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Her body wasn't her own. Loren's body moved but she wasn't the one moving it. She was nothing more than a puppet. No matter how hard she screamed on the inside, her lips were still.
Don't bother fighting. The Yeerk said to her. It's pointless.
No. Loren thought.
Your friends are dead. Your mother is dead. Elfangor, his brother, your freak of a son, they're all going to die. And you will watch. You can't do anything.
No. You're wrong. This is wrong.
The Yeerk was laughing at her but the sound was fading. Everything was becoming clearer.
No. No. "NO!"
The dream was over. The real work had just begun.
Don't bother fighting. The Yeerk said to her. It's pointless.
No. Loren thought.
Your friends are dead. Your mother is dead. Elfangor, his brother, your freak of a son, they're all going to die. And you will watch. You can't do anything.
No. You're wrong. This is wrong.
The Yeerk was laughing at her but the sound was fading. Everything was becoming clearer.
No. No. "NO!"
The dream was over. The real work had just begun.
Title: One Winged
Location: The Tower (dream location)
He remembered the fires.
The McGraths had come in and in an instant a world came down in the sound of bullets.
Renne knew these oak walls, knew them well and he knew the smell of them as they burned. He knew the fiery sting as six bullets penetrated into the thick frontal sections of his skull. They were familiar and old things that had ceased to even ache but felt new all over again.
Fine bloody night this is! Are the girls out?
He lay on the oak floor wavering in an eerie state of semiconsciousness. Renne knew his blood was thin and he had bled quite a lot that night. But so too, Renne knew that this part of his skull was a dense pattern of layered substances. None of the bullets had reached the brain cavity.
The burn of smoke filtered down his throat. Sounds around him were eerily muted, almost not there at all. The front door slammed shut and the back flung itself open. Timbers creaked and popped as they burned above.
He didn't hear the bullets this time.
The sound of the fire was nearly silent.
Holl amrantau'r sêr ddywedant
Ar hyd y nos
His home burned down around him and no one came to pull him out. Unsurprising as that was, Renne found himself standing upright as he used to in those bygone days.
He stood inside an ashen shell of a place that reeked of smouldering wood and heated rock. Unsteady feet carried him through a familiar route that wasn't the same as the route from the other. This fire stank of magic and he heard all too clearly that he wasn't alone.
I've watched all your suffering
"Lad, ye didn't learn the meaning of Slekt."
"You've been good to me."
"Ffyniant."
The voices matched their footsteps as they turned their backs and walked away. In the silence, Renne was still for a few moments and distantly noted the thin streams still trickling from the six points on his head.
Soon enough, he too turned and found himself walking onto a godforsaken stretch of beach. The sea didn't crash here. It was oddly still and a figure emerged from the waves sheathed like a skeleton in a blue shroud. A shroud rotted by age and salt.
When Renne felt the cold of a gun in his hands, his fingers became nerveless. He dropped the weapon onto the sand and tried to back away.
"It's time to step down. I'm saying goodbye."
The figure picked up the gun.
Aimed.
And pulled the trigger.
He was running before the splash even sounded.
The tower was his home. It had been his home for longer than he'd estimated and he realised now, how wrong he had been to leave it. It rose before him a monolith of stone in the middle of a nowhere-plain, where nothing grew and the wind carried little sound. Except the faint echoing of laments destined to never be heard.
He knew why he had built the thing all those years ago.
He knew why he returned to it now.
Renne said nothing as he ascended the cold stone walls and nearly fell through the thing's single, tiny window. He'd never put a door or stairwell here when he'd built it.
When Renne had built it, he had never intended to come out again.
Inside the tiny room, his memories lay strewn on the floor around him. The candles. The single brick stolen from the original NightRunners' fortress before its destruction. His plushie. Over a hundred copies of letters. A worn old spyglass. A journal with its ink pen and ink.
And Billy Cranston's name etched into a brick on the far wall.
Location: The Tower (dream location)
He remembered the fires.
The McGraths had come in and in an instant a world came down in the sound of bullets.
Renne knew these oak walls, knew them well and he knew the smell of them as they burned. He knew the fiery sting as six bullets penetrated into the thick frontal sections of his skull. They were familiar and old things that had ceased to even ache but felt new all over again.
