52.

  “Dream Runes?” I repeated, feeling a crackle of energy in the air.

  “Yes, mortal,” the Pigeon King replied. “You see, my kingdom is under attack.”.

  “So nothing unusual then?” I replied, trying not to roll my eyes.

  The Pigeon King either didn't notice, or more likely chose not to, and continued on. "A dream thief has made off with a precious item of mine."

  "A dream thief?" I replied.

  "A malignant wraith," he explained. "One not powerful enough to manifest on this plane, but one that assaults in dreams, where mortals and even powerful beings such as myself are more vulnerable.”

  "Right," I said dumbly.

  "This particular wraith is well known to me. His name is Somnix. He's existed for some 1,000 years. He's mostly benign, torturing you mortals with nightmares and whatnot, but he has overstepped his bounds. Now we must enter his kingdom to retrieve my stolen item.”

  "We?" I asked.

  "Of course, mortal. Somnix would drive you insane and turn you into a blubbering mess if you went by yourself, so I shall accompany you on this quest," the Pigeon King said.

  "And this quest is going to be where?" I asked.

  "This is why I need you," the Pigeon King said. "This battle must take place in the mind of a mortal.”

  "Wait, you're going in my head?" I asked him.

  "Metaphysically, yes. We shall be entering your mind to commence battle with Somnix.”

  "You're going to spiritually enter my brain so we can do combat with, what did you call him, a malignant wraith?" I clarified.

  "Correct," the Pigeon King said.

  "No," I replied sternly.

  "What do you mean no?" the Pigeon King said.

  "I don't want you in my head, and I certainly don't want to be inviting some malignant wraith into my head," I said hotly.

  "Please, your mind is of no importance. We're simply using it as a gateway for our battle. We will be invading Somnix's kingdom, but in order to access the kingdom, we need a mortal mind." The Pigeon King said, flapping a wing at me placatingly.

  "What exactly has this Somnix taken from you?" I asked.

  The Pigeon King opened his beak, then closed it and looked at the ceiling before answering.

  "A feather," he said.

  "A feather?"

  "Yes, a feather," the Pigeon King repeated.

  "So what? You've got loads of them. Don't you grow them?" I asked.

  The Pigeon King huffed and blew out a contemptuous sigh.

  "Please, boy, my feathers are not like the hairs on your head. They carry deep power with them, and for a beast like Somnix to be in possession of one of my feathers, he could wield unimaginable terror. We must stop this," the Pigeon King said.

  "Why do you care if he wields unbound terror or whatever?" I said.

  "Because he's doing it to my followers!" the Pigeon King thundered. "My pigeons have been tortured with nightmares. Many of them have stopped sleeping. Some of them are so exhausted, they fall out of the sky and are run over by vehicles.”

  "Oh," I said.

  "Indeed, oh," the Pigeon King answered.

  "But why is he going after you and your people?" I asked.

  The pigeon rolled his eyes.

  "You know, I often forget how annoyingly inquisitive young mortals are," the Pigeon King said. "As I told you, Somnix and I are known to each other, and in a thousand years of malignancy, he has crossed my path before. This is his petty, pitiful revenge, I suppose. Who knows what these wraiths concoct in their minds? All you need to know is that we are going to go into his kingdom and get my feather back. Once we have completed that task, I will set my pigeons to finding your stash house.”

  “And to do this, we're gonna use Runes?" I asked him.

  "Yes, Dream Runecrafting is an offshoot of Runecraft. However, Runes by their very nature are physical things. They exist in the physical world; they are bound to reality," the Pigeon King explained. "Dream Runecrafting takes physical Runes and makes them metaphysical. Now, of course, there are a very limited number of Runes that this could be done with, and considering your complete lack of ability and knowledge, I'd say that number is even smaller. We will be using just two Runes: the Warding Rune of Lucidity and the Chain Rune of Awareness," the Pigeon King said, and I nodded along dumbly.

  "What are those?" I asked.

  "The Warding Rune of Lucidity is a protective sigil drawn on the palm," the Pigeon King said, flapping his wing at my hand. "It grounds the mortal mind in reality, aiding your ability to be lucid in your own dreams, for a mortal mind is so very simplistic it cannot tell the difference between the two.”

