James Davis - The Restless Shore

The fading pain on Brindani’s face was obvious, as was the horrified wonder in his eyes. He turned to her and sheathed his blade.

“What in the Hells was that?” he whispered.

She shook her head, but the slight movement jarred loose the evasive memory, freeing it and the image of her sister to her conscious mind. Its appearance shocked her with its suddenness, and she spoke quickly, lest it slip away from her again.

“They are called the oenath, the Dreamers …”

The words felt alien on her tongue, but she could not deny them. She knew the truth in them as surely as she knew her own name.

Brindani narrowed his eyes in curiosity. “You dreamed this?” he asked solemnly. He knew of her recent nightmares and placed more stock in them then she was yet ready to accept.

Sighing, she nodded, uncomfortable in his gaze and finding the idea of herself as some kind of oracle distasteful. There had been no place in her life for prophetic dreams or voices or even gods, and in the past she’d ridiculed those who claimed to be the sources of such things. Though Brindani had shown her nothing but the utmost respect, she found it hard to accept his assessment of her recent dreams as genuine.

“So we know what to call them! It does us no good now does it?” she said coldly.

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed, joining her on the path, “Let’s get out of this ravine and onto some higher ground so I can get my bearings.”

He took the lead, and she fell into step, grateful not to have his eyes on her back, as if watching her every move and gesture for signs or portents. She would have torn the dreams from her head were it possible, but they had proven honest, placing words and images in her mind of which she had no previous knowledge. Two nights before she’d spoken in her sleep, and Brindani had shaken her awake, agitated and fearful. She had no memory of the dream itself, but knew the word he had recognized. The following morning they had set out to find a guide to a place she’d dreamed but never heard of-a place called Tohrepur.

The Spur grew suddenly quiet as they neared the sloping rise out of the ravine, and moonlight guided them into a small clearing surrounded by tall, twisted trees. Broad leaves, semi-translucent and reflecting light, gave the forest a haunting quality that dazed her eyes momentarily. But the snapping of a single twig set her nerves on edge. Squinting through the half-light of the trees, she raised her blade. At her side, Brindani froze.

The beast, the dreamer, paused as their eyes met, its legs pulled under its barrel chest, ready to pounce. Slivers of moonlight illuminated the beast’s thin gray fur and the white skin beneath. Its face was short-angular and expressive, and utterly unlike a wolf’s. There was an intelligence there that made her reassess the danger the creature represented. A low humming growl churned and rumbled through its thick neck as Ghaelya slowly circled to the left.

A night wind shook the leaves overhead, dappling the ground with disorienting moonlight. The creature’s growl rose and thundered in her head like a living thing, crawling through her thoughts and rooting in her fears. She blinked once, wincing at the pain of the noise, and found the beast already in the air, its teeth bared as it bore down on Brindani.

The half-elf sidestepped and slashed, barely scoring the dreamer’s thick skin before the beast landed and pursued its quick-footed prey. Ghaelya charged its back, slicing downward with her broadsword, eager to draw blood after so many days of running. But the dreamer was quicker still. It dodged her attack and caught her leg in a powerful grip, throwing her to the ground like a rag doll. She rolled away, clenching her teeth in anger as the dreamer accepted a close cut from Brindani, only to pounce as the half-elf’s blade was drawn back, taking him off guard. His sword bounced from his grip as the pair slammed into the dirt.

Ghaelya charged again as Brindani was taken down under the beast’s weight. She slashed at the exposed back of the creature, drawing a thin line of dark fluid. The smell of the beast’s blood hit her nose. She drew back to slash again, sidestepping as it swiped at her with its claw. Brindani strained to keep the dreamer’s jaws at bay, groaning with the effort and slowly losing. The creature’s clawed fingers scraped against the half-elf’s old armor as it whined pitiably with a sickening hunger, its jaws gaping wide to reveal tusklike fangs.

Distant howls rose through the Spur, each answering the last. Desperate, Ghaelya stepped in, thrusting at the black, fishlike eyes as they turned to face her. The sudden roar of the beast struck her like a fist, dazing her as a wave of hazy force knocked away her broadsword. Pressure pushed against her chest, turning the forest into a blur of ethereal greens and murky shadows, and the canopy overhead spun wildly through her wide eyes. In the brief moment she hung between land and sky, the unknown song flashed through her mind. A chorus of angelic voices pressed into the space of a heartbeat before reality took her back to falling.

She crashed into the ground, stunned and gasping for breath. All sound felt sucked away, as if cotton had been stuffed into her ears. The trailing edge of the beast’s roar still rumbled through her body, the force of it having left her skin numb where it had struck. Her ears popped, relieving the all-encompassing sound of her pulse. Groaning, she pushed herself up, amazed that she’d held on to her weapon. Recovering swiftly, she got to her feet, undeterred. The stench of the creature’s blood stung her nostrils as she came at it again, scoring a strike across the back of its thick skull. It whimpered and drew back, more dark fluid dripping down its not-quite-human face. It yelped as Brindani thrust the blade of a dagger into its shoulder.

The half-elf stabbed madly as he fought the injured beast, kicking free and rolling to his dropped sword. Ghaelya kept slashing as the beast backed away, giving Brindani time to regain his footing. The dreamer huffed, an expression of anger spreading across its weirdly mixed features. Before the creature could give voice to its roar again, two arrows sprouted from its throat. It gagged, coughing and spraying blood across the ground. A stench like dead fish filled the air as it drew back and thrashed in the dirt, clawing at the offending shafts. Scrambling to its feet, the beast sprinted into the forest’s shadows, wheezing and gnashing its teeth.

Ghaelya turned her sword eastward, squinting into the trees for the source of the arrows. Brindani placed a hand on her shoulder that she quickly shrugged off, but she calmed somewhat as he stepped forward, seeing more in the dark than just more enemies. She did not lower her blade as a human, armed with a longbow, approached cautiously. He was tall and lean, with a hard stare that pierced through the forest’s ghostly gloom. An arrow was strung tightly in his bow, and she braced her feet, ready to move at a moment’s notice.

To Ghaelya’s alarm, Brindani lowered his own blade.

“Uthalion?” he asked quietly.

The human stopped, half raising the bow for a heartbeat as if deciding whether or not to kill the half-elf, but the arrow’s point turned away even if the taut string didn’t budge.

“Brin-?” the man replied and seemed about to say more when the howls of the approaching pack filled the air. Pain flashed through Ghaelya’s skull, nearly driving her to her knees. Both men winced in pain and dropped their guards completely until the sound passed. Uthalion shook his head and eyed Ghaelya and Brindani shrewdly, his lips drawn in a thin line. He turned to the south with a purposeful stride.

“No time,” he called over his shoulder. “Follow me unless you’re waiting for them.”