Read torg 03- The Nightmare Dream Online

Authors: Jonatha Ariadne Caspian

Tags: #Role Playing & Fantasy, #Games

torg 03- The Nightmare Dream (5 page)

BOOK: torg 03- The Nightmare Dream
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The last thing the priest remembered was that he was sliding down an incline. Toolpin had spun around and was clutching him tightly, while the carcasses that made up the insect creature chittered wildly above him.

7

Coyote and Rat sat at a table in the mess hall, quietly eating sandwiches and drinking sodas. The big gray cat stood atop the table, noisily lapping milk from a bowl.

"What are we going to do, Coyote?" Rat asked at last. The older boy could see tears welling in Rat'seyes. "We don't know how Father Bryce and the others are doing. We might never see them again And everyone else went to the battlefront, leaving us here so we'd be safe."

Coyote took the younger boy's hand. "Kurst made it back here, didn't he? And didn't he tell us that Father Bryce and Tolwyn must have succeeded because the runes disappeared from Decker's chest?"

Rat nodded, but doubt still clouded his features. "What about that lady? She wants to blame President Wells' death on Decker. That isn't fair."

"Don't worry about Conners," Coyote said. "She won't be able to prove anything. And Decker can take care of himself, you know. He's with Julie and Kurst. The three of them stopped the weretiger. What do they have to fear from some nasty lady."

As if on cue, the door to the mess hall swung open. Coyote looked up to see Ellen Conners enter the hall. Three of the men that arrived with her, the guys in suits and dark glasses, were beside her. They were all coming over to Coyote and Rat's table.

Coyote began to stand up, but one of the agents grasped his shoulder hard enough to hurt and forced him back into his seat. Another one stood behind Rat, and the third reached for the cat. The cat hissed, slashing the agent's hand with a swipe of its sharp claws. Then it leaped off the table and started to run.

The agent cursed, put his hand to his mouth to suck on the deep scratches, and reached into his jacket to retrieve his pistol. Ellen Conners placed a restraining hand on his arm.

"Let it go," she ordered. "The cat isn't worth the trouble." Then she turned to Coyote. Ellen Conners smiled at him, and the boy felt no humor or friendliness in the gesture. He felt only fear.

"Now, boys," Conners said, "I believe we have a conversation to finish."

8

Tolwyn was torn as to her next course of action. With her were Tom, Mara, and the dwarves Pluppa, Grim, and Gutterby. She saw Bryce and Toolpin go over the incline with one of the insect things. Djil was still trying to save the horse, but its screams told her that death was not very far away. Before she could decide, the remaining two insect things started toward her group, flying upon humming wings made from dead insects. She reached for her sword, then remembered that she had lost it in the battle at Illmound Keep.

"Your weapon would do little good against those creatures, Tolwyn," Grim cautioned. "They are full of entity and death magic. We can't fight them like we'd fight a normal foe."

The monsters were getting closer. Tolwyn thought about her options, about Bryce, about her mission. Though it hurt her terribly, there was only one real choice.

"Run," she told the others. "Run quickly and do not look back."

9

Djil rummaged through the few items he carried, looking for something he could use against the dead insect spirit. He had his spear and his boomerang, his knotted rope, his ceremonial artifacts, his tools. Nothing leaped to mind as a solution. The pitiful screams of the horse stopped then, and Djil saw the insect thing turn

toward him as it finished its grisly work on the animal.

"You seek to tear Djilangulyip apart like you did that poor horse," Djil said as he hefted his spear. "Well, Djilangulyip is not ready to be torn apart just yet."

He thrust the spear at the insect thing, hitting it in the chest. The spear deflected off the chitinous armor composed of dead bugs, and the creature snapped it in half with a swipe of its claw.

"I do not like you, monster," Djil said flatly. "You should not exist in the natural world."

The creature swung its claw in a deadly arc, but Djil easily stepped out of the way before it could connect. Then he turned and ran.

