IABD 20: Nightmares

There was no void beyond the infirmary door. 

“What…the…” Matthias whispered. 

Instead, there was Eklund’s courtyard, its shape twisted and hazy. 

Almost like— 

“In a dream.” Matthias gaped. “It feels like a dream.” 

The cobblestones were dark, large, edged in vicious looking spikes. Castle walls rose high around the courtyard, reaching toward empty, black skies. The stench of blood assaulted Matthias’ nostrils. 

Moans and cries of agony filled the air; among them was a familiar shriek. 

“Help! Help! Someone help me!” Kari’s voice screamed in the dark. “Save me! Sieg! Petric!” 

“Run…run…run…rabbit…” another voice whispered, its words repeating through the darkness. 

Matthias flinched. “That’s my voice?” 

He had to know. 

Squaring his shoulders, he stepped through the door. 

The moment his boot touched the stone in Eklund’s courtyard, a chill passed through him. The air and fibre of the very world changed around him, like diving into icy water. Sound was muffled. The air thick. Everything had an uncanny edge to it, as though things were not quite real. 

At the same time, each sensation he felt in his own body grew more vibrant, as though he was the only real thing in an entire world of illusion. One With Truth and Nature, came to mind. 

“The world is illusion…that’s what the description said,” he whispered. 

Matthias looked back over his shoulder: the doorway to the hall he just came from remained open, mists billowing within. Even with the fog, that hall felt more real than whatever this place was. 

Frowning, Matthias looked around the courtyard and tried willing The Realm in Dream to change this place to Blood’s Drop. Nothing happened on his side of the doorway, but on the other side Eklund’s hall vanished, replaced by the red waterfall. 

Matthias’ eyebrows rose. “Why didn’t this side change? I should have control—” 

Kari’s screams continued echoing in the dark. 

Matthias’ body went rigid. 

“Oh. Oh! Maybe this place isn’t in my dream?” he murmured. “Maybe it’s in Kari’s?” 

Again, the words from the Tower came to mind, warning him: Be careful where and how far you wander. 

What would happen if he got lost here? Would he still wake up if he held his breath?  

And what would happen if… 

He looked at the sharp-edged cobblestones in the courtyard, gingerly reaching down, running his finger along their spikes. 

“Ouch!” He drew back his hand. 

A narrow cut ran along his fingertip. 

“I should go back to my dream-realm,” he whispered, even as curiosity warred with fear inside him. 

Another scream tore through the castle wall, sounding close. 

Very close 

Curiosity got the better of him. 

Taking off at a run, Matthias charged up the staircase of the wall closest to the noise, throwing glances over his shoulder at the doorway—hanging in the air in the middle of the courtyard—to his own dream-realm,  

It did not move. 

It did not vanish. 

He turned back to the stairs as he reached the top of the wall, the screams on the other side grew louder. 

He looked over the parapet. 

His jaw dropped. 

Surrounding the castle wall were shimmering peaks—twisted replicas of the Gods’ Shield mountains—winking in and out of existence. The landscape was barren—drenched in blood—and only broken by towering trees with skeletal faces bulging from their trunks. 

In the centre of this wasteland stood Kari. 

He was carrying a broken sack of flesh on his back, which—after a sober moment—Matthias recognised as the twisted form of Haakon. Kari screamed, crying, weeping, and begging for mercy. 

Pieces of his tormentor were gone, as though his body had broken apart like brittle stone. He ran on, despite there being several chunks of his legs missing. 

He ran from the looming figure chasing him. 

The figure of Matthias Stonebreaker.  

His body was twisted. 

“What in the names of the Ascended?” Matthias whispered 

The nightmare-Matthias was even larger than the real thing, having massive hands sheathed in Haakon’s stone gauntlets. The nightmare-Matthias lumbered after the fleeing Kari, reaching for him. 

“Run…run…run…rabbit…” the nightmare thing repeated, its long strides clearly closing the distance, despite its lumbering gait. 

“No! No, stay back!” Kari screamed. “Stay away!” 

The real Matthias watched as his former tormenter turned toward the castle, the monstrous dream-thing still chasing him. 

