It was later. Pain had happened.
Jamie sat in his chair, alone in the darkness. His captors had left for a while, presumably to eat or sleep. He was bruised and bleeding, the result of hours of work from both the bald man and the young punk. His jaw felt broken. His cheek and chest had been cut open repeatedly, the blood left to run and dry on his body. He had been hit in the gut so many times he had thrown up everything there was to throw up. The ankh rested against his chest, gleaming silver. They had been careful not to touch it.
I'm supposed to be dead, thought Jamie. Dead. The dead are not supposed to feel pain.
Evidently, something had changed.
The cords were good and tight. Jamie could only move his head. Despite trying his best, there was no way he could break out. He briefly considered rocking his weight to turn over the chair, but it seemed to be bolted to the floor. As for the void, he had tried to open the portal back to the void between the planes countless times. Nothing had happened. They were blocking every single route of escape, somehow.
Didi doesn't know I'm in trouble. I don't know how to contact her.
They had asked him questions. They had tried to get him to spill everything he knew about Didi, although that wasn't what they called her. Defeater of Empires, Swallower of Oceans, Keeper of the Dread Gateway they had named her instead. Like something out of an old-school metal song. But he had given them nothing. Even as the little punk with the knife had carved him like a piece of meat, he refused to give them anything. He had screamed a lot though. His throat felt raw and painful.
The ankh. They wanted the ankh for some reason. If only he could remember what Didi had told him about the ankh.
Sitting in the darkness, with the blood from his wounds drying, the memory came to him as clear as if it had happened five minutes ago.
"Take it. And if you run into trouble, I'll know about it."
Jamie found himself thinking about Didi. Her bright eyes, her merry laugh, the way she had of smiling that managed to be both a smirk and gentle amusement at the same time. He thought about her, and the pain didn't seem so bad as before.
The silver ankh hanging around his neck felt warm, as if it was being heated by an invisible flame. The heat was strong, but not uncomfortable. Jamie looked down at his chest. The ankh looked exactly the same, with no visible clue to explain for the sudden rise in temperature.
He felt a renewed sense of determination. Whatever those thugs wanted, he resolved not to let them take it from him.
There was a noise behind him, the sound of a shoe being scuffed against concrete. Jamie quickly hung his head and faked being unconscious. He kept his body loose and tried not to stiffen his muscles, even as a hand roughly grabbed his chin and turned his head from side to side.
"He's out," said a voice. Jamie recognized the Japanese woman.
"Is he dead?"
"Isn't he already dead? Killing him again would be quite an achievement, don't you think?"
"Shut up, I can see him breathing. Remove those bonds and put him on the slab. Be careful not to touch the ankh."
His arms and legs were untied. Blood rushed back into swollen limbs. Jamie forced himself to remain motionless. He felt himself being carried up and laid upon something hard and cold.
There would only be one chance. Timing was everything. His thoughts drifted back to a conversation he once had with a friend of his father's, during a 4th of July barbeque.
"Kid."
"Hello Mr. Earnshaw," Jamie said brightly. He was enjoying the cookout and the camaraderie. Staff Sergeant Rick Earnshaw was one of his father's oldest friends, and had been coming over every 4th of July since before he was born. He was married, but didn't have any children of his own.
"Come here, I've got something to tell you."
Jamie did as asked.
"Now kid," Rick began. He had a beer in his hand, by no means the first of the day. He set it down carefully on the grass. "Do you get into fights?"
Jamie thought about the bullies who had bothered Jeff.
"Nope, not really."
"Good kid. You're not like Joey at all, let me tell you. Well, if you ever get into a fight, you have to remember one thing. Anything can be used as a weapon in a tough situation, as long as you're fast enough. Here, let me teach you something. Used at the right time, it'll let you beat anyone in the world. People call it the Liverpool Kiss."
