Rise of the Dead Prince (33 page)

42
When Dead Men Dream

M
eier, Dor, and Trent sat in the darkness and listened to Raven speak of things long forgotten by men. It was a glimmer of a chance, and this much was good. Even so, the improbability of what lay ahead haunted them. So much was riding on so very little. It was no small task to take heart and go on confidently. Raven knew this instinctively, but it was not in his nature to encourage others. Despite these long years of cynicism and cold practicality, Raven did manage a few w
ords.

“I think you are all very brave,” he said earnestly. The men sat in silence, still lost in the turns of the road before them. Trent stirred f
irst.

“There’s somethin’ my ma used to say to us when we was little
…
and I reckon it fits,” said the big man. “She said, ‘It don’t take guts to do what has to be done.’ I don’t guess I ever truly understood it until now. I ain’t feeling brave right now. But I’m ready.” The other men nodded sl
owly.

“I believe I understand,” said Dor softly. “I’m ready too.” Meier chuckled nervously. The others looked to him in the p
itch.

“I’m terrified,” he said honestly, “but not for me. Not anymore. I’m scared of what happens if we fail.” Trent reached out and put his hand on Meier’s shoulder. The touch made Meier startle slig
htly.

“We got another sayin’ in the south, Meier: ‘Take a look at the field but keep your eyes on the plow.’” Trent then gave Meier a light pat. Meier couldn’t help but chu
ckle.

“I get it, Trent. Thank you. Just one question, though.” Trent and Dor lau
ghed.

“What’s that?” asked the big
man.

“Do you folks have a sayin’ for everything?” he asked, adding a bit of their accent to his voice as he did. Trent and Dor found it quite f
unny.

“Pert near,” answered Trent, laying the accent on especially t
hick.

“Just ’bout,” added Dor, “and what we ain’t got, we make up as we go.” The three men laughed together, but then reality set in. Silence foll
owed.

Raven cawed. “You must not delay further, Meier. Every minute counts,” he said plainly. As one, the men rose to a crouch and climbed out of the roots into the black expanse. Raven fluttered up and landed on the highest root, just under the lowest branch. “However, you should wait for the next overflow from the source, just in case. Best to be on the border when it comes, which based on the two bursts we’ve seen will be within the hour. This is where we say goodbye, Prince Meier of Valahia,” cawed the bird. The three men halted their descent into the world of gray, turning to face the black bird’s voice. Meier si
ghed.

“I suspected,” he replied. Raven c
awed.

“I cannot follow you into the necromancer’s inner realm. But I find that I wish I could.” Meier took a step toward the v
oice.

“That reminds me, Raven. Regardless of what happens, I want you to know that I consider your debt to me to be paid ten times over.” Raven cawed a short l
augh.

“Oh really? How gracious of you,” he said, returning to a glimmer of his old demeanor for a brief moment, “but if that’s what you were worried about, I should tell you that
I
considered that debt paid quite a long time ago.” Raven’s voice changed to an uncommon sincerity. “I stayed
…
because
…
well
…
you are a rare sort, Meier. I’d leave it there, but
…
I suppose
…
” Raven trailed off, clearly having diffic
ulty.

“Thank you, my
friend
,” said Meier quietly. Raven stood stunned on his branch for a long se
cond.

“A raven and a man as friends?” he scoffed but then sighed. “Such a notion is idiotic among my kind, you know,” he said quietly. “Among ravens
…
my actions would be considered absurd and fatuous.” Raven sighed again and clicked once somberly. “What care have we for the fate of men? I should have left when you attacked me, if not sooner
…
” Raven shifted from foot to foot a few t
imes.

“I reckon you ought to just say what you mean to say, Raven,” interjected Dor. Raven c
awed.

“Mind your business, rube! I suppose that before I go, I should tell you two yokels how much your accents have persecuted my ears these past days. Got any good
sayins’
for that?” Raven scoffed, puffing up as he
did.

“Nope,” said Trent evenly. “But I
will
say I’m proud to call you friend, Raven.” The black bird was stricken dumb a
gain.

