scars. One had his share of scars as well, but his skin was much fairer.
The Dreamer didn’t recognize the man’s armor or weapons, but he did recognize the metal footwear that practically encompassed the young man’s legs as tek-boots, an enhanced set of footwear that let the user run and jump faster than normally possible. The man was obviously some kind of warrior, and a well-experienced one at that given the amount of wear on his gear.
Kneeling by the man’s side, One asked, “Can you hear me?”
The young man did not reply. One leaned over and pressed his fingers against the young man’s neck to check for a pulse.
Several crowded seconds later, One was on his back with the business end of a sword pressed against his throat. With only a little more effort than he had spent to discourage the butterfly earlier, One sent the young man flying off him.
“Norms.” One muttered as he stood up.
He had hardly finished straightening his shirt when he found the glimmering tip of the man’s sword in alarmingly close proximity to his face.
Staring cross-eyed at the tip of the sword, One said, “Chill out, dude. I’m unarmed.”
The warrior looked One over before slowly lowering his weapon.
Watching with mild interest as the sword’s blade retracted into the hilt, One slid his hands in his pockets. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” demanded the warrior.
One scowled. “Oh, that's nice! You fall from the sky and nearly crush me into a Dreamer pancake, totally ruining what was up till now a perfect day, and now you want to know what I'm doing here? Who the heck are you?”
“That's no business of yours.” The warrior replied briskly.
“Fine. If you don’t want to be nice, get lost.” Without another word, One sat down beneath the tree and closed his eyes.
The warrior grabbed One's arm and jerked the Dreamer to his feet. “This is no place for a picnic! Don’t you know the Revs patrol this area?”
With a sudden yelp, the warrior let go of One's arm.
A smirk on his face, One rubbed his arm, transmuting the rigid metal needles back into his natural arm hair. “Relax, dude. I sincerely doubt there are any Revs in Ircandesta.”
“Ircandesta?” The young man looked around, as though just realizing where he was, or more appropriately where he wasn’t.
Leaning his back against the tree, One mused, “Don’t like the Revs, huh? I’m guessing from the armor you’re either with the Rangers Collective or the Knights of the Star, unless some other group has sprung up since the last time I was on Earth.”
“I’m a Knight of the Star. Go back a sec; what do you mean ‘on Earth’?”
“Yeah, I haven’t been there in awhile. Too depressing, you know? I've been meaning to stop by again.” One stopped, noting that the warrior’s face had gone pale. “You didn't know this wasn't Earth, did you?”
The warrior stammered, “I just … back on … this isn't Earth?”
“Of course you didn’t know.” muttered One, “That would be way too convenient.”
Quickly recovering himself, the man asked, “If I'm not on Earth then where am I?”
With a sigh, One spread his arms wide. “This is the planet Vinta, the Prylliat Woods in southern Ircandesta to be precise. I'd say we're roughly seven thousand light-years from Earth, but don’t quote me on that though.”
It took the knight a few minutes to wrap his mind around this information. One held his peace; the poor guy had a lot to think about, after all. Still, if One’s experience had taught him anything, in a matter of moments the knight would say the old ‘I have to go back’ line and start pestering One for help.
“I have to get back.” said the warrior, a look of resolve on his face.
“Of course you do.” One said tiredly.
“I don't suppose you could …”
“No.” One said rather bluntly, “I’m a Dreamer, not a taxi. You gotta find your own way back; it's character-building.”
Seeing the warrior's scowl, One let out a sigh. “No offense dude, but Earth's a crap hole. Why do you want to go back so bad?”
The knight pulled on the tarnished silver chain that was around his neck, revealing a small data chip encased in a protective plastic sleeve. “This contains a detailed schematic of the Rev HQ in Vegas.”
“I thought the Rev Headquarters was in Topanga.” said One, scratching his head.
The knight gave him an odd look. “The Rev HQ hasn't been in Topanga since the fall of the Ranger’s Collective. Look, it is imperative that I get this chip back to Misakren as soon as possible.”
“I really can't help you, though God knows I wouldn't mind being partially responsible the fall of the Revs.”
“Then why won’t you help me?” The knight demanded, “If you know about the Revs, you must know that they need to be stopped before more innocent lives are lost.”
One massaged his temples as a dull ache began to spread through his head. “Look, I can't just move people from one end of the universe to the other on a whim. It's complicated. Don't ask me to explain; I’m not sure even I understand the specifics of it all. I can't take you to Earth, and that’s that.”
For a long moment, One thought the knight might attack him. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that. The anger in the knight’s face faded in a matter of moments. Looking tired and lost, he sank down against the oak tree.
One didn’t want to get involved, but the expression on the knight’s face made his resolve waver. It wasn’t that One didn’t want to help; he just didn’t want to get involved in what was obviously going to be another drawn out assignment. He wished there was a way to help the guy without having to hand-hold him through the entire process.
The perfect solution popped abruptly into One’s head. “What’s your name, buddy?”
“Mikaen.”
“Well, Mikaen, now that I think about it, there might just be something I can do to help you out.” He pulled a scrap of paper and a marker from his pockets. “I can't teleport you back to Earth, but maybe I can point you in the right direction to find your own way back.”
He scribbled something on the paper before handing it to Mikaen. “This’ll point you to a nearby village called Homestead. The vuestans will be more than willing to help you out.”
Mikaen took the paper uncertainly. “Vuestan?”
“Yeah, local humanoid race. They’re easy to spot: cat ears and tails like monkeys, usually less than five feet tall. Look, just ask around for a boy named Elduran Thistlethorn.”
“Elduran Thistlethorn.” Mikaen repeated, committing the name to memory.
One nodded. “Yeah, Elduran’s an old friend of mine. Brown-headed kid with a bit of white on the tips of his ears. Just say my name, and I’m sure he’ll help you out.”
