A Dagger of the Mind (The Imperial Metals) (33 page)

Chapter
59: The Memory of a Clown

Corthos was in the battle, of course. He hadn’t been spending time with Jareld in the past few days, and when he heard the call to arms, he answered, just as anyone would.

He had fought his way up to the beach. But instead of just standing on the shore and beating up Grimsor’s army as they landed, he commandeered one of their ships. He got a small unit to follow him, and they sailed back out into the ocean. Because the current was with them, it was easier for them to maneuver. Corthos would have his men guide him to the nearest enemy raft, board it, kill its occupants, scuttle it, then jump back to his raft. He did quite a good job thinning the herd before they even joined the battle proper.

He was unscathed by the fighting, so he helped Duncan organize patrols, rounding up any wounded who were too hurt to move, and making sure there weren’t any straggling soldiers from Grimsor’s army wandering around. He also led the effort to put out the fire in the kitchen.

Duncan and Landora found him nursing a bottle of wine in the mess hall, a much needed break from his duties. They sat across from him without a word.

“Corthos,” Duncan said, “Hello. My name is Duncan. I’m the High Lieutenant... Well, I guess I’m actually the acting Count of Deliem for the moment. And I need your help.”

Corthos took a chug of his wine bottle, biting into an apple. His eyes were on Landora the whole time.

“Oh,” Duncan said, “And this is Landora.”

“Aye?” Corthos said, “Yer one of them Turin-Sen?”

“We are now called the Turin-Guarde.”

“She’s one of the good guys, Corthos,” Duncan insisted.

“So I’ve ‘eard. Met one of those before. A good Turin-Sen-- Me Apologies, Turin-Guarde. Aye, we were down in the Caves of Drentar, tryin’ ta find--”

“I know the story,” Duncan said. “And that’s part of the reason we’re here. You spent time with Flopson, the Jester.”

“Aye. He was a right mad fellow.”

“We need to find him.”

“Then yer mad yerselves.”

“It’s urgent.”

“I ‘ave not seen him goin’ on five years.”

“That’s more recent than anyone else has,” Landora said. “And we believe that he knows how to defeat Grimsor.”

“Who be Grimsor?”

“N
ever mind,” Duncan said. “Will you please, please, let Landora search your mind? We know you don’t know where he is, but you’re the closest link we have. And we need to find him fast.”

“I wou’naught recommend a Lady go diggin’ thru me mind. She might take offense at what she finds in there.”

“Trust me,” Landora said, “I’ve thought worse.”

“I’ll wager a Ducat on that,” Corthos said. But he smiled, drained his bottle of the last remnants of the wine, smacked his lips, and planted the bottle on the table. “Aye then. Ya want ta find good ol’ Flopson. Be my guest.”

Landora leaned over the table, pressing her fingers to Corthos’ temples. They both closed their eyes...

---

Back through the hours...

Back through the fire in the kitchen, the battle on the beach, Jareld’s strange behavior, hiding Landos’ body... Landora didn’t know what she was looking at. It was a blur. But it was too recent...

Back through the weeks...

Corthos’ life became a mosaic of sights and sounds. Now he was Krugg, the servant to Jareld, who was pretending to be the Count, now news of Vye’s death arrived at the Castle, now he was moving Jareld into his new home...

Back through the months...

Too much to hold onto. Landora delved further into Corthos’ subconscious, so that she not only saw and heard his memories, but was living them. Each second made sense to her as she witnessed it, though if she thought about it later, it would mean nothing. She was entirely subjective...

The years...

Until at last she moved to a long stretch of time before Jareld was there. The life of a pirate. Freedom. Contentment. Life at sea. And there was Flopson. Now it was time to stop. To be there, in the moment...

---

“But yer me best mate,” Corthos said. “And ya get to do theivin’, which seems to suit you.”

Flopson was traipsing across the sand. He wasn’t heading for his hut. He was heading for a small boat with a sack over his shoulder. He was leaving.

“I’ve only ever worn one suit,” Flopson quipped, “And it’s that of a clown.”

“Ya were naught born a jester.”

“I was born a long time ago. I can’t remember what I was then.”

“Piratin’ will naught be as much fun without ya.”

“I’ve never had fun without me.”

“Fer a moment, can ya be serious?”

“I can’t be Serious. I’m Flopson.”

“D’ya want a bigger share of the bounty?”

“If you think I’m after gold, you haven’t been paying attention.”

“Which way ya sailing?”

Flopson flopped his sack into the single-sail skiff. Not much of a vessel, but it was seaworthy, and Flopson had proven himself a skilled boatman.

“I can’t remember.”

