Chapter 4
Broken Nightmares
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Jalhar didn’t bother to hide his exhaustion as he yawned and rubbed his eyes. It was too late and he was far too tired to pretend he wasn’t
yearning for his bed. Unfortunately, Grimaryl and Rahne were so focused on debating the implications of his report they didn‘t even notice.
Black humor momentarily twisted his lips. He bet they would notice when the shades of the past fell upon him. Screaming tended to break
even the best focus.
The artificial energy of the choi bark was wearing thin, draining the last of his vitality with it. Soon he wouldn’t be good for anything. Dealing
with the Unclean was so different than normal hunting, Jalhar mused blearily, knowing his mind was wandering. It would only get worse as
he approached total collapse. When he was hunting he could spend many more days awake than this without being so totally wasted.
Getting in combat with the damned things only made it worse; instead of the heart pounding mixture of exhilaration, fear and savagery,
there was only a lingering horror that haunted him for weeks and months afterward.
Reaching for the last wisps of his patience, he focus on figuring out how Grim held on to his sanity after being held captive by the beasts for
so many years. Granted he had not been fighting the Unclean, but just their faces alone were enough to give Jalhar nightmares. He could
not imaging being surrounded by them day after day. Maybe Grim had some sort of magic or memory trick that could help him with his own
little problem. It was not like he was going to be able to keep it secret if this debriefing took much longer.
It wasn’t really Rahne or Grimaryl’s fault that they needed to go over things again and again. The disastrous trip had important implications
for their military campaign. They could not afford to overlook the slightest clue since it might mean the death of one of their own on later
missions. Even knowing that, it was becoming increasingly difficult to his sanity as the questions continued.
Yes, he had been discovered almost right away on his spying mission. No, he had not made it inside the compound because a patrol of
Unclean Ones had stumbled across his hiding place within moments of his arrival. Yes, there were too many of them and types were
mixing that usually killed each other on sight. He agreed there had been a greater coordination to the Unclean One’s attacks of late and no
he didn‘t know who could do such a thing. If this lasted much longer he would be able to answer them in his sleep.
After dozens of repetitions even Rahne was looking more than a little irritated. “So, we are going to have to find out who is behind all this
new unity and eliminate them. Hopefully returning them to their normal hostilities instead of this getting along crap.” The older man’s lips
twisted in obvious distaste for such methods.
Grimaryl nodded heavily, “Although I would normally abjure such tactics, Rhiannon eventually convinced me that there are times these
things have to be done. Our people can not afford for us to be picky about our methods. There is only one ethic of War when dealing with
Unclean.”
“Total and complete annihilation.” Jalhar croaked in agreement. None of them enjoyed that kind of hunt, but it needed to be done. It was
understood between them that he would have to take point on the matter since the latest compound of the Unclean was buried in a deep
forest. He was the very best at being silent and deadly in such an environment, so the finding of the elimination of the target would be his
task. “Don’t worry, I know what has to be done.”
Rahne sighed heavily, “There are times I hate getting old.” They all knew that a decade or two before it would have been Rahne’s task
instead of Jalhar’s.
Grimaryl snorted, “I’m told it is better than the alternative, old man. So you have to just deal with training the young ones as punishment for
your survival.”
A groan escaped as Rahne rolled his eyes to the heavens. “Don’t remind me dawn is coming all too soon. Now Jalhar, just give me a list of
what you need…”
Jalhar shook his head, “Later, all I am going to do now is head to sleep.” not wanting to speak too much more when his voice was due to
betray him at any time.
“That’s a good idea, when the time comes I might have a few ideas for you.” Grimaryl had a solemn look on his face and his deep voice
echoed with sorrow. “But I think such discussions should wait until you had a chance to talk with Grim. I have the sneaking suspicion he
has done this sort of work before and this new Unclean behavior troubles me. They are using better tactics and organization than should
be possible, we will need his special insight to survive if it continues.”
Rahne grunted, “And some stronger magics wouldn’t hurt. The fact that they were able to follow him from world to world is nothing short of
a disaster. If Grim can’t come up with something to block that all of our people are going to be in deep trouble.”
