Dreamer's Throne

Garrett’s head was pounding, and he could feel dawn coming, threatening to push him out of the dream. More than anything else, he wanted to go to sleep, as he currently felt like a million elephants were trampling through his head. Such was the price to pay after balancing the sights and sounds through thousands of dream flowers, while also participating directly in the fight. There was still much to do, however, and he quickly put his new skills to good use, sending his awareness back up to the city surface and finding the cluster of flowers that was located at the Delver’s Meat Packing plant. With a thought, he activated [Dream Seed], selecting an Overlord seed to plant before pumping his fading mental energy into it. Even with the replenishment of the Dreamer’s Throne, he was running on dregs after killing Agma-Yoth and subduing Lesrak’s flame, and he nearly didn’t have enough energy to cause the large seed to hatch.

With a crack, the seed sprouted dozens of roots that spread out, a massive five petaled flower nearly a dozen times larger than the regular dream flowers following a moment later. The roots merged with the nearby dream flowers as it unleashed a powerful pulse of mental energy. Wherever that pulse spread, the flowers perked up, briefly turning to dip their petals in the direction of the Overlord Bloom. With each dip, Garrett felt the burden on his mind easing as direct control of the flowers were transferred to the massive bloom. He could still feel each of the individual flowers, but it was as if someone else was supporting them without him having to make room in his mind for them.

[All hail the Dreamer on the Throne.]

The Overlord Bloom’s voice was melodious but neutral.

[I am Somnia, at your service. What command do you have for me?]

About to answer, Garrett saw a new notification pop up and he faltered for a second. Shaking his head, he refocused, speaking to the Overlord Bloom through his mind.

Somnia, can you direct the fight against the zombies? I want to minimize casualties among flower holders, without revealing our abilities to the others participating in the fight.

[Yes, my lord.]

Feeling Somnia’s attention sweeping the battlefield, Garrett sent a message to Isabelle and Delrisa, and another to Ryn before looking at the notification that had appeared.

[You have successfully internalized much of Agma-Yoth’s strength, granting you access to the power of Lesrak that the Great Ruler had plundered. You may select one of Agma-Yoth’s skills.]

Skeletal Crown

The authority of Lesrek flows through you, granting you natural control over undead of all types.

-Your mental strength produces a suppressive effect on undead you encounter, causing them to instinctively avoid attacking you.

Skill Level: 1

Skeletal Hand

The power of Lesrek flows through you, granting you the ability to use Lesrak’s tools.

-You may select one of Lesrak’s artifacts, granting you the ability to use it:

-Cauldron of Souls

-Death’s Bed

-Staff of Bones

-Lost Library of the Necromancer

Skill Level: 1

Of the two skills, Garrett was able to dismiss [Skeletal Hand] right away. Clearly, this was the ability that gave Agma-Yoth his title, but to Garrett it was less than useless. First, he had no desire to spend his time trapped in a coffin or making undead monstrosities, and though he thought that the Staff of Bones, and the Lost Library of the Necromancer sounded interesting, he didn’t need Lesrak’s power to control them. Even if he wasn’t currently strong enough to do it, so long as he kept growing, the Dreamer’s Throne would eventually allow him to subdue the mysterious artifacts anyway. That would grant him all four of them, rather than just one.

That left [Skeletal Crown], which was the ability that Garrett found more interesting anyway. As he selected it, he felt another pulse of energy radiating out from him, and felt his connection with the dream flowers in the flower ghouls and Delrisa strengthening. Letting out his breath, he opened up his status to see how he had grown.

STATUS

NAME: Garrett Klein

PATH: Path of the Watcher

SUB-PATH: Dream Gardener

LEVEL: 6

EXP: 303/640

ABILITIES: [9/10]

Whisper of the Dream [1]

Observe the Dream [3]

Dream Seed [5]

Dreamer’s Cloak [1]

Beautiful Bewitchment [3]

Spirit-sucking Thorns [1]

Illusory Dream [2]

Life and Death Bloom [1]

Skeletal Crown [1]

Though his status said that he was on the Path of the Watcher, Garrett knew full well that he had diverted from it a long time ago. His sub-path was closer to his actual path, as that was where he earned most of his experience from. Still, after seeing the [Mirrored Ability] skill that he could have chosen, he was starting to get the feeling that his Path of the Watcher track might be worth exploring further. At the moment, however, it was just time to collapse into bed. He was barely able to keep his eyes open and though much of the pressure had lifted from his head, it still felt as if someone was running a jackhammer inside his skull.