Jamie sensed that the group had bought his little act and let their guard down. The big man was saying something about strapping him down. The time had come. He opened his eyes and swung off the slab, screaming at the top of his lungs. Always scream, Joey had told him. It might buy you a second or two, and that's all you'll need sometimes.
It worked. His abductors could only gape in shock as Jamie grabbed the front of the bald man's suit and pulled it roughly towards him. At the same time, he launched himself forward, lowering his head slightly. Jamie wasn't an especially tall guy, so it wasn't a perfect Liverpool Kiss. His forehead slammed into the man's nose with a satisfying crunch, sending blood spurting everywhere. Before the others could react, Jamie shoved the big man aside and sprinted away like all hell was after him.
It was a big warehouse. Jamie ran past one stack of crates and boxes after the other, his bare feet slapping the concrete. There didn't seem to be a clear way to the exit. He felt exhausted and with each step he took, the wounds on his body flared with agonizing pain. It was clear he was reaching the absolute limits of his endurance.
He could hear his abductors behind, calling to one another, shouting frantically. The big bald man was alternating between bellowing in pain and screaming orders at all who would listen. Jamie reached a particularly tall heap of junk and hid behind it, gasping for breath. The cuts on his chest had split open under the exertions and were once again flowing with blood. He tried to breathe less noisily, and attempted to open up the void that led back to Death's realm once more. It still wouldn't work.
Jamie had just about given up when he saw the exit. Two huge doors, partially obscured by trash and the gloom. To reach it, he would have to cross a long stretch of open space where his captors would almost undoubtedly see him. He decided to chance it. After all, he didn't have any other choice.
Jamie had just taken his first step when a beautiful woman stepped in front of him. She was dressed in the same cream-coloured suit as his other captors and had long red hair. Jamie couldn't tell where she came from, it was as if she appeared out of nowhere.
"Please, stop what you're doing Jamie. We don't want to hurt you," she said gently. She spoke in a slow, soft tone that was almost soothing.
"That's a laugh," spat Jamie, indicating the slashes on his body.
"My companions are a little overenthusiastic. If I was here earlier, this would not have happened, I assure you."
"I don't know that, do I? Seems to me that you bastards will do anything to get what you want."
The woman remained unperturbed. "You are right, of course. I prefer the carrot while my companions would choose the stick, but in the end we will get what we want."
"Save your breath. I'd rather die than hand it over," said Jamie. He closed a fist around the ankh, protectively. "You'll never take it."
The woman appeared amused. "But you're already dead."
"Then I'll die again. I don't care, I'm not afraid."
"You should be," she said. It wasn't a threat, or a derisive remark. It was a simple statement of fact. She began to inscribe a complex pattern in the air with an index finger, which glowed with an unearthly yellow light. A gout of flame erupted from it and raced through the air, curling upwards as if wrapped tightly around something invisible. Then with a flash, the shade of a man appeared, chained in fire. He appeared to be in terrible agony, although his wide-open mouth made no sound. His eyes met Jamie's for an instant, with a look of desperation and terror.
Jamie felt a shiver down his spine. He knew exactly who the man was. The President of FIFA, screaming in soundless agony, clawing at his empty eye sockets from which blood flowed in seemingly endless rivers. They had killed him and trapped his shade, to be used for God alone knew what. The woman with the red hair snapped her fingers. Suddenly everything vanished, both the shade and the fire.
"As you can see, we are not without power. And unless I am very much mistaken, my companions are already behind you."
Jamie shot a glance over his shoulder. The other five had surrounded him. They looked pleased to see the woman with the red hair.
"Sydney, at last," said the bald man, wiping blood from his nose. "Now we can put an end to this foolishness."
"Hello Vorkosigan," she said calmly. "What happened to you?"
"The little bastard broke my nose. I'm gonna make him pay."
"You can do whatever you like after we get the ankh from him. That's all the Teacher needs."
"My pleasure," growled Vorkosigan. As if on some hidden cue, they removed various weapons from their inner pockets and advanced upon Jamie. He turned to face them, still clutching the ankh. He might die, or suffer some worse fate, but he would not do anything that might help them to do harm Didi.
