Dreamer's Throne

A million thoughts spun through Garrett’s mind, but chief among them was fear. Viper and the flower ghouls were far away, deep under the city in the crypts, and in the predawn darkness the entire inn slept soundly. He could sense the terrible agitation of the Dream Flowers that lined the hallway as they sensed his terror, but there was nothing they could do to someone of Henrick’s strength. Despite the fact that they would be throwing themselves into certain death if they pressed forward, Garrett could sense that they intended to. Instead, he commanded them to retreat as he pulled on something that had remained buried deep in his unconscious.

Like ice water running through his veins, Garrett felt the influence of his memories from Earth surging to the front of his mind, overriding his fear and beginning to calculate how to give himself the largest chance to survive. Even as his mind worked, he had to admit that he’d been outmaneuvered. Henrick had been the one point of weakness in the defensive web he wove around himself, and whatever monster he now faced had exploited it perfectly.

He had no idea how the great ruler had managed to take control of Henrick’s mind, but he should have seen the signs of it sooner. Now, staring at the telltale crimson eye through the crack in the doorway, Garrett had few options. If the nightmare had come after him in the Dream, he could have used the Dreamer’s Throne to keep himself safe, but clearly his enemy was too smart to make the same mistake more than once. The throne he sat on was incalculably powerful, as evidenced by the way it had burned away the Crimson Eye of Shalmoroth’s influence, but its light was unable to reach into the real world.

With a spine-chilling creak, the door widened slightly and more of Henrick’s face became visible. Both of his eyes had transformed, turning vertically on his face and glowing with a deep crimson light. Whatever ritual Henrick had completed had allowed the nightmare to possess his body in the real world, and the strange eyes were a sign of that. His lips were twisted and spread wide in an abnormal smile that had ripped his skin, causing blood to dribble down his sharpened teeth and chin.

From the top of his head, his hair had gathered into clumps that writhed around like worms, reminding Garrett of the Chosen of Shalmoroth he’d seen hunting for him at the soap factory. Taking a deep breath, Garrett shook himself free of the monster’s oppressive influence and put the candle he was holding down on the table. Physically he was no match for Henrick, and the monster seemed to know it. With excruciating slowness, the door opened to reveal Henrick in his entirety. In his right hand was his cleaver, still dripping blood, while his other hand had transformed into a single hooked claw.

“Who are you?”

The foot that was about to enter Garrett’s room paused slightly, as if the monster was surprised that Garrett could even speak. With a cold whisper that seemed to slither around the room, the monster asked a question of his own.

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Of course. But some things are more important than fear. Are you the Crimson Eye of Shalmoroth? No, you can’t be. You’re the Crimson Eye’s servant.”

“You are correct. I caress what the master sees, transforming all into sacrifices for her greatness.”

“What are you doing here?”

“The master likes your eyes. They are the eyes of the determined,” the Chosen said, taking another small step forward. “Foolish, but determined. She enjoys those eyes the best. You have stolen away her eyes, so she will take yours. Mmm, I can see your fear, and it is delicious.”

“What do you mean, eyes? I only killed one. Shall I offer her one of mine in return?”

Picking up a letter opener that sat on his table, Garrett held it up to his left eye, resting it at the edge of his eye socket without blinking. A hissing laughter filled the room as the Chosen took another step forward, seeming to crouch slightly as if he wanted to look straight into Garrett’s eyes. Locking gazes with the crimson orbs that rotated in the monster’s eyes, Garrett could feel the corrosive influence that had seeped into him before trying to slip into his mind. The first time he’d encountered it there had been nothing he could do to stop it, and he had only realized what was happening too late.

This time, however, he could feel the intrusion as it was happening and was able to fortify his mind to resist it. Garrett’s mental power was bounds above where it had been, but even that didn’t seem to be entirely effective. With a short breath, he focused as much attention as he could spare to lock down the bloody energy trying to creep through his eyes into his mind. Again, the hissing laugh echoed around the room, nearly shaking Garrett’s concentration.

“This is what my master likes about you. You struggle even when it is hopeless. This is what I like too, as it means you will be helpless as I carve apart your body, bit by trembling bit. How long, I wonder, will you last before you succumb? For you will succumb, either to the pain or my master’s glory. I tingle with anticipation to discover which will take you first.”