The insect, not so easily shaken, took up the chase. It was larger than the aborigine, and its wings made it faster. But Djil reached the large rock he had noticed earlier some steps ahead of the monster. He placed his hands upon it and began to sing.

The song was a dream song, and through it Djil called upon the spirits of the Dream Time to aid him. He heard the creature land behind him, but he ignored it and kept on singing. He heard it step toward him as he sang, felt its dead touch as it reached for him. Still singing his dream song, Djil spun and grabbed the insect's arm with his right hand. His left hand still touched the rock.

"The spirit ancestors have heard my song," Djil said. "The way to Alcheringa is open. Come with me to the Dream Time!"

With that, Djil dove into the rock, passing through it without any resistance. He pulled the insect creature with him, and it too passed into the rock.

Djil stopped once half of the monster had passed into the rock with him. Its back half, from its torso to its legs, was still in the natural world. Its head and arms were with Djil in the Dream Time. The aborigine still held its arm.

"I have changed my mind, dead thing," Djil said I irmly. "I do not want to take you with me. You can stay

here."

So saying, Djil released his hold on the monster. Unable to enter the Dream Time on its own, it found itself stuck within solid rock. Whatever magic held its unnatural form together could not operate in such confines, and the pile of dead insects came apart.

Djil stepped out of the rock, careful to avoid crushing any of the tiny carcasses that littered the ground around him. He turned to the rock and sang a few more verses, thanking the spirit ancestors for granting him access to the Dream Time.

"I shall come back for a longer visit," he promised. "But first I must try to find the preacher and the dwarf." He turned, pushing his way into the jungle. He looked down the incline into the valley, but saw no sign of Bryce or Toolpin. He shrugged, and started his walk down.

10

The Earthers had an annoying tendency to debate every topic, Kurst reflected, including war. As if the process of debate would hold back the denizens of the invading realms or sap the High Lords of their powers. He despaired at times like these of Earth's chances.

"We haven't got the manpower or the material to launch a strike across the storm front," Major Covent argued. "The enemy would pick us off as we crossed, like they did the last time that we tried. Or worse, our own equipment would fail when we needed it most, leaving us defenseless. Or our troops would succumb to their wildest urges and join the invaders. We've seen all of these scenarios happen before. W ha t makes you think this time will be any different?"

"You're giving these creatures too much credit, Major Covent," Colonel Matthews shot back, pointedly ignoring the edeinos that sat at the table with them. Tal Tu raised his head at the statement but said nothing.

"They may not be sophisticated in tactics, but they've got a nation's worth of army behind that storm," Eddie Paragon added.

Colonel Matthews, rabidly doctrinaire, was having none of it. "Not from what we've observed by recon, they don't. Spotters a long the front haven't reported any activity in over forty-eight hours. We drove them back last time they advanced, now we have to go in there and mop them up before they can regather their forces."

"We've tried that," Decker said, exasperated. "We need to hold them where they are, keep them from crossing the storm front. Once we contain them and stop the Dead Ring from advancing, then we can figure out a way to drive them back."

"Boy, I've fought in wars you weren't born for, and I know how to run a campaign," the colonel said. "You stick to politics and leave the fighting to those of us who know how to do it."

Kurst let the conversation go on around him as he stood and walked to the edge of the command tent. He could barely make out the swirling wall of storm through the trees beyond the camp. He had a feeling, and he had learned over the years to trust his feelings.

Major Julie Boot walked over to stand beside him. She was a nurse, and it was through her ministrations that Decker eventually overcame the Gaunt Man's control. She was still frightened of the hunter, but not nearly as badly as she had been when he first appeared at

Twenty nine Palms with Decker's comatose body after the incident in the Grand Canyon. He had recently returned to save Decker from Scythak, and to Julie's mind that counted as an indication of positive intentions, But Kurst was still a shapeshifter from another reality. He was able to shift from human to werewolf to werebear, and that was not an ability she thought of as normal. And since it was not normal, it made her nervous.

