I pause, waiting to bolt upright up in my bed, sweat dripping down my back, heart ripping from my chest, but nothing happens. I can't wake up from this nightmare.
"It is part of your apparition. Not a dream. How did you acquire your plaque?" Sarpedon asks.
"Carfron gave it to me." At the mention of his name, he smiles and waves.
Sarpedon slithers back over to him and closes his eyes. He takes a couple short sniffs and one long one. "Carfron, why are you here?" he asks.
Carfron's eyes widen in surprise, or maybe it's fear. He opens his mouth to speak but then closes it. His hands clench and unclench. He shakes them out and blows on them as if they're cold. "I can't talk to him," Carfron says, turning his attention back to me.
"Why not?" I ask.
His face knits together in a mask of worry. Why is a ghost, or zombie or whatever, worried? "He is not you?"
"So."
"He is not you," he repeats. He means it this time because his face has returned to its contented smirk.
"What happened?" Sarpedon asks
"I think you scared him or at least startled him. He says he can't talk to you because you're not me." I wish someone else could see him. This is crazy person stuff. Of course, I'm talking with a snake man, so I guess crazy is all in one's perspective. "Hey, can you give him an appearance like you did with Ethan?"
"No, I have the feeling Carfron is a symptom of the Orb, or perhaps the plaque."
"I didn't think so," I say, hiding my disappointment.
I put my plaque next to the real one on the table. They're identical, white marble tiles about ten inches across and five wide. There's not a mark on them. I've done everything I can think of with the tile. I've stared at it for days. Slept with it and carried it around in my pocket. I've yelled at it and promised it everything, but it's just a tile. Even now, with Carfron behind me, it's not doing anything.
"I don't want you hovering over me," I say to Carfron.
"I beg your pardon. I will stand opposite you. Would that be better?"
"Carfron, why are you here? You ask me why I quit, but the answer is obvious, the plaque is blank. Maybe at some point, it had something on it, like a map or whatever, but it's been eroded by years of living in salt."
"It is incomplete?"
"Yes, it's incomplete. I can't read anything. I think you're part of it, but you're not helping."
Carfron nods. Is he agreeing that he's not helpful or that the plaque is broken?
"How are you?" Jonah asks when he enters. He puts his hands on my shoulders and looks at me. "Are you alright? Is the Orb hurting you?"
I smile at him. "I love it when you ask multiple questions. And yes, I'm fine, and no, it's not hurting me."
"Hey, you okay?" Dathid shouts from the door.
"Yes, I'm good. I'm not dizzy or anything," I say to the room. I break Jonah's hold and give a wave in Carfron's direction. "You all know Carfron, right?" I regret my carefree tone when pain crosses Jonah's face. "I'm sorry," I say. "I shouldn't have sprung that on you like I did. That was stupid."
There's a palpable pause. I don't think Jonah can talk. Dathid assumes the same thing and jumps in with a question, "Carfron's here?"
"Yep, I woke up, and there he was. He follows me, and we talk to each other."
"What does he want?" Dathid asks.
"He wants to know why I quit?"
"Quit what?"
"He won't tell me," I say harshly. I just covered all of this, and I don't want to repeat it to Dathid. "I quit looking at a broken Orb! Or the stupid plaque, which by the way, for a tile to be a plaque, it needs to have something on it. This is a tile. A plain tile that belongs in a bathroom."
Why do I always get mad at Dathid? I'm freaked out by my new zombie friend and upset that none of the stuff that's supposed to help me works. Maybe I broke it. Maybe Stratagor Ziras did something to it. None of which is Dathid's fault, so I need to be nicer.
"Where is he exactly?" Jonah asks.
I show him, and Jonah does almost the same thing Master Sarpedon did. He closes his eyes and takes a few sniffs, smelling the air around Carfron.
"Do you sense anything," Sarpedon asks.
He shakes his head. "No, nothing."
"Well then, if you can not sense anything, I am satisfied that Carfron is a hallucination."
"Why does it matter if I'm the only one who can see him anyway?" My tone is too abrasive. I need to calm down.
"Carfron could have been many things," Sarpedon explains. "But if there had been an actual presence of any kind, I trust a Knight Crawler would have sensed it."
