Nethermost Realm: Prisoner of Arlunn

Chapter 9

Please note: I am updating this draft of The Prisoner of Arlunn. The most important change is that the main character's name has been changed from Philip to Rian.

9

That night, the dreams began. Kyran had been so tired the first night that he hadn't dreamed. He'd slept a dreamless sleep. That was the last peaceful night he had. Now, he dreamed of a dark world, full of magic--what people like the Arlunni called dark magic or "blood" magic, because the caster needed either a person's blood, some or all of it, or their life essence.

The landscapes were fantastical, even impossible. Terrible creatures roamed the wilderness there, devouring anything they found. It was a place of sorrow and despair, prisons and pain, robbery and murder, magic and treachery. In that place, no one felt guilty about killing--they did it out of habit and often they enjoyed it.

Kyran wasn't sure whether he should be fascinated or horrified. But there was one thing he was sure of--that these dreams came from Molan's mind, or, now that he was gone--from his memories: memories that were buried deep inside Kyran.

When morning came, Kyran pondered the dreams in silence. He didn't tell Rian about them. It would only alarm him. Everything about Molan worried Rian. He didn't want his brother to have to worry about this too.

After breakfast, Emmara arrived to take them to see Genesse.

Don't tell them that you can cast spells. Don't tell them that you can still draw out a person's life essence, Rian had reminded him that morning.

They walked the long walk up to the castle. Kyran spent his time admiring the artificial plane that the Arlunni had created here. The mountain looked so real. It was hard to get those kind of details right. It took a lot of craft, he knew. For a moment he thought of his dreams--those were of artificial planes as well. Created pockets of reality. The Nethermost Realm, as some people called it.

Kyran ignored the conversation that passed between Emmara and Rian. It didn't concern him. He spent more attention on Ehina and her two sisters who escorted them. They were dangerous. Always watching, always ready. Trained to kill and expert at magic. He was sure they were more dangerous than Emmara.

They arrived inside the castle and only then did Kyran begin to listen to the discussion between Rian and Emmara--because they were in a heated discussion.

"No," said Rian hotly. "I won't allow it!"

"You've already agreed to it," said Emmara, angrily.

"Find a different place. A nice sitting room somewhere. I'm not dragging him down to your dungeon again!"

Kyran loved to watch Rian work. He could get people to do anything he wanted. Speaking to people was so easy for him. Kyran hated dealing people; he always felt stupid and never said the right thing.

There was more arguing. Kyran waited patiently as Emmara vanished to convey Rian's demands.

"It'll be all right," said Rian. "Just stay calm." Rian didn't really believe that. He always said things like that to calm Kyran down. Sometimes it helped. But it wouldn't be all right, because they were prisoners of the Arlunni—and the Arlunni were the enemy. He wasn't sure that Rian understood that.

They moved again, not towards the dungeon, for which Kyran was glad. He didn't want to go there. They went a different direction and Emmara led them to a bright sitting room. At her bidding, Rian and Kyran sat next to each other on a couch. Only Ehina entered the room; her sisters stayed outside. The Trinities fascinated him. How did it work? They must not all think the same thoughts--they were independent. Yet each had a telepathic link to the other two, sharing thoughts. More stolen knowledge.