Jalhar nodded in agreement. He was not the only ring wielder to spy upon the evil ones. No, he could not be angry at extended questioning;
he would have done the same in their shoes. However, that knowledge did nothing to clear the haunting flames that began to make their
presence known around corners of his vision. Unable to contain his flinch at a particularly bright flare up, Jalhar closed his eyes
desperately trying to bring the world back into focus. Nausea had him swallowing convulsively as the sickening scent of burning hair came
to clog his nostrils.
A warm hand clasped his shoulder and he barely controlled his startled reaction. Rahne’s concerned gaze met his own as the older man
stared down at him. Jalhar cursed quietly to himself; he was so far gone he had not heard them rise from the chairs. It was not a good sign.
Normally he could tell where a patrol was in the woods by tracking the bird calls from a mile away, but now it appeared he was oblivious to
something happening an arm’s length from his seat. He shook his head in self disgust.
Rahne’s soft gray eyes looked down on him with compassion. “Go and rest, Jalhar, before you drop.” His voice was a soft growl of
command that even Grimaryl would not disobey. Feeling infinitely older than his thirty-one years, Jalhar nodded and rose to his feet praying
his knees wouldn’t give way and shame him completely.
Oblivious to the level of his distress, Rahne caught his arm in the strong clasp of warriors. “You did well, Jalhar.” The eyes became intent,
boring into his own. “You were right to bring the woman here, not only to save her life but also because of the potential knowledge she will
give us.”
So, Jalhar mused grimly as he straightened, he had not been able to hide his misgivings on the matter after all. He was going to have to
work on building a better mental barrier in his public mind, though it was just as likely that Rahne would have known without being able to
read his uppermost thoughts. The older man had become a valued friend and mentor in the years since their first meeting. That
relationship let him put his greatest concerns to words as he subtly leaned on the back of the chair for support.
“We don’t even know if Grim will be able to find her world again.” Jalhar tightened his fingers on the back of his chair as the world tilted
alarmingly. “No matter how good the reason or the results, I still bear the responsibility for taking that woman away from everything she has
ever known, from her family.” Flames leapt before his eyes as his own words burned into his soul.
“You must not blame yourself, Jalhar.” Rahne spoke with a soft intensity. “You could not have left her to the Unclean. That would have been
the real crime. No mater how talented you are, Jalhar. You are still just a mortal man and can only do so much.” He felt more than saw his
mentor’s aborted attempt to place a comforting hand upon his shoulder. Rahne knew from long experience that Jalhar did not welcome any
sort of casual touch.
Although Rahne‘s words held some truth, Jalhar was too tired and heartsick to let them soothe him. “She is not safe here, we all know that.
I will take her under my protection but it might not be enough.” It hadn’t been enough for Rhiannon or all the others they had lost in the
castle attack.
The others could probably hear the strain in his voice, but for once he didn‘t care. This woman was his responsibility since he had dragged
her into this world and he could take no more dead. If he allowed himself to care, the last scraps of his soul would join his dead heart.
Although all the Ruby Lords were precious to him they were not the same as having the responsibility for an innocent. Of them all he was
closest to Grimaryl, who was a brother in every way that was important, but each of the Lords was a seasoned warrior of one ilk or another
that had chosen their life. The woman was another matter entirely.
Rahne exited the room while he was trying to sort his feelings out. When Grimaryl’s arm slipped around his shoulders and started guiding
him to the door Jalhar knew that his disability was becoming obvious but couldn‘t bring himself to care. He was too busy fighting the
swelling visions, trying to bury them deep enough to keep the horror from the others, to reject the normally unwanted solicitude.
“We have kept you too long, my friend.” Regret was heavy in Grimaryl’s voice. He, unlike all the others, knew exactly what happened when
Jalhar was reeling from exhaustion. “Grim will find the woman’s home, do not trouble yourself anymore about that. Any discomfort her
family will go through will be far less than they would have suffered if you had left her to the mercy of the Unclean. You know this.”
Jalhar nodded at his friend’s reasonable tone. He was just so tired, he felt raw from battling the oncoming memories. The taste of despair
was already filling his mouth with bitter ashes. He would be lucky to get back to his room without needing a guide if he delayed much
longer. That fact only added to his despair, he really hated being helpless.
Perhaps in answer to his thoughts, Grimaryl leaned close and spoke in a low growl. “You are going to get help to your room whether you
need it or not, so don‘t even try to think otherwise.” They had been friends long enough that Jalhar didn’t need to spell out exactly how
crappy he felt. Now that Grimaryl wasn’t distracted, he probably could tell with just a look. “Do you think you can get there alright?”