A shiver runs down my spine again, shaking me violently enough that a shuttering moan escapes my throat. Even thinking that Carfron could be real makes my skin crawl. He's following me around, and there's no way for me to stop him.
"Well, I'm happy you're happy with my mental state," I snap. My anger is covering embarrassment and fear.
I grab Jonah's arm and pull him into the hallway. One of the things I love most about him is that he doesn't hesitate or ask any questions. He follows me out and waits patiently while I get the courage to speak.
"Um... I've been thinking. And well, I woke up and Carfron was there and we, um, assumed that it had to do with the Orb and stuff and well, you know, I haven't been feeling good. I mean, I've been tearing myself apart with guilt. I well, I'm the one that killed him, and then he appears." I have to stop talking because what I'm thinking is scarier than a zombie following me.
Jonah puts a hand on my shoulder, but he doesn't say anything. He's going to make me say it.
I take a deep unsteady breath. On the exhale, I blurt out what I'm thinking. "Carfron might not have anything to do with the Orb. I've never dealt with this kind of all-encompassing guilt and grief, and well, I may be hallucinating for other reasons."
I can't even look at him. I'm sure everyone in the castle is gossiping about me and the Orb. How long will it take them to figure out that it wasn't the Orb? It's just me cracking up.
"I don't think so," Jonah says. A large puff of air escapes my mouth, and only then do I realize that I'd been holding my breath. "Your last instance with the Orb could be considered a hallucination. You saw the Orb glow and received mental images from it. It affected all aspects of your life, but it ceased when you achieved its goal. It stands to reason that this latest episode has something to with either the Orb or the plaque."
"But I'm seeing Carfron."
"You might need to interact with the plaque in some way that requires it to talk to you. It probably picked Carfron because he was in the forefront of your mind."
Giant Dathid from Gwa Twouroch flashes across my brain. The humiliation of having something like that appear again makes me grateful for Carfron, even though I'm the only one who can see him. Before I recover, I'm overcome by guilt. "Why couldn't it have been Lenox?" I ask, not expecting an answer. "I feel so guilty. I feel guilty for thinking more about Carfron than Lenox. And I feel guilty for not wanting Carfron at all."
Jonah hugs me. "It'll work itself out. It did last time."
"Thank you. We can go back in," I say. I believe Jonah because I always believe Jonah. Except for the time I didn't, and a lot of people died.
I turn around, take a step and crash into Carfron. His body is solid against my shoulder. I jump back with a yelp and a shiver. My body contracts in an odd dance that I usually reserve for walking through spider webs. I'm going to throw up.
"What? What's wrong?" Jonah asks, catching me in his arms.
His strength makes the memory of touching my ghost fade. He rubs my back a few times, and I break the embrace. "I touched him. Yuck!"
"To you, he's solid? Does he walk through doorways, or can he pass through walls?"
"He's usually with me. He goes through a doorway when I do."
"Where is he now?"
I point. Jonah attempts to bump into him, but Carfron steps out of the way.
"He moved. Why did you move for him and not me?" I ask.
Carfron smiles at me. "I didn't know to move. I know to move now."
"Great," I mumble, then tell Jonah what he said.
"What's happening now?" Kyrbast shouts from the other end of the hallway.
"Come on in, and I'll catch you up," I shout back, and we walk into the room together.
Once everyone is up to speed on my latest insanity, Master Sarpedon takes the lead. "Agatha, are you sure this is Carfron?"
I'm taken aback by the question. "I never saw Carfron conscious. Or for that matter, clean and whole either. Is there a photo of him somewhere? I mean, I think it's him."
The top of his sandy hair reaches to my mouth. That makes him a tall elf, but not unusually so. He has the smoothest cocoa colored skin that makes me remember the charred, bleeding, unconscious man I helped throw from a dragon.
Gurador leaves the room. I assume on a mission to get a picture. There isn't a need though; I'm sure this is him. "Are you Carfron?" I ask.
"I'm Carfron." His responses sound simple, but his answers have personality and charm. He's always happy, smiling, and polite. I just wish he didn't have to be right next to me.
"Why don't you move?" I ask him.
"I don't need to move."
"Can you sit?" Carfron goes to the nearest sofa and sits down. "That's better. Less weird."
"I want to try something," Dathid says, crossing the room. I protest what he's about to do, but he ignores me and sits on the part of the sofa I was talking to.