Jamie prepared to fight back, although he wasn't sure what he could do against so many enemies. He couldn't try the same trick again, and he was half-delirious with the loss of so much blood. He couldn't last much longer without passing out on his own.
Suddenly there was a rush of wind and the fast-becoming-familiar sensation of the world around him opening up, as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice that overlooked a drop into infinity. Then Death stepped out of the void and into reality, her eyes blazing, her lips set in a firm, hard line. Jamie had never seen anything more beautiful in his life or death.
"Jamie!" she shouted. "Are you alright?"
"Been better," he mumbled through the pain of his broken jaw. The world seemed to be spinning slowly in front of his eyes.
"What the hell is going on? Why are you people doing this?" she demanded, striding forward completely without fear. "You have no idea how much trouble you're in!"
The group was flabbergasted by her sudden arrival. The big bald man had stopped in his tracks, and was staring in amazement at her. The rest of the group was dumbstruck, looking at her with jaws slack with disbelief. Nobody seemed to be paying any more attention to Jamie.
"That's…that's her! That's Death herself!" screamed the blond woman. She dropped the gun she was carrying and clutched at the front of her suit.
"Oh, so someone does realise what they've done, don't you Claire Jones?" remarked Death archly. "Yes, I know who you are. I know who all of you are. Sabu, Dirk, Vork, Belle." Each of them flinched as Death rattled off their names. "What I don't know is who made you think that doing this would be a good idea. I want an answer. Now."
Jamie had begun moving very slowly towards the opening of the void which Death had left open. Wounded as he was, he couldn't move faster. Something nagged at him though, something both he and Didi had overlooked…
The teenager with the long hair muttered something in reply to Death's question, and jumped as she yelled back at him. "The Teacher? Is that who's behind this? For crying out loud, I thought he gave up years ago! That does it, I am going to do something about him and stop all this nonsense. Jamie, we are going home right now."
Death had her back to him, Jamie having reached the edge of the void opening. He was about to step in when he realized just what it was he had missed.
She had not seen the sixth member of the little group, the woman with the red hair who had blown up a stadium and murdered thousands of people for the sole purpose of luring Jamie to a place where he could be taken and tortured. She was hiding in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
"Didi, look out!" he bellowed. But it was a second too late.
The woman, Sydney, emerged from her hiding place and pointed both her hands straight at Death. Burning rivers of flame spilled from her fingers and flowed straight towards Death. For one horrible moment, Jamie saw a look of shock and horror in her eyes. Then the flames curled around her and were drawn tight.
"NO!"
Bleeding, naked, in pain and not caring, Jamie tried to rush forward, trying to rescue Didi. The fire seared into her clothes and her flesh and she screamed in pain.
"NO! GET AWAY FROM HER!"
"Dirk, Sabu, get him!" yelled the red-haired woman, maintaining her arms outstretched. "I can't do anything while I'm holding her!"
"We've got her, what do we need him for?" cut in the Asian girl, Belle.
"The ankh! He still has it!" said Sydney, more fire streaming from her hands.
Jamie wasn't listening. He'd leaped at the teen with the long hair they called Dirk and managed to land a lucky uppercut square on his chin. His head snapped back and he crumpled to the ground. But Vork and Sabu had moved into position and despite his injury, Vork still looked capable of breaking Jamie in half with his bare hands. Sabu was brandishing his knife, waving it around.
"The Teacher is gonna love this!" he shrieked, swiping at Jamie. He jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding the blade. The effort took the last of his strength and Jamie realized with a cold, sickening dread that he could not win this fight. But neither would he abandon Didi to their mercies. He looked at her desperately, still trapped in the flames, writhing in agony. He didn't know what kind of power it took to trap and hurt Death herself, but somehow this band of thugs possessed it.