Fine bloody night this is! Are the girls out?
He lay on the oak floor wavering in an eerie state of semiconsciousness. Renne knew his blood was thin and he had bled quite a lot that night. But so too, Renne knew that this part of his skull was a dense pattern of layered substances. None of the bullets had reached the brain cavity.
The burn of smoke filtered down his throat. Sounds around him were eerily muted, almost not there at all. The front door slammed shut and the back flung itself open. Timbers creaked and popped as they burned above.
He didn't hear the bullets this time.
The sound of the fire was nearly silent.
Holl amrantau'r sêr ddywedant
Ar hyd y nos
His home burned down around him and no one came to pull him out. Unsurprising as that was, Renne found himself standing upright as he used to in those bygone days.
He stood inside an ashen shell of a place that reeked of smouldering wood and heated rock. Unsteady feet carried him through a familiar route that wasn't the same as the route from the other. This fire stank of magic and he heard all too clearly that he wasn't alone.
I've watched all your suffering
"Lad, ye didn't learn the meaning of Slekt."
"You've been good to me."
"Ffyniant."
The voices matched their footsteps as they turned their backs and walked away. In the silence, Renne was still for a few moments and distantly noted the thin streams still trickling from the six points on his head.
Soon enough, he too turned and found himself walking onto a godforsaken stretch of beach. The sea didn't crash here. It was oddly still and a figure emerged from the waves sheathed like a skeleton in a blue shroud. A shroud rotted by age and salt.
When Renne felt the cold of a gun in his hands, his fingers became nerveless. He dropped the weapon onto the sand and tried to back away.
"It's time to step down. I'm saying goodbye."
The figure picked up the gun.
Aimed.
And pulled the trigger.
He was running before the splash even sounded.
The tower was his home. It had been his home for longer than he'd estimated and he realised now, how wrong he had been to leave it. It rose before him a monolith of stone in the middle of a nowhere-plain, where nothing grew and the wind carried little sound. Except the faint echoing of laments destined to never be heard.
He knew why he had built the thing all those years ago.
He knew why he returned to it now.
Renne said nothing as he ascended the cold stone walls and nearly fell through the thing's single, tiny window. He'd never put a door or stairwell here when he'd built it.
When Renne had built it, he had never intended to come out again.
Inside the tiny room, his memories lay strewn on the floor around him. The candles. The single brick stolen from the original NightRunners' fortress before its destruction. His plushie. Over a hundred copies of letters. A worn old spyglass. A journal with its ink pen and ink.
And Billy Cranston's name etched into a brick on the far wall.
He was home. The forest's dappled light spattered the undergrowth as Red Snout crept amongst the foliage, rifle held loosely in his claws. Something wasn't right here. It was...something. He lifted his nose and sniffed lightly, his blood suddenly running cold as something was carried to him on the wind.
The Tyrant King was here. He had only smelt it once before, and that was one had wandered by, barely edging their territory, being smart enough to know that one T-Rex was no match for a tribe of prepared raptors. But this was not the same. Red Snout was alone. And he had a sinking feeling that he was the tyrant's prey.
The Tyrant King was here. He had only smelt it once before, and that was one had wandered by, barely edging their territory, being smart enough to know that one T-Rex was no match for a tribe of prepared raptors. But this was not the same. Red Snout was alone. And he had a sinking feeling that he was the tyrant's prey.
"Hello?" Loren had no idea where she was walking. She knew she had to be in someone's dream. "Is anyone here?"
Below.
How strange, that a voice calls from below the Tower's height in this godforsaken no-man's-land.
Distantly curious, the creature at first doesn't make a sound. Curiosity's there but...detached. As if not part of himself. Even so, his voice gives a half-hearted kind of chirp.
"Eee?"
How strange, that a voice calls from below the Tower's height in this godforsaken no-man's-land.
Distantly curious, the creature at first doesn't make a sound. Curiosity's there but...detached. As if not part of himself. Even so, his voice gives a half-hearted kind of chirp.
"Eee?"
"Hello! Who are you?" She called, following the sound of the odd chirp.
Getting up a sheer vertical tower without any doors might prove problematic. Even so, the voice down on the ground gets a response.
