Dreamer's Throne

Walking into Dreamer’s Rest, Garrett scanned the crowd, noting over a dozen new faces that he had never seen before. The natural growth of the dream flowers wasn’t fast, but now that they could propagate by themselves, Garrett was seeing a regular trickle of new people entering the bar. He still wasn’t sure exactly how people found Dreamer’s Rest, but enough of them had walked through the door without him explicitly showing it to them, that he knew it was going to be a regular thing.

The bar ran smoothly, with the mental energy spent by the patrons being funneled into the cost to run it, creating a nearly net zero drain on his mind. Greeting a few of the regulars, Garrett headed up to where the awakened dreamers sat. Another table had been added to the raised area, and there were a few more people there, including Obe and Abbius. Ryn sat with them, discussing some of the business of the Family in a low voice.

One of the nice things about the bar was that all conversation that you were not a part of was reduced to a low hum, making it impossible for anyone to eavesdrop. Apart from Garrett, of course. He could hear everything, and had been learning all sorts of things recently. Stopping at the table where Kinsley and Maren were waiting for the rest of their team, Garrett sat down.

“Hey Geller, how's it? Business seems to be booming.”

“It is,” Garrett said, looking out over the bar. “Might be time to upgrade the furnishings a bit.”

“Get another bartender instead,” Kinsley said, grinning. “Preferably a cute lady.”

“Already recovered from your brush with death, I see,” Garrett replied with a laugh.

“And about to have another one,” Estel said from behind Kinsley, cracking her knuckles threateningly.

“I’ll hold him while you punch him,” Pax said, placing a meaty hand on Kinsley’s shoulder. “Or you can hold him and I’ll punch him.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Kinsley said, throwing up his hands. “Nobody needs to be punched here. Let’s talk about this like civilized people!”

Shaking his head, Garrett got up and patted Asher on the shoulder.

“Good job last night. We’re clear all the way to the water thanks to your efforts.”

“You went out last night alone?” Maren said, looking at Asher in surprise as the others stopped messing around and looked at the sallow faced man.

“We don’t have time to mess around,” Asher said, shrugging. “The wave is building. So I’m trying to get as strong as I can.”

“What do you mean by the wave?”

Turning to Garrett, Asher rubbed his arm unconsciously. Normally, the masked owner of Dreamer’s Rest spoke quietly and with a bit of humor in his voice, but now it was deadly serious and rang with a power that caused the air to crackle.

“The night the dead walk. The March of Lesrek. It goes by a number of names, but when the power in the crypts builds to the point it cannot be contained, it will explode, sending undead across the city. That is what the Skeletal Hand preaches. And it's coming. Haven’t you been able to sense the change in the air? There is nowhere that will be safe, at least, not on this side of the river. The stronger I am, the higher my chance of surviving. That’s it.”

Thinking for a moment, Garrett turned and snapped his finger, bringing all the conversation in the bar to a halt. Clearing his throat, he waved to get everyone’s attention.

“Thank you for your attention. Now, by a show of hands, and strictly a show of hands, who has been feeling a general sense of unease over the last few weeks?”

When every hand in the bar went up, Garrett grimaced.

“Alright, thank you, as you were.”

Garrett had thought it had just been his own sense of doom that had been building, but clearly that wasn’t the case. He had already been warned by the exorcists, twice, and now again by Asher, who had direct experience with the Skeletal Hand. Closing his eyes, he stood there, silent, as his mind whirred, an insane plan starting to come together. If Asher was right, and the undead suddenly boiled up, it would not just damage the district, but it would ruin nearly everything that he had worked for. No matter what sort of defenses he developed, fighting against thousands of zombies and flesh golems was a fool's errand. The last time there was an undead wave, it had taken over a year to finish hunting down the last creature, and there was no way Garrett was going to accept living in a zombie infested district for a year.