“Goes for me too. Friend is as friend does, Raven. You done right by me. Don’t matter if you can’t say it back,” said Dor honestly. Raven was uncharacteristically at a loss for w
ords.

“One last thing, and then my heart tells me we must depart,” said Meier. “I had a dream today, Raven, as I lay on the battlefield destitute of all energy. I think I found what you wanted.” Raven perke
d up.

“Yes?” he asked meekly, hoping beyond
hope.

“You once said that ravens have a saying about when dead men dream and about how it referred to something impossible. I understand it now
…
Before it became an adynaton, it meant something else, didn’t it?” Meier asked. Raven’s voice was q
uiet.

“Yes
…
yes, it did,” he answered unea
sily.

“I know you’ve been searching a long time, Raven. It all makes sense now. Let me repay your kindness by telling you what I saw when I was on the other side of things,” Meier said steadily. Raven’s heart was racing in his chest. “I saw the green fields of the world spread for an eternity in all directions. Things were both all that they seemed and nothing at all as they appeared. I felt a sense of true freedom welling up inside me like an endless fountain. This much I told you before, but I know that is not what you were seeking. I could not remember then. I remember now, and this was because I have never slept so deeply as I did today. My waking mind slipped away, and then I saw the others. Many looked at me with wonder, for while I was
there,
I was also only a visitor for a brief time.
‘When dead men dream,’
you said. I know why ravens say that now. You all seek yet fear the unknowable, no matter how you may deny it. You wish to know of that which comes when days end and darkness falls. You want to know waits there, not just from the dreams of the delirious and dying men. For I know now that ravens do not dream, or at least I know that is what you
believe.”
Meier paused to collect his thoughts and memo
ries.

“How
…
can you
know
all this, Meier?” asked Raven in complete awe. Meier smiled through the
dark.

“I know because a
raven
told me,” he said proudly. Raven couldn’t move. The words struck him to the core of his very being. His mind was racing wildly. It was
true.
“Yes, Raven, I met her. She came to me. She knew my name, and she knew yours as well. At first I did not recognize her for what she was. Her feathers were a dazzling white, shimmering like the sun upon a field of snow, and her eyes were a deep violet, much like mine. Her colors had changed, but her shape was the same. She landed on my shoulder, and together we talked of many things. She told me that ever since you were newly hatched, you were not quite like the others. You were, and forgive her wording, very much like me. You loved human poetry and songs but always kept it hidden. She said that it was our
destiny
to find one another, even if you do not believe in the word. She asked me to stop and ask you
…
Do you believe
now
?” Meier asked, waiting patie
ntly.

Raven sat stunned on his perch, raptly listening still. He managed to click his beak nervously. His head was churning like a white water rapid. His world was turning upside down. His inner hatchling opened its eyes, as if for the first time again. He finally found his voice, albeit we
akly.

“Yes, Meier. I
believe.
” Meier nodded invisibly then conti
nued.

“Good. She had faith in you, and so did I. Now for her message to
you.
I will try to relay it verbatim, ‘Dearest Raven, if you can believe in a thing like destiny, then you need not fear the future.
Nothing ever lasts, but nothing is ever lost.
Remember this always.’ After the message, she asked me to do one other thing.” Raven sat in silent contemplation, his blood still cour
sing.

“Yes, Meier?” he managed, again quite weakly. Meier paused and took a deep br
eath.

“She said her name was,” and Meier struggled, for the subtle differences in raven names were nearly indiscernible to human ears,
“Rai’eayven.”
Meier sighed, for he knew that such things could not possibly be translated correctly. He simply could not make the sounds she had fit the human equivalent. Despite this, Raven’s eyes grew wide, and his voice cracked so badly that he was forced to try a
gain.

“That was my
…
mother’s
name, Meier.” Raven felt a strong wave emotion but had no real way to express it. Meier read this but could not think how to respond. He chuckled nervo
usly.

“I’m surprised you could even understand what I said,” he said lightly. Raven clicked and cracked a few incomprehensible sounds but then slowly began to laugh as
well.