Even with the help, it was all Jalhar could do not to stumble as he was guided down the corridor. “Probably.” He concluded grimly. It was
becoming harder and harder to pick up his feet as the last of the drug slipped away and the flames roaring in his head were becoming
impossible to suppress. Through the ring, he could feel Grimaryl’s growing concern and tried to give his friend a reassuring smile but
knew he was only partially successful.
Grimaryl’s hands tightened painfully as he tripped over his own feet and cursed with frustration. “This would probably go faster if you would
let me carry you.” Grimaryl offered in an attempt at humor. Unfortunately his statement was seasoned with too much truth to be funny.
Jalhar growled half heartedly. “We have had discussions about your attempts at humor, old friend. Once I am properly refreshed we can
always have another.” Their discussions usually involved a lot of broken furniture and bruises.
There was no answering laugh which was fine, he really couldn’t think clearly anymore anyway. The bright flames of the past were clearer
than the walls of the palace in his vision. It was time to close even his public mind to the others. As he walked down the passage Jalhar
tugged the gold chain from around his neck. To keep his shaking from being obvious, he used slow deliberate movements to pull off the
ring and loop it carefully onto the chain. It took only a moment put the chain back on and tuck the ring under his shirt so the servants wouldn’
t be alarmed. Most Ruby Lords would not remove their rings unless they were dying, so folks found it understandably alarming if they
became aware of its absence. No matter the upset it might cause others, he was relieved to finally be able to stop shielding. For a short
while at least, even his public mind was completely his own.
“Uncle Jalhar!” A small, blurred figure exclaimed, running towards him on silent feet. Jalhar squeezed Grimaryl’s guiding hand in
reassurance and dropped heavily to one knee to avoid being knocked over by the boy’s enthusiasm. He caught the bundle of energy and
his namesake tightly in his arms and drew him in a tight hug.
“What are you doing awake this time of night, Bright Eyes?” He asked as he set the boy back on his feet, allowing only affection to show in
his voice. “Even Lord Rahne, who I believe is teaching your morning class, has found his way to bed.” There was only the slightest of
censures in his voice as he rumpled the boy’s hair.
Jal was not fooled and stepped back, eyeing him uncertainly. “Something is wrong.”
“Of course something is wrong.” He replied with a light tone. “You are supposed to be in bed and you’re not. Everything looks weird this
time of night.” Jalhar struggled to read his young face through the bright flames now dancing before his eyes. The sweat of remembered
heat started trickling down his brow. It was an incredible effort not to show any indication of horrors replaying before his eyes.
“I could not sleep, uncle.” Jal was confessing in an undertone. “I needed to know you were well.” Jalhar felt his heart squeeze in
understanding, he too needed to be sure everyone else was well before he could rest most nights. Jal had watched his mother die in
defense of Castle Atyar. He knew better than any child should of the realities of the world. He had already seen far too much in his ten
years. It was a cold irony that the very thing Jalhar, Grimaryl and Rhiannon had set out to spare other children had befallen the one child that
was in their keeping.
Setting the boy at arms length he gestured down his body. “As you can see for yourself, I am well and whole. There is nothing for you to
worry about.” He hoped, being Grimaryl and Rhiannon’s son, he was far too perceptive to have things hidden from him long. If Jal had more
than a few moments he would probably figure out something was being hidden from him. The thought might as well have been a
prediction he mused as Jal went rigid with fear.
“Uncle, where is your ring? You never take it off, none of the Lords do.” Shrill fear was climbing into Jal’s voice.
Instantly his hands flew to the boy‘s shoulders and squeezed. “I do, Jal, I do take it off.” Jalhar soothed, cursing the fact that the child knew
the full meaning of the rings. “I take it off when I am very tired and need to rest.” he gestured toward Grimaryl with his chin. “You caught us
just as your father was sending me to bed.”
He patted Jal once more on his head blindly, using his memory to find the tousled curls. When he straightened the roar of the fire had
grown alarmingly loud in his ears. Alarmed that too much time was being lost, he turned blind eyes toward Grimaryl in warning. The boy
had to leave. He prayed that his friend would understand the unspoken message. There was a soft rustle of cloth that he could only hope
meant that Grimaryl was going to take care of the matter.