Didi seemed to sense his thoughts. She twisted around and caught his eye, her mouth open as if she was saying something, although Jamie could hear nothing. Then a message struck his brain, not speech but the very idea of words. Jamie grabbed the ankh around his neck reflexively and held it tight.
Run! Go now!
Incredibly, Jamie felt new strength and energy flowing into his body from the ankh. He felt his flesh slowly knit together, his jaw resetting itself. Instinctively, he knew that Didi was responsible. Trapped and in pain, she was still doing all she could to save him.
Then she screamed again, a cry so full of pain and terror it broke Jamie's heart. He had done this, he had gotten Didi into this situation, and now she was telling him to leave her behind and save himself.
"I'll come back. I'm coming back for you. I promise," Jamie whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. Then he leapt into the opening and escaped to the void between the worlds.
Jones Country Manor
Shropshire, England
The hills and fields of the English countryside have to be seen to be believed. If you've only ever known the dull grey dreariness of a city your whole life, the intense green of the landscape was overwhelming at first glance.
In the young man's opinion, there was nothing like it in the entire world. He had travelled the length and breadth of the planet, from trekking across sandy deserts to hacking his way through steaming jungles, crossing oceans and rivers and mountains. He had spent many years moving, never stopping, always searching for the next sight, the next place he had yet to discover.
But after a while one gets tired of what the world has to offer, and longs to return home once more. For the young man, that was the rural and almost deserted areas of England.
His name was Owens. He had short blond hair and the easy-going countenance of someone for whom life was one pleasant surprise after the other. He wasn't particularly tall or big, in fact he was pretty difficult to pick out in the crowd. He had a knack of blending into the background to avoid unwanted attention, the better to observe the world around him.
Owens was working with a spade, rhythmically digging into the ground. Sweat ran down his cheeks and dripped from his chin as the sun dipped in the sky. It was a rare English summer evening, so warm and delicious it seemed an awful waste to spend it indoors.
He knelt down in the dirt and carefully dropped a few seeds into the little hole he had made. He covered up the earth with his hands, making a little mound. The seeds were from a rare plant he had taken from one of his many travels, and with a little luck it would flourish and grow in his garden.
The garden was just one of the many that surrounded the manor that sat in the distance, looking just like a slumbering child curled up underneath the blankets against the hilly backdrop. It was very old, and belonged to Owens, just one of the many properties he owned scattered around the globe.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and walked back towards the manor. A long bath would do him good. A bath, a drink of something amber in a tall glass, and an arm around the wife as they curled up on the couch together, watching the World Cup final. One of the many, many things Owens loved about his wife was that although she had absolutely zero interest in football (which she persisted in calling 'soccer'), she didn't mind watching it with him.
He reached the door of the manor and swung it open. "Cor! Hey Cor, would you like a drink? It's so warm out there," he called out cheerfully.
There was no answer. Owens could hear his voice echoing through the manor. Despite himself he felt a prickle of fear creep down his spine.
"Cor?" he called again, a shade more nervously this time. Almost without thinking he began to grow more insubstantial, as if he was fading away into nothingness. He could hear the faint sound of the television in the lounge and that was where he went, ready for anything.
His wife was sitting on the couch, her eyes riveted on the screen. She didn't look up when Owens came in, and he dropped his veil immediately, feeling a little exasperated.
"Why didn't you answer me?" he began, but his voice trailed away as he noticed something extremely odd. His wife was unusually pale, and her eyes looked wet with tears. She never cried. Ever. She was one of those women who never got emotional or frightened over anything. As relieved as he was to find her safe and sound, Owens felt even more unsettled.
"Bod," she whispered. "Bod, look."
Owens turned to look at the television screen. It was the BBC channel, and at first he thought they were showing some war zone in the Middle East or Russia or somewhere. There was a huge, smoking crater, with emergency services personnel crawling over it like so many ants. Rubble and dead bodies were strewn everywhere.
