Deja Fu

“Do you think this petty circle can hold me forever, little mage?”

The demon roared into the night sky. It stood in the center of a large pentagram, encircled with blood, and illuminated with candles nestled into wrought-iron holders at the cardinal points. The encasement had been drawn in the center of a large clearing, deep within the forest. It stood in the center of a roaring fire – the manifestation of the portal through which it was summoned. The flames glowed brightly, illuminating the clearing, but this deep within the forest there was little chance of passerby interfering with the ritual, and even smaller hope that help could be obtained, if something went wrong.

Mark stood at the edge of the clearing, having backed away from the circle as the demon’s shape began to take form. He had watched in awe, as the enormous figure standing before him seemed to coalesce from the smoke. The demon stood at least eight feet tall heavily muscled, with large claws protruding from the ends of his fingers and rows of sharp teeth that glistened with saliva. Although the creature had neither the tail, nor horns of legend, Mark noticed that its legs did end in cloven hooves. An engine of destruction stood before him, and Mark knew by summoning it, he had placed himself in the most grave danger.

The demon shrieked, his face pointed toward the moon above, and slashed at the air with his talons. It turned, and faced Mark, its gaze unwavering; watching Mark’s every move. For his part, Mark edged out from the woods, cradling the tome containing the words of power, and walked slowly toward the circle. This was the crucial part, Mark knew. In the next few moments, Mark could gain control over the creature, if he were strong enough. If he wasn’t, disaster. As he walked, he quickly scanned the magical circle for any signs of a breach, but saw none. Mark knew that as long as the circle held, the demon could not reach him.

As he neared the circle, Mark opened the book he carried, and flipped through its pages until he reached the next incantation he was supposed to use. Then, standing next to the circle, the demon crouched and watching, Mark closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

With one foot, he reached out, and drug it through the circle of blood.

Mark waited, eyes closed, heart pounding, for the inevitable. Any moment now, and the demon would realize what he had done, would cross the distance between the two, and render him into gore and blood. It would be a quick death, he thought. The very summoning of the demon should have angered it into a vile, tempestuous bloodlust.

He screamed, and jumped when he felt a talon poke him on his right shoulder. Closing his eyes tighter, he prepared for the first blow, and his bladder almost let go when he heard the demon speak.

“What… do you think you’re doing?” It said.

Mark opened his eyes to find himself looking directly into the demon’s face. He could count the individual fangs in its mouth, smell the brimstone stench of its breath, and feel the heat radiating from its body.

Mark stepped back, his mouth open, drawing breath for a scream. The creature casually reached forward, and enclosed the front half of Mark’s head within its fist.

“No. No screaming, please. Take your time. Compose yourself.” It said.

Mark screamed anyway, but the sound was muffled to a fraction of its volume. The book fell from his hands, to land with a soft thud in the grass. After a few minutes, the sounds diminished, and the creature released his head. Mark gasped for fresh air, coughing away the stench that seemed to stick to his skin.

“Are you finished, or are you going to scream some more?” the demon asked.

“I’m finished,” Mark said, surprised to hear the words coming out of his mouth. “I think.”

“Good.”

The creature lowered itself to the ground, and proceeded to sit in front of Mark. It looked the young human over, appraising whether or not he was going to run. Probably not, it decided. If he were going to, certainly he would have when it let go of his head. When it had finished, it pointed to the ground in front of it, inviting Mark to sit in front of him.

Mark brushed the sandy blonde hair out of his eyes, and sat down in front of the demon. It reached between them, and plucked the tome from the ground. With dexterity belied by its size, it turned the book over in its claws, opened it, and began to leaf through the pages.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” Mark asked. “I broke the circle. I removed the bindings. Why am I still alive?”

“Auf dem Zusammenrufen der Dämonen und der Alpträume,” the demon said, almost to itself. It looked up at Mark.

“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” There was no reply.

“Do you speak German?”

Mark looked from the demon’s face, to the book, and back again.

“Yes.”

“Well that’s good. I’d hate to think you were just reciting with little understanding of what you were doing. So, you meant to summon me? Interesting. I didn’t think that there were any sensitives left on this world.”

Mark suddenly realized he needed a cigarette. As the demon went back to paging through the book, he fished out a cigarette and lit it. The routine calmed him a bit, the nicotine a bit more.

“Please,” he said. “Why am I still alive?”

“Hmm? Oh, because I’m interested, that’s why?” the demon replied.

“Interested? In me? How?”

The demon closed the book and looked back at him.