Kari closed in on the castle, looking up at the walls…freezing at what he saw. 

“No…it can’t be!” he recoiled, stumbling back. “Not two of you! No, please, this can’t be!” 

As he screamed, the nightmare-thing caught him, seizing his limbs in those spiky stone hands.  

Kari howled. “No! No! Stop! Stooop!” 

“Did you…stop…?” Nightmare-Matthias slowly tore Kari apart, breaking him in a thousand shrieking pieces. 

With every crack, the world shook, crumbling like sand. Mountains fell. The sky cracked. Eklund’s courtyard warped and twisted. 

The real Matthias swore, sprinting down the stairs, running back for the door to his dream-realm. 

He reached for it, but the world melted away… 

…he found himself back at Blood’s Drop, the roar of the waterfall filling the air. Beside him, the door to the infirmary shimmered, then broke apart, turning to dust. 

### 

Matthias woke up in his bed the next morning, disturbed by what he’d experienced through the infirmary door. 

He looked at his hand; it had already started to heal, though a red line ran along his finger in the same place he’d cut it while exploring the strange dream. 

He stared at it for a long time, recalling the whispers coming from that void in the house in the village square. 

“Maybe those voids are other peoples’ dreams?” he wondered. “But Kari’s dream wasn’t really a void at all. So, was I able to go in because he was dreaming about me? I should talk to Sur Friya later.” 

She was responsible for training Kari, and might know something. 

Such as if the boy had died during the night. 

### 

“Kari?” Sur Friya looked up at Matthias. She was in the middle of polishing her shield, her coat of arms—a spear piercing the back of a sea-beast—shone on it. “Why are you asking about him?” 

Matthias moved closer, throwing a quick glance at Agustin and the others sparring throughout the training grounds. Noticeably absent were Kari, Siegfried and Petric. 

“I was just wondering if he might come looking for revenge at some point.” Matthias’ voice stayed low. The reason he offered her was only a half-truth. 

“I don’t know if you need to worry about anything like that.” The knight gave a grim look. “I checked on the three of them this morning and Kari won’t be leaving his room anytime soon. Nightmares keep plaguing him, giving him no peace, let’s just say you left quite an impression. He told his nurse there were two of you in the nightmare he had last night.” 

Matthias’ surprise was genuine. 

“Well, that’s…something,” the young greatfolk muttered. 

Sur Friya stood, her voice dropping low. “Focus on your own training, Matthias. You walk a dangerous path now, so enjoy the good times while you can. You have that celebration with your family to look forward to tonight, and tomorrow you’ll start training with your mother. Such times do not last, so don’t waste your mind thinking about those you’ve already put down.” 

“Yes…understood,” he whispered, watching her walk away. 

His mind returned to the dream. 

Kari didn’t die when the nightmare world fell apart: it was more likely he’d simply woken up. What was more remarkable, though, was that he’d mentioned two of him: he’d actually seen the real Matthias in his dream. 

‘That confirms it. I can enter other peoples’ dreams. At least it seems I can, if they’re dreaming about me,’ he thought. ‘Which explains why the Tower warned me not to wander too far: in case I get caught in someone’s nightmares…’ He imagined himself being broken apart like Kari. ‘That would be a catastrophe. But what does it all mean? I should ask Master Altaizar. Later, at least. He said he’d be busy today, so I’d better focus on training and the celebration tonight. Sur Friya’s advice is sound: let’s enjoy some good times.’ 

Pushing the negative thoughts from his mind for now, he headed toward the centre of the courtyard, looking for students who were free. A group clustered together on the side of the chamber—dipping ladles of water from a cask—when he caught their eyes, the whispers started. 

He nodded at them. “Anyone need a sparring partner?” 

The reactions were mixed.  

Some looked away, colour draining from their faces. 

Others seemed unsure, caught between curiosity and nerves. 

Though a few immediately raised their hands. 

“Oh, me!” shouted a young man with the scruffy beginnings of a moustache. Matthias knew his name to be Valdor, though they’d never actually spoken much. He was a year older than the young greatfolk. 

“Sounds good.” Matthias walked to a free spot in the room, taking a training sword and warhammer from a rack.  