A little blue face seems to peer over the edge of a tiny window. Its large, useless eyes show a detached, even hollow sort of slate-gray but those eyes react to nothing. The odd face's big ears give a half-hearted twitch.
"Eeee. Yeu?"
A little blue face seems to peer over the edge of a tiny window. Its large, useless eyes show a detached, even hollow sort of slate-gray but those eyes react to nothing. The odd face's big ears give a half-hearted twitch.
"Eeee. Yeu?"
"Oh, there you are. I'm Loren." She looked down at Renne. "Listen, this might sound strange, but all of this isn't real. It's a nightmare. You need to break free."
Blink.
Ear-twitch.
Immediately, the big eyes narrow and his face turns into the expression of an animal protecting his nest. The skinny little beastie's skin flashes dangerously with streaks of angry fire and midday-sun.
"Haow yeu ge-t in? Th-is noh be yeu Ho-me."
Ear-twitch.
Immediately, the big eyes narrow and his face turns into the expression of an animal protecting his nest. The skinny little beastie's skin flashes dangerously with streaks of angry fire and midday-sun.
"Haow yeu ge-t in? Th-is noh be yeu Ho-me."
"That's what I've been trying to say. This isn't real. It's all a dream. I got in here because this is where it landed me when I walked into your dream. You remember the Nightmare King, right? This is all his fault."
Nightmare King.
Despite remaining in a most definite protective-animal posture, the oddity's ears give a semi-confused twitch. Dare it be said that hope flashes across his face, it's now.
"Haow? Ahll be go-ne. Bee too."
Bee...
Seems even mentioning that name causes a tear in his big eyes. Thinks that particular Human is dead and gods save him, he's mourning it.
Despite remaining in a most definite protective-animal posture, the oddity's ears give a semi-confused twitch. Dare it be said that hope flashes across his face, it's now.
"Haow? Ahll be go-ne. Bee too."
Bee...
Seems even mentioning that name causes a tear in his big eyes. Thinks that particular Human is dead and gods save him, he's mourning it.
"Your friends?" At least that's what she thought he- she- er, it? was talking about. "I don't know. They might be on Stacy asleep in the pod caverns. What matters right now is getting out of here."
Bee.
The name echoes through right behind the strange Female's words. Alive.
In seconds, the oddity realises two things: Firstly, she might not know who "Bee" is. Secondly...who would know about the Tower?
"Bee. Is Bee."
From a memory, the creature allows a word he recalls. A word that perhaps only Billy Cranston might ever say.
Prodigious.
The name echoes through right behind the strange Female's words. Alive.
In seconds, the oddity realises two things: Firstly, she might not know who "Bee" is. Secondly...who would know about the Tower?
"Bee. Is Bee."
From a memory, the creature allows a word he recalls. A word that perhaps only Billy Cranston might ever say.
Prodigious.
"Oh, O.K. Well, now that you know it's not real you can imagine the tower away?" She wasn't exactly sure how that worked. She hadn't really planned her own escape from the nightmare, it just happened.
"Bee...Bee ah-live?"
Logic. Emotion. It's doing a terribly twisted dance in his head right now and the oddity can't stop the expression of sheer hope that crosses his face.
Logic. Emotion. It's doing a terribly twisted dance in his head right now and the oddity can't stop the expression of sheer hope that crosses his face.
Oh. Oh.
"Yeah Bee's alive. But to keep h- uh, Bee alive we're going to need your help. You need to end the dream."
"Yeah Bee's alive. But to keep h- uh, Bee alive we're going to need your help. You need to end the dream."
"Eee!"
Dream... Squeaking urgently, the critter at first paces like a caged animal. This doesn't last too long though, for when he comes to a stop and sits down, Renne's breathing deepends.
This place is not here for the living.
Under his breath, Renne narrates to himself memories. Real memories. Recent memories. And a kind of mantra, filled with names.
Bee. Goliath. Arha. Bee. Goliath. Arha.
It might be equated to one of those theatrics in which something ancient dissolves into dust before one's eyes but that is essentially the fate of the Tower. It slowly dissolves into dust with each round of chanting.
Inside his own Self, Renne smiles tearfully and holds on tightly to that little bit of light. He doesn't yet consider the stark, oppressive wall so close to that light, not yet. The fact that this little glow is there at all tells him what he needs to know.
