IABD 19: A Cautious and Patient Man

Earl Jan Eklund was a cautious and patient man. 

Thin and frail when young—a great liability in these barbaric realms—he’d learned to manipulate, keep his head down and most importantly, bide his time. 

One of his favourite sayings was: ‘a thousand knife thrusts are worthless compared to a single stroke delivered at the right time’. 

This mindset had paid off for most of his life. 

During the battle for the Eklund inheritance, he had bided his time until it was clear that his younger brother would come out ahead. Only then had he thrown in his lot with him. During the marital troubles of Archlord Eaderic and his former wife, Beggahasta, Jan had played the role of dutiful advisor to both…until it was clear that the marriage would be sundered. 

Then he had immediately thrown in on the archlord’s side. 

That move had won him a fine position in the lord’s court, but he did not engage in the scramble to vie for his favour. He knew another opportunity would present itself. 

And it had. 

When Lady Dagma was born seven months after the marriage had been sundered—giving the Archlord Eaderic no legal claim to her—Eklund had said nothing, even while the other members of the court had mocked Lady Beggahasta for having yet another useless child. 

Of course, they were forced to choke on their mocking words when the child had eventually shown incredible talent for The Gift and Life Enforcement, and Jan was then left socially unscathed. He had even kept quiet when the archlord had tried to claim the girl through the courts: recognising that action would fail. 

When it had, it was when he’d struck, volunteering to be placed here—on the frontier of the Wolfwood, where the Stonebreaker ancestral lands were—scheming to find a way to deliver the girl. Most in the archlord’s court saw the position as a grim task, but Eklund was not so foolish. 

For simply accepting the task of claiming the child, he had been given his own lands and title, with the promise of even more when he succeeded. Once again, his patience had been rewarded. 

His plans to claim Dagma Stonebreaker—and turn her name to Dagma Dramagnus—also relied on patience. He knew that—to get the girl to archlord Eaderic—Lady Beggahasta would either have to be indisposed, or give her up willingly. Eklund preferred the latter: less chance for interference from others that way.  

And he waited patiently, subtly working to force the Stonebreaker family into a dire, crushing situation, desperate enough to wear them down, but not so much that they would abandon The Beast and flee. 

Eklund had allowed Beggahasta the freedom to hire mages to try and free The Beast—he’d had faith such efforts would ultimately fail—while the growing costs would continue to deplete the family’s coffers. He hadn’t arranged for the middle son to be tormented—that had happened naturally—but he’d happily made sure the tormenters were allowed to be in the perfect position to continue their torture. 

When Matthias Stonebreaker had fallen from the cliff, it had seemed the time to strike was finally near. 

Stress, worry and despair were wearing the once proud warrior woman’s will down to dust: he’d guessed that it would only take a little more before the perfect opportunity for him to strike would appear. 

His plan had been to present her with an offer that—in her desperate hour—she would be forced to accept: Eklund would provide funds for The Beast’s ongoing treatments, and would also put in a word with the archlord to ensure that the second son’s military duties for the High King were lighter and safer than patrols to the Wolfwood. 

All this would be in return for formally acknowledging Archlord Eaderic as young Dagma’s father and sending her for a better life with his new family. 

Jan had been so close…but the three duels from five days ago had thrown all his patient planning into chaos. 

Now, here he was, pacing in his study, rubbing his hands together nervously and peering through the window. Night had fallen over the mountains, with the crescent moon illuminating the quiet village of Barrowgate. The mage’s tower rose ominously across the valley. 

Earl Eklund glowered at it. 

“I don’t know what you did interloper, but things were better when you were just being a useless nursemaid to The Beast. Damn you!” He cursed the mage. “You have made things entirely too complicated.” 

He banged his fist against the stone wall. “And…damn me! I was too careful,” he cursed himself. “Much too careful. But, then again, how could I have predicted that Matthias Stonebreaker would come into power? Agh, it doesn’t matter. If their family fortune is changing for the better, then I might never get the opportunity to take the girl, unless by force, and since Beggahasta has refused to declare her as the archlord’s blood, force brings with it its own set of problems.” 

Eklund shuddered, remembering tales of Beggahasta Stonebreaker from the battlefields of her youth. “That must be avoided at all costs.”  

The earl glanced at a letter lying on his desk with the broken seal of the archlord—a hawk with a sword and an axe clutched in each talon—upon it. The words, written in Eaderic’s hand, had not sounded pleased at all. 

Eklund cursed. “I will need to take on some risk if—” 

There came a sharp knock at the door: a knock he had been expecting. 

