Page 5 of Skalterra By Nightmare (The Skalterra Duology #1)

The thick trees that had stood bright and resolute in my dreams earlier that day now cast dark shadows that criss-crossed through the gold of a setting sun. I blinked, trying to orient myself as the stinging in my palm died.

“Welcome back, Just-Wren.”

Ferrin clapped me on the back as he passed by and handed a bulging pack off to a blank-faced Nightmare.

“You’re not going to kill yourself again, are you?”

Orla appeared next to me, juggling green light between her long fingers.

“Stop playing with the Skal,”

Ferrin chided. He clipped a set of glowing bottles to his belt.

“You’re wasting it.”

Orla flashed an apologetic grin, and the green fire in her hands danced into darkness.

“Sorry, Uncle.”

“Where is he?”

I demanded, searching the clearing for the old man in the duster.

“Who?”

Orla asked, but Ferrin gave a bruised grin.

“The—the…”

I gestured wildly at my chin, trying to pantomime a beard.

“You know!”

“Galahad is getting the other Nightmares ready,”

Ferrin said through a low laugh. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“You’ll find him that way.”

The old man’s silhouette stood out against the river through the trees where he was busy giving instructions to a line-up of pack-laden Nightmares. Tiernan and Fana stood nearby in robes of yellow and red that caught the setting sun.

I shoved Ferrin out of my way to march towards Galahad.

“At least she’s not running away,”

Orla mumbled behind me as she and Ferrin followed towards the riverbank.

“Hey!”

Galahad turned at the sound of my shout, and his wrinkled face worked into a scowl.

“Wren Warrender, I told you to be ready when I called—”

“You said you’d only need me at night!”

I stopped inches from his face and pointed at the sinking sun that peered between the tree trunks.

“It’s still daytime. I barely finished dinner!”

“We need to put extra distance between us and Cape Fireld before the Grimguard wakes and continues his hunt.”

Galahad’s beard was braided into a simple plait that rested on the chest of his leather armor, and I resisted the urge to yank on it.

“You said nighttime!”

“Should I take this arguing as a sign that you finally believe me to be real?”

I froze, mulling over the words. He made a good point. Why was I arguing with him? I curled my fingers over the scar on my palm. I was arguing because he felt real, but that didn’t mean that he was more than a dream.

“No,”

I finally shot back. Galahad smirked and turned back to his line of Nightmares.

“Real or not, I am curious. You have to feed the cats in Keldori?”

My face warmed.

“Just the ones that live inside.”

“They don’t feed themselves? Are there no mice?”

“There’s mice, but we still have to feed the cats.”

“Strange,”

Orla whispered.

“What is the cat’s primary function if not to eat the mice?”

“Companionship?”

I was far from Jonquil’s biggest fan, and I didn’t like the sudden defensiveness that rose in my chest on her behalf.

“Or so I’ve been told. Mostly she gets in the way.”

“Then the cats are as useless as the people.”

Tiernan helped Fana onto the back of the beefiest Nightmare in Galahad’s line-up.

“Yeah, well,”

I muttered so he couldn’t hear me.

“you’re not even real.”

“Orla! Wren Warrender!”

Galahad barked. His Nightmares, each in leather and chainmail, formed a circle around him, Fana, and the Nightmare who carried her.

“Take the rear guard. Ferrin will go on ahead to make sure the path is clear. Tiernan, with us.”

Ferrin gave Orla’s shoulder a pat and pulled his goggles down over his eyes.

“I’ll see you in Trawler’s Bay.”

An emerald longsword formed in his hand.

“Take care of Just-Wren. Don’t take it personally when she says you don’t exist.”

“Of course, Uncle.”

He gave the side of her face a fatherly peck, and then surged forward to lead the way into the darkening forest. Orla gave his back an ostentatious salute, but her mouth turned downwards in a slight frown.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No.”

She shook her head, watching Ferrin disappear into the lengthening shadows. Galahad’s team followed at a slower pace while Orla and I stayed put on the riverbank. The gentle rush of the river whispered behind us, and a frog croaked to a steady beat nearby. The level of detail in this dream really was astounding.

“It’s just, last time Ferrin went ahead with someone…”

Orla hugged herself around her shoulders, and I remembered Ferrin slumped unconscious against a wall flecked with his blood and the woman dead on the floor.

“Her name was Caitria, right?”

I asked. Real or not, my heart dipped at the sad smile on Orla’s face.

“Were you close?”

“Of course. I spent the last several years in Cape Fireld. She and Tiernan were in charge of keeping Fana and her family safe there.”

She nodded at Tiernan’s leather-armored back as he sank into the forest ahead.