“What’s your name?” Mikaen’s eyes narrowed as he noticed the only thing on the paper was an elaborate sort of arrow. “Hey, what gives?! Is this some kind of joke?”
After a moment of silence, he looked up to find that he was alone. He looked all around the clearing, but found no sign of the Dreamer.
Mikaen rolled his eyes and tossed the paper aside. “Great …”
A rustling on the ground caught his ear. Glancing down, Mikaen noticed that the piece of paper was spinning about an inch above the grass. After a few moments, the paper settled to the ground, the arrow pointing to one of the trails that led from the clearing.
Mikaen knelt down and picked up the paper. He didn’t feel any kind of spell or enchantment emanating from it, and he was normally very perceptive about that kind of thing.
He let the paper fall back to the ground. Almost instantly, the paper started spinning again, eventually pointing at the same path as before.
As he picked up the paper and stared at the arrow, he considered his two choices: follow the One’s advice, or head off on his own. Glancing up at the treetops so distant that they seemed to brush the clouds, Mikaen knew that if nothing else, One had at least been telling the truth about one thing; the planet he was on was definitely not Earth.
With a sigh, he started down the trail the ‘compass’ had indicated. He knew there might be trouble if he followed the Dreamer’s directions, but if he headed off in a random direction, there was no telling what he might run into. At least this way he’d be a little prepared.
He glanced back after walking a few yards, half expecting to see One asleep beneath the tree again. His eyes widened; the oak tree had completely vanished, and the last of the massive chronoan trees was settling itself back in its proper place.
“Just who or what was that guy?” Mikaen wondered aloud. Shaking his head, he glanced back at the paper to get his bearings and started walking.
After half an hour of pleasant but uneventful hiking through the Prylliat Woods, Mikaen broke from the rough trail into a clearing with three distinct paths leading from it. The paths were made from crushed stone and looked to be at least moderately well maintained. Civilization obviously wasn’t too far away.
He tossed the paper on the ground for guidance only to receive a surprise; before his eyes, the arrow began to bend and twist itself until it was a question mark.
Before he had time to try to figure out what it meant, a green-robed boy with blonde hair, fuzzy brown ears and a long furry tail rushed through the clearing, looking more than a little panicked.
Folding the paper and sticking it in his pocket, Mikaen called out, “Hey there! You all right?”
The lad’s eyes widened at the sight of the knight’s armor.
He looked pleadingly at Mikaen. “Please, you’ve got to help me! I’m being chased by a … a …”
Mikaen blinked; either his eyes were playing tricks on him, or the boy's lips hadn't moved.
He didn’t get to consider it for long. A spine-rattling roar erupted through the clearing as what was chasing the boy tore through the brush and landed only three meters from Mikaen. The monstrous reptile’s reddish scales, eight legs, and wicked looking fangs made it look like something that had clawed its way out of hell.
The creature was a durien, one of the few unfriendly creatures that lived in the forests of Ircandesta. Fortunately for both Mikaen and the boy, duriens are easily distracted. Confronted with not one but two potential meals, the durien looked from Mikaen to the boy indecisively.
All thoughts of being lost on an alien world vanished as Mikaen’s fighting instincts quickly took over. His hand passing over the hilt of his sword, Mikaen pulled Truth from his belt and snapped a small metal cylinder into the base. A four foot pole extended from the base of the blade, the cylinder reconfiguring into a tek-amplifier. A small jolt of energy ran across the amplifier’s surface, the weapon responding to Mikaen natural magical abilities.
Apparently deciding that Mikaen would make a bigger meal, the durien snarled and leapt towards him. The boy scurried away almost instantly, leaping up into the trees and disappearing from sight.
Mikaen quickly leapt to the side and swung his weapon at one of the creature’s legs as the creature trampled by. The durien roared as the heavy blade tore a gash through scale and muscle, leaving a trail of oozing black blood.
Mikaen leapt aside as the barbed tail flashed towards him, barely missing being skewered. As the creature’s tail swung near again, he deftly sidestepped out of its path. With a flick of his blade, he sheared the barbed tail from the creature.
The creature let out screech of pain as black blood rained from its wound, filling the air with an acrid stench. As Mikaen reeled back from the smell, one of the durien’s flailing talons caught him full in the chest.
The sharp claws didn’t pierce his armor, but the force of the blow sent him flying across the clearing. He tumbled across the ground roughly, barely able to maintain his grip on Truth as he skidded to a halt.
As Mikaen struggled to get to his feet, the creature crouched down like a cat about to pounce. He managed to get the amplifier end of his weapon up just as the creature leapt towards him.
A gasp left his lips as a surge of energy shot from his hand, down the length of Truth, encircling the amplifier for a moment before suddenly rocketing towards the durien as a bolt of lightning. The electrical blast hit the durien in midair, knocking it against a tree clear across the clearing with enough force to make the bark shatter.
The creature gurgled as it rose to its feet, foul blood spewing from its mouth. With a final cry, it collapsed to the ground.
Slightly out of breath, Mikaen quickly rose and approached the creature. With a swift stroke of his weapon, he severed the creature’s head.
“Better safe than sorry”, he muttered, sending the ghastly head flying beyond the edges of the clearing with a well-placed kick.
Mikaen started to wipe the creature’s blood off his weapon when he heard something rustle in the bush behind him. He spun about, the still-bloody blade of Truth at the ready.
Seeing only the eyes of the boy staring back at him in fear, Mikaen let out a sigh of relief and lowered his weapon. “It's okay, kid. Nothing me and Truth couldn’t handle.”
The kid cautiously approached the dead body of the durien. After a few moments of prodding the creature with the tip of his sandal, he gave it a hard kick. “Yeah! Serves you right!”