His only other option was to do the thing most unlike him. To take the offensive. Even the thought of it made Garrett feel uncomfortable, but he knew that he really didn’t have another choice. He could either wait and play his enemy’s game, or he could venture out, and force his enemy to play his. As he stood there, his mind ran through all of the resources that he had. Asher, who understood the Skeletal Hand as well as anyone, Grant, who was currently hunting for signs of the necromancer, and his army of flower ghouls under the city.

Arrayed against him was a Great Ruler, who held a strength that Garrett either didn’t understand, or couldn’t even comprehend, a mysterious necromancer and her insane companions, and a gang that was three times the size of his.

Seems about fair.

“Asher, is there a way to join the Skeletal Hand?”

Surprised by the question, Asher thought for a moment and then nodded.

“Sure. Just be one of the slaves that is sold to them. As long as you show a talent for necromantic magic, they’ll train you. But only one in a thousand have the mental strength to do it.”

“What if you’re awakened?”

“Nope. Not a chance. They can’t control an awakened person. That’s how I escaped.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Returning to the Dreamer’s Throne, Garrett began to consider his options. In an ideal world, he would be able to lure the Skeletal Hand of Lesrek into the range of the Dreamer’s Throne, but given its immobile state, he was pretty sure that plan was dead in the water. The next best plan would be to wipe out all of the necromancers, but until he could find them, that plan was also a dud. Another option was to take over the Grave Walkers, and that is what he was leaning toward right now.

The next afternoon Obe left the inn and headed north, a small group of hard looking men with him. Though he didn’t know it, Viper was mirroring his movements, just underground. When he got to the edge of the Family’s territory, Obe stepped over the line and continued walking, his expression firm and his shoulders squared, ready for anything. The situation between the Grave Walkers and the Klein Family had not been good for a while, and it was commonly understood that anything could be used as an excuse to start a war, so marching into enemy territory with a group of armed men was liable to get someone in trouble, but Obe didn’t care. Running into a bunch of surprised Grave Walkers, he waved them over and handed a note and a white handkerchief to one of them.

“Give this to your boss. It’s from Garrett Klein, the leader of the Klein Family.”

Without saying anything else, he turned around and led his men back to their territory where they stopped and stood quietly. Unsure what was going on, the Grave Walkers sent one their number to deliver the message while the others stood around, watching the members of the Klein Family silently. It took two hours before they got a response, but Obe and his men didn’t move from the spot they occupied, waiting patiently until Cynen brought her men over. Waving the cloth at Obe, she smiled at him.

“Takes some guts to deliver something like this. But here I am. Where is your boss?”

“He is at the inn. We’ll escort you.”

“You think I’ll just march into your territory like that? Are you mad? What's to stop you from jumping me?”

“Wave the white cloth and no one will bother you,” Obe said, his expression blank.

Bursting into laughter, Cynen threw the handkerchief at Obe, not caring when it fell to the ground in between them.

“Lead the way, Obe. I’m not afraid of you or your men.”

Nodding, Obe turned and led the way back toward the inn. Only a dozen men came with Cynen this time, though all of them were awakened. Unlike the last time, this was a real show of force, and it was with considerable trepidation that the people who lived to the north of the inn watched Cynen and her uniformed goons walking through their territory. It was past dinner when they arrived at the bar, but there was still food laid out, making it clear that they had been expected.

Inviting Cynen back to the office after she had gotten some food, Garrett waited for her to take a few bites before asking her a question.

“What would you do if that food was poisoned?”

Nearly choking on the pork she was eating, Cynen stared at it for a moment and then put it down with a grimace.

“That’s a mean trick to pull on someone,” she said.

“Payback for splashing wine on me,” he said with a chuckle. “But don’t worry, it’s not poisoned. If we wanted to kill you, we would do it directly.”

“I appreciate the warning.”

“My pleasure. Now, let's get to the reason you are here. I would like you to work together with me to eliminate the Dark Hand.”

This time, Cynen did choke, spraying wine over her plate and her lap. Staring at Garrett to see if he was joking, she saw nothing but deadly seriousness in his eyes.