“Your uncle should be fine, but must get sleep soon or he really will become ill with exhaustion.” There was a soft undertone to Grimaryl’s
voice when he spoke with his son that brought bittersweet memories of Rhiannon. Her loss was still an aching wound and there was too
much sorrow in his world already. He would be lost in it soon.
He groped for Grimaryl’s shoulder, the sounds had told him his friend had knelt to meet Jal on his own level. Breathing a sigh of thanks
when his hand found the strong shoulder immediately, he squeezed a warning. This was taking too long.
The reaction was immediate, his hand slipped off Grimaryl’s shoulder as his friend stood. “Now let me see to Jalhar and make sure he
gets to bed. He has not slept in days.” Grimaryl’s hand was at his elbow again guiding him. “You need to seek your own bed as well, son.”
There was no mistaking the command in Grimaryl’s voice, even in the mind of a wishful ten year old.
“Goodnight father, uncle.” Only the fading of Jal’s voice betrayed his movement away from them. Jalhar felt a moment of pride in the training
he had given the boy, so silent by nature now.
“Can you even see anymore?” Quiet understanding filled Grimaryl’s worried tone.
“No.” Eloquent curses in more languages than Jalhar remembered Grimaryl owning tumbled out as he was guided down the hall. His
mouth quirked a little. “Have you learned some new languages or have you just been practicing?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow in an attempt
at levity.
A grunt of irritation answered him. “You should have told me how close you were.” Another pungent curse followed as he was pulled to a
stop and had to brace himself against a wall to stay upright.
Leaning his head back against the cool wall, he rolled it against the surface. “It wouldn’t have made a difference in how much you needed
to know the information, my friend.” Jalhar couldn’t stop the trembling of his voice or the shaking in his limbs, but he wanted Grimaryl to be
clear on the matter. This curse was not his friend‘s fault.
Grimaryl’s voice was rough with sorrow. “Still, I shouldn’t have pushed you.” A strong arm came around his shoulders and half carried him
through the door and Jalhar tried not to mind this further blow to his pride.
“That is exactly why I hid it from you, old friend.” Taking a deep to steadying breath he braced his legs and fought to stand on his own. “This
was coming the moment I arrived and you know it. Don’t you dare try and blame yourself.”
Bracing himself against the nearest couch, Jalhar laboriously kicked off his soft boots and stripped off his tunic. “It’s hard enough to live
with this as it is, without you trying to blame yourself too.” It was becoming hard to stay anchored in the world, but the trickle of anger helped.
Grimaryl’s voice was hesitant. “Maybe if you didn’t go out on these missions…”
Jalhar swung around with a snarl though he was only guessing where Grimaryl was at this point. “Don’t you dare go there. Don’t even
start.” It didn’t help that the swift movement drove him to one knee.
“Damn it, Jal.” Strong arms lifted him to his feet. “You take something to stay awake, but you won’t take something to ease your sleep.
Why?” Jalhar could hear the pain in Grimaryl’s voice, even over the echo of screams from his childhood. “You would order someone else to
do so.” The pain had turned to outrage now.
Jalhar struggled to keep his growing anguish from his voice as he staggered and felt his way along the wall blindly, laboriously making his
way to his bed. “Because, my friend, there is no ‘someone else’ able to make the highly addictive sleeping potion that is required to let me
sleep.”
With Grimaryl’s help, he found the pillows, but didn’t bother to draw the covers. They would just get shredded when he struggled anyway. “I
already have enough nightmares to live with without inviting one of addiction too.” he concluded heavily.
“There should be something that can be done.” It was muttered as low as a curse.
A bitter laugh escaped him. “What we think should be and what is rarely intersect, my friend. But you are free to task Grim with finding a way
to cure me of this though. I have a feeling he understands a curse or two. Besides, he knows now anyway.”
His cheeks burning with embarrassment, Jalhar gestured toward the other door in his quarters where Grim probably stood. The man had a
way of holding so still he was near impossible to notice, but the commotion of their ungraceful arrival would have been enough to draw him
from his watch. Besides, Grimaryl would not like being observed without his knowledge.
“I will try Jalhar.” Grim’s voice was flat with that oath. “But I have not dealt with things of this nature before.” It was hard to hear the
confirmation of his suspicions. Another person would soon know the depths of his shame.