Just as before, the boy’s lips didn’t move. Mikaen wondered if the boy’s entire race had a natural empathic ability.
The boy’s eyes fell on the dismembered tail. He glanced up at Mikaen with bright blue eyes. “You mind if I have that?”
Glancing distastefully at the severed tail, Mikaen replied, “Help yourself.”
With squeal of glee, the boy scampered out over to the tail, his own tail wagging behind him. Mikaen continued to stare as the boy rolled the tail up in a large coil. He knew a few people with psionic abilities, but nothing as defined as what the boy was doing. If it was a racial attribute, it was certainly one of the more unique Mikaen had encountered.
The boy glanced back at Mikaen as he stuck the coiled tail in one of his side pouches, careful not to touch the barbs. “You’ve never seen a vuestan before?”
Mikaen shook his head.
The boy grinned at him. “My people don’t have tra … trach … ugh, we don’t have vocal cords. Our … what was it you were thinking? Psionic abilities? They’re supposed to be some kind of evolutionary trait.”
“A race of mind-readers.” Mikaen snorted at the thought. “I don't suppose you know someone named Syrin …”
The boy cocked his head. “Nope. Is she here too?”
“No, but I wouldn't put it past her to find a way to send me across the galaxy just to get me to talk to a shrink.”
“Galaxy? What do you mean by …” the boy's blue eyes grew wide. “Whoa! You're from another planet? Cool!”
Mikaen scowl went unnoticed as the boy circled around him, staring as though Mikaen were some bizarre animal.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable under the scrutiny, Mikaen said, “Look, I don't have time to explain this … um …”
“Jeronem.” The boy’s ears waggled a little, making him look particularly impish.
“Right … well, I’d like to stay and chat, but I'm looking for a village called Homestead.”
“Really? I was just headed home myself! Follow me!” With that, Jeronem skipped from the clearing.
Turning away, Mikaen pulled the paper with the arrow out of his pocket and set it down on the ground. When the paper spun and pointed to the trail Jeronem had taken, he groaned.
“Great.” He muttered stuffing the paper in his pocket. “Just great.”
As he stood up, Mikaen found himself staring into the upside-down face of Jeronem.
“Whatcha doin'?”
“Aah!” Mikaen stepped back, his reflexively going to the hilt of his sword, “Don’t do that!”
Jeronem swung back and forth, the end of his tail wrapped around a low-hanging branch. “Come on, come on! Let's go!” Landing deftly on his hands and feet, Jeronem headed towards the path he had taken a moment before, Mikaen following reluctantly behind.
One stepped out from behind the tree that had been practically splintered when the durien smashed into it.
Brushing the leaves off his clothes, One glanced momentarily at the remains of the creature, saying, “Not bad, I guess … not for a norm, anyway. I’d better go catch Elduran and give him a heads up.”
With a thought, One teleported to Elduran’s immediate location. While that kind vague teleport focus just begs for trouble, it generally will bring a Dreamer somewhere near whomever he or she might be looking for.
When the world stopped spinning, however, he found himself standing near on the shore near a small waterfall that flowed smoothly into the base of a nearby stream.
“That’s strange …” He muttered, scratching his head, “I don’t see Elduran … and this definitely isn’t Homestead …”
“INFERNIS!”
One’s eyes went wide at the sound of rushing flames. He threw himself to the ground moments before a red-hot torrent shot through the air he had previously been occupying.
Clutching his head in case it had been lit aflame, One shouted, “Fire bad, FIRE BAD!”
The inferno stopped instantly. One glanced up, one eye peeking open. Through the haze, he saw a figure cautiously approaching through the underbrush, a glowing staff in his hands.
“Is that …” the figure seemed to lean forward a moment. “One? Narrator Number One?”
The smoke cleared in a matter of moments, revealing a middle-aged vuestan with blonde hair and blue eyes. Despite his age, there was no mistaking who he was.
“Elduran?” One said disbelievingly, “Dude! When did you get so wise and venerable-looking?”
Elduran held out his hand, smiling. “Long time no see, old friend. Sorry about the fire, but I thought you were a durien.”
“Gee, thanks …” One muttered as Elduran helped him up.
Elduran waved his staff over One. Instantly, all the dirt and leaves vanished from One’s clothes.
One couldn’t resist the urge to wipe off his clothes again, even though they were clean. They felt and smelled as though they had been freshly laundered. “Hey … thanks!”
“Any time.” Elduran waved his staff at the smoldering bushes, which instantly burst back into life.
One stared at the staff. It seemed to be made of blue crystal, but it was the spikes near the top looked the most familiar. “Say, Elduran,” he began, “Your staff … isn’t that …”
“Durien’s tail, yup.” He gazed fondly at his arcane tool. “The cells crystallize over time, which is perfect for storing spells for later use. I can squeeze in hundred of enchantments into this staff; way more than that old chronoan staff I used to have.”
One grinned, remembering when a much younger Elduran had extolled the superiority of a chronoan staff.
Elduran gave him a warning glance, obviously picking up One’s thoughts. “Don’t say it …”
“I said nothing. Why would I say something if I said nothing?” One replied innocently, holding up his hands.
Shaking his head, Elduran let out a sigh. “I’d love to chat, but I’m afraid my son …”
“Your son?” One asked, thinking of Jeronem, “You’re married?”
“Do you remember Kathryn?”
One’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “You married Killer Katy?”
Elduran smiled. “She’s even more beautiful now than she was back then.”
One remembered the fiery-haired young woman who had nearly fried him on several occasions. As a Dreamer, he couldn’t die of course, but being set aflame or blasted by a bolt of lightning wasn’t a pleasant experience.
“Jeronem’s our boy. He’ll be thirteen years old next week.” Elduran glanced in the direction of the cave. “I ran into several of his friends about an hour ago. They told me he had been poking around here. I’m afraid he might have been …”
“Wait,” One interrupted, “Your son … little dude with yellow hair?”