The other boy followed him, stopping five paces away, raising his sword and shield. “Alright! I’m ready!”  

Matthias lifted his weapons. 

For a moment, both young warriors stood in silence, watching each other. Matthias waited, studying the young man’s form, waiting for his first move. 

Valdor raised an eyebrow and charged, shield raised and sword extended. 

Matthias parried his first thrust, then gave ground, watching the young man carefully. Steel clashed on steel as they exchanged blows, Matthias focused his mind on learning Valdor’s fighting style and tells. 

Soon, he felt he had the measure of his opponent. 

Focusing his intent on disarming without harming, he came forward, thrusting his sword out—his longer reach driving his opponent back—before slapping one of Valdor’s blows aside and sweeping out with the back of his warhammer. 

Valdor raised his shield…the move was exactly what Matthias had hoped he would make. 

The back of the hammer hooked over top of the shield. 

A single pull dragged it aside, and Matthias pointed his sword at his sparring partner’s face. “Yield?” he asked. 

Valdor nodded with a sheepish smile. “I yield.” 

“Well done,” Matthias complimented his opponent, lowering his weapons. “I’ve seen you spar before. You’re good. I can hardly believe I can face you now.” 

“You’ve always been good too,” Valdor returned the praise. “A lot of us could see it, it’s just your body couldn’t keep up with the rest of us.” 

Matthias raised an eyebrow. “A lot of you could see I was always good? First I’ve ever heard of it.” 

“Most of us haven’t sparred with you because it’s usually you against Sur Friya or Agustin, or a couple of others.” 

“Or Kari and Siegfried.” Matthias added. “When they felt like making me into their sport.” 

“Oh yes, them too.” Valdor grimaced. “Still, you put up a good fight against them. We talked about how you had the skill to beat them, if you’d been able to do Life Enforcement. And now you have beaten them.” 

“Who is we?” Matthias asked.  

“Me and some of the other trainees.” 

“Oh, I haven’t talked to many of the others.” 

“Well, uh, you’ve always kept to yourself. Didn’t give us much opportunity to chat.” 

Matthias paused, thinking that over. It was true: he had kept to himself for almost his entire life. His father had left their family behind, his brother had been imprisoned, his sister was at risk, his mother strained, and he’d been the target of bullying for most of his life. 

Every moment, until recently, had been spent trying to find a way to Awaken to Life Enforcement or The Gift, working at his apprenticeship, training and helping his family. In other words, surviving. He vaguely remembered some of his peers talking to him after training, but…he hadn’t really paid them much attention at the time. 

“Uh, hope I didn’t come off as rude.” Matthias coughed. “I had a lot on my mind.” 

“I’ll bet,” Valdor said grimly. “Don’t know how you endured Kari and Siegfried for as long as you did. Well, glad that you finally did…whatever it was you needed to to get the better of them.” 

As they talked, other young men and women wandered over to join their conversation, beginning to form a circle.  

“What did you do, anyway?” asked a young woman with short red hair: Matthias knew her name to be Birgit. “Kari and Siegfried are barn-rat bastards, the both of them—” She went to spit on the floor, but paused when she caught Sur Friya’s baleful gaze from across the room. Birgit seemed to think better of her action. “—but they were better than most of us, so they could back up a lot of their stupid shit. But you took them and Haakon apart. Did you really Awaken to Divine Breath? That’s what my sister says.” 

The entire group stared up at Matthias. 

He cleared his throat. “I drank plenty of milk.” 

Valdor stared at him. “You, what?” 

Matthias flexed his arm. “Strong bones, you know.” 

Birgit and some of the others snorted with laughter. 

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Valdor said. “But I’ve still got to ask—” 

“This seems like an awful lot of not training going on here.” Sur Friya suddenly crossed the room at terrifying speed, stepping into the circle. “Odd, I am sure this place is called the training grounds. Not the not-training grounds. Or the stand-around-in-a-circle-and-gossip grounds. Make friends on your own time, people.” 

Every young warrior saluted. “Yes, knight!” 

The others—except for Matthias and Valdor—scattered. 