Carfron disappears. Dathid looks at me, and I shake my head.
"I can't sit," Carfron says from behind me.
I yelp and spin around. "You are not allowed to sneak up behind me." I'm going to kill Dathid. I liked Carfron sitting, and now he won't.
"Please take a seat. You make me uncomfortable when you stand." I say. I regret bringing him here. I need to know how to live with him before figuring out why he's here. We have some things to work out, and I'd rather not do it in front of everyone.
To my surprise, Carfron sits in the same spot as before. "Okay, he's down. No one touch him." I announce to the room but glare at Dathid.
I roll my head to release some of the stress. No one knows what to say, so we all awkwardly glance around the room and stare at the walls. Except for Sarpedon, who is studying the sofa. The silence is dragging on for much longer than I'd like, but I'm not going to do anything to draw more attention to myself. Fortunately, Gurador returns with an oversized book.
"I have the jaarbak. This has a few portraits," he says, flopping the book down and flipping through its pages. "Here he is."
The Cromsmead military yearbook gives me the willies. I'm already freaked out, so I'm not looking forward to this. Fortunately, Carfron stays in his seat.
"The picture on page 307 is better," Carfron says as I peek over Gurador's shoulder.
We're on page eighty-two. There are about twenty photos on the page, all of them headshots with everyone in uniform. Master Sarpedon taps the picture, and a tiny Carfron crawls out of the box and stands at attention on the page. The three-dimensional image is about eight inches tall. I'm glad it doesn't move. I can't handle any more Carfrons.
"Is that him?" Jonah asks.
I study the tiny handsome elf staring at me from the page. This Carfron is the same age as I am now. His cheekbones are so angular they could cut someone. The uniform is identical but with purple boots instead of his current purple collar.
"Was this your first assignment?" I ask the Carfron on the sofa.
"Yes."
"Where's your family?" I ask. I should've asked that question a long time ago. I should've visited his parents. I should've shared his final moments. I should've confessed.
"They're in Gamnagook."
I have the feeling it's far because I've never heard it mentioned before. I'm about to ask him if he wants to give them a message, but then I remember he's a hallucination, not a ghost.
"It's him?" Kyrbast asks.
"Yes, it's him. Turn to page 307."
Kyrbast flips the pages until he comes to a full-page picture of Carfron and his friends celebrating some kind of sports victory.
"See, told you it was better," Carfron says.
"He thinks this image is better. He told me there was a photo on page 307. How did I know that? I've never seen this book. He says his family is in Gamnagook, are they?"
Gurador starts reading the other book. My heart is beating so hard I can hear my pulse. Gamnagook has to be a made-up word. Who names a town something that dumb? I must've seen something, or maybe even psychically felt something that let me know the pages he would be on.
"Yep, Gamnagook, right here," Gurador says, pointing to the word.
The world goes grey, and stars float in front of my eyes. I fall on Dathid and slide to the floor as everything swirls to black.
Kyrbast's white hair momentarily glows like a halo as everything fades back in. "Good, you're awake," he says as he helps me up.
"Why am I on the floor?"
"You fainted." Kyrbast's words send reality slamming back into me. I jump to my feet.
"Carfron told me where he's from. He told me the page. How can he do that? He's not real."
"We don't know," Jonah answers. "But it could be something simple like the Orb has psychic abilities. Who knows what sources it could tap into to give you a complete Carfron. In other words, you thought of him. Then possibly, it searched other minds to get the image right."
"Is that true?" I ask Carfron.
"I'm Carfron."
"I know that. But the real Carfron could be seen by everyone, not just me. So you're not the real Carfron."
"Carfron is dead. I'm Carfron."
"Are you a ghost or something?"
"I'm Carfron."
I sit down. This isn't making sense. My head is swimming, and my left fist is clenched so tight, my fingernails are making my palm hurt. He's more than a hallucination. Maybe Stratagor Ziras did do something to the Orb or me. What happened to me while I was gone?
Carfron sits next to me, so I stand. "Um...Thank you everyone, for meeting me here and stuff, but I need to sort this one out on my own. I'm going to go back to my room for a little bit. Thank you."
Jonah and Master Sarpedon say something, but I'm not listening. I grab Gurador's book off the table and exit with a quick goodbye over my shoulder.