Elduran looked sharply at One. “You’ve seen him? Is he okay?”
One smiled reassuringly at his old friend. “Yeah, just a few minutes ago, and he had a pissed off durien with him. Don’t worry though; the durien is gone, and your son will be along soon enough.”
Elduran bowed his head in gratitude. “I owe you my thanks old friend.”
One shook his head. “I didn’t do anything. If you wanna thank someone, thank the off-worlder who just saved him.”
“An off-worlder?”
“Yup. Actually, that’s why I was looking for you; he wants to go back to his planet. Between you and me, I think he needs a bit of shrink work. I gotta warn you, though; he’ll be a tough nut to crack.”
“Don’t worry about that, One. A spell for all occasions, remember?”
One rubbed the right side of his head, saying, “I’m trying not to. In any case, I figure you’re the best chance the guy has of getting home.”
Elduran chuckled. “You flatter me. I will do what I can to help him. Is this off-worlder part of an assignment by any chance?”
“Nah, just some guy I ran into. I came to Ircandesta to get away from work.” One let out a sigh. “The last few assignments have been a bitch.”
Elduran put his hand on One’s shoulder. “I know Homestead isn't the Elsewhere, but you're more than welcome to put up your feet. The Trabi festival's only a month away.”
“I really wish I could,” One said, meaning it, “but I’m kinda wanting to head back to the Elsewhere before someone else falls out of the sky. I appreciate the offer, though.”
Elduran smiled amicably at his old friend. “Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“Got it.”
With that, One turned his attention back to Mikaen. In a moment, Elduran and the waterfall vanished from sight to be replaced with even more trees and a well-traveled path.
Hearing voices approaching, he quickly ducked behind the nearest tree and waited patiently for Mikaen and Jeronem.
Unaware of the Dreamer’s presence, Mikaen walked by the tree where One was hiding as the young vuestan pestered him with a seemingly never-ending amount of questions.
“What planet are you from?”
“Earth.”
“Why do you have weapons?”
“I'm a knight.”
“That's cool. You a magician?”
“Elementalist.”
“Is that like energist?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I’m a spellshaper myself. You have heard about spellshapers, right?”
“No.”
“We store spells in our staves. Easier to carry, easier to use, easier to alter later to fit any situation. I'm still in school, but I’m gonna be as good a spellshaper as my father.”
“Great.”
“Yeah, I know! I'm the top of my class. No one's really surprised though; dad was head of the class in his day too. My mom thinks I try too hard, but I want to be known for being more than some spoiled twip.”
“Uh-huh.”
This had been going on pretty much from the moment they had started down the path. Mikaen knew that it was only natural for Jeronem to be curious about Mikaen, but the constant questioning was growing more than a little tiresome.
“What’s your planet called again?”
“Earth.”
“What's Earth like?”
“Don't you ever stop talking?”
“Come on! What's your planet like?”
“It would take too long to explain.”
“That's okay. It's a good half-hour 'till we reach Homestead.”
Mikaen came to a halt. Jeronem continued on for a few more feet before realizing that his new friend had stopped walking.
“What's wrong?”
“Look, kid …”
“Jeronem.”
“Jeronem…everything I know and care about is literally millions of miles away. There’s a very good chance that I’ll never be able to get back home. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother the hell out of me, so if you could please just hold off the interrogation…”
Jeronem smacked himself in the side of his head. “Oh! I'm sorry! I'm being a pest! I'll be quiet … not a peep.” He made a lip-buttoning gesture.
A few moments of relative silence passed as the two continued along the path.
“So what's Earth like?”
Mikaen glared at Jeronem, but the sight of Jeronem’s childish face and curious expression made his annoyance fade. Jeronem was just acting like what he was: a kid who just met an alien.
“Earth's not that different from Vinta, I suppose.” Glancing up at the treetops so high that there were actually clouds floating beneath the leaves, Mikaen added, “Though I’ll admit there are some differences.”
“You said you're a knight. What's that like?”
“It's been better …” Mikaen stared at the ground as he walked.
Jeronem squinted at him. “Huh. There it is again.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Some kind of overlaid thought. It's been in your mind since I first asked about Earth.”
“Overlaid thought?”
Jeronem shrugged. “It’s like … y’know, when you’re thinking about something so much that you don’t realize you’re thinking about.”
Mikaen didn’t understand, but he didn’t press the point. They continued down the road in silence for a few minutes.
Jeronem glanced up at Mikaen. “So, what’s the deal with the whole ‘knight’ thing anyway?”
“I'm a Knight of the Star. We were formed to protect non-humans and magi from being murdered by the Revs …”
Jeronem put a hand to his head as though someone had bopped his head. “Ow! Whoa, slow down! Who are the Revs?”
“It’s slang; Revs are what we call the members of the Restored Earth Alliance. They used to help people adapt to the new world, but now it’s just a bunch of so-called ‘pure’ humans who think that anyone different from themselves should be destroyed in the interests of maintaining the purity of the human race.” Mikaen snorted derisively. “Apparently they forgot that ‘pure’ humans nearly wiped out the planet.”
Jeronem gulped. “Humans must be evil creatures …”
Mikaen raised an eyebrow. “Hey now, I'm human too. I'm just not considered a pure human because of my magical abilities.”
“Oh, you mean … I see. We call ‘em galdens here. Actually, something kinda like that happened on here centuries ago.” Jeronem paused a moment to hop over an exposed tree root. “A galden king called Lucaius Calliban got it in his head that the galden were superior to the other races. He built up an army and went on a crusade to conquer the planet.
