Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 93

Chapter 93: Sanders’ advice
“What do you need from me?” Trace gulped. “I cannot stop him. I can’t even attempt to stop him. I’m useless.”

“One parameter around your behavior does not render you useless,” Sanders chastised. “His powers are compelling, but limited. From what I have observed, he can only maintain a few at a time. Meaning, now that he is commanding both you and myself, his capabilities for more are limited.”

“A few people, or a few commands?” Trace clarified.

“The latter,” Sanders confirmed.

Sanders looked at the window again, his eyes dropping to the bottom. Trace leaned down and squinted at the small text where the details of the Count’s powers were relayed.

“Commander: Can give commands which hold weight over the soul of the commanded. The more that are given, the more power must be spent until the limit is reached. They cannot be changed or rescinded once issued.” He read aloud. “Range: fifty miles.”

Sanders smirked. “He made the mistake of giving many at first. Before he understood his limitations. Myself, his underlings, and…” He paused. “Your relative?”

Trace gulped, then nodded once. “He said he gave orders to my father-in-law. I had no idea.”

“What did he tell you happened?” Sanders posed the question even though he had been there, and Trace realized the man must be leading him to a truth he couldn’t say directly.

“He gave orders that would ensure death,” Trace frowned, and looked back at the text under the mirrorlike window. “To… to conserve his power? Since he cannot take a command back, the only way to regain the spent power is to kill the one commanded?? But… not you, at least not yet.”

Sanders smiled sadly. “I am needed too much. And now, you. For the moment.”

“So what now?” Trace shook his head to try to get the jumbled thoughts to tumble into some semblance of clarity. The warning in Sanders’ words was explicit: the moment he was no longer needed, Oakdown would likely seek to kill him to regain the power spent.

“The loopholes, Trace. I cannot lie to him, but I don’t have to tell him everything. I cannot talk about where his power came from, but walking here with you and letting you watch it happen was easily done. He is cunning, but cannot cover all contingencies. I am prohibited from saving my sister… but you aren’t.” Sanders’ eyes turned dark.

“Where is she?” Trace frowned. Adding another task to his list was the last thing he needed, but he couldn’t let an innocent woman suffer.

Well, another one, anyway. Anaisa still lay in her chamber fighting off poison that she was exposed to due in part to his actions in bringing her to the city, and the palace, in the first place.

“She tells me she was taken out of the city. A long ride, blindfolded in a wagon. She is kept in a cave. When the rains come at the surface, she thinks she can hear rushing water.” Sanders relayed.

“The border?” A large river was the primary landmark between his nation and Foundrel, though heavy rains sometimes changed its course, causing border disputes and skirmishes like the last war. “She’s not… is he keeping her in the cavern where the tree is?”

Sanders frowned. “Perhaps. I have watched the tree without finding other clues as to its whereabouts. I suppose you gathered more than I did about its location, though I have watched this many times.”

The same memory was playing again in the window, and Trace concentrated as the Count murmured to himself again. Trace had been focused on Verito’s ominous disappearance and not the words. This time he focused on what Barnabas was saying.

“I’ll also have to find out a way to wipe out anyone from Foundrel who’s trespassed into this territory… I do hope none of the locals have found the entrance. Of course, young men are the most likely to have wandered close, as exploratory as boys are. But maybe there’s a way to take care of all that at the same time…”

Trace’s blood froze.

“The war? The entire war for that little strip of territory, was over this? And drafting at least one man or son from every family in the border region, he thought that would get us all killed?” Trace sneered. “He orchestrated all of it?”

The expression on Sanders’ face was that of a man relieved of a great and terrible secret he had carried for too long.

“I regret my part in all of it.” He shuddered. “As, I’m sure, do you.”

“I helped fight the war. You know. You saw it. I didn’t… I didn’t like giving nightmares and bad omens to the men of Foundrel. I tried only to encourage my countrymen,” Trace grew defensive. “I didn’t…”

“Do anything except take advantage of a likely-doomed plot against the princess to worm your way far enough into the palace so that the dreams of the king and princess could be manipulated?” Sanders’ tone held no condemnation, but Trace felt it nonetheless. He sat down, hard, on the floor of Sanders’ dream.

“How do we get out?” Trace rubbed his forehead. His mind ached from the strain of remaining in Sanders’ dream so long.

“You cannot remain here. Find the loopholes in your commands. The ball is coming, we must act quickly. I do not know what will happen then.”

“Once he takes over the kingdom, he’ll own that stretch of land. He can make an army of magic users to do his bidding. He can hoard it for himself, maybe even enhance his power. I can’t even imagine…” Trace shook his head. “But you’re right. I need to go.”

“Avoid him, if you can. I do not think he will give you more commands, but he may try to shore up any perceived gaps in the ones he already gave. You must not let him.” Sanders bowed. “Good luck.”

Trace held his head and stepped back out into the void between dreams. He wandered aimlessly back towards his own, not finding any particular draw to it.

As he neared, Anaisa’s bubble shined in the corner of his vision. The dulled ache strengthened, and he gravitated towards it, laying his hand on the edge.

Loneliness and betrayal were the pervasive emotions within.

He stepped away. To interfere at all would be a further betrayal of her trust. He had to let her dreams play out as they would.

All he could do now was go try to gather the shattered pieces of his dream world and try to rebuild it into something new.