Chương 2: A Very Convincing Dream

"Up, boy. We've arrived." Teren jerked awake with a scream caught in his throat, his mind still full of white fire and the memory of his skin melting, his hair burning, and every breath filling his chest with unbearable heat. The wagon lurched beneath him and threw his shoulder into an iron bar. Metal scraped across the floor as the chains around his wrists and ankles pulled tight, but Teren barely felt any of it. He dragged his hands across his face, then through his hair.

His skin was cool and his hair was still there, with nothing hurting except his shoulder and the raw skin around his wrists. When he looked down at his arms, he recognized the same sturdy, rough hands he had seen before, complete with the hard calluses and old cuts across the knuckles. How in the... His head snapped up as he realized where he was. Iron bars surrounded him, with nine other captives crowded inside the cage.

The goblin woman across from him still had dried blood covering one side of her face, while the broad, gray-scaled man sat near the rear and the young boy had his knees pulled against his chest. The older man across from Teren was watching him.

"Ya alright, boy?" Teren looked at him without answering. It was the man who had woken him before, speaking in the same voice from the same place across the wagon. He twisted toward the open side of the cage. Outside, mounted guards rode beside the wagon, with the rest spread along the small caravan. Another cage wagon followed behind them, then a third. He saw the same dry grass and thorny shrubs on the rocky ground beside the caravan. Ahead, the walls of Karthane rose above the road. I'm... I'm still alive...

I'm Teren Marr. Again. He nearly stopped breathing. How the heck am I back here? I'm supposed to be inside the city. I'm supposed to be dead! He remembered actually dying, not merely coming close or losing consciousness from the heat. The white fire had struck him, his skin had melted, and he had tried to breathe with nothing but flame around him. Then, without anything in between, the older man had said,"Up, boy. We've arrived." Teren pressed both hands against his face again. There were no burns.

Was it only a dream? That had to be the explanation. People did not die and wake inside the same wagon, and time did not suddenly move backward because someone had been burned alive. Maybe he had fallen asleep during the journey and the wagon jolting him awake had somehow worked its way into the nightmare. The problem was that the nightmare had been way too detailed, and about a city he had never seen before. The older man across from him tilted his head slightly.

"Ya hit your head on the bars?"

"I..." Teren swallowed. His throat felt dry but unburned.

"Maybe." The man studied him for another moment before turning back toward the road. His casual reaction did little to reassure Teren. He shifted closer to the bars and stared at the city walls ahead, trying to remember exactly what had happened before. If the dream was right, sunlight would reflect against something above the battlements, there would be a moat around the city, and one of the riders would produce a bronze token after they crossed the drawbridge.

For a few seconds, nothing happened, and some of the tightness in his chest began to ease. Then sunlight flashed high above the walls. The curved outline of a transparent surface appeared for an instant before vanishing again. Teren's fingers tightened around the bars. No... As the road continued toward the city, a dark moat came into view around the walls. Guards watched from the gatehouse above, more waited beyond the lowered portcullis, and the lead rider brought out the same bronze token Teren remembered.

Every detail happened exactly as Teren remembered. He pulled away from the bars, still searching for another explanation. Perhaps he had seen the walls, moat, and token before falling fully asleep, and his mind had used them while creating the nightmare. That was possible, but it did nothing to explain the military compound and the crystal turning purple. Or the white fire. The wagons crossed the drawbridge and stopped before the portcullis. Teren looked toward the goblin woman with dried blood on her face.

"This is Karthane," he said. She frowned at him.

"It is." He had hoped she would correct him.

"Have we been here before?" Now she looked at him as if he were an idiot.

"We jus' got here."

"You're sure?"

"What sorta question is that?" Teren turned away. Perhaps someone had mentioned the name of the city while he slept, and maybe he had heard it without remembering the whole conversation. The gate guard inspected the bronze token and pressed his palm against the metal plate on the wall. Pale light spread through the carved grooves. The enormous portcullis began to open. Teren's stomach twisted.