“The sound you made
was
pretty terrible, Meier. However, the secret to raven names is in the
feeling
, not the sounds. I’d know the feel of my mother’s name anywhere, and she knew that when she told you to say it.” Raven couldn’t stand it any
more.

He fluttered from the perch and came to rest on Meier’s shoulder. Meier was surprised at first but quickly settled. What happened next was even more startling. Raven leaned forward and gently rested his head on Meier’s c
heek.

“Thank you, Meier
…
Thank you, my
friend,”
he clicked softly. Dor sniffed loudly followed by Trent. The two softhearted men had been teary-eyed since the first mention of the bird’s mother. Meier, for his part, let a single large tear go when Raven called him
fr
iend.

43
Into the Pitch

W
ith a final farewell, Raven flew away to skies unknown. With an unseen nod, the men slipped into the world of gray. Once there, they focused their minds; and soon the world was illuminated by the many soft sounds of the swamp, imperceptible only moments before. The men began to see what Raven meant. Loud noises were not needed when using this skill. In fact, they might even prove to be as much a distraction as a bright flash would be to the
eyes.

“Let’s go,”
said Meier with his mind to the others. They nodded, and off they ran to the southeast. When they reached the wall, it was nearing midnight. How they knew that was uncertain, but they were in agreement that the hour simply had a certain feel to it. Once the pitch was in sight or in hearing, it was clear that even sound would be muted once they crossed. From the outside in, even sounds dissipated as they struck the wall. Every footstep they took was likely to be the only noticeable noise. Stepping up to the wall, the men paused, following Raven’s final words of advice. They would wait for Meier to feel the wash of the source’s quickening over
flow.

“Meier, I’ve been thinkin’,”
said Dor with a dim flash.
“It’s about the magic we got from you.”
He paused. The others instinctively turned to face him, as though better to hear him, which was of course unnecessary.
“I know we only got a little trickle of it compared with what you got. I reckon I know because I’ve been tryin’ to test it out. Anyhow, somethin’ happened back at the battle that I can’t rightly account for. It was a feelin’ I started to get when Trent screamed that tree down.”
Dor stopped again briefly to collect his thou
ghts.

“I reckon I know where you’re goin,”
thought Trent but then quickly after said,
“Shoot! I didn’t mean to interrupt there, brother. I reckon I got to be careful what I’m thinkin’ lest it come on out.”
There was a soft round of hissed laug
hter.

“Not to worry, brother,”
answered Dor.
“Anyhow, I’m wonderin’ about what’s likely to happen once the source hits us.”
Meier stood and thought on it for a w
hile.

“I don’t imagine we can be certain of what to expect, but I do have a guess or two. I sure wish Raven was here though,”
answered M
eier.

“I miss that surly old bird already,”
said Trent sentimentally but then caught himself.
“And there I go again! Y’all got to excuse me. But anyway, since I already sang out, I reckon I’ll throw a guess too. I believe if Meier can teach us how to feel for it, we could use the source a bit also. ’Course what we’d do once we had it, I can’t imagine.”
The hunter and the farmer looked to Meier, who was still thinking
hard.

“I think you’re right, Trent
…
but the problem is I don’t think I could teach you. All I can say is that you have to sort of
…
dip down into yourself. Still, we all mastered the ability to talk to each other, and we weren’t even trying. That surprised Raven
…
so I guess he wouldn’t have known exactly what to expect either. I do have a thought about what Raven said though. Specifically, I’m considering what he warned us about.”
Meier paused, and the other men nodded, remembering as
well.

“We need to be interesting, but we also can’t tip our hand. I’d say once you feel the source,
if
you feel it, you should try only to use it in an emergency, and only to intensify what you both already know you can do. For example
…
Trent. You already know you can throw your voice and turn it into a force wave. Whether you can do that from the gray state, I have no idea, but if you can do it with your mind, the source could make it stronger.
Much
stronger. So much so that it could get out of control and maybe spoil the game. If you feel the source’s flow, I’d say try just a regular spoken word instead of a powerful yell and see what that does. As for you, Dor, I saw what you did at the battle today, and I imagine that’s what you referring to, yes?”
Dor no
dded.