Curling into a ball, Jalhar shut his useless eyes and tried to smother the small sounds that were rising in his throat. Tears drifted
helplessly down his face as he turned his back on them both. “At least you can make it no worse than it already is.” Grimaryl’s voice was
back to the emotionless harshness he used among all but his closest friends.
Jalhar felt the memories coming that he still could not bear to face. The dead were rising from their unquiet graves to sweep him back to
that shattered child, to that time he wished would remain forever lost to him.
“Leave me,” he whispered thickly through withheld sobs. “Please…” And they did, making sure to create a noise so alien to them; the
sound of strong footsteps rang even through the now-shut doors. They were letting him know he was alone, that it was safe to surrender to
exhaustion and his own personal demons.
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Grimaryl’s jaw flexed as he shut the door to Jalhar’s room and looked at Grim as if he wished he could erase him from existence. The man,
Grim mused quietly, had never been exactly comfortable with his past. “It would be a kindness if you did not ask Jalhar about this when he
comes back to himself.”
Grim snorted, “I am many things, but insensitive and intentionally cruel are not among them, Grimaryl." He caught the dark fathomless eyes
with his own, “I may need some things answered if I am to have any luck in figuring out how to release him from this affliction.” In truth, Grim
didn’t know where to really begin but he was willing to at least try.
The cold warrior nodded briefly. “Come to see me if you need to know something for your work and tell no one else of this.”
Grim had the feeling that if the man could command him to forget, he would. Grim nodded, his lips thinning as he thought about the
immensity of the problem. “The origins of the fit come from his childhood?” He asked, hating how the roughness to his voice betrayed his
discomfort.
Grimaryl sighed deeply and nodded, “Yes.” His throat worked convulsively. “I don’t envy you this night. Living through it once was more than
enough.” With those cryptic words, he walked out the door with a speed that looked suspiciously like he was fleeing.
A few moments later, Grim settled into the chair beside the bed of the drugged woman. Only a short time before he had been considering
requesting one of the other Lords relieve his watch so he could catch some sleep. Now, it was the farthest thing from his mind as he
listened to the broken sobs and screams from the other room.
A heart he thought had died long ago, broke again. He had heard of some people being so deeply scarred by events that they were forced
to relive them over and over again. He had not believed such things could be true until now. An oddly high and shrill cry of horror tore at his
own brutal memories. Jalhar even sounded like the child he had been.
His mind turned over the worst of his own experiences. Perhaps the difference was that they had happened in his adulthood, or it could be
something else. His wife, as monstrous as she had been, had not cursed him with living memories that could come alive and take his
reason. Some of the worst of her torments he could recall only in the vaguest details now. If he’d had to live through them over and over
again, he was sure they would have broken his mind centuries ago.
Broken sobs filtered through the air, tearing at the barriers in his heart. This man was his brother in more ways than the lack of blood
between them could ever show. With his pain, Jalhar had become a brother of the soul. His mouth twisted, it was a little sick that he could
find solace in another’s pain, but in one way it was comforting to know that he was not alone. The man in the other room would probably
understand if he ever needed to speak about his own past. That just added to the burden though, he would have to come up with some sort
of solution for Jalhar.
He turned his attention to his current charge on the bed, pondering the strangeness of her appearance. Whatever else she had done, her
bravery had touched Jalhar deeply. He felt it in the brush of his friend’s thoughts about her. Though he doubted there was any magic
solution for Jalhar’s problem, the woman could be some sort of solution or at least a good distraction. If her people knew nothing of the
many worlds, she would be isolated and perhaps not a serious threat.
His own feelings towards the woman were mixed. No matter what, she was still female and therefore treacherous and even her blessings
were mixed. The strange creature had stood beside Jalhar and perhaps saved him from his own nature, but she had also doomed him to
torment himself with her involvement in their little war. If only she had run like a sensible soul, his friend might not have had to fight at all.
Grim could not help but feel resentful for that.
A sob that sounded suspiciously like a name came from the other room, breaking into his thoughts that were slowly becoming irrational.
Grim shuddered, he knew he was becoming a full blown misogynist but couldn’t find a way to leach the bitterness from his soul. He could
not afford to think of women in the same way that Jalhar thought of dragons.
Knowing there was nothing else he could do, he forced himself to listen to his friend’s torment. It was harder still to know that he could say
nothing about this night, or even think upon it without betraying his trust.