In a span of perhaps half an hour, the Tower isn't even dust on the City-Ship's floor.
Dream... Squeaking urgently, the critter at first paces like a caged animal. This doesn't last too long though, for when he comes to a stop and sits down, Renne's breathing deepends.
This place is not here for the living.
Under his breath, Renne narrates to himself memories. Real memories. Recent memories. And a kind of mantra, filled with names.
Bee. Goliath. Arha. Bee. Goliath. Arha.
It might be equated to one of those theatrics in which something ancient dissolves into dust before one's eyes but that is essentially the fate of the Tower. It slowly dissolves into dust with each round of chanting.
Inside his own Self, Renne smiles tearfully and holds on tightly to that little bit of light. He doesn't yet consider the stark, oppressive wall so close to that light, not yet. The fact that this little glow is there at all tells him what he needs to know.
In a span of perhaps half an hour, the Tower isn't even dust on the City-Ship's floor.
Oh #@%!
"Red Snout? It's Loren. Don't eat me." She held her bat ready, as if that would do anything against a velociraptor.
"Red Snout? It's Loren. Don't eat me." She held her bat ready, as if that would do anything against a velociraptor.
And that is not the worst of it! Nura puts her hands to her head when she feels a precognition. Her eyes snap open and whirrs around to face Red Snout and Loren.
"Everyone on the ground!"
"Everyone on the ground!"
Red Snout whipped his head around to glare at the two humans, hissing urgently.
"Be silent! He shall hear you, you fools!" He hunched lower into the underbrush, quivering in nervous, anxious anticipation.
"Be silent! He shall hear you, you fools!" He hunched lower into the underbrush, quivering in nervous, anxious anticipation.
Nura narrows her eyes at Red Snout, not at all perturbed by the fact that he was speaking - it is a norm on so many planets that creatures talk. For all she knew, Red Snout could be a member of the dinotoplians near Galtros.
"Then who will stop the giant fireball that will arrive in sixty-two seconds?" At the end of her sentence, it hits twenty-two seconds.
"Then who will stop the giant fireball that will arrive in sixty-two seconds?" At the end of her sentence, it hits twenty-two seconds.
Loren just looked at Nura from her place on the ground. (What? She'd learned to listen to Elfangor and Nura seemed to know what was going on.) "The what?"
Nura has her hands to sides of her head. "I'm not sure...I haven't been getting enough REM sleep, so my precogging is slightly off." Nevertheless, something dangerous is heading their way.
"But since you are the expert in this terrain, what would you have us do, Red Snout?" Nura implores, turning to the velociraptor.
"But since you are the expert in this terrain, what would you have us do, Red Snout?" Nura implores, turning to the velociraptor.
Red Snout's voice was a whisper, barely carrying to the two human women.
"There is a Tyrant King. We must get downwind before he finds our scent. If he has not already. Move quickly, move silently. Go." He turned and began slinking through the undergrowth with barely a sound, occasionally stopping to lift his snout and sniff the air. This was bad, very bad. The Tyrant might have them already, might be closing in...
"There is a Tyrant King. We must get downwind before he finds our scent. If he has not already. Move quickly, move silently. Go." He turned and began slinking through the undergrowth with barely a sound, occasionally stopping to lift his snout and sniff the air. This was bad, very bad. The Tyrant might have them already, might be closing in...
Something massive is on the move, the ground shuddering under its weight. Trees are only a minor annoyance for the King as he passes, seeking the source of the annoying raptor scent tickling at his nose. That worthless tribe had been so easily crushed after that lucky outbreak of disease. One more should not be difficult to kill, and he will finally be able to claim this place for his own.
He stops, tail swaying slightly as he raises his scarred head. Sniffs. A low snarl bubbles up in the rex's massive chest.
There.
THRUD THRUD THRUD THRUD THRUD!
The tyrannosaur barrels toward them with a ROAR, crashing through vegetation with long, powerful strides.
He stops, tail swaying slightly as he raises his scarred head. Sniffs. A low snarl bubbles up in the rex's massive chest.
There.
THRUD THRUD THRUD THRUD THRUD!
The tyrannosaur barrels toward them with a ROAR, crashing through vegetation with long, powerful strides.
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