“The other two Divine Families are gone, along with the rest of Fana’s family. Since Fana’s the last living Divine Sovereign, Caitria was sort of the unofficial leader for all of us.”

“Even though Galahad’s the oldest?”

The silver glow of Galahad’s magick had nearly disappeared between the tree trunks ahead, but glimpses of it continued to flit in and out of sight.

“Galahad’s a Lyrian!”

Orla snorted. She pulled her goggles down over her eyes and lit a green flame in her hand to stave off the growing dark.

“He’s a talented Magician, but the last Tulyr died ages ago, so he hasn’t been officially employed in decades.”

“I thought you were all in charge of Fana.”

The rapidly sinking sun set my nerves on edge, and I reminded myself that this place wasn’t real. The dark woods couldn’t hurt me. There was no danger lurking in the trees. Not anything that wasn’t just my imagination, anyway.

“Yes,”

Orla said slowly.

“but only by default. There were three Divine Families sworn to keep the Frozen God locked away, and each family had an Order of Riftkeepers to guard them and their children. Galahad was in the order assigned to the Tulyrs.”

“And you and Ferrin?”

I asked. If I kept asking questions, maybe I would find the limit to my imagination and definitively prove that this was all in my head. Orla lit up again.

“We are the last two members of the order assigned to protect the Quills. My mother was a Riftkeeper before me, but she died protecting the last one before I joined the guard, so really, it’s only Fana that I’ve been protecting. Do you think the others are far enough ahead yet?”

She adjusted her goggles, and mimicked the motion Ferrin had made to create her own sword of blazing green out of the fire in her hand. She arced the blade through air with a test swing, and it hissed and sizzled. The gravel of the riverbank crunched under her shin-high boots as she strode forward.

Meanwhile, I took a step back.

“Just-Wren?”

The green light of Orla’s sword glittered off the rim of her round goggles.

“I don’t have to follow you,”

I said quietly.

“If you’re not real—”

“But what if we are?”

she asked.

“I understand why you think we’re not, but have you considered what it means if you’re wrong?”

“If you’re real, then I’m screwed,”

I laughed.

“And so are you, because I can’t help you protect Fana.”

A strong breeze rolled in over the river, ruffling Orla’s cloak and making the trees behind her shift and bow.

“Is that why you’ve opted to believe us to be a dream? Because it’s less frightening?”

I didn’t have an answer, and I hugged myself around my leather armor as the breeze twisted through my blue hair.

Orla’s sly smile glowed green in the light of her sword, and she pivoted on her heel to continue towards the shadows of the trees.

“Quick question.”

I chased after the safety of Orla’s green light, realizing I didn’t want to be left behind in the dark.

“Where is it we’re going, and how long will we be in the woods?”

“Trawler’s Bay!”

she chirped.

“It’s a cute port city. I think. I’ve not actually been there before. But there’s a steamcart station that will take us north towards the Second Sentinel. It won’t go the whole way, though.”

“A steamcart?”

I looked up as dark tree cover swallowed the star-spotted sky. I’d been okay with the trees in the daylight, but now it felt too much like graduation night.

It’s not real, I reminded myself. Linsey isn’t here.

I balled my fingers into fists.

“Right! I forgot! You probably don’t have steamcarts in Keldori.”

Orla gnawed on her lip, thinking hard.

“It’s like a bunch of carriages strung together, but instead of being pulled by horses like you’re used to, steamed Skal powers the cart at the front. That cart pulls the rest of the carts along a track from one destination to another. It’s very advanced technology. You’re going to love it.”

“Like a train?” I asked.

“I suppose you could describe it that way!”

She brightened.

“Because the carts all train behind each other! You’re catching on quick.”

Even if Orla wasn’t real, I didn’t have the heart to explain to her that trains were very old news to me. Nor did we still rely on horses as our main mode for transportation.

“I’m assuming it’s been a while since anyone from here has been to—what did you call it?” I asked.

“Keldori? Your home? Not since the Rift, no. And that was centuries ago.”

She sighed wistfully.

“I’d love to go someday. I bet it’s so quaint, with your useless cats.”

“Can’t Galahad make a Nightmare on the Keldori side of things and then stick your consciousness in it from here?”

I asked. I chanced a glance back the way we’d come, but the night had already swallowed the trees there.

Orla shook her head.

“Galahad knows all the most complex Skalmagick, but not even he could project a Nightmare across the Rift.”

A splintering snap pulled my attention behind us again.

“Did you hear that?”

I whispered.

“It was probably just a deer,”

Orla whispered back.

“You have deer, right?”

“Yes, we have deer.”

“Do you have to feed them too?”

Another crack silenced us both. I swiveled forward, trying to find Galahad’s light on the path ahead, but it had disappeared between the trees a while ago. I hoped Orla knew the way without his help.

