I woke drenched in sweat, my cold fingers clawing at the bedsheets. The scream died upon my lips. My eyes flared open and searched frantically around the darkened room, but I was quite alone - just as before.
Again, the nightmare had come. Almost every night since my return to Crossroad Keep, I had been wrenched awake by the same terror.
I sat up, drawing my knees to my chest, and tried to focus on the memory of the dream. And yet again, the fleeting images eluded me, swirling like wisps of smoke. Frustrated, I raked my fingers through my damp, tangled hair. The dry gasping of my breath slowed, the wild pounding in my chest relented, and the panic gradually released its grip on me - giving way to anger.
How was this possible?
I had faced formidable enemies before, but this... this was alien to me. Nothing had been the same since the Wall.
My Crusade against the Wall of the Faithless. The heroic, doomed assault.
It had turned the eyes of the very gods themselves upon me - and now I sensed their wrath... seething, palpable.
Still, I reasoned it to be unlikely - for now, at least - that I would be attacked openly; no deity would risk the potential consequences. The balance of power among the gods was a delicate one, and none wished to expose themselves, or their followers, to retribution by acting out of turn.
Of course, there were more subtle means of harming me, of manipulating me, of hurting those under my protection. In anticipation, I had employed the most intricate arcane devices, harnessing the greatest reserves of my power in shielding my thoughts, protecting me from malevolent interference whilst I remained at the Keep. The barriers around my mind - the seat of my power, and the very core of my being - had been fashioned by the finest practice of my art.
Truly, my prison was a thing of wonder.
The Knight Captain had returned, only to become jailed in a cage of her own making. In seeking to protect myself, I had also cut myself off. I was limited in my movements by the range of my defenses. I could not portal, I could not scry, I could not mind-link. In addition, the immense drain of power required by my shields meant that I could hardly use any of my other abilities. I was weak, isolated and blind.
Trapped. The thought filled me with helpless rage. How could I confront an unknown enemy? How could I act, when I could not see? When the future was as nebulous as the visions that haunted my dreams?
And now it appeared that my defenses were being breached. A cold seed of fear had begun to grow in my heart - feeding on the aching, empty loss that I carried within.
I heard quiet footsteps approach, and saw a faint glow spread across the floor as the heavy door swung slowly inwards.
He had given me a moment to compose myself. The candle light played over Gannayev's pale, drawn face. Confirming my suspicions, it was clear that he had not slept - and this was not the first night. I knew he had been outside my chamber for some time. Wordlessly, he sank down at the foot of my bed, and regarded me intently.
"You look tired," I observed, feebly.
"You, on the other hand, are as radiant as ever, my lady." He bit back sarcastically, yet his tone did not carry its usual flippancy.
"This is madness, you must let me do something." I looked silently back at the face I had come to know so well. His eyes... they looked older now. At length, I replied:
"I do not know what lies within, what is causing these dreams. I need not remind you that the last time you entered my mind, we both came within inches of being destroyed. I cannot allow you to risk yourself again, without knowing more."
At my words, anger sparked in Gann's eyes, and he retorted sharply:
"You are still under the deluded impression that you can protect me. My life was forfeit the moment I cast my lot in with yours; I know that, and so do you. And that was my choice to make, not yours." He stared at me a moment, lending emphasis to his words, then went on:
"Your screams cut through my dreams; the others may not hear them, but I do. I would hear them even if I were back in Rashemen." His voice faltered slightly, but he quickly regained control. He smiled thinly at me, before saying:
"Please. Allow me to help you... and let a tired hagspawn get some sleep."
I could not deny the truth in his words, though it pained me to hear them. Gann was a walker of dreams; a tamer and master of the sleeping world.
There were a handful of people whom I trusted with my life. Besides Gann, there was no-one else alive I would trust with my mind. He had earned that trust a hundred times over. Besides, knowing him as well as I did, he would find a way to wear down my efforts to resist his help, eventually.
"Do you have any theories regarding the origin of these dreams?" I asked.