Since he was going to be kicked out of the dream soon anyway, Garrett left the dream, his eyes snapping open and then screwing up as pain lanced through his skull. It wasn’t the run of the mill headache that came with overusing his mental energy, but a deeper and fiercer pain. Through the haze that clouded his mind, Garrett vaguely sensed a burning sensation as Lesrak’s Flame tore through his mind. It wasn’t a tangible fire, otherwise he would have been dead, but the subdued flame that the Dreamer’s Throne had captured and suppressed. Now that he wasn’t inside the Throne’s area of influence, the flame was starting to go out of control once more, causing agonizing threads of pain to shoot through his head.

It didn’t take Garrett long to understand that he wouldn’t survive the next hour if he didn’t do something, but he also knew that returning to the dream was out of the question. The morning sun, though not visible through the thick storm clouds that still blanketed the sky, was about to rise, and as soon as it did, he would lose access to the dream, forcing him to face the ethereal fire burning in his head. Besides, the Dreamer’s Throne could keep the fire under control, but that only worked in the throne’s presence, meaning he was on his own the rest of the time.

That thought triggered an idea, and fighting to keep a clear head in the midst of the thundering pain, Garrett pulled himself up to a sitting position, letting out an involuntary groan as he did. The movement transformed the jackhammer back into a herd of elephants, but he fought through the pain, doing his best to breathe. Each second felt like a full minute, but after a few deep breaths he was able to calm the pain in his head enough to scoot himself back, wedging himself into the corner so he wouldn’t immediately topple over. Thinking was starting to get harder and he could feel the flame trying to burrow its way into his mind, burning apart the dregs of his mental energy as it did.

Forcing himself to focus, he pushed any thought of danger out of his mind, and instead focused entirely on his soul spark. Even after he had shaped his soul spark, he had continued to polish it every day, and now, when he looked at it, he could see the detail that was starting to appear. What had been a rough approximation before was now a passable replica of the Dreamer’s Throne, and as soon as it appeared in his mind, the flame that was trying to burn a hole through him eased back, as if it was instinctively afraid of the throne.

Garrett couldn’t blame it. The Dreamer’s Throne was an uncanny artifact, even as far as mysterious artifacts went, and it made sense for any artifact or power that had already been suppressed to be wary. As far as Garrett could figure, the issue was that while the flame had been brought under control in the dream, it had been subdued by the throne, not by him. Gritting his teeth, he carefully fed his remaining power into his soul spark. This caused the ten petaled flowers under the throne to start spinning in opposite directions, and a heavy aura rolled out of the figure on the throne, slamming into the flame. Immediately, the flame started to fight back, causing the waves of pain to assault Garrett relentlessly once more.

It was all Garrett could do not to black out, but he bit his finger until he tasted blood, the tangy, iron filled taste sending a shock through his system. With a jerk, his body spasmed, threatening to topple him over, but he refused to go down, continuing to feed what little mental energy he had into his soul spark. The flame, though not completely cowed, wasn’t burning nearly so fiercely anymore, but just when he thought he had managed to overcome it, it suddenly counterattacked, attempting to envelop his soul spark and burn him to a crisp. The pain that Garrett felt as the flame ignited his soul spark was beyond anything he had ever experienced, and his brain shut down completely as he went into shock. The very last thing he managed to do before darkness claimed him was utter a single, desperate word.

“Help.”

Throughout the district, there were hundreds of members of the Klein Family who had been battling against the zombies. A few minutes before, the zombie army had suddenly turned and begun to lurch away, almost as if they were retreating. Unable to believe their eyes, the exhausted fighters looked at each other and then after the zombie horde.

“Should we chase?” Abbius asked, cradling his crossbow in the crook of his arm as he chugged down some water.

“Are you crazy?” Maximus asked, stabbing his sword into the ground and pulling out a wineskin.

From the smell when he uncorked it, the wineskin held something much stronger than wine, but he took a long pull without changing his expression and then tossed the wineskin to Helger, who caught it with practiced ease and took her own drink. Seeing some of the gang members who Cynen had sent coming their direction, Maximus wiped his mouth and pulled his sword from the ground.

“Are we supposed to chase?”

“No, we stay here and maintain the defensive line until the army arrives. Your name is Coleridge, right?”

The leader of the Cleaver’s Edge mercenary group gave Maximus a look and nodded.

“That’s right.”

