CHAPTER TWO--Flashback

Days turned slowly into weeks as Tobias and his dæmon journeyed steadily onward. With him the young boy had a map; though tattered and old, it was enough to mark the place that he journeyed to, the place that for years had harbored the only window, made by the ancient knife, into his own world. The map was a painful reminder of his former captivity; he had stolen it from the guards on his day of escape.

He didn't know what would be on the other side of the window; in fact, he had never seen it, never even been near one. He had merely heard the guards talking about it one dark, painful night in the dank cells of Dunestone, but it was the only thing that he had to go on.

But there was another problem that haunted him as well. He had also heard the guards talking about how the boy with the ancient magic knife had come back and sealed up every window into every world. The guards had said that window was so well hidden, though, that he would never find it.

Regardless, Tobias knew that his only hope was that the window was still there and that he could find it. He must find a way into another world. There'd be no hope left if he could not.

The day after he and Aerotsierma had hidden in the dune-cave, Tobias dragged himself painfully to the nearest village, Shorewell, a tiny out-of-the-way thorp, to get help. He had passed out in the middle of the street; he awoke hours later to cries of "Poor child! What ever happened to you?" They took him in, having no idea of what he was, healing his wounds the best that they could. They did not even think to suspect of what he was, and the power he held, because Tobias's only sign that he was what he was had been skillfully covered up. Although he was tempted to, he did not probe their minds as he often did for information of any sort. These simple, oblivious folk were too kind, too selfless for him to infringe upon their very thoughts. Plus, he was far too tired.

He stayed there for a week, regaining his strength, Aerotsierma curled on his chest or near his side as he lay in the hospital bed. When he was sufficiently healed, he tried to pay the kind people in the few gold coins he had, but they refused. This is what I am journeying for, Tobias thought as he left the village that day. I have to bring down Dunestone for the people such as these, whom there should be more of in this world. He'll come for them, eventually, too. It's not just our kind he's seeking to remove and tame.

Although his body was for the most part healed, upon his mind there had been scars torn that would never be removed.

He tried to subdue them, but every so often he couldn't fight the onslaught of horror and near-delirium that would overtake him, always in the depth of night. Far more vivid than dreams. Flashbacks.

And so Tobias traveled, finally having covered the desert regions and entering the countryside that he liked so much more. On the first night of his third week of traveling, he sought refuge from a rainstorm in an abandoned barn.

He and his dæmon fled to the loft, which was covered in hay. "It's not too cold in here, is it, Aero?" he asked as he rifled through his meager possessions and removed a tattered, dirty old blanket.

"Nah. It's a summer rain, anyway. Light and not too cool. Rare this time of year. We have hay to sleep in, anyway."

Tobias's rucksack contained very little other than his blanket: a canteen of water, a small first aid kit, an all-metal switchblade, a container of food, and a single change of clothing. Now he removed a can of soup and his switchblade, sliced a hole into the can, and ate it cold.

Then he huddled into the straw and his blanket as his dæmon curled beside him, drifting off to sleep, awaiting the graphic flashback dream that he knew would follow.

*

Tobias listened intently through the spattering rain to the voices just outside his cell. He had to urge his family to be quiet so that he could hear properly, but there was little to say or do anyway, so it wasn't hard to get them to hush. It was Breyman, the head Sniper, and Sidney Dune, the Tyrant Emperor of Dunestone.

"The torture and slave-driving is obviously not working, sir. We have to resort to another plan if you want them to submit their powers to you."

"As much as I hate to admit it, Breyman, you're right. It should be very simple. They will give their powers to me when I am through. Execute one a day until they decide to submit."

Fear struck into Tobias's heart. Execute one every day? Tobias quivered in dread when his own cell door creaked open. Breyman, the tall head Sniper, marched in alone, looked around, and sneered devilishly when his gaze fell on Tobias's mother, father, and younger sister, shackled as always to the wall, cringing away from the man as he came closer, withdrawing a large key.

"I suppose I'll carry it out as soon as possible. . .no sense in not starting with the nearest cell. . ."