He watched the long gate passage approach, already knowing that there would be orange lights inside glass containers along the walls. As soon as the wagon entered, he saw them. Something inside each container glowed orange without any visible flame, and the light still did not resemble anything electric that he recognized. The wagon wheels and horses' hooves echoed through the passage exactly as he remembered. Teren lowered his head and tried to slow his breathing. This is real.

The chains pressing against his skin, the ache in his shoulder, and the hunger knotting his stomach all felt too sharp and solid for another dream. If everything around him was real, then perhaps the white fire had been the dream instead. It had to be. The wagons emerged into the city. Teren did not spend long staring at the buildings this time.

His eyes moved over the crowded streets, market stalls, carts, and guards as he searched for anything different, but the scaled riding beasts were still there, along with the broad airships moving slowly near the palace hill. He had known they would be. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. A cold feeling settled beneath his ribs. Whatever he had experienced, it had not merely resembled this place.

It had shown him the same city down to details he could not possibly have known beforehand. Was it some kind of warning? A vision of what was about to happen? That made no more sense than going back in time, but it could still be an omen or premonition of some kind. Perhaps touching the crystal would reveal that he was a mage, and somehow lead to an attack on the military compound. Perhaps the vision had shown him what would happen so he would get a chance to stop it. Teren almost laughed. Of course.

Chained in a slave wagon in an unknown world for hardly an hour, and apparently I'm already receiving magical visions. The joke did nothing to settle his stomach. The wagons left the main street and passed through the smaller inner wall. The military compound lay beyond it. Teren stared at the packed-earth yard. The long wooden halls stood exactly where he remembered them. Guards moved between the holding areas. The knight in plate armor was speaking with a few men near one of the fenced yards.

As the wagon turned, cheering rose from somewhere to the left, followed by the same dull impacts he remembered hearing before. Teren's mouth went dry. The wagons stopped, and two guards approached the rear of the cage. One drew out a heavy iron key. Teren looked at the large lizardfolk captive near the opening. The man was already glaring through the bars, his shoulders tense and his chained hands clenched into fists. Teren remembered him throwing himself at the guards and the cudgel striking him in the head.

For a moment, he considered warning the man, but he could not think of anything he could possibly say that would make sense. Don't attack the guards because I watched them beat you unconscious in a dream? The cage door opened.

"Out!" The first captives began climbing down, and the large man went with them. Teren watched him step onto the ground. Don't... The gray-scaled man lunged, driving his shoulder into the nearest guard and knocking him backward.

"Get the bastard!"

"Put him down!" From there, everything played out as Teren remembered. The guards surrounded the large man, a cudgel struck his head, and another blow smashed into his knee. He fell, but they continued beating him until he stopped trying to rise. Teren pressed himself against the bars. The last of his explanations began to fall apart. He had known that the man would attack, where the first blow would land, and even what the guard would shout. A dream could not predict something like this.

Unless none of this was real. Maybe he was still dying, and his mind had trapped him inside the final minutes of his life, forcing him to experience them again. Perhaps this was the dream... One of the guards climbed into the cage. The end of his cudgel was wet with the large man's blood.

"I said out!" The captives scrambled toward the opening. Teren moved with them before the guard reached him. He remembered the short ankle chain this time and stepped carefully over the edge, managing to land on his feet. The packed earth beneath him felt solid enough to make his latest dream explanation seem even less convincing. Soon, the captives were standing in a line with their wrist shackles removed while two guards dragged the large lizardfolk man across the yard by his arms.

His head hung between his shoulders. Teren stared after him. The man had attacked at the same moment, and the guards had beaten him in the same way. If he was right, the clerk would call his name next.

"Teren." His body moved before he consciously decided to obey. The guard who had shoved him during the dream lifted a hand, then lowered it when Teren stepped forward on his own. Finally remembering the wooden tag hanging from his neck, Teren looked down at it. He already knew what it said. Teren Marr. Age 19. No Family. Seeing the words again made his stomach tighten into knots. The older clerk glanced from the tag to Teren's face.

"Any trade?"

"I don't remember." The answer came too quickly. The clerk raised his eyebrows.

"Tools? Animals? Field work?"

"No. I mean, I don't know."

"You know your letters?"

"Yes." The clerk made a note.