  "Okay," I said, only kind of understanding.

  "And the Chain Rune of Awareness," the Pigeon King continued. "Is a binding sigil etched into a dream object that can be used to bind wraiths and to keep them away. For example, a room can be sealed by etching the sigil onto a door frame or a window. In a dream, it can be used to cage Somnix.”

  "So that's how we'd beat him?" I asked.

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  "In the most simplistic terms, yes. My hope is that we can simply cage the creature without having to engage him in battle.” The Pigeon King said.

  “And if we do have to engage him in battle?” I asked.

  “Then it will take far more than one Rune to subdue him. But we will fly across that stream when we come to it. What you need to concern yourself with is the Dreamscape. Dreams have no rules except the ones that you believe in. And if you do not learn to bend and shape them, they will snap your mind in half. The mortal imagination is only limited by itself.” The Pigeon King said darkly.

  "Okay," I said. "So how do we get started?”

  "Well, mageling, we don't have time to teach you properly, and I imagine you're quite a poor learner, so we're just going to skip a few steps and use a potion that will, let's say, put you in the correct state of mind," the Pigeon King said.

  "And what does that mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes suspiciously, wary of accepting oaths and potions from creatures of questionable morality and origin.

  "Just that it will open your mind, shall we say. It will make it easier for us to enter into your mind and then into Somnix’s kingdom. Now tell me, how has your Runecrafting studies progressed?" the Pigeon King asked.

  "I've gotten better at it," I replied tersely. "I know how to Craft more effectively, and I understand the mental state required now to do it.”

  "Wonderful," the Pigeon king said. "And you learned that all from your little book, have you?”

  "Maybe," I replied.

  "Good, good. Here is the Rune I will need you to etch." He kicked a roll of parchment towards me. It unfurled and revealed a winding circle that ended with a flick. It looked almost like an eye with a tail.

  "You want me to draw that onto my palm?" I asked him.

  "Drawing will not be sufficient,” the Pigeon King squawked, and three pigeons, hidden in the shades, suddenly fluttered into view. One of them carried a small vial of oozing blue liquid, another carried a heavy black blindfold, and the third carried a very thin, very sharp-looking scalpel.

  "I'm not carving into my hand," I said to him hotly.

  "Oh, please, just a few very light incisions, mageling. Come now, you cannot have such a sensitive disposition if you want to meddle in the Craft!” the Pigeon King said almost jauntily. “Besides, it’s hardly as if you are marring a pristine vessel, is it?” He cast another withering look over my battered and broken body.

  I looked down at the blade, then at the vial.

  "What's that?" I asked.

  "That is the potion to allow you to slip into a deep slumber. However, it will also keep your mind active enough in your dream for us to infiltrate Somnix’s kingdom.”

  "And the blindfold?" I said.

  The Pigeon King shrugged his wings.

  "I thought it would help you relax," he replied.

  "Oh yeah, very relaxing, blindfolding myself and drinking a mystery poisonous potion," I grumbled the words bad-temperedly, and the Pigeon King squawked in amusement.

  "Life is fascinating, isn't it, mortal? You can wake up one day and…”

  "Yeah, whatever,” I said, cutting him off. “So what do I need to do exactly? What am I imagining?"

  “Imagining?” the Pigeon King said.

  "While I'm carving this Rune?"

  "Ah, you mean what is your intention?”

  “Yeah,” I replied shortly.

  “Wonderful, so you have learned something then?” The Pigeon King replied. He stroked his beak thoughtfully with his wing. “I want you to picture yourself sitting where you are right now, one palm on the floor. Then I want you to imagine the entire world crumbling away from you: the earth falling, the buildings disappearing, even the sky going black, and you being sucked into the void. The only thing keeping you from falling is that one piece of stone still under your palm.”

  I swallowed and felt a chill in the air at the Pigeon King's words. His tone somber and serious for a change.

  "For, little mageling," the Pigeon King said. "If that Rune should fail, you will disappear altogether. Your mind will be lost in the labyrinth of your own subconscious or, even worse, in the kingdom of the nightmare wraith, Somnix. Your only lifeline is that Rune.”