“Have you two finished debriefing after your fight?” she asked. 

“N-no,” Matthias said. “Sorry, I was talking too much.” 

Valdor—who’d started the exchange—gave Matthias a surprised and appreciative look. “Actually, it was I who was talking too much—” 

“Less trying to take the crossbow bolt for each other and more debriefing.” Sur Friya glowered. 

“Oh, erm, right,” Matthias said, looking at Valdor. “Like I said, you were good. The only thing is you could be a bit more aggressive. You let me watch you for too long and that let me figure out how you fight. You could have brought me down with a quick attack otherwise, and taken me off-guard.” 

“Right, um, thanks,” Valdor said. He scratched his thin moustache. “You’re good, but, well I was going to point out the same thing about you: your fighting style’s strange.” 

“Strange?” Matthias cocked his head. 

“Yeah, you don’t fight like someone of your size. You hung back, you didn’t really take advantage of the fact that you’re a lot bigger and probably a lot stronger than me. You could use your weight a little more, I think.” 

“I…huh.” 

The thought had never occurred to him: in his duels with Siegfried and Haakon, he’d played it cautiously, relying on surprise, speed, skill and patience to win. With Petric he’d struck first, but that was to stop him from using The Gift. 

All his life he’d been used to being the weaker, slower one and he’d learned to fight accordingly. 

Now, though, things were different. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he lowered his head to his opponent. “Thanks.” 

“Good, and uh, maybe you can come join us down at Bear’s Head Pond sometime,” Valdor offered. “The lot of us fish there. Khulan sings—well, it’s more like he brays than anything else, but he plays the shanz real well—and we have a good time in the evening. You should come.” 

“Oh, yeah I think I’d like that.” Matthias smiled. “But, not tonight, I have a family thing this evening.” 

“That’s alright, you—” 

“Is this the arrange-fishing-trips grounds?” Sur Friya’s voice cut like a blade. 

The two boys scattered immediately, getting back to work. 

As he went looking for another sparring partner, Matthias hid a smile. 

‘Am I actually making friends?’ he wondered. 

A part of him knew he’d need to be cautious: he had no doubt that Eklund would make some move. There was even a chance that some of these trainees had been sent by him to spy. 

If it did turn out that some of them were spying? 

He’d crush them. 

If not…then perhaps he’d see what having friends was like. 

### 

“I do not get tired of hearing this, Matthie.” Bregindoure clapped his hands together, then rubbed his belly and burped again. “Then what?” 

“I kneed Haakon in the face.” Matthias grinned like a mountain lion, finishing the story of his duel for the third time that evening. 

“Yeeeees!” Bregindoure pumped his fist, rising from his chair. He loomed on the other side of the bars. “Ah, by the Ascended, if only I could have seen it!” 

“It was amazing!” Dagma cried. “I wish you could have seen it too, Breg! Matthie was so powerful!” 

“I was pretty powerful,” Matthias nodded, puffing out his chest. 

“Yes, you were!” Beggahasta clapped her son on the shoulder with one hand, taking a deep gulp of mead from a horn in the other hand. “Ah, what a lion of a son I have! What smart children! What clever children! What strong children! I do not know what I did that the Ascended blessed me with such a family, but I thank them!” 

“Mother,” Matthias blushed. “You’re embarrassing me.” 

She tousled his hair. “That is my right as a mother.” 

“My right as an elder brother, too!” Bregindoure grinned, taking a big bite from a venison haunch. “Mmm, this is really good! Victory is the best spice, even when it’s not my victory!” 

On the fifth evening after Matthias had destroyed his tormentors, the Stonebreaker family was gathered in Bregindoure’s tower for a feast.  

The buck Beggahasta had shot—butchered, salted, marinated and smoked over a low cedar flame—was laid out on a table beside the prison bars, along with fried bread covered in soft cheese and butter, salted yoghurt, herb-seasoned turnips, and pea stew steaming in tin side dishes.  