“In the eighth century, a Kabbalist who called himself Abraham Zaliger managed to summon, and imprison me for forty-seven years. He penned the original of this volume, which your German translators have called On the Summoning of Demons and Nightmares. To this date, he is the only one of your race who was able to summon, imprison and dismiss me successfully.” The demon scowled.

“How many others have summoned you?” Mark asked.

“Twenty-nine. You make thirty.”

“Out of the other twenty-eight, I was able to escape my imprisonment and exact my vengeance. I feasted on their flesh, and some I killed so slowly, it took a decade to die under my imprisonment. Some fell quickly, some over time, and one fellow, a Geoffrey of Windsor, was able to hold me until he lay on his deathbed.” The demon looked at Mark, and he swore it was grinning. “He lay there for a whole year before I let him die.

“Now you… you’re something else. Not in three thousand years has someone willingly broken their own barrier of protection. Not only did you do that; you stood your ground, and waited for me to kill you. I guess I would really have to ask, why would you do something like that?”

Mark looked at the ground. His cigarette had long since become a single, long cylinder of ash. He thought for a moment, and his voice cracked as he spoke.

“I’m tired. I’m really, really tired. I’m tired of trying to make myself understood. I’m tired of trying to please everyone, and getting nothing in return. I’m tired of being ’special’ just because I might be smarter, or more ambitious than others might. I’m tired of waking up everyday, knowing that nothing is going to change.”

The demon said nothing. It merely looked at Mark.

“Nothing seems to work right. I get a good job; I start to miss out on having a girlfriend. I get a girlfriend, and things begin to fall apart. I lose the girlfriend, and the rest of my life seems to pick up without me even being interested in it. It’s getting stupid.”

“What’s a girlfriend?”

“Huh? I dunno. A mate?”

“Ah, a mate. This I understand. So you want to die because you don’t have a mate?” The demon began to chuckle to itself. “I spend years held captive by men who could have cared less about the pleasures of the flesh, who used my talents to make themselves powerful, respected and even feared. My name is called across the ages as an instrument of terror, but now I’m called to give advice on the ways of love? Hahahahahaha!”

Mark couldn’t believe it. The demon was actually laughing at him. He forgot his fear of the creature, and picked up the nearest rock.

“Shut up! I didn’t summon you for your conversation. I summoned you to kill me!” He threw the rock at the demon’s head with as much force as he could bring to bear. It bounced of the top of its head, and the demon continued to laugh.

“Little man, you have no idea who you are, do you?” the demon asked, after his laughter had subsided.

Mark looked at up it, curiously. “What do you mean?”

“You just accomplished something, that at the height of magic in your world, not one in ten thousand humans could do: you successfully summoned me. Now, with the magic in the world fading, the odds are probably closer to one in one million. You are gifted like very few others, and yet your own blind arrogance prevents you from seeing it.”

“Arrogant? How the hell am I arrogant? Arrogance assumes it gets whatever it wants. I get nothing I aim for, except the means to my own death.”

“Why would you feel entitled to get anything you aim for? Especially the things you lust after the most.

“I’ve read your histories, your literature. I’ve talked with my captors (all the while scheming to break free). I’ve watched your race live their short, frantic lives, constantly in pursuit of one goal, or wish, or object they think they want. All the while oblivious to the constant stream of things they could have if they just stopped for one moment.

“Your people amuse me. They spend their lives in misery, all the while never knowing that happiness lies around a corner they never think to look around.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re amused.” Mark said, but the sarcasm was faded. He honestly couldn’t believe his own ears. It was actually saying things that were true.

“So? I’m not the one, who suffers, am I? I believe it was one of your philosophers, who said, ‘All happiness comes from the desire for others to be happy. All misery comes from the desire for oneself to be happy.’ Perhaps if you stopped focusing on yourself so much, you’d find the answers you were looking for.

“In any event, we’re finished here. I’m no longer interested. Rather, I’m bored. I was so looking forward to another challenge. As I said before, it has been a long time, and it might be even longer before the next opportunity.”

The demon stood. Mark followed, brushing the dirt from his jeans. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the indigo beginnings of dawn. It would be light soon.

He looked up at the creature, which simply stared back at him. He thought for a moment about what had been said, and found himself in agreement with more of it than was comfortable. Perhaps it was right. Perhaps he had been too wrapped up in his own needs. Maybe, just maybe, if he focused on other things, it all might fall into place. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned and began to walk back to the edge of the woods.