“We should split up,”

she suggested.

“I’ll flank Galahad’s team on the left, and you go to the right.”

“But I don’t have a light.”

“Make one.”

“How? I don’t have any of that magic liquid.”

I glanced at the glowing bottles attached at her waist.

Orla’s gentle laugh was a quiet hiss in the night.

“Of course you have Skal. It’s what you’re made of. That’s what makes you so well equipped to fight the Grimguard.”

“What if I don’t want to fight the Grimguard?”

Her laugh was louder this time.

“Then tell Galahad to send you home! But I doubt he’ll oblige.”

She stepped closer to me and held out a hand.

“Try to concentrate your Skal in your palm. It should burn a bit, but not so much that it hurts.”

I wasn’t sure exactly what she meant b.

“concentrate my Skal”, but I stared at my hand, trying to imagine energy buzzing there. This was a dream, after all. If it was all in my head, then of course I should be able to will superpowers into existence in the palm of my hand.

I thought I was imagining the gentle tingle at first, but then it grew hotter, until it felt as if I were pressing my hand against a hot lightbulb.

A small silver flame burst in the middle of my curled fingers.

“That’s it! That’s the Skal! See, it’s silver like Galahad’s because your magick comes from him!”

“Okay, great.”

I held the fire at arm’s length. My long blue hair might have been fiction, but I still wasn’t keen on the idea of burning it.

“Now what?”

“You can hold it like that if all you need is a light. It won’t burn you, or Galahad for that matter, but you could still use it against an enemy. It’ll be more useful as a weapon, though, so try to shape it into something more substantial.”

A weapon. I needed a weapon. I tried to imagine a sword like the one Orla wielded. The Skal flickered and grew heavier in my hand, and the sudden weight surprised me.

“Grab it!”

Orla yelped.

I clamped my hand around a warm silver handle. The blade of my sword, however, dropped and elongated in a way I didn’t expect, reminding me of not a sword at all, but rather—

“A flail?”

Orla stepped away.

“That’s a choice, but alright.”

Chain links made of silver light clicked together. A heavy, spiked ball swung on the end of the chain, and I was once again standing with my arm outstretched as far as I could reach.

“Do I need goggles?”

I asked, watching Orla’s green light glint off the rim of her eyewear.

“Your retinas will be rebuilt tomorrow night when Galahad summons you again. We’re stuck with ours, and too much Skal-light exposure at close proximity like this can cause blindness. One night won’t hurt you.”

A coyote laughed in the dark, much closer than I would like. Hopefully the silver light of my flail would be enough to keep the wildlife at bay, because I absolutely had no idea how to otherwise use the weapon.

“Alright. Me to the left, you to the right! Galahad is that way.”

Orla pointed into the dark.

“Again, the Grimguard is far behind us, so he shouldn’t be a problem. Best to keep an eye out, though!”

She turned on her heel and stepped between two trees. The shadows were already cutting across the light of her blade, leaving me in a circle of silver.

I didn’t want her to go. The forest had been bright and welcoming during the day, but now, oppressive shadows loomed, hiding who knew what and who knew who.

“It’s not real,”

I said to myself, stepping off on my own into the dark.

“Yes, it is!”

Orla called at me from the shadows. I scowled and tightened my grip on my weapon.

“That’s exactly what someone who isn’t real would say.”

I kept my voice low so that Orla wouldn’t hear me this time.

The forest at least felt different from the one in the mountains near my high school. For one, these woods weren’t real, unlike the woods where I’d been lost in the dark. That had been all too real. Not only that, but here the tree trunks were thicker and their roots more exposed and gnarled, making for tricky footwork in the dark, but the undergrowth was sparse. I didn’t have to fight my way through brambles and thickets like I had graduation night, and instead focused on crawling over roots and dirt mounds while I kept the distant green light of Orla flickering between trees to my left.

As far as nightmares went, this one was tame. It was vivid and the amount of detail and continuity my brain had managed to fit over the course of several different dreams was alarming, sure, but I wasn’t scared.

Or, at least, not as scared as I was used to feeling. If this was all Galahad needed from me for the next however many nights, I could probably manage that. And then, hopefully, my subconscious would set me free.

A branch snapped, and I turned too quickly, bringing my flail swinging around. I dropped it to avoid the spike ball smacking me in the leg, and it fell in a tangle of roots, casting a mosaic of silver shadows upwards against tree trunks and distant canopies.

I swore under my breath and reached my arm down into the jumbled roots.

It was then, with my face pressed against a root and my fingers scrabbling at the handle of a weapon just out of reach, that a man’s voice spoke.

“Hello, again, Blue.”