“At last!” Eklund said. “Come in.” 

The door to the study opened, a hooded figure entered, shutting it behind them. 

“Apologies, my lord.” The figure’s voice was quiet as they bowed. “I had to find a good moment to slip away, unseen.” 

“No need for apologies, better you arrive a few minutes late than being caught.” Eklund nodded to the figure. “Things have become complicated enough as it is without you being discovered. Ugh, would you like some wine? I certainly want some.” 

“Thank you, my lord, you are most generous.” The figure straightened.  

Eklund went to a decanter, pouring amber liquid into a pair of goblets. “This is from the vineyards of Dravan in the Republic of Ostari. It’s quite sweet, if you don’t mind that…” He gave the decanter a sad look. “You know, this wine comes from one of the last batches shipped to me before the Artenesian elves took it over. Now it all goes down their throats.” 

He offered the goblet to his companion. “Savour it.” 

“Yes, my lord,” the figure bowed, taking the goblet. 

The two toasted to nothing, then savoured their wine. 

 It was very good…yet recent events made it sour on Eklund’s tongue. 

“Do you know why I called you here?” he asked. 

“Because the situation has changed,” the figure replied. 

“That it has. We cannot afford to wait for the winds to inevitably blow our ship into port.” 

“Winds can be fickle, my lord. What shall we do to save the ship?” 

“We will have to take on risk, unfortunately. If we do not act now, then our plans would all have been for naught.” 

The figure saluted the earl. “You will be the mind and I will be your hands.” 

“Excellent. Do you recall each of our contingencies?” 

“I do.” 

“Good, do you remember the plan we called: The Broken Tower?” Eklund asked. 

Silence followed for a time. 

“I do…” the figure finally said reluctantly. “…but it is a drastic one. Forgive me for my disrespect—” 

“Better that you do not utter anything disrespectful, in that way, I will not have anything to forgive you for.” Eklund gave him a hard look. 

“Apologies, my lord.” The figure bowed quickly. 

“As you said, you are the hands and I am the mind. The hands do not question the mind. I have thought this through: you simply have to obey.” 

“Of course, my lord. Your will shall be done, as well as Archlord Eaderic’s.” 

“Good.” Eklund turned, facing the window. “I have made arrangements for you to meet with a mage who will help you. Her name is Elreke, she is an apprentice of Kadan; she has already been informed of what is expected of her. Her work is subtle, just make sure she is not seen while she’s doing it. As for your other part: on the road to The Beasts' prison, you will find the fire henbane seeds under the praying stone at Willow-Shrine of Lady Vrai. Make sure you administer them subtly.” 

“Yes, my lord.” The figure bowed. 

“Oh, and when you do, ensure that Beggahasta herself is near so she can intervene.” Eklund warned. His eyes focused on the village. “We desire an incident that we can use as justification…not to initiate a massacre.” 

“Yes, my lor—” The figure started to say. 

His words were cut off by a scream tearing through the night. 

It sounded like something was being slaughtered. 

“What. Was. That?” The figure looked around, reaching for a dagger sheathed on his broad belt. 

Eklund nodded in the direction of the infirmary. “Haakon’s boy, Kari. He’s been screaming like that for days.” 

The figure shuddered. “I barely recognise his voice.” 

Eklund sighed. “Neither do I. With hope, his mental wounds will heal in time. If not, then it’s clear he would not have become the warrior we all thought he would be.” 

### 

Matthias Stonebreaker’s eyes were closed, his body calm, his mind at peace.  

His soul pumped like a beating heart, forcefully circulating life energy and Divine Breath through his body. 

“One.” He counted. 

His soul contracted; power flowed through his body’s life channels. 

“Two.” 

His soul contracted; the energy coursed through every pathway, tempering them. 

“Three.” 

His soul contracted; his pathways strengthened, growing thicker and more flexible. 

“Four.” 

His soul stuttered, nearly slipping out of the grip of his will, but pumped another faltering stream of life energy through his body. 

“Five.” 

It faltered even more. 

“S-Six.” 

At last, his soul slipped from his grasp and the energy calmed. 

“Damn! I thought I’d get to six that time,” he whispered, opening his eyes. “Still, I’m getting better.” 

Matthias stood, stretching beneath the mist and shadow-filled sky, letting the dream-wind pass over him. The scent of rust filled the air in the dream-realm’s re-creation of Blood’s Drop. 

Five days had passed since his victory, and he was enjoying a newly discovered feeling of peace. He was spending his days training with Master Altaizar, training with Sur Friya, going to his apprenticeship and…simply living life. 

