Roger Taylor - The Return of the Sword

‘In my land, I’m what’s known as a Dream Finder. I enter into the dreams of people and, as circumstances dictate, comfort them, assure them, advise them, whatever’s needed.’ Immediately he saw questions in Andawyr’s eyes but the Cadwanwr remained silent. ‘How I do this, I don’t know. I’m afraid that’s a phrase I have to use a great deal. How any of us do it, I don’t know, though it’s not an uncommon skill in our land.’ He glanced at Yatsu and Jaldaric. ‘It’s a born skill of some kind, but I understand it’s not something you’re familiar with here.’

Andawyr still made no comment, other than to give him a nod of encouragement.

‘Tarrian and Grayle here are my Companions, my Earth Holders.’ He reached down and touched the two animals gently. Tarrian’s ear flicked irritably. ‘They guide me through the dreams and protect me in some way, though again I don’t know how or from what. It’s something deep in their wolf natures, too deep for them to explain to me even if they felt inclined to.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry if this is vague, I’m not used to talking about what I do.’

‘It’s not vague,’ Andawyr said. ‘It’s strange, that’s all. Very strange, I’ll admit. But we’ll have plenty of time to go into details, if you’re willing and if you want to stay. There’s a vast store of knowledge here and at Anderras Darion. It could well be there’s something about your particular talent just waiting to be found. And if there isn’t, we’ll learn what we can from you and then there will be. You’re doing fine. I’m intrigued, to say the least. Please carry on.’ Before Antyr could continue, however, a thought struck Andawyr and, leaning forward, he put a firm hand on Antyr’s arm. ‘Let me state the obvious, just to ease your mind. Should you have any doubts about speaking to us like this, rest assured that the very fact that Yatsu and Jaldaric have brought you here means we know you have a true need and that you’re neither fraud, madman nor charlatan. And that they’ve called you a valued friend says much more.’

‘He’s more than just a Dream Finder,’ Jaldaric intervened. ‘He’s a brave man. Someone with considerable resource.’ Yatsu nodded in agreement.

Seeing his guest’s further embarrassment at this unexpected praise, Andawyr again came to his aid. ‘He’d have to be to put up with you two for any length of time.’ Then, with exaggerated sternness, ‘And let’s have no more interruptions, young Jaldaric. Have you forgotten the Fyordyn ways of Accounting already?’ He motioned Antyr to continue.

Encouraged, the Dream Finder plunged on. ‘My father – my late father – had been Duke Ibris’s Dream Finder once, long ago, and when the Duke began having strange dreams he asked me for help. What I – we – discovered, eventually, was that Ivaroth was himself a Dream Finder, albeit an untrained one, and that he was using his skill to assail the Duke and also the leaders of Bethlar to foment the war between the two cities for his own ends as Yatsu told you. What we also discovered was that his Earth Holder was not an animal, but a man. I didn’t even think such a thing was possible. And he was terrifying.’ He shuddered as old memories flooded over him. ‘He was what we could call a Mynedarion – a person who has the ability to affect physical things, to change them, with a mere gesture – or with a thought – I don’t know.’ He gesticulated unhappily. ‘You must understand that as far as I was concerned – as far as any Dream Finder, any rational person, was concerned – Mynedarion were mythical – part of a quaint tale come down through the ages about how the world was made – not real flesh and blood.’ Antyr made a slashing action with his hand to cut through his own confusion. ‘But he was real and he did have powers of some kind. Powers that defied logic but that he used to sustain Ivaroth as ruler of the tribes and that he didn’t hesitate to use against either people or things as the whim took him. He was dementedly evil.’

His manner and sudden passion brought a deep stillness into the room and when he spoke again his voice was soft, as though the words themselves might bring some retribution in their wake. He continued speaking directly to Andawyr.

‘When we enter a dream, there is a place we know as the Nexus: a place into which our client’s many dreams, past and present, leak, as it were. From there, our Earth Holder, our Companion, guides us to and through the Portal of the dream where our client’s need lies. In the dream, we become the dreamer and can sustain or comfort him as needed and quite often learn enough to be of further help on waking. This is what all of us can do. It’s our gift and, given the gift and a suitable Companion, there’s neither difficulty nor mystery in the use of it.’

His black-eyed gaze held Andawyr.

‘As you might appreciate, a great deal of thought has been given over the years by learned men as to how such a gift could come about – why such a thing should be possible. And while much has been written and conjectured, there’s more speculation than hard fact, and the whole business is mingled with storytelling and legend. However, there’s a dominant belief that some – we would call them Masters – can move through what are known as Gateways in the dreams themselves and into the Antechambers of the Threshold to the Great Dream itself.’

His hesitation returned.

‘You were there, man, tell them! They need to know.’ Tarrian’s command jolted him but he still found it difficult to continue.

‘The Antechambers are… other worlds. Places as real and as solid as where we are now, but… not here.’

Oslang shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Andawyr’s hand came out to still him and his look urged Antyr on.

‘The Great Dream itself is the place – though place is hardly an appropriate word – in which all things and all times exist. It’s believed that, just as dreams leak into the confusion we call the Nexus, so these worlds are but echoes of the Great Dream.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s said that only the most gifted can find the Inner Portals that lead to the Great Dream. Such individuals are known as Adepts. More fully, Adepts of the White Way. Tradition tells us that there were few Masters and even fewer Adepts, and all of them lived in times long gone. Times at the beginning of time when we were known as Dream Warriors, and charged by MaraVestriss, the creator of all things, with the duty of protecting Mynedarion – those in whom he had vested his own power – from Marastrumel, the Evil Weaver, whom he had created to be his companion and who turned against him.’ He released Andawyr and looked round at the others.

‘I did tell you it was difficult,’ Yatsu said into the ensuing silence.

Andawyr nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes. But even at first hearing, there are some disconcerting resonances in the tale.’ He turned to Antyr. ‘Where are you in this… hierarchy of Dream Finders?’ he asked.

The silence returned until, very softly, Antyr replied, ‘I don’t know. I was perhaps better than average at my job when I chose to be, but nothing more. But, as I said, Masters, Adepts, these were just part of our tradition. Not real.’

‘Yet?’

‘Yet I’ve been to other worlds – worlds that were not this one. I’ve walked in them, breathed their air, felt their sun. And I’ve been somewhere that I believe to be the Great Dream insofar as I could perceive it. There I saw, in ways that are not seeing as we understand it, the myriad worlds of the Threshold – shifting, changing, coming together, drifting apart, flickering in and out of existence, endlessly.’ His eyes widened. ‘All knowledge was there. Everything was there.’

Andawyr spoke very softly. ‘How did you come there?’