“How can ya
nawt remember?” Corthos said. “Ya haven’t left yet.”

“Which is why I have no memory of it.”

Corthos smiled. Flopson never let down. Not for a minute. He was an impenetrable surface. An immovable object. Corthos reached out and embraced his friend.

“Well, if I cannot convince ya t’stay, I’ll be wishin’ ya happy voyages.”

“And to you,” Flopson said, returning the hug. “And remember...”

Flopson leaned in and whispered something into Corthos’ ear. A single word. Corthos didn’t know what it meant, but Flopson so often said nonsense that he thought nothing of it. Just another joke, probably.

Flopson grabbed the paddles and pushed away from the shore. He unfurled the sail and his boat drifted south. Corthos watched it until it rounded the bend, out of sight...

---

Landora’s eyes snapped open a second before Corthos’.

“What was that?” Landora asked.

“What were what?”

“What did he whisper to you?”

“I dunnot remember.”

“Come here.”

Landora placed her hands back on his temples. She focused in on that one memory. The day Flopson left. The last word he said to Corthos...

“Benthos...”

Landora listened to that moment over and over. She relived that memory a dozen times, and each time, she heard the same thing...

“Benthos...”

She opened her eyes.

“Benthos,” she said aloud.

“Benthos?” Duncan repeated, “You mean... under the water?”

“What be Benthos?” Corthos asked.

“It’s a mythical place,” Duncan said. “A whole city of people living on the ocean floor. Talking to fish and whatnot.”

“Is that where Flopson went?” Landora asked.

“He couldn’t have,” Duncan answered. “It’s not a real place. Even the stories that talk about it refer to it as a story for children. A fantasy. I can’t even remember where the legend comes from.”

“It was the Aothans,” said a voice behind Duncan. Everyone turned to see Jareld and Emily, hand in hand, watching over them. Jareld smiled at the group, and with a look from Emily, everyone just sort of understood that he was alright.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jareld said. “We were just hoping for a snack. We used up a lot of energy and--” Emily jolted him in the ribs, and Jareld changed the subject on a dime, “It was the Aothans. Tribe of people from western Khiransi. Died off about nine hundred years ago.”

“Well,” Duncan said, “I’m glad someone was paying attention in that class. But it doesn’t matter who created the place. It still doesn’t exist.”

“It doesn’t exist here,” Jareld retorted, “In the physical world. But if you’ve heard of it, and I’ve heard of it, and Flopson’s heard of it...”

“Then we can all dream about it,” Duncan concluded. “Flopson didn’t know where he would be when we finally needed him. But he could always control where he would dream about.”

“So,” Landora said, “We have to sleep after all.”

“Apparently,” Duncan said. “If we’re ever going to solve this problem. But if somebody’s going to be dreaming, they could easily run into Grimsor. Especially if everybody else is awake.”

“Then we shouldn’t just send one person,” Landora said. “We should send everyone.”

Chapter
60: The Great Dream

If it was weird giving an order for everybody to not fall asleep, it was weirder still giving an order for everyone to go to sleep at the same time.

Duncan issued the orders throughout the Castle. He knew there was a possibility that some people in Anuen were already Turned. That Grimsor had captured someone who had nodded off, and was waiting for an opportune moment. But there was no hope of secrecy. Duncan only hoped that superior numbers would win the day.

He appointed James Avonshire and a select group of guards to watch over the Castle. They would keep regular watches and patrols. If anyone attacked, they would run around, waking everybody up. But if the waking world was quiet, they would just let everyone sleep, envious though they might be.

At first, Duncan was planning on having everyone sleep in a separate room. But Landora convinced him that this was impractical. First, there weren’t enough rooms. And second, if they bunched people together and left one guard watching over each group, then even if someone was Turned and woke up, they wouldn’t be able to do much damage. If everyone was isolated, then a single traitor could slip from room to room, killing at will for a long time before he was captured.

“This plan is insane,” Nuria objected when Duncan told her the ins and outs.

“I know,” Duncan said. “But we’re trying to find a notoriously insane jester, so it kind of makes sense.”

“I should stay awake, to watch over you,” she offered.

“No,” Duncan said, “You need sleep as much as anyone. More so, probably.”

“I already passed out on the beach,” Nuria argued. “It’s a miracle Grimsor wasn’t looking for me then.”

“Are you afraid to face him again?”

“Are you kidding? He’s a nightmare. I mean, a literal, living nightmare. Of course I don’t want to face him again.”

“We’ll all be there with you,” Duncan assured her. “Landora, Emily, me...”