He didn’t do so well, though. The idestans moved their homes to the treetops, my people began living inside the trees, the rimstakkens raised their whole continent off the ocean … heck, in the end, the only country they were able to even attempt to invade was Longshore, and they were beaten so badly there that Lucaius’s army turned on him.”
Shaking his head, Jeronem glanced up at Mikaen. “So you're a knight, and you fight the Revs. How about dragons? Have you ever fought a dragon, like the old-fashioned knights in fairy-tales?”
“No, but I had tea with one once.”
Jeronem gave him a skeptical look.
Mikaen cracked a smile. “It's a long story.”
He stopped as they rounded the last few trees of the forest and passed beneath two smaller trees that formed an arc over the stone-paved road at the entrance to Homestead.
Mikaen wasn’t sure what he had expected to see when he arrived, but he had formed a general image: a few huts surrounding some ancient temple, a small village by the seaside, or a farming community.
Homestead wasn’t a town or a village; it was a city, filled with thousands of vuestans who walked around, shopped in surprisingly modern stores, chatted amicably with their friends and neighbors (telepathically, of course), and essentially went about their lives in relative peace. In short, it was a thriving community, larger by far than any settlement Mikaen had encountered before.
“Jeronem,” Mikaen asked as he stared, “Just how many people live here?”
“Oh, around sixty or seventy thousand I think. I don’t know the exact number.” He shrugged before starting forward, an awestruck Mikaen following moments later.
The trees in the city were of a different type than the rest of the forest; smaller than the massive chronoan trees, but still impressively large. The homes were, as Jeronem had mentioned before, built into and around the trees with little to no conventional woodwork.
“Noktal trees.” Jeronem grinned at Mikaen. “A full-grown tree can house a family of ten.”
“How do you build the house inside the tree without killing it?”
“It’s called shaping, and it’s not really that hard. Anyone with a talent for magic can learn it…heck, I could show you how to do it later, if you want.”
The stone-paved streets were lined with a healthy growth of ivies covered with pale blue blooms and white fruit roughly the size of oranges.
Jeronem plucked a fruit from the ivy and tossed it to Mikaen. “Hungry? Have a mevos.”
Mikaen removed the fruit’s rough outer peel and took a bite. The flesh was similar in texture to that of an orange, but tasted more like that of an apple, with a strange, mint-like aftertaste.
As they walked through the city, many people smiled and waved at Jeronem. Mikaen couldn’t help but notice that the vuestans were all a bit on the short side, the tallest still a good head shorter than Mikaen.
Mikaen was the object of much curiosity, especially among the children. While the adults would only smile at him politely, some quickly looking away, the children actually started following at distance. When Mikaen turned around, the children would scatter, some swinging up through the trees, others scampering away. Some of the older ones just disappeared altogether.
“Kids …” Jeronem, who wasn’t much older than some of them, shook his head. As the kids regrouped behind them, he glanced at Mikaen. “Just ignore them. We don’t get a lot of visitors, and you do stick out a bit.”
As twilight fell over the city, the children scampered away, the sounds of their mothers calling like whispers in the back of Mikaen’s head. Once the twin suns had set, the mevos buds bloomed, radiating a soothing bluish-white aura bright enough to illuminate the streets.
Stopping on a bridge over a small stream, Jeronem pointed to an ancient tree whose rough, moss-covered boughs stretched higher than any of the other homes. Light shone from a few windows in the upper levels of the home, through which a pacing silhouette was faintly visible.
“That’s my house. My family’s lived there for centuries.” Jeronem’s face had a touch of pride. “The oldest tree in the forest.”
Mikaen stared at the tree in silence. After everything else, the sight of the Thistlethorn home made him wonder if he had fallen into some bizarre fairy-tale.
“Amazing …” he whispered.
Jeronem blushed to the tips of his furry ears. “Well … it’s home. Come on! You gotta meet dad!”
Oddly enough, the door had no handle. Jeronem held his hand over a groove in the door. Moments later, it slid open, allowing them entry.
Stooping his head as he walked through the door, Mikaen was surprised to see a perfectly normal looking parlor room, complete with armchairs and a couch. A silver sphere was floating above a circular wooden table in the center of the room and soft blue carpeting covered the floor. A winding staircase led to the upper levels of the home, all of which appeared completely normal and gave no indication that they had been built in a giant tree.
Jeronem kicked his shoes off and hung them on a rack by the door. “Mom! Dad! I'm back!”
Mikaen undid the clasps on his tek-boots and pulled them off with some difficulty. He had only just set them beneath the rack when a mind-splitting shriek shot through his mind, rattling every nerve in his body.
Jeronem paled visibly. “Uh oh…”
“What the hell was that?!” asked Mikaen, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Looking rather pale, Jeronem shook his head. “It's … it’s my …”
At that moment, a vuestan woman with strikingly red hair appeared in one of the doorways of the upper floor. Mikaen would have described her as pretty if he had seen her on a normal day; she had a nicely proportioned body and a pleasant face that reminded him strongly of Syrin. At the moment, however, the expression on her face brought to mind the snarling jaws of the durien.
Jeronem cringed as she practically flew downstairs, her mental voice so loud that it made Mikaen's head throb. “JERONEM ONUJITS THISTLETHORN!”
Brushing by Mikaen, she rushed up to Jeronem and seized him by one furry earlobe. “WHAT WHERE YOU THINKING?! ATTACKING A DURIEN? YOU COULD HAVE BEEN RIPPED TO SHREDS AND FED TO HER HATCHLINGS!”
Jeronem winced with obvious pain. “I wasn't trying to attack it! I was just practicing magic at the river …”
Kathryn gave Jeronem's ear a twist. “DON'T LIE TO ME, YOUNG MAN!”
“Aaaah! All right! I thought I could drown the durien and get its tail for my casting staff! I tried to block the entrance with an energy wall, but the durien must've had another entrance to its lair behind the waterfall … that's the truth, I swear!”