Pitchers of mulled wine, mead, honeyed milk—a plate of caramelised onions and apple pie—waited to quench their thirsts and satisfy everyone’s sweet-tooth. Another, smaller table was set up on Bregindoure’s side of the bars with his share of the feast having been passed through the meal slot under the watchful eyes of the guards. They’d departed back down the tower steps earlier, throwing envious glances at the food as they left. 

Their expressions only seemed to make Bregindoure happier. 

All evening, Matthias’ brother had been all grins and laughter: it had been too long since he’d seen Breg this happy. 

Again and again, he asked Matthias to retell the story of how he’d laid his enemies low, and each time, he’d only seemed to laugh deeper, cheer louder and clap more intensely. 

Dagma and Beggahasta—who’d been there and witnessed the triumph—didn’t seem to tire of hearing it either, listening with glee as Matthias broke down his every thought and move during the duels. 

Bregindoure loudly burped again. “Ah, excuse me,” he apologised. “This evening is so good. I almost don’t need to see the sky above me if I have stories like these to warm my cell on cold nights.” 

“Don’t you joke about that.” Matthias pointed a fork at him. “You’re going to see the sky and feel the wind blow through your hair again. I’m going to free you. You’re not spending your life behind those bars.” 

Bregindoure smiled. “Your life’s beginning, you just go and live it. Master Altaizar and I will figure something out.” 

“I’ll find a way to free your first!” Dagma grinned. The beginnings of an adult tooth had appeared in the missing space, poking out of her gum.  

“My children, such a task is my responsibility,” Beggahasta chided them gently. “You must worry only about your own lives. Breg, Master Altaizar and I will find a way to have you develop the Rune of Clarity.” 

“Of course, mother,” Bregindoure chuckled, burping once again. “Ah, excuse me. Been doing all that burping since lunchtime. Maybe the porridge was a bit off.” 

“Don’t you dare die from bad food, Breg,” Matthias warned him. 

Bregindoure scoffed. “I’ll try not to.” He took another bite of his haunch of meat. “I can’t let myself die before I have my own reckoning with those filthy bullies of yours. You got your revenge, but I want mine. They called me The Beast, after all.” 

He burped. 

A tiny frown took his brow. 

“Those wretches. Look at what they did to my brother. Glad you got them, finally.” He raised his cup of honeyed milk. “To their downfall.” 

“To their downfall!” Beggahasta, Matthias and Dagma raised their cups. 

Everyone drank. 

Bregindoure gulped his drink, burping again. 

When they’d taken their cups away from their lips, he was still drinking. 

“Whoa, slow down there,” Matthias chuckled. “You might not have enough for the whole meal—” 

Bregindoure burped so loudly, his entire body shook. 

“Ewwww, Breg!” Dagma giggled. “That’s not—” 

He slammed his cup on the table. 

Wood shattered, shards and food exploded through the bars, scattering across the floor. 

Dagma, Matthias and Beggahasta jumped up from their seats. 

“Bregindoure?” Beggahasta cried. “What is it, what’s wrong?” 

The eldest of the Stonebreaker siblings sat among the ruins of his feast, his entire body trembling. His face was turning red. “Those…filthy bastards…tortured my brother for years. Eklund…did nothing.” 

He rose from his chair, looming over his family, blotting out the evening sunlight. 

“Breg?” Matthias’ eyes were wide. “I beat them, it’s alri—” 

“It’s not alright!” Bregindoure’s voice rasped out. His hands were shaking. “How many years? How many years did it take? How many years did those filthy vultures fly free while I was in here! Trapped! A damned and damnable liability to my own family!”  

His voice smote the air. 

His eyes were turning bloodshot. 

The Rune of the Berserker flared on his hand. 

“No, no, no!” Dagma cried. “Breg! Calm down! It’s alright!” 

Matthias’ heart thundered. ‘No. No, not now!’ he thought. 

“Bregindoure!” Beggahasta went to the bars, reaching through, her hand extending toward her eldest son. “It’s alright,” her voice remained low, soothing. “It’s alright. Way of Stone, Bregindoure. Bregindoure, we are here for you. Remember your meditation exercises—” 

“Keep back!” He drew away from the bars so quickly, he almost seemed to blur to the wall of his prison. His bulk slammed into the stone hard enough to send books tumbling from their shelves. 