“He Turned me, Duncan. He ripped me out of the world and put a puppet in my place. I was...his. I would have killed my friends. He could know anything he wanted to know. Secrets I haven’t told anyone. Things I never wanted to share...”

“Nuria, you came back,” Duncan placed a hand on her shoulder. “And I won’t let him near you again.”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Not now.”

“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“You’re too young for me, Nuria.”

“Fuck that. What I’ve been through the last few weeks, I’m old enough, at least in my mind.”

“Your mind is only a part of you.”

“My body will catch up.”

“It would be improper--”

“I love you. Everything you’re saying is an excuse. All obstacles we can overcome. If you love me, too.”

“I do love you, Nuria. But as I said, I love you...like a sister. I will always be there for you. But I can’t love you the way you want me to.”

“Is it because of her?”

“Who? Landora?”

“If that’s the name that came to mind, then the answer is yes.”

“I do have feelings for her. But it’s been a complicated few weeks. I’m not sure about anything just now.”

“I saw you kissing her.”

“We were in a rather tense situation.”

“We’ve all been in a tense situation.”

“I’m sorry, Nuria. Maybe if I was born later, or you were born sooner... There’s nothing I can do about how I feel,” he knelt at her side. “But please believe me, I want only the best for you.”

Nuria shuffled her feet, thinking about what to say next.

“And I want only the best for you,” she said. And she kissed him. “And one day I will convince you that that’s me. For now, let’s go hunt us a demon.”

She turned on her heel and stalked off. Duncan sighed. He was going to have to let this go. First job, save the world. Next job, make sure t
he emotionally-confused thirteen-year-old girl got over him.

He wasn’t sure which task would prove more difficult.

---

Everyone was set.

The audience chamber, the mess hall, and the grand balcony were flooded with tired citizens of Rone and the Turinheld. Landora would oversee the audience chamber, where Duncan, Jareld, and Emily waited. Nuria would oversee the mess hall, where the rest of the Council waited. And the Twins would take care of the Balcony, where Corthos waited with many of the remaining soldiers. It was Landora’s hope that each of the magic-users would be able to guide the sleeping masses.

Jareld had the staff create a concoction, using some herbs he had collected. Nothing too potent, but for an already weary crowd, the mix would help get them to sleep. He assured Duncan that if there was an emergency, they could be woken again with ease.

So as the clock struck three, everyone took a sip of the potion. And only then did the leaders of the Castle start to tell stories of the land of Benthos. The City Beneath the Sea. Landora, Nuria, and the Twins started directing their dreams, hoping to carry as many people with them as they could...

---

The rolling waves hushed across the night...

Landora lifted herself off the sand. She was on the beach outside the Castle, as she had intended. It was still night, but the moon was still strong. Was it in the right part of the sky? Landora had to admit she didn’t know enough about its rotation to be certain.

There were others there, but not as many as she had seen in her room. Duncan, Emily, and Jareld had all made it, along with a few dozen others. But there should have been another hundred or so soldiers from the audience chamber.

“Where is everyone?” Duncan asked.

“This isn’t a common skill,” Landora said. “I guess everyone else’s mind has wandered.”

“Are they in danger?” Emily asked.

“If they are, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” Landora said. One of the soldiers faded away, but at about the same time, two others appeared. Minds adrift in the sea of dreams.

Moments later, Xerxes and Xanathos arrived with their posse, including Corthos, who once again had his beard and locks. But besides the pirate, they were also shorthanded. The Grand Balcony should have had the largest contingent, but only about thirty people were dreaming alongside them.

“We’re not going to have the strength of numbers I was hoping for,” Duncan said, as even more people faded in and out of the beach.

Nuria arrived last, though it was impossible to tell how much time had passed. It might have been seconds. It might have felt like hours. She, too, didn’t have her full compliment of sidekicks, but by percentages, she had done better than the others.

As soon as Nuria’s group arrived, Duncan marched them into the water. It was hard for some of the dreamers to commit. Even with the understanding that this was a dream, it was just too scary to dip their heads below water and keep them down.

Their numbers dwindled further as they marched along the ocean floor, until they finally came to Benthos. Those who hadn’t been through this before found it very difficult to control their minds, let alone take on new instructions from within the Dreamscape. Besides Duncan, Jareld, Emily, Nuria, and the Turin-Guarde, only about thirty soldiers arrived with them in Benthos.

It was a beautiful place to be, even if only in a dream. It felt like you were floating, even though each of them stood on the ocean floor. The water washed over them, but they moved as though through air. Breathing came naturally to them, of course, since their actual bodies were lying above sea level.

