MARBLE 6.2: WHO IS THE DREAMER
“What are we to do with them? They are not like the Rebels, not anymore! They cannot be reasoned with. You must surely all remember why we accepted that puerile designation, ‘Srol’? That is the meaning of their new philosophy! To reject all paradigms that may serve as shared foundations. They are too dangerous to even be interred in Zyger. Will you permit them within a courthouse? Will you give their demented brethren opportunity to further antagonise the public by causing riots, attempting rescue? This publicity is all they most desire! No, there is only one answer: eradication, at the earliest opportunity. We hereby propose the Srol Justice Bill. Let those who gainsay it explain themselves at once!”
– the Lady Malice Rhaegel, in session before the High Council, Urdara 995 NE
The owner of the house completely ignored the ghost – if I thought she looked terrified before, that was nothing. She fled across the room to the other wall and hid her face against it, sobbing.
“So, you really couldn’t tell it wasn’t one of ‘em?” Dreamlaughter asked, as if we were just old acquaintances stopping for a chit-chat. “Cos I’ve been working on this for a while now, and it’s – it’s just,” the darkmage almost choked-up and fanned herself, as though she thought she might burst into tears of joy, or was at least acting that way, “it’s just really meanin’ful, you know? To have someone like you ‘preciate me work like this.”
“I –”
“You got some pretty cool defences, don’t you?” She went from ridiculously-overjoyed to ridiculously-curious in the span of a breath. “What is it? Your mask? Why can’t I see inside your gorgeous li’l head, I wonder… Can’t even chip it! All you champions, all the same, ain’t you?”
I considered my options. She might’ve been able to pick up what I said over the glyphstone… No, better to do it in her face.
“Stormsword!” I cried. “Dreamlaughter!”
Dreamlaughter’s eyebrows raised. “Now that’s the even newer one, innit? She the one you was with at the Square, with them spiders? Eurgh, man, dunno how you managed that one. Gives me the creeps.”
Spiders… gave Dreamlaughter… the creeps…
What was more, Dreamlaughter could link Em with Stormsword. That wasn’t good.
A moment later I heard a crash from downstairs as Em smashed her way through the door, the rush of a gale hurtling through the house –
“Upstairs!” I yelled out of instinct, in case of the one in a million chance she didn’t know whereabouts I was –
I saw her emerge from the stairwell behind Dreamlaughter, saw her eyes widen as she halted, staring at the darkmage. Lightning took root there in her steely irises, dancing white-blue and flickering; mist thickened around her without seeping across the landing.
“Well, well,” Stormsword murmured.
I could tell she was trying her utmost to keep her accent from coming through – I wondered whether she’d been listening in when the darkmage revealed she’d figured out an important part of Em’s identity already.
“Hiya! Stormsword, right?” The enchantress extended her hand in Em’s direction. “I love your mask, phoenixes are soooooo cool. Ah, you’ve been protected by the same person as him. No wonder he called you in.”
“Stormsword,” I did my best to keep my voice level, “somewhere within a short distance there is a top-tier bounty just begging for us to come collect it. Can you sense anything nearby that’s just started running, moving frantically, now I’ve said that? I don’t know her range, but its outside my biggest shield.”
“Oh, golly,” Dreamlaughter squeaked, lowering her hand. She looked back at me. “You know I’m not really here?”
I tapped my temple knowingly. The browny, violety sight I’d blinked into my left eye the moment she’d announced her name had seen right through her. A glance at the ghost told me it was no different.
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They could move through my shields. She’d try to terrify me, or –
“Well – best be off then,” she huffed. “Lovely meetin’ you. We’ll have to do this again sometime. Say, I know a neat trick…”
Dreamlaughter vanished in the blink of an eye, and not a second later absolute, impenetrable darkness fell.
To my right eye only.
Satyr-reflexes screamed at me to take a combat posture, lean to one side –
The ghost-illusion had vanished along with its creator’s illusion, and the woman – the poor woman was now possessed.
She was racing across the room at me, her feet pointed outwards in an unnatural posture – her fist bunched, she swung at the side of my head as if to dislodge my mask, clobber me in the ear.
“Stay put, Storm, nothing to worry about!” I shouted, seeing Em react to her sudden blindness with more lightning.
