The Truth About Noussoir
Part 4. The Master of Dreams
“I have been having the most disturbing dreams,” declared Malachie du Marais.
The man who sat across the Baron suddenly understood everything and breathed easier.
His name was Temujin, Ethengar in decent, recently immigrated from Bramyra, because of his affliction.
In the past, Temujin was a young well-respected aristocrat, who was often called to Krondaharan court for his keen understanding and astute interpretation of dreams. Once, he was even allowed to join Prince Jherek Virayana IV in his royal hunting trips, which turned out to be most fateful.
During that hunt, Temujin had chosen a quarry, a massive tiger like none he had seen before. The great tiger seemed to a human intelligence to avoid all attacks and attempts of capture. When Temujin finally cornered the tiger, it leapt up and pounced on Temujin, pinning him with its weight, then escaping into the wilderness, but not before leaving Temujin a crucial wound. The wound turned out to be not fatal but quite grave nonetheless. Temujin was attended to by the physicians, and after several painful sleepless nights, was well on his way to health—or so he believed.
On the night of the next full moon, Temujin discovered that he was the recipient of a strange and dangerous affliction, bequeathed to him by the great tiger with human eyes. Temujin had only a vague memory of what happened that night: his whole body aching as if the bones and muscles themselves were being reshaped and reformed, his head pounding with sounds of screaming, ripping, growling, roaring, and more screaming, his eyes burning with images of claws and flesh and blood.
The next morning, Temujin found his household had been savagely massacred. The authorities in Bramyra went on a zealous hunt for a man or a beast of such brutality that it would only walk in nightmares. Fortunately, they did not come to suspect Temujin, who was after all a respectable member of the Krondaharan court, and was now a pitiable orphan and widower.
But Temujin knew the truth of the matter. And before the full moon rose again the next night, he was on his way to Morlay, where he had heard, people of with his affliction could be aided, if not cured.
When he had heard that the Baron of Morlay, Sire Malachie du Marais, had called for him, he feared the worst. Perhaps the Baron, like many Glantrians, did not like the color of his skin, and considered him a barbarian of the Steppes not welcome in his civilized society. Perhaps, the Bramyran authorities had discovered the true killer of his family, and the Baron was only doing his lawful duty to turn him in. Or perhaps, worst of all, considered Temujin, perhaps the rumors about Morlay were untrue, and that Baron Malachie was not a werewolf himself, and that lycanthropes did not walk the streets like any free Glantrian, and that werefolk of all kinds were not welcome in the territory.
Now Temujin breathed easy knowing the Baron of Morlay had summoned him to consult him about dreams.
“How long have you been having such dreams, milord?” asked Temujin.
“A few weeks now,” replied Sire Malachie.
“They all started innocently enough. The first dreams were pleasant, even happy. They were about my infancy and childhood in a time and place long forgotten.”
Baron Malachie recounted the dreams of his warm crib, his mother feeding him on her tender breast, his father holding him against the comforting warmth of his chest.
Temujin was at first embarrassed at the intimate and personal nature of the Baron’s retelling, until when he saw the Baron only had trust and confidence in him, with no sign of malice.
“Pardon me, milord, but may I ask, are you sure that these were dreams and not... memories?”
“Mais, non, mon ami, they could not have been just memories! For one thing, I doubt if any infant can remember the events surrounding his birth and earliest days. And, as you may know, I have lived for a very, very, very long time. I doubt if I, in my considerable age and lifespan, could still remember that far.”
“And yet, milord, you say the images, the sensations, even the smells, are so real and vivid, how could they have been just imaginings?” Temujin argued.
Temujin suddenly realized he had just disagreed with a Glantrian nobleman who was a powerful wizard and possibly the dreaded White Wolf of Morlay. He froze midway between trying to rationalize his argument further, and attempting to take back what he just said.
Baron Malachie quickly saw Temujin’s nervousness but also saw the validity of his reasoning.
With a wide toothy grin, Baron Malachie said, “Eh bien, mon ami! You have me there! But please, let me finish presenting to you my evidence.”
Temujin did not know whether to be relieved or scared of the Baron’s wolfish grin.
The Baron went on to tell Temujin of the succeeding dreams of his adolescence, then youth, and early adulthood. It was as if the Baron was reliving his early life in his dreams, from his first fair in Vyonnes in Old Averoigne to his sitting by the fireplace listening to his aged grandfather tell him stories of werewolves and dragons, to his playful days of exploring the forests of Morlay filled with birds and squirrels and foxes, to his earliest awakenings of love and sex.
“What is quite disturbing, monsieur, is how my dreams have been spilling into my waking hours. Why, only last week, I was hunting in the woods with my men, when I could almost imagine I was with my father and my uncles in their hunting trip of long past. It is a bit distracting, because they are so real,” explained the Baron.
That is quite interesting, milord,” commented Temujin, “although not unheard of.”
Temujin sat back in his chair, lost in his thoughts. He looked up and saw the albino-skinned Baron of Morlay, sitting motionless across him, half-smiling. Behind the obsidian spectacles, Temujin was sure, the Baron was watching him closely.
“And are all your dreams of this nature, milord?” ventured Temujin.
The Baron broke into a large smile, revealing his eyeteeth to be just a bit too long and a tad too sharp.
“I knew I was right in summoning for you!” the Baron proclaimed proudly. “You certainly are a master of dreams!”
Temujin was taken aback, realizing he had just passed a test he did not know he even took.
“The dreams have all been like such,” began Sire Malachie, “until a point. Last week, they changed. I started dreaming of things I have never experienced: waking up in a foreign bed, walking around a strange castle, seeing people I have never met.”
“And these.... dreams, if you can still call them that, occur even when I’m awake. I was reading in my library a few days ago, when suddenly, the room was not as it was. As if suddenly, I was in another chamber I have never been to before. But I took another look, eh voilŕ, I had not moved from where I was! My library was still the same!”
“Most recently, I have been seeing streets and alleyways... and roads! The traveling roads from one dominion to another. I see, roads and trees and wilderness, which only last night did I come to recognize as the forests of Malinbois and southern Morlay...”
The Baron was crouched forward, his chin against his clasped hands, lost in his thoughts. Perhaps he was dreaming right now, Temujin thought.
“May I ask, milord,” Temujin began, “how do you feel?”
“Bon, I feel something is happening... or about to happen...”
“I’m sorry, milord, I meant, what are you feeling? What emotions? What is in your heart at this time when you are dreaming your waking dreams?”
The Baron sat up straight and Temujin was confident he had asked the right question.
The sun had long set and the shadows of the evening were growing long and dark. Sire Malachie du Marais removed his obsidian spectacles, and in the half-light, Temujin saw the Baron looking directly at him with pink albino eyes.
This unnerved Temujin, but no more than the Baron’s reply to his inquiry.
“I feel like I am two people at the same time, like a part of me is another place. And that part of me wants to come home.”
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Epilogue