“Your men fight better than almost anyone I’ve seen,” the awakened warrior said, grinning. “And your tactics are tight too. You sure you’re not part of the army? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that plant and sweep formation on the battlefield before.”

Faint surprise colored Coleridge’s face as he took a better look at Maximus.

“Ten years in the service of Port Reverie, and another ten fighting in the nobles war,” Coleridge said, “and my men with me.”

“That must be where I saw you. I fought in the nobles war as well.”

Seeing Captain Fernek hurrying over, Leff nudged Maximus who turned around, his eyebrows rising when he saw the captain’s blood covered uniform.

“Are you okay, captain…uh.”

“Captain Fernek,” Fernek said, introducing himself. “Have the zombies all retreated?”

“Yes, it seems so,” Leff replied, turning and scanning the dark graveyard.

“Were there any major breaches?”

“No, not a single one,” Coleridge said, spitting on the ground. “We’ve been running up and down the defensive line all night, and not even one zombie got through. There were some close calls, but the army showed up just in time. Same can’t be said for the northwestern wall though. I hear the zombies broke through up there.”

Looking like he didn’t believe the mercenary commander, Captain Fernek peered down the line, but there were none of the screams or clashes of weapons that he had expected.

“Weren’t there casualties?” he asked, his voice full of disbelief.

“Hundreds,” spat Coleridge, his expression hard. “Almost all of them citizens until the soldiers showed up and stepped in. We lost a couple men as well. None of whom would have fallen if your army had been doing their job and come at the beginning of the fight.”

Though he wanted to protest that he and his men had been doing everything they could, the looks directed his way caused him to swallow his words. Instead of offering an excuse, he bowed his head.

“You are correct. My deepest condolences for your losses. There is no excuse for the terrible way the army has acted this night.”

Grimacing, Coleridge waved his hand.

“You don’t need to try that on me, Captain. I know just what the army is like. It’s not the officers, I’m sure, but those who stand above them. At least they came at all.”

Hearing a loud roar in the distance, everyone turned to look toward the northern part of the district where they could see the flashes of power as the army and the Maragoth clashed. The six powerful warriors who had led the charge toward the beast were coordinating with the adventurer’s guild to keep the monster locked down, preventing it from charging south, despite its desperate attempts. Only a few minutes earlier, the dark energy that animated it had suddenly begun to burn away, leaving the undead monster weakened, and the powerful attacks hammering into it had weakened it even further. Sensing an opportunity, Kinsley, who had been resting at the side, suddenly stood up, causing Asher, who was next to him to flinch.

“What are you doing?”

Grinning, a crazy look in his eyes, Kinsley pointed at the struggling Maragoth as he spoke to Asher.

“Hey, do you reckon that they give experience like the nightmares do?”

Looking at the Maragoth and then at Kinsley, it took a moment for Asher to register what his companion was asking. When he did, he quickly shook his head.

“Kinsley, no. That’s a bad idea. We have no idea if it does or not. It probably doesn’t even give regular experience. The zombies didn’t! Stop!”

“Too late,” Kinsley said happily, flames starting to lick at his fingers as a bright ember appeared in his palms.

Taking a step back, Asher stared at Kinsley in disbelief as the red-headed awakened’s hair lit on fire. Letting out a hot breath, Kinsley fixed his eyes on the Maragoth and began to run forward. With each step he took, the flames in his hands grew hotter and their crimson glow crept higher on his hands. By the time he was close to the fight, he was sprinting at full speed, and flames were streaming out behind him. Pax, who had just smashed her mace into the Maragoth’s leg, saw the burning man coming from the corner of her eye, and heard Estel’s frantic shout. Abandoning any semblance of defense, Pax turned and sprinted away, moving as fast as she possibly could. As she did, she shouted for everyone to run.

“Retreat! Evacuate!”

A few of the army warriors stared at her in disbelief, but even the Maragoth had tried to turn and flee, making them realize that something was going on. Like a comet, Kinsley slammed into the Maragoth’s chest, the flames he had been building up exploding like a volcano. The explosion tore the undead creature’s chest apart and the rolling flames that rose like a mushroom transformed anything they touched into ash. Bone was crushed by the shock wave and the corrupt mental energy was boiled away. Unable to escape due to the chains holding it down, the maragoth faced the brunt of Kinsley’s attack and in its weakened state, it had no chance to survive. With a keening wail that was lost in the aftershock of the attack, the Maragoth collapsed, signaling the end of Lesrak’s March.