The talon caught him in the center of his spine, shattering it. Mark felt his legs go dead, even as it pushed its way through his entrails, protruding just below his breastbone. He tried to scream, but could only manage a small gurgle. The creature lifted him off the ground, and brought its face next to his head.

“Abraham was the only one to escape my clutches,” it said. “I hope you understand, but I was right: you do get the things you’re looking for, when you least expect them.”

The demon reached up with its left hand, grasping Mark’s head. It smiled as it heard the crunch of bone, felt the slick, warm blood running through his fingers. It tossed Mark’s corpse away with a flick of his wrist. Walking back to the portal, it licked the cranial fluid and blood from its fingers and smiled.

Trust always makes the blood so much sweeter, it thought, walking through the flames.

When Mark brought the hammer down on the last fragment of an old love, it shattered, its crystalline structure collapsing, and set into motion several phenomena. Miles away, a woman sleeping next to her husband awoke startled to find that she was crying, wondering why she had be dreaming about an old lover. Sensitives in the area shuddered, feeling as if an icy finger has traced its way, slowly and deliberately up their spine. To any who were gifted with the empathy, an Aurora Borealis hung above a small peak in the North Georgia mountains, easily seen for a few hundred miles in either direction.

Mark collapsed, feeling an adrenaline rush as the years of lost energy swirled around, then through him. He felt himself grow hard down the leg of the old denim jeans he wore. He felt the energy pulling and tugging at the black silk shirt, causing the tails to whip in a maelstrom that only existed on a facet of reality. He saw his tears falling away from his face, wetting the ground and the knees of his jeans.

He couldn’t stop smiling.

He heard the snap of a branch breaking and looked back at Victoria, who had emerged, from the edge of the woods, running towards him. He watched her: the way her legs crisscrossed as she pushed up the hill; the way her breasts swayed under the T-shirt she wore; the way her aura flickered across a spectrum of colors, revealing her confusion.

He stood, wiping at his eyes and at the locks of hair that, when they fell into his face, stuck to his cheeks from the tears. She reached him, throwing herself against him, and wrapping her arms tight in a hug.

“Easy. Easy,” he said. “I’m alright.”

She held on to him for a moment longer, and then let go, backing away to look at him. The first thing she noticed was that his eyes had gone from gray to silver, making the long blonde hair almost alabaster in the moonlight. The more remarkable thing, however, was the smile he was wearing. Damn, she thought to herself, you’d almost think he’d just gotten laid. Vicky smiled inwardly at that thought, and blushed a little — she had felt him along her leg when she hugged him.

They stood there for a moment, then Mark reached into his shirt pocket, and fished out a pack of Marlboros. Taking two from the pack, he lit them both with a Bic stored in the pack, before handing her one. They smoked for a minute, in silence, before Vicky spoke up.

“So, you want to tell me what that was all about?” She asked, looking up at him.

Mark took another drag on his cigarette, exhaled with a sigh. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Out of all the times we’ve talked, when have I ever thought you were crazy.”

“Well, there was that one waitress from Applebee’s.”

Vicky reached out and playfully slapped him on the shoulder.

“Out with it. Now.”

“Okay. Okay. No more hitting me,” he said.

He sat on the ground, motioning for her to join him. One last drag on the cigarette, and he field-stripped it, before sending the filter into the woods with a flick of his finger. Taking a breath, he began:

“When I was a kid, I could always tell when I was in trouble with my parents. They always said it was because I had a guilty conscience, but that really wasn’t it. I could walk down the stairs, and enter the den with their backs turned to me, and I could feel that I was in trouble. It was just in the air. Every time I got that feeling, sure enough, I had done something wrong, and they were just waiting to confront me about it.

“Things got even weirder as I got older. I had a continual series of nightmares for six months, that I couldn’t remember. My parents would wake me, and ask what I had been dreaming. Apparently, I’d start talking, but as soon as I really woke up, I couldn’t remember anything. When I was thirteen, I saw my first aura.”

“I’m sorry. Aura?” Vicky asked.

“Yeah, it’s hard to explain, but it’s a color around a person. Like a field that reflects a general idea of their emotional state.”

“So you can tell when someone’s in love, for instance?”

“No. Nothing that precise, but I can see happiness, worry, sorrow, and occasionally, when someone is about to die.”

“Die?” Vicky pulled back a little.

“Yeah. I told you this was going to be weird. Listen, just bear with me. It all makes sense in the end.”

She nodded.