He saw the caption underneath the picture and had to reach out for the edge of the couch to steady himself. The words "TERRORIST ATTACK ON THE SOCCER CITY STADIUM" screamed at him in bright red capitals.
"Johannesburg? The World Cup Final?" he managed to say.
Coraline could only nod.
"Absolutely horrific scenes today as terrorists attacked the Soccer City stadium ahead of tonight's World Cup final match," the newswoman was saying. "Thousands dead, with many more critically injured. The main committee of FIFA and both the Spanish and Dutch national teams are currently missing, presumed dead. South Africa has declared a state of national emergency as the world reels in pain and shock."
"We need to do something."
"What can we do?"
Coraline's lips were set in a firm, hard line, and her eyes were blazing. Bod knew that look very well. Someone somewhere was going to pay.
"I'll get the passports."
"Thank you, sweetie," said Coraline in a voice of steel.
xxxx
The Teacher had made it abundantly clear to his followers that his meditation was never to be disturbed, by anyone for any reason.
Every single day, without fail, at precisely noon, the Teacher would assume a seated lotus position, legs crossed, arms resting comfortably on his knees. He would then meditate for at least an hour, sometimes more. He did not mind if others joined him, but they were not to make a single sound. Those who did were taken quietly away by the big men who stood at the door and were rarely, if ever, heard from again.
Still, for news as big as this, exceptions could be made.
One of the big men crossed the length of the room, a trip of several minutes, to bend down and whisper a message in his ear. The old man's eyes shot open, and he grabbed the guard's face and wrenched it down so that he was looking straight into his eyes.
"Repeat what you said."
Despite looking powerful enough to break the Teacher in half over his knee, the huge guard looked utterly terrified. His next few words came out in a stammering rush.
"Teacher...it's Ms Sherman. She said that it worked. She said that her group managed to capture and bind Death."
A slow, terrible expression spread across the Teacher's face, one that had not been seen in living memory. It was one of pure, simple joy, but something that would have been heart warming on the face of a child seemed horribly out of place on the Teacher's ruined, ancient features. It reminded the guard of the teeth-filled grin of blind things swimming the ocean's depths, never seeing the light.
"At last," he whispered to no one in particular, his eyes lost in a thousand-yard stare. "At long last. I have captured her. There is none who can stop us now."
He let go of the guard, who massaged his neck and backed away quickly. The Teacher threw on his abandoned robe and headed for the door with surprising speed.
"None can stop us!"
The Teacher strode the corridors of his penthouse, barking orders to his army of followers. He felt it now, the rush of energy that he hadn't experienced in centuries. He had done unspeakable things, black, evil deeds to reach this point, the culmination of untold years of work and finally, finally it was all coming together.
"Contact our people in the media. I want non stop, twenty four hour coverage on the explosion at the World Cup final, and of the events that will transpire soon."
"Yes, Teacher!"
"Contact our Scotland base. I want our stronghold there to be prepped and ready for the welcoming of our very distinguished guest."
"Right away, sir."
"And contact Ms Sherman and her team. They are to be rewarded. Immediately."
xxxx
Jamie was once again in the void between the worlds, and it was freezing. He weakly fashioned a crude coat out of the darkness, and sighed with relief as his limbs lost their stiffness. Although cold, tired and in pain, he had never before been so glad to be back in the void.
He massaged his limbs, trying to get some blood flowing, and trying not to think about the impossibility of flowing blood while one was dead. If he focused on the physical, on the sensations he felt and the here and now, he could ignore if for a moment the staggering, horrifying truth of what had happened to him.
He had messed up. He was entrusted to do the Duty, he had made a mistake and messed up so badly everything he'd ever done wrong in his life seemed puny by comparison. And because of him, Didi was lost, caught in the thrall of sinister people who undoubtedly wanted to pervert her power for their own ends.
With nowhere to go, Jamie opened up the way back to the Sunless Lands. He needed to figure out a way to rescue Didi. But he was still feeling the effects of the torture, although they seemed to be fading and grew more dull with each passing moment. He needed to get Didi back...but he couldn't fight the waves of exhaustion that were threatening to overwhelm him.