"Several," he replied "but I cannot be certain until I have investigated more closely. You still remember nothing?" I shook my head, and he continued:
"I have not been able to detect any outside influences, but forces I have not yet considered, may be at work." He paused, then added pensively:
"I find it surprising that there is no detectable malevolent undercurrent whilst you sleep; in fact, you seem almost peaceful, until you are startled awake."
I flushed. This knowledge implied that he must have spent hours watching me sleep. If he noticed, he gave no sign. He drew an amulet from beneath his shirt. It was plain-looking, like a child's plaything. He handed it to me, and I placed it around my neck. It had no discernible effect.
"This will open your dreams to me, allowing me to follow you more easily. It should overcome any resistance to my presence." He inhaled deeply, as though bracing himself, before he spoke again:
"I will need to touch you for it to work, however." He moved closer to me, awkwardly, and laid his warm palm upon my forehead.
It seemed a long time ago... he had been gracious in accepting that I could not love him - not with a heart already claimed by another; he had never spoken of it again. Yet it was plain in his eyes, whenever I allowed myself to look. He would never impose his feelings upon anyone, but he did not attempt to make a secret of them, either.
A pleasant calm slid over my mind, the fear forgotten...
...and I was standing in a small clearing, the sun casting gentle shafts of light between the bows of towering trees. Autumn-coloured leaves descended lazily to the ground in a slow, swirling dance. The glistening grass was soft beneath my feet, and the air was sweet and clean. This was a place of quiet joy, of lasting peace.
I could not see Gann, but somehow I sensed that he was near. I heard someone approach through the trees and turned, expecting to see the dream walker.
Instead, I saw the cloaked figure of a woman. She was tall, and her stride was quick and sure. She beckoned; I hesitated. She drew back the hood of her cloak and her long, auburn hair spilled around her shoulders. I did not recognise her, but I was struck by her beauty, and felt suddenly small and plain beside her.
"Come." she said, the urgency plain in her musical voice, "We have little time." She turned and disappeared into the trees once more, not looking back to see whether I followed. I hurried after her.
The trees grew densely here, the ground became rocky, and I sensed that we were climbing steadily upwards. My unnamed companion had drawn her hood over her face once more, and I became aware that the air had grown cold and misty. My steps became uncertain, as though some hidden recess of my mind knew what was to follow, and recoiled from it.
Abruptly, the trees parted and we were standing on a stony outcrop, the ground falling away in a sheer cliff face. I could not see through the dense mist what lay beyond, but a distant rumbling echo sounded as though it rose from a great chasm. A profound sense of loss and desolation pressed down unbearably on this place, and I felt tears brimming in my eyes.
I took another step forward, and another figure took shape in the fog, near the edge of the drop. I looked questioningly for the cloaked woman, but she had gone.
Almost overwhelmed by fear and sadness, I was yet unable to resist walking closer. The figure came into full view. And my heart leapt.
It was Casavir. The one I loved, even when death had parted us. He faced the vast emptiness ahead, his hair dampened by the chill mist. His face was unmistakable, but he was changed, somehow. His eyes stared vacantly, his shoulders slumped.
He stepped towards the precipice. With terrifying clarity, I knew what would happen next. He would cast himself into the yawning space.
And I would wake once again, with screams that had no sound, alone in the bed we had once shared.
"No!" my desperate cry was a piercing echo in my head. This time, he did not jump. He sank to his knees. His face was wet with tears, but he made no sound. I wanted to reach out to him, but found that I could not move.
"He cannot hear you." Gann's voice behind me was dull, unreadable. "This is not your dream at all. You have been drawn into another's nightmare, crossing the boundaries of the planes that separate you. You are in no danger, and the fear you felt was never for yourself. I should not be here." He dissolved into the mist. I remained rooted on the spot.
"Casavir." A rich, warm voice drove some of the chill from the air.
A man had appeared beside Casavir's kneeling figure, his ageless face turned down to him. He placed a ruined hand upon Casavir's shoulder. Tyr, the maimed god.
Then Casavir spoke, his voice broken, defeated:
"I have failed, my lord. This punishment is fitting, but it is more than I can bear."