Instead of dodging away from the old woman, giving Dreamlaughter the pleasure of watching me defend myself against an inept, mind-controlled victim, I simply let the fist swing right through my head. She overbalanced, probably due in part to the fact the arch-enchanter didn’t have a complete grip on the woman’s motor controls; I rematerialised behind her, using a touch of my enhanced strength to hold her arms so that she couldn’t escape, couldn’t swing at me again.
I hadn’t realised until now that it worked this way. No wonder those demons in the Incursion had seemed so successful when they’d taken control of the magisters – their spells must’ve penetrated the shielding. The perpetrator bore no malice – this woman, kicking like a mule and frothing at the mouth, held me no ill-will. She was only a reflection of Dreamlaughter. Her body could get through, and the shield did nothing to stop the willpower of the distant archmage.
Daaaaaamn.
Ultimately, I supposed, I was glad to have seen this. The darkmage had tipped her hand for the sake of having the last laugh.
So puppets can get through my defences, assuming they don’t actually want to hurt me… Should I even ask the others about this?
I was loath to start divulging secrets that could get back to other dark enchanters once they’d seen the feat performed in front of them.
“Feychilde? What is this?” I heard Em call. “My light can’t clear it.”
“It’s on our minds. Come my way.” I exerted Zab’s power, but I could only clear a small section of the sphere of darkness the enchantress had put upon the building.
With my illusion-piercing vision I could see that Em had let her mist and lightning dissipate, and then the relief came over her features as she entered the cleared area. The confusion that swept over her face as she saw me holding the woman, replaced in an instant by understanding.
“What are we going to do now?” she asked, disappointment in her tone. “I can’t sense the darkmage. I could bind the woman, in stone perhaps, but this wouldn’t be very pleasant for the poor thing…”
Her opinion was obviously the same as mine, then.
“I don’t know…” I kept a carefully-controlled grip on the possessed resident while I thought it through. “Can you send a message? To Lovebright, Glancefall, Spiritwhisper… Dancefire, Wilderweird, Voicenoise… whoever’s closest might be able to get here in time, help us trace her.”
Em reached into the folds of her robe –
“Golly golly golly!” the woman moaned, in Dreamlaughter’s voice, then slumped in my arms – she would’ve fallen in a heap if not for the grip I had on her.
The darkness-spell lifted as suddenly as it had first fallen, and we could see our surroundings again.
I manoeuvred the darkmage’s victim to the bed, plopped her down; she rolled on her back, breathing heavily and sweating.
“What in Tw-Twelve Hells was that?” She shuddered, bringing her hands up under her chin and curling into a ball, looking around with wet, frenzied eyes.
“I think you were being used as part of an experiment,” I said by way of shorthand explanation. “Darkmage wanted to test fake ghost; darkmage found someone grieving. The man – your husband?”
She shook her head, but said, “Araldo. My sweet, sweet Araldo.” She gazed up at me imploringly. “Can – you – you can bring him back for me? For real?”
I drew back. “That’s not what I’m about, sorry. I mean –“ I licked my lips, remembering Morsus’s body “– my condolences, madam. But I can’t. I really, really can’t. The woman you just saw – Dreamlaughter – she was toying with your mind. How long have you been seeing this ghost?”
Her face contorted in waves of denial and frustration and confusion. “I think – it was, on Waneday – yeah – Waneday night…”
Em had floated into the room, then stepped down to the rug as she moved towards the bed, all the overt signs of her power now fully faded.
“I doubt she’ll be back.” Stormsword sat down, placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “You should try to get some rest. My friend is going to pop a shield here around your bed – is this okay? We aren’t going that far, and we’re going to send someone here with something that can protect you properly, really soon. You’re safe now.”
I smiled.
“Is it – really you?” The resident smiled, looking between the two of us. “Stormsword, is it? And Feychilde? Is it really you?”
“It’s really us,” Em said, floating back up off the bed.
“The Liberator of Zadhal.” She said the words dreamily, and closed her eyes. “Liberated me. Liberated old Keyla. Hah! Who’ll believe me?”
I exchanged a glance with my fellow champion.
“I think someone spotted me coming in, to be honest, but I may be able to help with that. How’s an autograph sound?”
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