Bright light. The smell of grass. The sound of birds. Jamie felt his bare body thump on the grassy field, and could just about make out the house in the distance. But before he could take another step, he fell over and lay still, spiralling into the blackness once more.
It seemed like years passed while at the same time taking no time at all. And then Jamie found himself in another place entirely, walking the gardens of what looked like a fantastical and wondrous palace.
He was no longer wearing makeshift rags, but clad in a rich vest and leggings of an unspecified material and fashion. His hair was expertly made up, the fresh scars that had been carved out of his flesh seemed to have disappeared. Compared to Death's realm which was light and airy, this place was dark, and the air seemed heavy with unspeakable secrets. Pinpoints of light from what looked like stars shimmered down on fountains and hedges and long marble pathways. There was something about the place, something not quite right, but Jamie couldn't put his finger on it.
Something struck him, and he experimentally took hold of his left arm with his right hand, and gave it a hard pinch. It completely failed to hurt. Fascinated, he pinched himself a couple more times, feeling nothing at all.
A loud cough made him look up. To his surprise, it seemed to have come from a large raven, perched on a branch in a nearby tree.
"Are you done playing with yourself?" croaked the raven. Its speech was strange. Although the very idea of a talking raven was absurd in the first place, but it did sound strange. It didn't sound like a human voice at all, or like that of a proper raven who at best could only emit sharp calls. It sounded like a raven who had learned to speak English, which was ridiculous. But no less ridiculous than any number of things that had happened to him recently.
"That sounded wrong."
"What else do you call standing around in a garden and pinching yourself? Is this how you get off?"
"It's not...I mean...it doesn't hurt, for some reason."
It should have been impossible for a raven to roll its eyes, but this one did. "Think about it, genius. Where would you be if pinching yourself didn't hurt?"
"I must be dreaming."
"Bit slow on the uptake, aren't you?"
"But if this is a dream, this isn't real. It's probably just a result of the traumatic shock I've received. Any moment now I'll wake up and find myself back in the Sunless Lands."
"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that boy."
Jamie frowned. "I don't remember ever having quite so lengthy a conversation in any of my dreams before. Who are you anyway?"
The raven squawked a few times before speaking again. "The name's Matthew."
"Matthew? I don't know anyone named Matthew."
The raven sighed. "That's cause we've never met. I'm not a figment of your subconscious, or whatever ya wanna call it. You're in the Dreaming and -"
"I'm in the where?"
"The Dreaming, boy. Didn't she tell you about it?"
"Stop calling me boy, even if you are a damn figment of my imagination. What the hell's the Dreaming?"
"You mean you don't know?"
Jamie had enough. "No!"
The raven looked worried. "Christ, I had no idea it was this bad. You'd better follow me. The boss wants to see you, and he can explain it better than I can."
And with that the raven spread its wings and took to the sky. Feeling utterly bewildered, Jamie followed it, craning his neck upwards to look at the black speck in the starry sky.
It took him along a winding path, snaking in and out of the trees and bushes. Although there was no wind, Jamie didn't seem to sweat or lose his breath. As he walked on he pondered the meaning of the raven's words. It seemed to know who he was. And it did mention 'she'. Maybe it knew who Didi was as well. And maybe he, or the guy he called his 'boss' could help.
Jamie hoped so. He had a feeling he was going to need all the help he could get.
He eventually reached a high mountain pass (mountains? It was a garden just minutes ago) with the path winding its way up to a massive castle, that sat upon a peak of rock like a gargoyle big enough to swallow whole islands. It looked exactly like the kind of grim and foreboding fortress Jamie had in mind when he was first imagining what Death's home looked like.
Matthew the Raven flapped onward and flew around in a lazy circle, waiting for Jamie to catch up. But he had paused while looking at the castle's gate, not believing what his eyes were telling him.