"Is the conversation boring you, Kurst?" Julie asked, trying to be friendly.

He continued to stare at the storm, but he answered her just the same. "Debate that serves no purpose annoys me, Major Boot. As Decker said before, Colonel Matthews is a fool."

Julie nodded, then followed Kurst's gaze toward the tree line. "What do you see out there?"

"I see the soldiers, and the trees, and the wall of storm," he said.

"What else, Kurst?" she urged despite her nervousness. "You look like you're ready to spring. Tell me what you see."

"I see nothing, Julie," Kurst replied matter-of-factly. "I see nothing. Yet."

Colonel Matthews and the others noticed Kurst and Julie staring out of the tent. Leaving his argument, the colonel joined them. "Too good to sit in on the discussion, Mr. Kurst?" the colonel prodded, speaking loud enough so that everyone at the table could hear. "Tell me, what's so important out there that it dragged you away from our meeting — a meeting, I might add, that I strongly believe you have no business attending anyway."

A feral snarl curled Kurst's lip as he leaned close to the colonel. "I do not care what you believe, nor did I ask to sit in this tent and listen to you bleat endlessly when

there .ire more important things to be done."

"Such as, Mr. Kurst?" the colonel retorted furiously.

"Rallying your soldiers, for one," Kurst said calmly. "The edeinos are about to cross through the storm."

Decker, Paragon, and Tal Tu looked at each other, then at Kurst, trying to determine if he was joking. Colonel Matthews made ready to hurl his fiercest barbs at the shapeshifter, but Covent interrupted him.

"Corporal West, one of the spotters along the storm front, is on the line," Covent said. He was standing beside the field radio, cradling its receiver on his shoulder. "He says that there's movement down there."

"What kind of movement?" Matthews demanded.

"There's something gathering on the far side of the storm front," Covent relayed to the group in the command tent.

"Your debate is finished, colonel," Kurst informed him. "All of your options are gone. The invaders are coming to you, and all you can do is defend yourself."

Matthews looked from Kurst to Decker, anger raging in his brown eyes. But he was also a soldier, and he knew his duty when push came to shove. He turned to Covent, snapping orders briskly. "Mobilize the troops, Major," he said. "Let's keep those lizards from coming through."

11

Father Christopher Bryce opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The sunlight, even diffused as it was by the canopy of trees and the volcanic ash that hung in the sky, sent sharp pains through his head, which added to the various pains shooting through the rest of his body.

If it hurts this much, Bryce thought, then I must still be alive. He remembered the fall down the incline with

Toolpin and the insect creature, but little else beyond 111.it. He tried to rise, but was only able to manage sitting
up.

"Father Bryce, are you all right?" Toolpin asked. "I was afraid you were going to leave me alone with these terrible people."

"What people?" Bryce asked tentatively, looking ,i round to see where they were.

They were in a clearing at the bottom of the incline. Toolpin was a few feet away, held fast by the insect creature. Sitting on a rotting log beside him was a bald man in black robes. He nodded to Bryce, and gestured at the insect thing.

"Do you appreciate the amount of power it takes to keep one chthon active, let alone four of them?" the bald man asked.

"Is that what that thing is called, a chthon?" Bryce managed to get the question out as he got his feet under himself and stood up. He wobbled, but caught himself and leaned on a tree for support. He hoped he didn't have a concussion as he mentally checked off the symptoms — headache, dizziness ...

The bald man ignored Bryce's question, instead moving on to other topics. "The dwarf already identified you as Father Christopher Bryce. As it is impolite for me to know your name while you are ignorant of mine, allow me to introduce myself. I am Wilfred Markham, of the Royal Society of Exploration."

"How nice to meet you," Bryce said, casting about on the ground for his cross. He did not see it. He feared he lost it further up the incline, which meant it might be gone forever. "What can we do for you Mr. Markham?"

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