Kathryn gave the ear another vicious squeeze before letting go and putting her hand on her hips. “Sometimes I just don't know about you; your teachers all say you're the brightest student they've had since your father, but I know he never did anything so remarkably stupid!”
Rubbing his now scarlet ear, Jeronem was smart enough to look apologetic. “I’m sorry, mom.”
“And as for you!”
Mikaen tensed as the diminutive vuestan woman rounded on him.
Her expression softened. “Thank you for saving my foolish son's life.”
Relieved, Mikaen bowed his head respectfully. “I'm glad I could be of assistance, ma’am.”
“Kathryn Thistlethorn. Kathryn will be fine.”
“I’m Mikaen.” He extended his hand.
She took his hand in both of hers and shook it, smiling warmly. “Well, is there anything we can do to repay you for the rescue of my idiot boy?” She shot a glare at Jeronem, as if daring him to argue.
“I was told to find a boy by the name of Elduran.” He replied, “Do you happen to know where he lives?”
“He lives here, sir knight.”
Mikaen turned to see Elduran closing the front door behind him. He had brown hair and little patches of white fur on the tips of his ears, but he was certainly not a child; by the look of his face, he was at least ten years Mikaen’s senior. His eyes were the same bright blue as Jeronem’s, and just as full of mischief.
Smoothing the front of his dark green robes, Elduran smiled at him. “You're Mikaen, right? I’ve been expecting you. I’m Elduran Thistlethorn, Elder of Homestead.”
His gaze turned to Jeronem, who quickly looked away. “Well, did you at least get the tail?
Jeronem brightened. “Oh yeah! I got it right …”
Kathryn frowned at him. She didn’t say anything; the look was apparently enough.
Turning to Elduran, Mikaen said, “The person who told me to look for you told me to mention his name, but he never told me who he was.”
Elduran chuckled. “That would be Narrator Number One. He’s a decent fellow … a bit strange, but I’ve yet to meet a Dreamer who isn’t a bit on the eccentric side.”
“Dreamer?” Something about the way Elduran pronounced the word with a capital ‘D’ told Mikaen that the normal definition of ‘dreamer’ did not necessarily apply to the stranger he had met earlier.
Elduran chuckled. “We can talk all about One and the Elsewhere Incorporate after dinner. Seeing as you’re from another planet, I think I’ll make something special today.”
He started to a door on the right side of the room (presumably the kitchen), but Kathryn caught him first.
“Oh, no … last time you tried to cook something ‘special’, it took a month to get the smell out of the house. I’ll start dinner. Jeronem's going to help me, aren't you, Jeronem?” Kathryn smiled at her son a little too widely, a dangerous glint in her eyes.
“Yes, mom …” Waving despondently, Jeronem followed his mother out of the room, leaving Elduran and Mikaen alone.
Elduran seemed very happy with himself. “Works every time.” Chuckling, he turned to Mikaen. “Married secret; if you want out of a chore, do it so badly that your wife won’t dare let you do it again.”
Mikaen wasn’t sure how to respond to this. Fortunately, Elduran didn’t seem to expect an answer.
He gestured to one of the couches. “Please have a seat, my friend. I'd like to hear a bit more about you and your world while we wait for dinner.”
Settling into a worn red armchair, Mikaen told Elduran about Earth and explained the nature of the conflict between the Knights and the Revs. Elduran listened intently … so intently, in fact, that he didn’t seem to notice when Mikaen had finished.
After a minute or two of silence, Mikaen asked, “Elduran? Are you okay?”
Elduran shook his head. “My apologies. Something in your thoughts distracted me.”
“Oh … right.”
To his surprise, Elduran laughed. “You aren’t comfortable with having your mind read. It’s okay; most non-vuestans find it a bit discomfiting.”
“It’s not …” Mikaen sighed, not sure how to say it. “I don’t care much for the idea of someone prying into my memories.”
“Don’t worry; I can only read what you are thinking at a given moment. Sometimes I get a glimpse of something else, but I never trained as a Seeker. I can’t go any further than you let me. In any case, let me see if I have this right; your planet had a resurgence of magical energy that caused some to change into various humanoid races based on dormant genetic code remnants. Others were gifted with various forms of Life-stream manipulation. The Knights of the Star, of which you are a senior member, are the only thing keeping non-humans and mages on your world from being slaughtered by the Restored Earth Alliance…the Revs, as most call them. Does that about sum it up?”
Mikaen stared at him. “I didn’t say … how did you come up with that?”
“I don’t just hear your thoughts, Mikaen; I see them as well. What you refer to as ‘M-rips’ are surge points of the lifestream, the flow of energy that exists in all living things. Surges form when the magical energy in an area becomes suppressed.
“You said something about dormant genetic codes reactivating …” Mikaen began.
“That does happen, particularly to people who are close to Surges when they first form. Most of the old races have some trace of magic in them; when exposed to high amounts of pure stream energy, the dormant genes activate instantly, spreading through the body at an incredible rate.”
He didn’t doubt Elduran; if anything, his explanation was more rational than the theories held by Earth’s remaining intellectual community. Still, no one had actually seen humans changing or being infused with magic; most people just woke up after the Devastation to find that they weren’t what they had been. Some, like Mikaen, didn’t even remember who they were anymore.
“Have you seen it happen?” Mikaen asked.
Elduran shifted in his seat. “Only once; a young galden boy with some vuestan blood became a full vuestan when a Surge opened near Ronisgald. He lives in Homestead now … I’d say he adjusted pretty well. Would you care for a drink?”
Mikaen glanced up and shook his head. Shrugging, Elduran held his hand out. Almost instantly, a wisp of energy ran along his arm and concentrated in his palm, becoming a small fluted glass of glowing blue liquid.