Positioned to the left, right and top of the gate were three huge beasts of myth and legend. Jamie had read about them back when he was a kid, but those were pictures in a book, or words on a page. These monsters were real. It's the difference between reading a Winnie the Pooh story and running for your life from a wild grizzly bear. The hot breath of the guardians of the gate fogged up in the cool air, as they looked down upon Jamie with a cool intelligence that seemed keener than human.
"Ware the intruder," growled the winged horse. It was theoretically the least threatening of the guardians, in the same way an assault rifle was less threatening than a tank cannon and a nuke. It was at least seven times larger than any horse Jamie had ever seen, who had been a city kid and hardly ever saw a horse in the flesh.
"He does not look to pose a threat," snorted the griffin. It had the lion's body and wicked-looking claws on massive, muscled legs, but the head of a giant eagle. It looked like it could swallow an elephant in a single gulp. Jamie felt it was right not to worry about him.
"Be mindful, brother," hissed the wyvern, a scaly, sinuous, serpent like thing perched on top of the gate. Its eyes burned with unnatural fire as it looked first at Jamie, then at its other companions. "Many strange things seek an audience with our lord cloaked in humble disguises. Be ready."
Jamie felt that he should speak, but the words died in his mouth as he stared up at the guardians, who were all looking straight at him now.
"Settle down everyone," croaked Matthew, still flying overhead. Jamie had forgotten all about him. "The boss wants to talk to this guy himself. That's why he sent me to find him soon as he fell asleep."
Fell asleep? wondered Jamie. But the guardians were already looking less menacing.
"Enter then, stranger," intoned the wyvern. "But be warned, we will be watching your every move within our lord's realm."
It seemed apparent that Jamie should make the next move, so he muttered something unintelligible and quickly walked past the gate and up to the castle, feeling the guardians' eyes on him the whole way.
The Court of the Dream-King
The Dreaming
"Keep to the path," whispered Matthew.
"Ok."
"I mean it. Last guy who wandered off the path got turned inside out and exploded. And the one before him made a lifelong enemy who looked exactly like him. No one knows what happens if you stray from the path."
"Ok, I heard you the first time."
"Good. Now let's go, I don't want to make the boss wait."
Jamie padded forward on a rich red carpet, unable to stop himself from looking up and all around him. Walls of stone were all around him, stretching upwards higher than he thought possible to support an arched stone ceiling. The place seemed suffused with a strange light that did not come from any readily apparent source. If he strained his ears, he could just about make out the sound of soft music being played somewhere in the distance.
Matthew led him to a pair of golden double doors. At his urging, Jamie pushed them open and Matthew swooped into the room.
"Boss...er, my lord Dream, here is the human dreamer who you wanted to see."
Jamie stepped into the court room with shaking legs and looked for the first time on the Dream-King.
He was tall, far taller than it was possible for any human to be. He was clad in robes of brilliant white, the white of new stars burning in a sea of darkness. His skin was pale white too, and it reminded me sharply of Didi. But his eyes weren't her human ones full of joy and emotion, they were pinpricks of light that shone from his face. He stood up from his throne, and the way he carried himself was full of regal nobility as he walked towards Jamie.
Jamie blinked, one moment the king looked at least twice as tall as him, the next he was about Jamie's height. He looked far less imposing as well. Instead of expecting him to bow or kneel, the king took his hand and shook it, smiling pleasantly.
"Jamie Keane. Associate of my elder sister. Be welcome in my realm of the Dreaming." He sounded like a young man, but at the same time like a man who had been young for a very, very long time.
Jamie nodded dazedly. "Thank you..."
"You may call me Daniel."
Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie saw Matthew ruffle his feathers indignantly, as if irked at such familiarity. Somehow this calmed him down a little.
"Thank you, Daniel. Are you one of Didi's siblings?"
"I am. My role is to maintain the Dreaming, where all sapient life goes when it slumbers. That is where you are now."