“That’s right, Meier. It sort of just happened when I got to worryin’ about our Karavunians. I ain’t even certain about what it was I did, let alone how to do it again.”
Meier nodded and responded almost at
once.

“Luckily, I can tell you
exactly
what you did, because, as it happens, I’ve done both things. You did them consecutively and only by feel. First, you yelled out to the dead to ‘get out of your way.’ They didn’t
obey
, but you did rattle their cages, so to speak, which made them hesitate and gave the Karavunians an advantage for a while. I guess if you’re both ‘captains’ among the dead, you can do that to the lesser dead, though I don’t know if it will be of much use. As for the second part, I think that will come in handy, especially when we come up against what Raven called the
real
anathemas. Namely, you managed to extend your swing
…
by sort of
…
‘throwing’ the force of it through the end of your mace. As you saw, about a dozen bonewalkers went flying when you did it. The battle today was the first time I did that as well. It was kind of the same thing I used to make my saber cut through them like water, but
…
well, not exactly. Am I even making sense?”
The men no
dded.

“I’m with you,”
said
Dor.

“I follow,”
said Trent. Meier conti
nued.

“Good. Anyway, it all boils down to
intent
. When you commanded them to get out of your way, you really
meant
it, and two things happened because of it. That’s how it is with the dark. You have to tell it what to do. Don’t wish for it, don’t ask it, don’t hope for it to work, just reach down and grab it with an iron fist! Anyway, if and when you feel the power of the source in you, remember how you felt to make it happen the first time, but keep it controlled if you have to use it. It won’t be easy, but like you said Trent, it shouldn’t be as bad for you two as it is for me. I’ll have to be painfully careful.”
Dor and Trent took a minute to mull it all
over.

“I think I got it,”
said
Dor.

“Me too,”
answered Trent. “
I just hope we end up being able to use it. Sounds right h
andy.”

With that, the three men stood in silence, still fascinated by the sounds of the world. What’s more it did not require one to look toward things to ‘see’ them. The instinct, of course, was to turn and face things in order to fully perceive them. It was difficult to acclimate to the new sensations, but as with all things sensory, Dor was the first to achieve some level of mastery. A few minutes passed that felt like an hour at least. The men began to feel the powerful urgency of the situation more acutely the longer they waited. Every minute counted. That’s what Raven had told them. It was after another painful minute had passed that Meier startled abruptly, sending waves of sound in all directions that lit the
area.

“I feel a tingling,”
he said, raising his hand and suddenly standing very still. Then the wave hit him.
“There it is! By all that’s under the sun, it’s monstrous! I can barely think!”
exclaimed Meier.
“Can you two feel it?”
Dor and Trent tried to sense anything different but shook their h
eads.

“I got nothin’,”
admitted T
rent.

“Can’t feel a thing,”
said Dor, clearly disappointed. Meier sighed ment
ally.

“No matter. We can’t wait now that it’s come. We best get into character, just like Raven said.”
With that, the three men strolled casually through the shadowy barrier, acting as though they had all the time in the world. Meier tried to imagine himself as he was when he had fallen into the dark completely. It wasn’t hard to do, as the experience haunted him still. His gait transformed into an arrogant swagger, and his face became a sort of disinterested sneer. Before he had taken his seventh step, he had another odd feeling. He admitted that it might have been his imagination, but he strongly suspected that it was the gaze of the necromancer turning to face him. So it had b
egun.

“We’re being watched, boys,”
said Meier with an unintended arrogance in his voice. Dor and Trent understood comple
tely.

“Yes, my prince,”
they said toge
ther.