"You have not failed me, Casavir, even when you believed you had. You defended the weak, and sought justice for those who were denied it. I require justice and honour, not perfection." Tyr stopped speaking for a moment, his blind eyes lifted to the swirling sky above. Looking deeper than eyes alone would have allowed. Then he said:
"But you have the heart of a man. It is someone else whom you feel you have failed. This suffering is of your own making, and even in my realm I cannot take it from you. You must grant yourself peace."
"How can I have peace when her fate is hidden from me?" Casavir cried out, agonised. His voice carried with a booming, surreal echo:
"I would have died a thousand times for her, but my death could not save her. She was taken, and now the gods rage for her blood; all who have passed through the City of Judgement sense it."
Tyr's soothing voice interjected:
"You have passed on from the realm of the living, Casavir. You can no longer influence it. Knowing her fate will be of no use to you, and I cannot aid you in this. Even the gods must abide by rules." Casavir did not seem to hear.
"I have sworn an oath to her - not only in words, but in deeds - and I am bound to her. Whatever she has done, it matters not - I love her still. Powerless and futile as that may be." His voice softened. He swayed and slumped to the ground.
"Sleep, my son. I can grant you this small reprieve from your torment." Tyr turned his unseeing eyes towards me, still mute and paralysed where I stood. The mist swirled around me and I felt myself start to drift from the dream. I waited for the waking world to crowd into my consciousness.
But the mist remained.
I floated between wake and sleep. A familiar voice rang in my head, and I knew that Tyr's presence was all around.
"You have risked much by coming here, mortal - though I am aware, it was not your doing alone." The cloaked woman...
"Casavir's love for you has created a bridge between the living and the dead. His suffering has cast a pall upon my realm, but he is not the first of my followers to have known sorrow and loss. There is one such who could not bear to see it in another. It was she who sought to bring you here. It was not my will, but I have allowed it, because a greater purpose may be served by it. " I could not respond, I could only listen as I drifted helplessly in this strange nowhere.
"I may speak plainly here, for this place was created by your mind, and none can venture here if not allowed by you." This implied that, even in his own realm, Tyr had reason to believe that his actions were being watched.
"You have unleashed a war, Crusader. Many of the gods fear you, and plot your destruction. Yet there are also those who support your actions. This has created a rift in the planes; this threatens us all. Many gods and countless mortals will surely die. But the Wall is an ancient injustice, erected by an evil, arrogant god - it must not be allowed to stand, even as his bones turn to dust." It was quiet for a moment, as though the God of Justice were weighing his words.
"You will understand that I cannot intervene alone; nor can any other god. No war is won by a single man, nor by a single god. But you, Shard Bearer, Spirit Eater, have been marked by destiny many times over. If there is a way to unite the gods, I believe you are the key."
The mist thinned, and I was falling, falling. Tyr's voice sounded in a final echo:
"There are those in my realm who would aid you. When the time comes, they will be drawn to your banner."
The light was blinding as I plunged into the waking world, gasping like one almost drowned. The dream flooded my mind in a moment of crystal clarity. I remembered.
A ghost of fear remained, but I felt stronger. My heart ached, but it was also filled with hope. I sat up, and saw that my pillow was soaked with tears.
I looked around for Gann. I was not surprised when I did not see him, but the sadness I felt was unexpected.
I rose from the bed, and walked noiselessly across the stone floor. I splashed water on my face from the basin perched in its wooden frame. The cold water stung my skin and trickled down my neck, onto my shift. It felt good, invigourating. In the half-light, I faced the looking glass and my pale reflection. My eyes were darkly circled, but they shone with new resolve.
The time for hiding was over.
The door behind me swung open, unannounced, startling me.
"I thought you had gone." I addressed Gann's reflection stiffly, without turning to face him.
"You were wrong." he countered. "I am often underestimated - even by gods, it would seem." I could hear the smirk in his voice, and a smile tugged at my lips. How typical.
"You remained in the dream?" I asked, wondering why I had not sensed him.
"I returned when I could not wake you. It was easy enough to find you." He stared pointedly at the amulet, still around my neck, before he turned to leave.
In the doorway, he paused. His blonde hair hid his face when he said:
"You are not rid of me yet, my lady; if pleasing you means I must drag your lover back from the dead, then I shall do it."