Tobias screamed in horror as Breyman latched his huge hand around his little sister's throat, holding her still so that he could unlock her shackles. His mother began sobbing and his father shouting, but his sister did nothing, only sat rigid in horror. His family's dæmons whirled around and around in panic, his little sister's changing rapidly, flick-flick-flick, his father's beagle attacking Breyman's wolf in her terror and confusion. The wolf snarled and smacked the smaller dæmon to the stone ground as Tobias's father arched his back in the pain of it. His mother's white duck flew at the wolf, but she grasped his long neck with her jaws, causing the woman to sob in fear and pain.

Tobias held his own dæmon close, feeling her rapid heartbeat, feeling her thoughts as she longed to attack Breyman's dæmon as well, but Tobias thought back to her, no, no, it will do no good, you'll get hurt for nothing. It's too late; there's nothing we can do.

Breyman hauled the young girl up by her neck; that was when she began screaming and gasping, kicking and hitting out. Her dæmon was insane, changing to a bird, a tiger, a weasel, a cat, flying and running in inane patterns across the cell floor, until finally Breyman snarled at him and reached down, grasping him tight in one hand as he fluttered as a goldfinch. The young girl gasped in shock at the foreign touch, squirming and pleading to let him go, stop hurting him.

Breyman hauled her from the cell and slammed the heavy door behind him.

It only took several minutes. Sobbing, Tobias dipped his mind into that of Breyman, following his thoughts until he carried the shrieking girl into a tiny room and picked up a heavy axe. He kicked her into a corner, and then Tobias removed himself from Breyman's mind, turning toward his sibling.

He put himself into his sister's mind, feeling her terror, giving her all the memories of happiness that he stored within his mind. It's okay, Sal, I'm here with you until the end, forever. I love you, Sal, I love you. . .

But he couldn't stand the pain of it, couldn't stand the shrieking cries of terror, couldn't stand it, and so he withdrew.

Then the young girl began screaming at the top of her lungs, so loud that it seemed as if the whole fortress could hear her, and as hideous as it was, Tobias pleaded silently for it to continue. For as long as she kept screaming, Tobias knew that she was still alive.

His mother and father held each other close, heaving with silent sobs as they listened, unable to block the shrieking cries of their daughter from their ears. The noise was full of pain and hideous grief, but the most painful sound of all was the silence that put an abrupt end to the scream.

It was at that moment, shaking through the tears, that Tobias made his decision. He would kill the Tyrant. The grief he felt warped suddenly into vicious, murderous hate, and he roared his anger out loud, throwing himself at the cell door, bellowing with rage that he had never felt before. His parents shrunk back against the wall in sudden fear for their seemingly insane son, who pounded at the door until his fists were raw and bloody, screaming his hatred all the while.

"I'll kill you! Damn your soul, Sidney Dune, damn you to hell and back, you fucking piece of shit! I'll carry your soul to hellgates, I'll kill you with my bare hands! I want your blood on my hands forever, I want to tear out your heart with them! Let me go, damn it, let me go!"

His father had wrapped his arms around his delirious son and pulled him gently back to his straw bedding. Tobias fought briefly, but then collapsed, sobbing the tears of hatred and grief into his dæmon's soft fur.

*

Tobias woke up bloody and sobbing to the sound of his dæmon whispering urgently, "Wake up Tobias, wake up!"

Shaking and sobbing, he sat up, staring at the blood on his hands, feeling the wound on his forehead that he had made in his sleep.

The headband that he wore to hide his mark was laying next to him on the bed of straw, soaked completely through with blood. Tobias knew why he had been tearing at his forehead. His mark was there. Every one of his kind had been given a scar by the blade of the Tyrant Dune himself, a Roman Numeral to keep them accounted for. Although for the most part his light blonde hair covered the scar, he still had worn his headband to cover it ever since he escaped, since no commoners could see it or they would know what he was.

In his sleep he had tore at the mark so violently that the old wound had opened up again, pouring blood forth onto everything. Even the straw around him was red. He just laid there, sobbing, letting it bleed, not caring. Aerotsierma licked the wound the best she could, as Tobias would do nothing to help himself.

He was number thirteen. Tobias was ashamed always at the irony of the XIII on his forehead, for it was the unlucky number, and he was the only survivor out of all of his people.

When the bleeding had finally stopped, Tobias cried himself to sleep once more, as more horrible dreams opened inside his fevered mind.

Chapter Three --->

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