They all knew the seriousness of the gambit. They would not let their focus slip, not even in their own heads. Meier understood at once. He would follow suit. Meier continued to strut along, careful not to show haste, while Dor and Trent followed deferentially behind. Meier fought the urge to turn and see if they were following closely, as it was an old habit of his to walk beside people, not in front of them. Besides, he knew that he could easily hear where they were without turning around. It just felt awkward. Meier felt like he was sweating, even though he knew he wasn’t. It was impossible in the gray state, and it was a good thing too. He chastised himself mentally then focused on calming down. He needed to behave natur
ally.

It wasn’t long before the first nasty surprise came. In the distance, there was a rumbling. It illuminated the dry cracked ground like a flash of lightning. It was brightest far ahead, emanating from the source of the sound. It was all they could do to not react. They continued to walk on, straight toward the middle. Meier made it a point not to deviate in any way from his course to the necromancer. Following Meier’s lead, Dor and Trent did not bother to ready their weapons. Trent’s swords hung idly from the hastily constructed straps across his back, and Dor’s mace continued to dangle from the makeshift thong at his side. The heavy hammer, along with his bow, thought to be generally useless, stayed slung over his shoulder. The rumbling shifted and began to move to intercept them. The sound was difficult to place, but as it drew near, they saw clearly what they were dealing with. It was a fairly small contingent of bonewalkers, but it was immediately apparent that they were not of the ordinary sort. They moved more smoothly, and as they approached, they noted that this was not the only differ
ence.

The three men saw that these skeletal soldiers were wearing fine and exotic armor, which was in sharp contrast to the ancient and broken-down armor of the normal bonewalkers. As they came close to Meier and his faithful servants, the oncoming entourage drew their weapons. Specifically, they each carried a pair of thin slightly curved swords. Meier finally stopped and held up his
hand.

“I’ll use magic to shield my body. I intend to walk straight through unhindered. You two will break or remove their arms and then break their legs as well. No need for excessive force here. They’re some kind of elite guard, but still just bonewalkers. That said, be careful. Try not to use your weapons
…
if possible
…
Now here we go.”
Meier summoned a minimal barrier as he walked and then just scoffed as the elite skeletons charged him. He focused on making the barrier only big enough to cover his body. He hoped that this would demonstrate disdain for his unworthy attackers. Given the power of the source, it took a large amount of concentration to keep the wall so tightly formed. It was like walking while holding a dewdrop on his finger. With an even finer push, the wall retracted completely, covering his body like a cast
mold.

The forces charged for Meier, swinging their swords through the air gracefully as they did. When they clashed with Meier, there was a series of quick expert attacks that followed. These hit in many places, each bouncing impotently off Meier’s shield. Meier focused on taking casual strides through the midst of them, even going so far as to brush one of them aside from his path. Then Dor and Trent went to work, and they did so with great alac
rity.

They felt the importance of the performance but were also wary of risk these new soldiers posed. Using every ounce of their ability, both new and old, they proceeded to follow the dead prince’s orders to the letter. The soldiers were fast. Dor and Trent found that they were faster. The gray state had made them even more powerful than before. With decisive minimality, they cracked arms off and kicked legs, leaving one crippled skeleton after another writhing in their wake. Soon the elite squadron was annihilated. It had been a flawless job except for one minor thing. Trent had taken a minor cut to his arm. It was a most trivial injury, but Meier had to think fast. What would an arrogant royal do? He stopped in his tracks as the skirmish completed then turned to face Trent, glaring at him contumeliously. Trent thought fast as
well.

“Forgive me, my prince,”
he said, kneeling and covering the injury. Meier scoffed and shook his head with an air of detestation in his expression. He then turned and resumed his casual walk for
ward.

“Well played, Trent,”
said Meier quietly with his mind, being careful to maintain his haughty deme
anor.

“You too, Meier
,” he replied just as lightly. The two anathemas took several quick strides to resume their proper position behind Meier, crunching over several squirming skeletons as they
did.

Meier dissipated his small barrier, and on they walked for perhaps another minute without incident. It was then that the area suddenly lit up as brightly as the sun. A loud roar ripped through the air, shaking the ground as it did. It was a bestial, unnatural sound. Dor and Trent made the momentary mistake of looking at each other, but Meier managed to maintain his composure despite his initial surp
rise.