  I nodded, feeling the weight of his words. I picked the scalpel up with clammy hands, stretched my neck, and held my palm in front of me, looking at the etchings the Pigeon King had drawn. Despite the frigid temperature in the basement, I was sweating. I closed my eyes, and pictured just as the Pigeon King had said. It took a while, a lot longer than it did when I was in the comfort of my bedroom, for me to find that place of clarity in my mind where nothing existed other than the image. And I could see it: the inky darkness, me sat there, one palm on the floor.

  Instead of picturing an empty void, I saw that eyeless silhouette's mouth stretching wide, wider than the horizon, opening to consume me and the entire world with it. My hand began moving. I didn't feel the cuts. I started from the middle of my palm and began working my way out in a wide, looping, concentric circle. Every now and again, I felt a twinge of pain, maybe because I bit too deep with the scalpel, but I brushed it off and kept picturing the whole world being swallowed: the trees, the seas, the sky, and even the sun being devoured.

  I blinked my eyes open. My face was pouring sweat, and I was breathing heavily. I looked down at my bloody palm and saw the Rune perfectly etched onto the skin of my palm. I shuddered at the sight of it, and suddenly the pain became apparent. I felt like my hand was on fire. I clenched my teeth and gripped my wrist, looking at the Pigeon King who stared at me with impassive eyes. For once, he seemed lost for words.

  “Well done, mageling,” he croaked eventually, his voice little more than a hushed whisper. “You are learning.”

  I wiped sweat from my forehead with my forearm and then looked around. The pigeon assistants were walking in a circle around me, pouring salt by the looks of it, in a perfect circle.

  “What are they doing?” I asked him.

  “Geometric shapes hold a lot of power in the Craft,” The Pigeon King explained. “Certain shapes are better for certain acts and are imbued with different forms of power. Circles are particularly good for creating barriers, for they have no beginning nor any end. They're good for keeping things out and for keeping them in.”

  "Okay," I said. "But why salt?”

  "For a variety of complex metaphysical reasons," the Pigeon King replied. "But to put it simply, salt is a wonderful conductor of supernatural energies. It can be imbued with certain forces that will protect you on our journey."

  "And the burgers?" I asked, pointing at the two wrapped-up fast food burgers in front of me.

  "You'll need your energy, little mageling," the Pigeon King replied. "And I suppose it's a means of apology.”

  "Apology for wha…" I didn't finish my sentence.

  One of the pigeons flew past and dumped a cup of salt onto my still-bleeding palm. The pain was like nothing I'd ever felt before, so sharp, violent, and sudden that I genuinely screamed. I thrashed about, flinging my palm left and right to shake the salt loose. The pain was bone-deep. Suddenly, all the knuckles and joints of my hand began cramping and aching. I looked up at the Pigeon King, my eyes wide and watery.

  "What the—" I gasped.

  "Easy, mageling. Do not disturb the circle," the Pigeon King said sternly as my legs thrashed and kicked.

  "Why did you do that?" I screamed.

  "To seal the Rune," the Pigeon King replied. "The pain will pass. As with most things in your mortal life, it is but temporary. Breathe deeply now and gather yourself.”

  I began breathing sharply, hissing through my teeth, clutching my hand at the wrist. It felt like it was on fire and swelling rapidly, the skin becoming tight. I waved my hand, trying to cool down the burning sensation, and then looked at it again. The Rune certainly looked cleaner now, less bloody, more defined, but that didn't stop the pain, which had now traveled beyond my wrist, up my forearm and into my elbow. Through clenched teeth, I snarled.

  "There we go," the Pigeon King said. "It will pass.”

  Begrudgingly, I had to accept he was right. As sharp and sudden as the pain was, it had already begun to fade slightly. My hand still ached, but it wasn't mind-bending, searing agony anymore. I blew on my hand several more times, then looked up darkly at the Pigeon King.

  "Now, boy, don't cast me such aggrieved looks," he said. "When your mind is safe from being lost in the endless depths of nightmare, you will thank me."

  I mumbled and cursed under my breath.

  "Now eat," the Pigeon King said. "For you will need your strength. We will be departing shortly for the Kingdom of Nightmares and pain will be the least of your concerns.”