“What’s wrong?” guards shouted. “What’s going on up there?” 

“You!” Bregindoure’s head snapped toward the stairs. “You guards sat there while my brother was tormented! You…every last one of you is useless! Useless! Yet, I am the one trapped in here!” 

The rune flared brighter.  

Veins were standing out on his skin. 

His face had changed—gone was the smiling, gentle expression—now replaced by a death-mask of pure rage. Bregindoure’s pupils dilated, his blue eyes turning black and dead. Like a doll’s glass eyes. 

“One of you get Master Altaizar!” Beggahasta screamed down the stairs to the guards. “Bregindoure’s having a spell! We need him!” 

With a single step she was beside Dagma and Matthias, pulling them away from the bars as though they weighed nothing. “It’s alright, we will just wait this out.” Her voice was shaky. “Just as we used to.” 

Matthias’ heart twisted; he hated seeing his brother like this, watching him rage, losing himself, destroying his own possessions in his cage. 

He forced himself to watch. 

‘You’ll use this to push yourself. To make you remember how much he needs the Rune of Clarity to be free,’ he thought. 

“Trapped here…” Bregindoure’s voice was an animal’s growl. “While those three walk free. I’ll kill each of them with my own hands!” 

What burst out of his throat next was a roar so deep that the air itself seemed to shake. Matthias’ ears rang. Dagma cried out. Beggahasta pressed her children’s heads to her sides. 

The Rune of the Berserker flared. No humanity remained in Bregindoure’s mask of hate. His mouth moved, the words coming out were an incoherent stream of wrath. 

Foam poured from his lips. 

‘This is the worst spell he’s had in years,’ Matthias thought with horror. 

Bregindoure turned toward the wall of his prison. 

Matthias could feel the hate and rage coming off him in waves. 

The giant of a man brought his fist back. “Kill. All. Three,” his voice crackled like hungry flame. The air around him shimmered; pulses of red light coursed through his veins. 

He slammed his fist into the Gift-reinforced stone. 

The tower shook, but the wall held, just as it always had. 

“Bregindoure, I will free you,” Matthias whispered. “Just stop.” 

The giant slammed his fist into the wall again.  

The tower shook, but the wall held, just as it always had. 

Bregindoure cocked his bloody fist back and drove it into the wall again. 

The tower shook, but the wall… 

…cracked. 

The Stonebreaker family was stunned into silence. 

“No. No this is impossible,” Beggahasta finally whispered. 

Bregindoure brought both fists up, hammering the wall, fracturing it again, stone dust coughing into the air. 

“No!” Matthias cried.  

Something wasn’t right; the tower had been reinforced every year, always made to stand against Bregindoure’s berserk rages. 

What changed? Had he suddenly gotten that much stronger? 

Or…had something else— 

Bregindoure smashed his fists against the wall again. 

Cracks spiderwebbed through the stone. 

“Stop! Stop, Breg!” Dagma screamed. 

“You mustn’t, Bregindoure!” Beggahasta cried. “You’ll only get yourself hurt!” 

“Brother!” Matthias shouted. “Brother, we’re here with you, but if you—” 

Bregindoure roared a final time, bringing both hands up like a hammer. 

They came down. 

The tower wall ruptured. 

Massive stones shot through the air as though hurled by trebuchets, landing deep in the forest with earth-shaking impacts. 

“No!” Matthias screamed. 

Bregindoure let out a roar as he climbed through the hole he’d just made. He didn’t even seem to notice his first breath of fresh air outside the prison. 

“Brother, don’t!” Matthias reached toward the towering form. 

He could not reach him. 

Bregindoure could not hear him. 

Not any longer. 

With a single twitch of his muscles, the giant leapt free of his prison, landing with a tremendous crash on the ground below. 

The guards screamed. “Run! Get help! The Beast is loose!” 

###

Author's Note

MFW I try to enhance my social links with side characters in the middle of the training hall.

And with that, we reach the end of our first 20 chapters of I Am Become Death.

I want to once again than you for sticking with me. This is going to be a fun journey together. :) Or at least I hope it will be for some of you folks!