Adgar and Agustin had congratulated him on his victory, and Bregindoure’s roar of triumph had shaken his tower. 

Life was good. 

The Stonebreaker family was getting ready to celebrate his victory in Bregindoure’s tower, as well as Beggahasta’s return. His nights were filled with the dream-realm; he’d taken a brief break from training with weapons to focus solely on life energy circulation. 

It was bearing fruit; and he was rapidly increasing the skill, but his love for combat training was calling to him again. 

“It’s time to return to the fighting pit,” he said, rotating his arms in their sockets. He had not been there in the dream-realm since the duels. 

Closing his eyes, he called the image of Eklund’s courtyard to his mind. 

The Realm in Dream shifted, Blood’s Drop melted away to mist. Cliffs reshaped, forming Eklund’s castle. The river and stone became the courtyard, while his meditation spot became the fighting pit. 

“Alright, let’s begi—what in every ancestor’s name?” 

Red stained the stones in the fighting pit, causing Matthias to wrinkle his nose at the scent of wet blood. “This is the blood from my duels. I wonder if I can…” He concentrated. 

The stones rippled; the blood was no more. 

Matthias sighed. “That’s better. Now where should I beg…in…wait, what’s that sound?” 

He cocked his head to the wind, narrowing his eyes as he listened. 

“What is that?” he asked. 

During all his times in The Realm in Dream, the only sounds he’d ever heard were the ambient noises of the terrain—rain falling, or the rush of the Vein of the Mountain—and whatever other sounds he made while he was training.  

The sound he was hearing now was more like… 

When he’d first entered The Realm in Dream, he’d found a void of shadow and mist inside a building in the village square, a place he’d never set foot in before.  

That void had whispered in the same way this noise was sounding. 

“But why is it so loud?” he wondered, turning in place. “And where is it coming from?” 

He was reminded that he knew vanishingly little about how The Realm in Dream worked. He had guessed that it couldn’t replicate living things…but was he really sure that nothing else dwelled in this misty place? 

“I have to find out what that sound is,” he said. “If it’s anything too lethal, I can always hold my breath and force myself to wake up and get out of here.” 

Concentrating, he conjured his warhammer and sword while the tendril writhed from his shadow. His hands shimmered, the gauntlets he’d won from Haakon sheathing them. After practising for days under Altaizar’s supervision, he had not yet managed to transform them, but they would still provide good protection. 

“Alright, I’m ready. Let’s find whatever that is.” 

Matthias took a running leap at the closest wall of the pit, his shadow-tendril lashing out, gripping the stony edge. Now strong enough to hold his full body weight, it pulled him up and into the courtyard. 

“The noise, it’s coming from Eklund’s castle,” he whispered as he stood up. 

Raising both weapons, Matthias cautiously approached the castle doors, easing them open. 

He frowned as he peered inside. 

He’d been inside Eklund’s castle before, but that was a long time ago: his memories of the place were hazy as were its halls here in the dream-realm. Matthias stepped forward cautiously, following the sound deeper into the castle.  

It was growing stronger, more distinct.  

He set his jaw. “Is that screaming?” 

He began moving faster, his heart pounding. The urge to hold his breath and wake up was growing, but he fought it down. He had to know what was happening. 

As he passed through the castle’s hallways, more of them disappeared into void and mist: there were many corridors and doorways that he’d never entered before and the deeper he went, the less areas of the castle were familiar. 

The screaming grew louder. 

Most of the hallways had turned to voids now, leaving him alone in a single hazy passageway, taken from his most distant memories. He turned a corner, and at the end of the hall stood the door to the infirmary. Matthias had only visited the place once, long ago, after a particularly disastrous attempt at Awakening to Life Enforcement. His memories of it were not good. 

Approaching it, he listened intently, pressing his ear against it. The scream was coming from inside. Gradually, he came to realise that a word was being repeated in that endless cry.  

One very familiar to him. 

“That’s my name.” He took a step back. 

The voice on the other side of the door sounded like that of a wild animal, twisted in agony. Matthias looked down at the door handle, remembering what the description from The Realm in Dream had said: 

Be careful where and how far you wander.  

He took a deep breath, preparing to hold it, just in case. 

‘What if it’s a clue to the dream I had when I went off the cliff? I need to know,’ he thought. 

He grabbed the door handle. 

And pulled. 

###

Author's Note

Little bit more backstory here.

Also

Most authors when giving their characters dream powers: "Here's a way to show spiritual and physical growth!"

Me when I give my characters dream powers: "Let's see someone battle board my character with Freddy Krueger NOW!"