Doing his best to ignore the monster’s words, Garrett let the letter opener drop. He had been ready to offer up an eye if that would have had any effect, but it was clear the irreconcilable hatred that had formed between Garrett and the Crimson Eye of Shalmoroth would not be soothed with something as small as an eye. With each step Henrick’s possessed body took, the pressure on Garrett’s mind grew, forcing him to divert more of his attention to fighting it, a fact the Chosen clearly understood. Stopping six feet away from Garrett, the monster’s smile grew wider, his hissing voice revealing his glee.

“You are stronger than most, though whether that is a boon or a curse has yet to be seen. Once I reach you, I could simply cut you apart, but another idea has struck me. I have a special poison on me that will transform your body into that of an undead monster. I wonder what would happen if I poured it into your body, causing you to transform while trying to hold off my master’s glory? Would your body break before your will did? Or would your will shatter under the combined assault? Or maybe I could do both. Cutting off bits of your flesh, infecting them with my poison and then sewing them back onto your body?”

Garrett’s entire body was clenched from the pressure he was feeling, the veins of his temples throbbing as he mustered all his strength to resist the energy seeping into him. Still, his voice was strangely monotone as he responded.

“You’re not very smart, are you? If you were smart, you would have just killed me. Torture is for the pathetic, monologuing is for fools.”

The slightest tremble around the monster’s rictus grin showed that Garrett’s words had troubled him, but he still took a slight step forward, coming closer to where Garrett sat. Seeming to disdain replying, the Chosen lifted its cleaver and hooked claw, brandishing both for Garrett to see. When he didn’t even twitch, anger flared in its eyes and the pressure on Garrett increased substantially.

Just a bit more.

Inside Garrett’s mind, his soul spark was doing its best to resist the intense pressure crushing it. Every day his soul spark looked more and more like a seed, and now that seed was blocking the crimson energy’s path toward his mind. Every moment that passed the seed was being pushed back, but Garrett kept forcing it forward. The combined pressure of the Crimson Eye of Shalmoroth’s invasive power and Garrett’s stubborn defense had started to compress the soul spark, packing the energy down further and further. At the same time, the Dream Flowers that filled the inn had started to stretch their tendrils toward his room, intending to come in and support him.

“No!” Garrett growled, causing Henrick’s teeth to part as the monster laughed.

At his command the Dream Flowers slowed and stopped, just outside the doorway. Garrett had no idea what would happen if the Dream Flowers were to enter the same room as the Dreamer’s Throne, but from what it had done to the Crimson Eye of Shalmoroth’s baleful eye, he suspected it wouldn’t be pretty. The last thing he needed was to accidentally destroy all the flowers in the inn because the Hidden Throne couldn’t tell the difference between an enemy nightmare and an allied nightmare. Trying to figure out a way to buy some time, Garrett spoke through the intense pressure that threatened to split his head.

“How did you manage to sneak in and possess Henrick? He should have been too strong for you to possess by force.”

“You of all people would do well to not underestimate my master’s strength—after all, haven’t you experienced it for yourself? But Awakened or not, all you humans are the same, lusting after power and willing to do anything to get it. You pretend to be strong, but you’re all so mentally weak. A simple promise of power, a call to his pain, enticing him with the power to find and destroy those who harmed his master, and his mind became mine for the taking. In a moment, we will see if you do the same. You will discover the true meaning of pain,” the Chosen said, hissing with delight as he lifted his clawed hand, “and you may very well join him, begging me to save you as well!”

Reaching out slowly, Henrick could see Garrett’s lips twitching as if he wanted to say something, but his claw never stopped approaching. Inch by inch, the wicked-looking claw came close until it was almost touching Garrett’s face. Just before it landed on Garrett’s face, his lips finally moved, curling up into a grim smile. The change took the Chosen by surprise, and before he could react a shout sounded at the doorway and a dagger whistled toward Henrick’s back.

Sensing the attack at the last moment, the monster tried to spin to block the incoming sword, but his body was jerked to a stop as his gaze remained locked with Garrett’s. Barely able to get his claw up, a shriek burst from Henrick’s lips as Gorn’s blade cut deep into its arm, nearly severing the bone in one slash. Finally shaking itself free of Garrett’s mental hold, the Chosen leapt away as Gorn’s follow-up slash nearly took his head off.