“The mevos fruit create a very sweet wine … a bit sweet for some, but it has always been to my liking.” Elduran set the glass on the table. “Now, as for these Revs …”
A flash of anger passed through Mikaen, so intense that Elduran fell silent; no doubt sensing it.
Mikaen quelled the emotion quickly, saying, “I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize. From what little I’ve seen, your anger is more than justified.” Elduran took another sip of wine. “I can see why part of you wants to go back to Earth so badly.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve seen much suffering at the hands of these Revs. No doubt you wish to end the threat they represent to protect the survivors of this … Desecration was it?”
“Devastation. What did you mean by ‘part of me’?”
Elduran leaned towards Mikaen. “Tell me something first, my friend; are you happy with your life?”
Mikaen was taken aback by the strange question. “Well, I keep innocent people safe from the Revs. I’d say that it’s as good cause as any.”
“That's not what I asked.” Elduran leaned forward even more. “Are you happy with your life?”
Mikaen thought about his last conversations with Syrin and his best friend and next-in-command, Jyle Crestorm. He had been rather rough with them, but he knew they were just worried about him, afraid that if he kept throwing himself at the most dangerous assignments, he’d end up dead.
He bowed his head. “As long as the people I protect are safe, it doesn't matter if I'm happy.”
Elduran sat back, a satisfied smile on his face. “Maria Soleil.”
Mikaen's head jerked back up. “What?!”
“When I first asked you about Earth, the first thing you thought about wasn't the Knights or the Revs; it was her. She hangs in your thoughts, overlaying everything else.”
“Jeronem told me he sensed something …” Mikaen murmured, “I thought it was just my anxiety…”
“Yes, he’s sensitive to that kind of thing, far more than I am.” Elduran smiled briefly before shaking his head and returning his gaze to Mikaen. “Tell me about her.”
Mikaen didn't really want to talk about Maria. Just thinking about her brought a dull ache to his chest. Nevertheless, he found himself saying, “She wasn't human; the Devastation changed her physically, making her look like she was part cat or something.”
Elduran nodded. “She was tigreth. They're one of a dozen Longshoran tribes. Please, go on.”
“She had soft white fur and long blonde hair, and her eyes were this deep shade of purple.” He bowed his head; the ache in his chest was getting stronger. “I never met anyone like her.”
“What was she like?”
“She was beautiful and kind, but she also had a real tomboy-streak. She always told me I was too serious, that I needed to lighten up. She used to say 'Just 'cause the world's gone to crap is no reason to be so gloomy all the time'.”
Elduran chuckled. “Wise woman. You loved her?”
Mikaen sighed softly, whispering, “More than anything … but now she's gone.” Anger, fierce, burning anger not at his enemies but at himself began building up in his chest. He added bitterly, “All my power and strength weren't able to help me protect the one person I ever loved.”
Elduran looked sympathetic. “I'm sure it wasn't your fault, Mikaen.”
“I knew her better than anyone!” Mikaen said, unable to keep the anger out of his voice. “I should have been able to stop her!”
“It was out of your hands. Even if you had been there, nothing may have changed …”
The anger building in his chest suddenly burst. Mikaen was on his feet in an instant, glaring at Elduran, “What the hell do you know? You weren’t there! She wasn’t just my fiancée; she was my best friend, and now she’s dead! If I hadn’t been so careless, she’d still be alive!”
Elduran regarded Mikaen silently, his calm demeanor making Mikaen's anger fade almost instantly.
Embarrassed, Mikaen slowly sat back down and put a hand to his head. “Elduran … I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me …”
Elduran raised a hand to stop Mikaen's apology. “No, young one, I am sorry. I was prodding. I must admit, I sometimes let my curiosity get the better of me. Tell me, Mikaen: would you be willing to do me a favor?”
Regaining his composure, Mikaen replied, “Of course.”
“It's going to take a while to compile information about possible causes of teleportation and possible ways back, and in that time, you are more than welcome to stay in Homestead. During your stay, I'd like to hear more about you and Earth for later publication.”
“I can't see how information about Earth would be of much interest.” said Mikaen, thinking if what little he had seen of Vinta, “I mean, it’s not as nice as what I’ve seen of this world.”
“I'm not thinking historical accounts. I'm thinking science-fiction novels.”
Mikaen stared at Elduran incredulously for a moment before bursting into laughter.
“Glad to see you’re feeling better, my young friend. If you can laugh, then you’re not all gone yet.” Elduran beamed at Mikaen.
Still laughing, Mikaen said, “I don't know what's come over me today. It’s not like me to be so … emotional.”
“Buried feelings are a lot like stream energy, my young friend; if you keep them inside, they burst out when you least expect it.” Elduran rose to his feet. “On that note, let's go see how Kathryn and Jeronem are doing. I don't know about you, but all this talking has made me hungry.”
As they walked to the kitchen, Mikaen commented, “You know, I've spoken more to you and Jeronem today than I've said to anyone in the past three months, even my closest friends.”
“Do you feel better for it?”
“Yeah, I think I do. I just don't know why it all poured out of me like that.”
“Must be my magical influence.” Elduran stopped and snapped his fingers. “That reminds me. Go on ahead, Mikaen; there’s something I need to check before dinner.”
High above, One watched Mikaen enter the kitchen. Grinning, he leaned back against the wall on the floor above and waited for Elduran to come walking up the stairs.
One smirked at the elder vuestan as he approached. “What, no flying spells?”
“None that wouldn’t send me through the ceiling.” He put a hand on One’s shoulder. “You did a good thing here, One. That boy definitely needs some guidance.”
“Yeah, well, like I said … if anyone can do it, it’s you.” One tapped Elduran’s right pocket, adding “Nice trick with the psionic amplifier, by the way.”
