Brian Lane - Mind Games with a Serial Killer

“ Ye must relearn things , Chalder , ‘ tis of great import . For ’twixt ye re skill at this and ye re art with Daystryker , ye’re life and th’ lives of others shalt be preserved .”

An intense, urgent look came into her eyes as they locked on mine. The urgency took up residence in her voice as well.

“ Nou , repeat all of which I tell ye . And try , Chalder , try hard .”

As she continued to explain what I was to do, images began to form in my head. I could see the delicate lines that traced a door in the air. Though the lines were invisible, I could still see them. I learned that the door being traced in my mind was a portal through which I would be able to move between dimensions. A doorway between the world I was a part of and the world I desired to be a part of.

“ One thing further I must warn ye of , Chalder . There be dire peril ’twixt one world and the other . Ye must continue moving forward once ye enter th’ portal . Madness and pain await any who should falter . Th’ terrors entering a mind that bides too long twixt what was and what ’twill be , shalt drive a hale mind to be consumed by the chaos . Even a closed eye is of nae use . Ye must keep moving !”

At that moment, a gruff voice filled with impatience entered my mind. It had to be in my mind because no external sounds met my ears.

“LYNARRA, YE MUST LEAVE TH’ ORR1HAN NOU . IF HE HAN’T LEARNT BY NOU , HE BE NAE USE TO US . LEAVE HIM BE NOU ’FORE TH’ HODEK1N CATCH SCENT OF YE!”

“ Lupien , I’ll nae be listening to ye talk abou’ Chalder that way ! This person be Chalder and he is th’ only one can wield Daystryker . Th’ spatha wilt allow naught but th’ Albyn to swing it . As well ye be aware , Lupien . Remember ye’re hands ’ere ye attempted to lay hold upon it ?” This last was said with a certain amount of smug satisfaction that brought another surge of anger in the voice I now identified as Lupien’s.

“YE HAE NAE PROOF THAT THIS ORRIHAN IS TRULY TH’ ALBYN ! HOW DOST YE KEN THAT HE CAN WIELD TH’ SPATHA ? YE’RE NAE SEER NOU , BE YE ?!”

“ Dinna be glaikit , Lupien ! Dost ye think a seer just suddenly becomes ? Bear I th’ mark of a seer ?! Daystryker itself was th’ sway to Chalder . And if ye once more name Chalder an orrihan , I’ll mark ye well , me ownself . Nou leave me to this working .”

The argument between Lynarra and Lupien lasted only a few moments before a burst of outrageous anger filled my mind, I suppose directed at me, and then the gruff voice and angry presence was gone. Only the serene presence of Lynarra now remained. Again, her soft voice came to me and only now did I realize that although her lips were moving, no sound issued from those delicate arches. She reminded me of a person who mouths the words while reading. Her actual words were somehow projected directly into my mind, as had Lupien’s.

“ Chalder , ye must hasten to mend , for when ye be hale ye must open th’ portal and come unto Chiréon . Save ye take up Daystryker , th’ Hodekin wilt be upon us and I fear th’ enmity of Zernebock , th’ wicked one , shalt cause our destruction . He is our bane . Only ye can be our salvation .”

Then, for an instant, impatience and fear filled my mind, and Lupien’s gruff voice returned with an edge of panic to it.

“ LYNARRA ! YE MUST COME NOU ! ’TIS TH’ HODEKIN … WICK HIMSELF ! HE’LL SLAY TH’ BOTH OF US WITH - OUT A WIT OF GRIEF ! HURRY !”

“ Chalder , remember this , too ! It may be of aid to ye : ‘ Aperient Oriel Fenestra ! ’ Remember . Come , Chalder , come ! We need ye .”

With that said, Lynarra’s face was gone. So was everything else that was associated with this dream. And I felt that it had to be a dream. Surely none of it had been real, it couldn’t be. I was thinking all of this and also still remembering every bit of the dream as I opened my eyes. Instantly, the sterile odor of a medical atmosphere informed me that I was in a medical environment. A blurred, white form moved to my left and then I heard buttons being pushed. Next came a soft, feminine voice. Different from Lynarra’s, but still pleasant to hear.

“Doctor Welles? Nurse Mandell. Your patient in 416 just awakened.” Then came the sound of the phone receiver being returned to its cradle.

The white form moved closer to me, so I shut my eyes and started to shake the cobwebs out of my head. I say ‘started to’ because as soon as I moved my head a fraction of an inch, bright flares began going off behind my closed eyes. That soft voice came back with a tone of insistence. “Don’t move your head, sir. Try to remain very still. You’re still in traction and it may hurt if you move too much at first.” I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t about to move anymore, that the pain had already taught me that particular lesson very well. But I couldn’t get my voice to work.

I opened my eyes as the bursting flares began to subside, and then blinked a few times to clear my vision. My eyesight began to improve almost immediately and I got a clear view of the nurse attending to my welfare. She was young, petite, though a bit on the thin side, shag-cut blonde hair, wearing a pants-type nurse’s uniform with a nametag above her left breast that read: ‘Maggie Mandell, R.N.’. I croaked out something unintelligible, but she understood me anyway. She turned to the bedside table and picked up a cup, filled it from a water carafe, grabbed a straw, then put it all together and held it for me to drink.

“Just take small sips first. You need to get used to swallowing again.”

That worried me. I wondered how long I’d been here. After lubricating my throat a little, my voice worked better. “How long?” Swallow. “How long here?”

She hesitated in making her reply. Then, “Mr. Dermott, sir, Doctor Welles is on his way up here right now. He will tell you everything. He was on call in the emergency room when you were brought in and has worked everything in regard to your injuries. He is the best one to ask your questions of. You’ll get your answers and the reasons behind them from him.” Another moment passed in silence and then the aforementioned doctor walked in. He was an old man, tall, a little on the heavy side with white hair, deep wrinkles and dark-framed glasses.

“Mr. Dermott, how are you feeling this afternoon?” He waited for a reply, so I gave him one.

“Perhaps you’re in a better position to tell me that answer.” My throat felt better by the second and it became ever easier to talk. “I’ve got minor aches and pains just about everywhere. The major pain is behind my eyes, in my head. It feels like someone has been using it for sledgehammer practice. When I woke up, I tried to turn my head and wound up watching some 4th of July fireworks behind my eyes. And will you please stop calling me ‘ Mister’ Dermott? I don’t like any sexist appellations like Mister, Master, or even Sir. Please, I’d much rather you called me Michael.”

“Very well, Michael. What can you remember of your days before your accident and coming here?”

I thought for a moment. Accident? An accident that put me under the care of a doctor and a nurse? This place had an emergency room and I was in room 416, which meant there were at least four floors in this building. Probably a basement, too. Therefore, I had to be in a large medical care building or, more probably, a hospital. Thinking back from this point, I remembered every bit of the dream about Lynarra and Lupien. But I didn’t want to talk about that. They might begin to think that there was something more wrong with my head than just the good knocking around it got.