“I won’t hold it against you that you hired them to kill me, since the two women who were targeted as bait were unharmed, but you need to understand just how dangerous that group is. Maybe you didn’t know that they were necromancers when you hired them, maybe you did. I don’t care. They are not your friends, and they will not rest until every single one of you serves their evil god in undeath. I don’t know about you, but I would much prefer to stay alive.”

A dangerous expression crossed Cynen’s face as she listened to Garrett speak, and she shook her head.

“You can’t prove any of that.”

“I don’t need to prove any of it,” Garrett said, shaking his head. “As long as I believe it, and act accordingly, you’ll have no choice but to play along. Look, this is not a play to become a stronger gang. I don’t want your seat at the table. All I want is for you to cooperate with me so I can remove this threat to the city. I get it, you’ve had a beneficial relationship with them in the past, and you probably feel like they’re under control, but I’m telling you, it's all an illusion. They are simply biding their time until they can overwhelm the city. Already, they are probably massing undead and getting ready to attack. But we have a chance to disrupt their plans now.”

“Preposterous,” Cynen scoffed. “You don’t know what you are talking about. The Grave Walker gang was established after the last necromancer of the Skeletal Hand fell. It was formed from those with the guts and strength to hunt and kill undead, driving those few that remained into the crypts. We continue to guard the crypts, keeping the undead from making it into the city. To accuse us of conspiring with the necromancers is insulting.”

“Again, I don’t mean to accuse you of any such thing. But it is a fact that this Dark Hand group is actually a remnant of the Skeletal Hand, and they are trying to complete the task of their forefathers.”

Standing up, Cynen’s eyes narrowed, her expression grim.

“We deal with undead all the time. I think we would know if we were doing business with a bunch of dirty necromancers.”

“Is that how you felt when you hired a necromancer to kill me?”

A faint flush lit up Cynen’s face, but she stubbornly shook her head.

“I don’t know what you are talking about. We will not join you in a fool’s quest to deal with a problem that doesn’t exist. Now, if you do not want to discuss the terms of surrender, then we’re done here.”

To her surprise, Garrett, who was across from her, actually bowed his head toward her, causing her to pause.

“Please reconsider. I am deadly serious about this. There is a major threat coming to the city, and unless we strike now, we will be too late.”

For a moment, Garrett’s sincerity actually moved her, but then something in her heart hardened and Cynen’s face followed suit. Taking a step back, she stared at Garrett with cold eyes.

“I’ve said no. Now, either you surrender, or we go to war.

Garrett seemed to deflate, and he shook his head, but when his eyes met hers, Cynen nearly yelped. If the look that she had given him was cold, his was the frozen frigid tundra.

“As I’ve said in the past, I prefer taking the third option.”

Raising his hand as he spoke, Cynen found herself reflected in a bright silver hand mirror, causing her to freeze, horror covering her face as her voice failed to respond to her direction. Desperately she tried to summon the flame that gave her the title Death’s Flame, but a tremendous power that seemed impossible, was pressing down on her, completely suppressing her soul spark. A flicker in the mirror revealed a strand of long, black hair with a beautiful rainbow flower on it that was creeping over her shoulder.

“What lovely hair you have, dear.”

Out in the bar, the bartender seemed to hear something and put the glass he was polishing down while reaching up to grab a cloth that was hung on the wall. With a tug, it fell to the ground, revealing a mirror that reflected the entire room, capturing all twelve of the Grave Walker awakened who were sitting there. The first one to notice the change was a man who was trying to lift a piece of cheese to his mouth, only for it to stop an inch away. Unsure what was happening, he tried to push it in, simply to find that he couldn’t move at all.

A moment later, Garrett appeared in the hallway, watching dispassionately as all of the trapped people vanished, one by one. Anyone sitting in the great room who possessed a dream flower was spared and once the last of the awakened was sucked into the mirror, the bartender covered it back up, making sure he didn’t get in front of it. Obe looked pale, but determined as he saluted Garrett.

“My men are ready.”

“It's not their time yet,” Garrett said quietly. “But standby in case you’re needed. It’s Viper’s turn.”