“Henrick’s been possessed,” Garret gasped, slumping in his seat as sweat poured down his forehead.

“Monster! What have you done with him?” Gorn yelled, pointing his dagger at Henrick’s terrifying face.

“You will regret your interference!” the Chosen hissed in response.

With a terrible cry, the two men both attacked, their weapons sending sparks flying across the room. Already small, the room became deadly as the two weapons slashed and stabbed. Ducking his head, Garrett tried to get out of the room, but an errant kick clipped the back of his wheelchair and with a loud crack it was reduced to little more than splinters. Landing heavily, Garrett struggled to catch his breath. Staying in the room was a certain death sentence, and with a groan he pulled himself along the floor, trying to get out into the hallway.

Behind him, Gorn was cutting at Henrick with every ounce of his strength, but the combination of Henrick’s strength and skill was too much for him to overcome. Each of his attacks was blocked and the return attacks nearly took his life over and over again. Through his connection with the Dream Flower in Gorn’s body Garret could tell he was on the losing end of the fight, so he never stopped moving. Dragging himself forward as fast as he could, he pulled himself toward the end of the hallway. People had started to wake up, but Garrett shouted hoarsely for them to flee.

“Run! There’s a monster! Clear the room!”

Gasps followed and the stampede of feet as people took Garrett at his word and fled, quickly vanishing from view. Turning into the passage leading out to the great room, Garrett gritted his teeth as his bruised ribs dragged against the threshold. Ignoring the pain, he kept crawling as, behind him, the fight reached its climax. Gorn had always fancied himself Henrick’s match, but reality proved otherwise.

With every swing Henrick’s blade cut into Gorn’s defenses, chipping away at him until a dozen bleeding wounds graced his body. Fear had long filled Gorn’s heart as he tried to extricate himself from the fight, but somehow Henrick had gotten between him and the door, blocking his only avenue of escape. Worse yet, the gash he’d left on Henrick’s arm was healing, the gaping wound knitting back together.

“I told you you would regret interfering,” the Chosen said, his crimson eyes glaring viciously at Gorn. “Now die!”

The monster’s hooked claw shot out, forcing Gorn to block. Locked in a contest of strength, there was no way Gorn could break free as Henrick’s cleaver rose slowly into the air. Seeing it hovering above his head, Gorn could only whimper as it dropped, drawing a straight line down through his body. The sharp pain that stung Gorn’s face couldn’t compare to the horror that filled his soul as he realized he was dead.

His mental energy began to escape from his body as his strength left him and he crumbled to the ground. Darkness swallowed his vision and he knew nothing else. Strangely, in that final moment, the last thing on his mind was a simple-looking watering can with a five-petaled flower on the side.

Out in the great room, Garrett was only twenty feet from the front door when he felt the sting of Gorn’s death. Clenching his teeth, he focused on nothing besides trying to get to the doorway. It opened a crack from the mad rush of people who retreated thanks to his yells, but as close as it was, it felt like it was impossibly far away. The clashing of steel fell silent as the battle in the room ended and was replaced with loud steps.

Each time Henrick’s boot hit the floorboards, Garret felt like it was a punch in his gut. Still, he kept going. The only thing on his mind seemed to be getting outside, and even when Henrick walked into the great room, Garrett didn’t look around. Sneering, the monster strode forward, its footsteps like a solemn death knell. Having learned its lesson, the monster looked around cautiously as it approached Garrett. With only a few feet between him and the doorway, Garrett reached out and pulled, dragging his body close.

It was only an arm’s distance away when a heavy boot descended on one of his feet, stopping him from moving. From the sound, the bones right above his ankle had been broken, and for the first time since he’d woken up in this world Garrett was glad he couldn’t feel anything below his waist. Tugging, he couldn’t get himself out from under Henrick’s boot, so he twisted himself around and looked up into the insane eyes of the Chosen.

“You were so close too,” the Chosen said, his voice a hissing whisper.

“Close? What do you mean close? You’ve lost.”

Blinking in surprise, the monster stared at Garrett for a second, unsure if he’d heard Garrett’s words correctly. While Henrick was frozen in confusion, Garrett reached out and pushed the front door open wide, allowing the soft morning sun to stream into the room.