"I...see..."
"I needed to meet with you urgently. I understand my sister has been taken."
Daniel's words touched a raw, bleeding part in Jamie that he had tried his best to forget about.
"She was. Please, you need to help me. We need to find her and get her back."
The King of Dreams shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid that is not possible."
"What do you mean?" snapped Jamie. "She's your sister, isn't she? Why aren't you willing to help?"
"There are rules, Jamie Keane," said Daniel. "Rules that not even those such as we can break. My sister knew the rules when she chose to break them. And if I know her, I know she did it for a very good reason."
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," said Jamie tiredly. He was sick of cryptic clues and standing still. He needed to get moving again, to go rescue Didi.
Instead of answering, Daniel pointed at the ankh, still hung around Jamie's neck. Instinctively, he reached out and clasped his hand over it.
"She gave this to you. She gave it to you when she had never done so before, for untold billions of millennia. Do you remember what she said to you when she did it?"
"That it was her sigil. Her symbol of office," mumbled Jamie. The sense of being on the brink of some ephemeral cliff was on him again. He was heading down a road he wasn't sure he liked.
"So she did. This means that although she is unable to do her job, you must."
"What? I'm the new...Death?"
"That was what you wanted, was it not?" inquired Daniel.
"I...no! I wanted to help her, not take over! Why doesn't anyone care that Didi's gone?"
"Because the universe cares not who does her job. Just that someone is doing it," said Daniel calmly. And Jamie knew with terrible certainty that he was right. Daniel continued talking.
"I have spoken with our elder brother, Destiny -"
"There's more of you?" Jamie muttered, then wished he hadn't.
"Seven all told," said Daniel, not looking the least bit annoyed. "Or more accurately, Destiny came to speak to me. The situation does not look good. If there isn't someone performing the function that my sister used to do, the world will be in utter chaos."
"What are you talking about?"
"Think about it, Jamie Keane. People caught in terrible accidents. People with terminal illnesses. And not being able to die or pass on."
Jamie stared at him, open-mouthed. A world where people couldn't die. It sounded like someone's idea of heaven, but that was before you looked at it closely. Would someone who got squashed by a truck really want to live? Or someone with his head chopped off?
"It's got to be me."
"Yes," said Daniel. "You have to do it, or the problem will not confine itself merely to Earth. It will spread, and reach the rest of the universe eventually. You asked for the responsibility when you volunteered to be my sister's companion, Jamie Keane. You alone have to shoulder it now."
"It's just Jamie, if you don't mind," said Jamie, for want of something to say.
"Jamie. If you wish," said Daniel serenely. "You will remember our conversation when you awaken. Destiny will want to speak to you. Tell him of what we said when you meet."
"Ok," said Jamie, privately wondering whether he'd recognise this fellow called Destiny if he showed up.
"But – and this is important – do not tell him what I'm about to tell you next."
"Ok?" said Jamie, looking puzzled. Daniel gave him a brief smile.
"You see, Destiny and the universe may not care very much about what happens to my sister...but I do. She was present at my – my birth, shall we say. She has been a good friend to me, and a good source of advice and counsel. I would not like her to remain within the grasp of those who mean her harm."
"Exactly! So why can't you do something?"
"Not directly. But whatever I can do, I am doing it now. Seek out a pair of humans, who are living on your planet at this time. Their names are Nobody Owens and Coraline Jones. They might be able to assist you."
"What kind of a name is Nobody? And how can they help?"
"You will find out," said Daniel gently. "And one last thing, my sister the Lady Delirium. She might be able to help as well."
"I thought you guys weren't supposed to get involved."
"Delirium is shall we say, creative when it comes to rules," said Daniel. "And I know she cares for our sister, as much as I do."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Thank you. And remember not to breathe a word of this to Destiny...although I suspect he'll know about it anyway."
"Uh, sure."
Daniel smiled.
"And now Jamie Keane...companion to my older sister...it is time for you to wake up."