Before them rose a great city, carved out of the coral rocks. The sunlight beamed down in scattered rays, illuminating the walls in pinks and yellows and powdered blues. Of course, the real sun could never reach this deep into the real ocean. But this was a dream. A fantasy. It could be whatever they wanted.

From the small windows carved in the coral buildings, curious heads peered out at the new arrivals. They were human, though they were all bald, and they had slight fins on their feet. Was that part of the legend? Duncan couldn’t remember all the details, and he doubted Jareld could either. Perhaps one of them had seen a drawing in one of their books, and was projecting it into the dream. Or perhaps this was just the way that made the most sense to most of the people dreaming. Or perhaps they were all seeing it differently, depending on their own interpretations.

Two of the aquatic humans floated over to the newcomers, a man and a woman. They wore flowing robes that billowed in the watery breeze.

“We never have visitors. Welcome to Benthos,” the man proclaimed in the Rone language. Of course, that was ridiculous, since the society who had dreamt up this place died off before the modern language of Rone existed. But in dreams, we do not speak in words. We share ideas.

“You’ve never had visitors?” Landora asked. And she was also speaking in Rone, though without an accent or in stilted words. Duncan realized he was hearing what she meant to say, not the words she had used.

“Only once,” the woman admitted. “But he has been here so long, we think of him as our brother.”

“Flopson?” Duncan asked.

“We know him only as the Crabby Hermit,” the man explained. “He likes to be left alone, on the edge of the city.”

“Can you take us to him?”

---

There was no real travel time. One moment, they were being greeted at the gates of Benthos, the next they were at the entrance to a cave. Again, Duncan noticed that some of the guards vanished, while others arrived. It was very hard to keep everyone focused.

“I’m worried,” Landora whispered to Duncan. “With so many guards coming and going, at least one of them will end up dreaming alone. That means Grimsor can turn him, and that means he can find us.”

“I know,” Duncan responded. “We just have to move fast.”

They swam into the cave. Once inside, they could see that the cave had a sunroof, allowing a single beam of light straight into the middle of the room. Like a spotlight. The rest of the place was dark.

“This is where we leave you,” the aquatic man said.

“We do not wish to disturb the Hermit,” the woman added, and they both swam off. For a moment, nobody said anything.

“Flopson,” Jareld called out.

“Hey, Matey!” Corthos added, “Be you within these walls?”

A gentle laugh echoed through the darkness.

“Flopson?” a voice said, “What a silly name.”

It was him. Jareld recognized the voice by its pitch and timber. But the way he spoke was alien to the historian. Flopson had never carried so much gravitas in his words.

“But it is a name you go by,” Jareld called out. “Or at least, you did for a time.”

“Once upon a time, we all had different names,” the voice that was Flopson said. “For once you were a worm, and once she was a star, and some of you have been the better part of a rock.”

“I already took a philosophy class Flopson,” Jareld said. “How about you come out and face me?”

“Only if you ask for me by name.”

“I only know one name for you: Flopson.”

“That is not my name.”

“Then what is your name?”

“No, no, no. I will not tell. That is a secret I have kept for many centuries.”

“Very well,” Jareld said, pacing. “Perhaps I don’t know your name. But perhaps I know who you are.”

“How can you know who I am without knowing my name?”

“Name’s are just shorthand for a person. I’ll tell you a story. The long story...

“You lived some two thousand years ago. On a continent far from Rone. And you knew a man named Johann Frost. And together, you faced the greatest evil the land has ever known. Together, you faced Grimsor.”

The room quaked at the mention of the demon’s name.

“Fool!” Flopson’s voice called from the darkness. “Do not utter his name. He is already looking for you. And looking for me. Calling to him only brings him closer.”

Duncan ordered the guards to keep watch outside the cave. He told them not to engage with Grimsor, as they would be helpless against him, but to warn the others if he came close.

“Sorry,” Jareld said. “But you’ve been hiding too long. He’s returned, and we have to fight him now.”

“You can’t fight him,” Flopson called out. “He is indestructible. Your blades and arrows will bounce off him like droplets of water.”

“Right,” Jareld said. “We can’t fight him. We can only trap him or banish him. And you succeeded at the first part. You and Frost trapped him. But then you needed time. Because the only power strong enough to banish him to the Abyss was time.”

“Who has that kind of time to wait?” Flopson mused.

“And you were left alone to carry the burden. Frost and all your other companions died. How did you learn to live so long?”

“Good eating and exercise.”

“Flopson, be serious.”

“I can’t be serious. I’m insane. And I’m not Flopson.”

“So some magic then? You and your peers could conjure demons and construct spells of epic strength. Immortality couldn’t be that far off.”