"Literate. No listed trade." Teren walked onward before the guard could push him. Seeing the testing contraption ahead immediately brought back the fear he had been trying to control. The cloudy crystal sat inside its brass cage, with the curved metal handle above it. A young man ahead of Teren closed his hand around the grip, making the crystal glow weakly yellow.

"Hm," the scarred yard-master grunted.

"Could be a mage candidate. Take him to Master Edras." The guard on the left laughed, just like the last time.

"Hah! If he's a mage, then I'm an archmage!" The other guard shrugged.

"If Master Edras doesn't see any use for him, he'll send him back. I'd bet this man will be sent back before supper." Nobody took the bet, just as Teren remembered from the dream. Another guard led the young man toward a wooden hall on the far side of the compound. Teren barely watched them leave because his attention had already returned to the yard. The fire had come from somewhere nearby—not from right next to him, but close enough to cross the yard almost immediately.

He scanned the wall, the rooftops, and the spaces between the buildings without finding any white glow or anyone who seemed to be preparing an attack. Was it even a person who had called the white fire? An automated machine? Or a magical beast? A dragon? The goblin woman ahead of him touched the grip. Nothing happened.

"Labor. Suits a damned goblin." She was directed toward the group on the left. Then Teren stood before the device, his palms already beginning to sweat. The yard-master pointed at the handle.

"Hand around it." Instead of obeying immediately, Teren searched the yard again. The guards were in similar positions, and the knight was still near the holding yard. Nobody seemed frightened or appeared to be watching for an attack. The fire hadn't come yet.

"What ya lookin' at?" the yard-master demanded. Teren turned back toward him.

"Nothing."

"Then hold the handle!" Teren stared at it. The dream—or vision, or whatever it had been—had shown him touching this device shortly before the attack, but that did not necessarily mean the two events were connected. This was a military compound in a fortified city, so they had to have enemies of their own. He had no real reason to believe the crystal could have brought that fire. Could it? The guard beside the scarred yard-master rested a hand on his cudgel.

"Ya need help with it?"

"No!" Teren raised his hand, his fingers hovering above the metal. Every part of him wanted to step away, but there was nowhere for him to go. He was chained at the ankles and surrounded by guards with cudgels and swords, so refusing would only earn him a beating at best, while the fire might still come afterward. He curled his fingers around the grip. Cold sank into his palm, along with a faint sensation that seemed to move from his hand into the metal. Teren stiffened. Static? No.

It did not feel like the quick snap of static electricity. It was closer to an electrical current, except that it seemed to be flowing out of his hand and into the handle rather than coming from an outside source. The cloudy crystal flickered for a moment. Purple. Teren was certain of the color this time. The light disappeared a moment later, taking the strange current with it. The crystal went dark once again. The yard-master frowned at it.

"It's spent already?" Teren released the handle and stared at his palm. Nothing had changed. There was no mark, no burn, and no lingering pain. Yet something had left him. Or at least seemed to. The yard-master struck the brass frame with his knuckles.

"Try again." Teren looked around. Still no fire. His breathing became faster anyway.

"What happens when it works?" he asked. The yard-master gave him a hard look.

"Ya get sorted. Grip it." Teren placed his hand around the metal again. The cold returned, but the current was much weaker this time. The crystal remained dark.

"It worked for the last one," a guard commented.

"Nah, it's drained already," the yard-master grunted.

"Fetch another one from the armory." Teren pulled his hand away while sweat ran down the side of his face. The crystal had failed exactly as he remembered. The fire would come next. He turned toward the left side of the compound. That was where he thought he had seen the first white glow before. Nothing. He searched the nearby rooftops. Still nothing. The guards continued talking near him. Maybe the warning had allowed him to change the future. Maybe noticing the attack was enough.

Maybe whoever had brought the white fire had seen him watching and— Heat reached the back of his neck. Teren froze. For one impossible moment, he could not move. Then the heat became unbearable.

"No!" He screamed and spun around. Blazing white fire filled the yard behind him. It rushed toward him faster than any ordinary flame. Slaves and guards vanished inside it before they could even shout for help. Teren tried to raise his arms. His scream ended as the flames hit him. Then everything went dark.