Grinning, Elduran pulled the small purple crystal out of his pocket. “Did you see how much it took to bring those thoughts out of him? Your friend’s got some serious mental strength. It’s a shame all the pain and suffering he has seen is keeping it in check.”
A momentary twinge of sympathy crossed One’s mind. “I was around when the Revs were running amok. It wasn’t pleasant, not by a long shot.”
“Honey?”
The kitchen door below opened, revealing Kathryn’s curious face. “Honey? Dinner’s ready!”
“Be right there!” Elduran looked back at One, saying, “You’re more than welcome to join us, of course.”
One thought about it; Kathryn’s mother had been an excellent cook, an ability she had no doubt passed to her daughter along with her warrior’s instinct. Still, there would be some awkwardness, what with Mikaen being down there and all.
“Next time.” One said, holding out his hand. “I promise.”
Elduran shook One’s hand. “Your word is good enough for me.”
One watched as Elduran descended the stairs and disappeared behind the kitchen door.
Grinning, he said to himself, “Elduran and Killer Katy. Go figure.”
With a chuckle, he opened the door that appeared behind him and walked through it.
Chapter 2
The Elsewhere
The Elsewhere is a place beyond the constraints of space and time. Some believe it to be removed from both; others believe that it encompasses all of reality at every point in time. Which of these is the truth is ultimately not important, at least not to the Dreamers who live there.
The Elsewhere consists of three main parts; the floating island upon which everything is situated, the forest surrounding the Elsewhere Mansion, and of course the Elsewhere Mansion itself.
The Elsewhere Mansion towers into the sky, a pile of wood, metal, stone, synthetics that has somehow come together to form a stable structure.
The mansion is divided internally into floors, each floor belonging to a particular Dreamer. Each floor has a social area that all of the Dreamers can access and a private area accessible only to those who the master of the floor allows. Floors are connected via a large number of ‘grey rooms’, which range from direct floor-to-floor passageways (i.e. spiral staircase), to needlessly complex (i.e. hedge maze), to downright strange (i.e. the pinball room).
Although direct teleportation from the Elsewhere to Mainstream Reality and vice versa is possible, the secretive nature of the Elsewhere Incorporate has led many Dreamers to prefer to enter and exit in a more clandestine fashion. By simply thinking about returning to the Elsewhere, any Dreamer can create a door, a window, or any other means of exiting or entering a room. This phenomenon is commonly referred to as the ‘Conveniently Placed Door’ or CPD for short.
Unfortunately, there is only one such door in existence, the Elsewhere side of which can easily be held to a particular floor. This was why One arrived in the Library, the floor of the Dreamer known as Teach, instead of his own floor.
Looking around and seeing shelves of historical texts instead of his collection of movies, One said, “Either my floor’s been redecorated, or someone’s a bastard.”
“I heard that, One.” Came the reply from somewhere beyond the stacks.
The books, always a bit on the skittish side, rustled slightly on the shelves. One eyed them warily, but the tomes quickly settled back into their places without incident.
Rolling his eyes, One navigated his way through the maze of books until he found himself in the main foyer of the Library. Several heavy, oak tables with a fine dark polish were arranged in the center of the room, surrounded by chairs of various designs, each catering to a different Dreamer's idea of comfort. In a far corner, a lone rocking chair sat close to a large fireplace. The man who was currently occupying the chair motioned One to approach without even raising his gaze.
Eyeing the plush armchair at the main table longingly, One headed towards the distant fireplace. As he approached, the lights dimmed until the only light came from the crackling fire; its flickering flames sending shadows scurrying across the dark bookshelves.
The Dreamer sitting in the rocking chair was one of the oldest Dreamers, yet physically he appeared to be no more than thirty years old. He kept his light-brown hair cut a respectable length; over his ears, off his neck, and out of his hazel eyes. His dress was similarly respectable; slightly worn khaki pants, serviceable black shoes, and a clean, if a bit faded, denim shirt.
This man, known to the other Dreamers as ‘Teach’, is the closest thing to a leader in the Elsewhere. He is a kind-hearted soul who is constantly scouring reality for ways that the Dreamers can help the inhabitants of the mainstream, more commonly referred to among Dreamers as ‘norms’.
A person might wonder why he would bother with these ‘assignments’. After all, we Dreamers have a considerable amount of power at our fingertips. There is literally nothing to keep us from remaining at the Elsewhere for eternity, amusing ourselves as we see fit.
It is Teach’s belief, however, that our powers were given to us to make reality a better place. “To bring happiness to others is to bring happiness to oneself”, he once told me. If so, then he has much cause for happiness himself; no other Dreamer had completed as many assignments as Teach. During his time as a Dreamer, Teach has stopped wars, averted disasters that would have destroyed whole galaxies, and so much more.
Not all Dreamers are as selfless as Teach, however. Often, he has to resort to trickery to get other Dreamers to take assignments. No one else knows more about the other Dreamers than Teach, and no one else knows how to prey on weaknesses or guilt to get them on his side, which is why One approached with such reluctance.
“So,” said One as he came to a halt beside Teach’s chair, “what thankless assignment are you going to try to shove down my throat now, Teach?”
The man in the chair carefully marked his place in his book and set it on the arm of his chair, commenting, “Now, now, One, let's keep our dialogue civil. I was just wondering how you were doing. After all, it's been over twenty years since you've been in the Elsewhere.”
One crossed his arms. “I'm fine, thanks. Now, let me go back to my floor.”
Teach gestured to the space beside him. “Have a seat, One.”
“My floor.”
“Is it too much to ask that we have a friendly conversation?”
One let out a resigned sigh. “I suppose not.”
He motioned to the library tables behind him. The puffy blue armchair he had eyed earlier whizzed through the air and landed gently behind him.