“I was walking home from High School, taking a shortcut behind the A&P, when I saw this homeless woman. She was just lying against the side of the building, a stroller filled with bags next to her, watching me as I walked past. I wasn’t even going to give her two thoughts, but then I caught sight of her aura, a mottled black and gray. It seethed and pulsed around her — most people’s are fairly solid. Scared the hell out of me, so I took off. Next day, it was in the paper. She had died overnight.”

“That’s horrible!” Vicky said, bringing her hands up to her mouth. “Do you always see it?”

Mark shook his head. “No. I don’t even see auras all the time. Mostly with people that I’m close to, but every now and then, I catch one off a stranger.

“Well, eventually, I met a girl, and fell in love for the first time.”

Vicky smiled. “Well, now that is weird,” she said, grinning at him. “Can I get another smoke from you?”

Mark fished the pack out again, and lit their cigarettes.

“It wasn’t long after we were dating,” he continued, “when I found a crystal sitting on my dresser — an amethyst crystal as a matter of fact. Kinda threw me for a loop, you know? since I didn’t remember ever owning one? I figured my girlfriend had left it for me.

“Over the next few months though, as we got closer, it started to grow. It didn’t get gigantic or anything, but it was definitely getting larger. It really freaked me out.”

“I bet.”

Mark took a drag and exhaled blue smoke into the night sky.

“That wasn’t the oddest part though. The oddest part was that every time I touched it, or picked it up, I could feel the two of us together. I’d pick it up, and every feeling, every memory; every moment would flow through me. It was amazing. Weird, but amazing.

“I had to find out what was up, so I headed down to Little Five Points, and looked around. In one of the bookstores there, I found a few references to magicians who hid their hearts in golden eggs. You know, so they could be immortal.”

“Well, of course.”

Mark looked at her sideways. “You promised you’d listen.”

“I’m sorry. This is getting a little far-fetched though, even for me. I’m listening.”

“I was just trying to get some idea of what was going on. I mean, for all I knew, it was just my overactive imagination.

“Things got weirder when we broke up. It was horrible, but then again, aren’t all the first times people get their hearts broken? I would cry myself to sleep at night, holding onto the crystal, letting myself get lost in the memories and feelings. It helped. Eventually, I told myself I’d gotten over her, and soon I met someone else.”

“We’d been dating for about a month when the second one appeared.”

“Huh? Second one?” Vicky asked. She shifted, sliding her feet underneath her.

“Yeah, a second one. Now I really wanted to know what was going on. When I picked up the second one, I could feel all the memories, feelings, everything about my second relationship, just the same way I could use the other crystal to remember the first. Except, it wasn’t as clear. I don’t really know how to describe it — it was cloudy.”

“Like there was interference?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a good word. Well, that relationship lasted about two years, and it fell apart. I went through break-up number two, but it was easier than the first, and every now and then, I would hold the quartz that had arrived, and remember her as well.”

It was then that Mark reached into his other pocket and produced a piece of quartz in his hand. It lay there, reflecting the moonlight, and glowed softly.

“This is the quartz.”

For the first time, Vicky looked over at the spot where he’d been kneeling, and saw a light purplish powder covering the surface of a flat boulder. She looked back at the quartz, and shuddered.

“It started to dawn on me right about that time what was going on.” Mark said, putting the quartz back in his pocket. “I don’t know how or why it happens, but these form when I fall in love. They’re pieces of me.”

Vicky started shaking her head. “Look Mark, we’ve been friends a long time. You know I’ve never regretted helping you get over Michelle, but this is a little crazy.”

Mark smiled. “Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? I didn’t think you’d believe me just from a story. Let me show you.”

Mark produced an aquamarine and, taking Vicky’s hand placed it into the open palm.

There was a flash, and Vicky felt the memories begin to flow through her. Flashes of a bowling alley, at two o’clock in the morning – the lanes aglow in neon as black lights played over the balls and pins; a stolen kiss in the cave of a miniature golf course, hearts pounding with the thrill of possibly getting caught; tears blinding as they ran down his face, she had just told him goodbye for the last time.

She threw the stone back at Mark, who caught it easily.

“That… that’s just not right.” She said, pointing at the stone. Mark put it back in his shirt pocket.

“I don’t know if it’s ‘right’ or not, but it’s real.” He said. “The feelings will go away in a few minutes. It’s only stays with you if you’ve been holding them for a long time.”

“So that’s why we’re out here? You’re destroying old memories?” Vicky asked, still a bit shaken.

Mark shook his head. “It goes a bit deeper than that. You see, I had a theory, a pretty solid one, but I didn’t know if it was true or not until just a few minutes ago.

“There’s part of me in these stones.”

“Part of you?”

“I mean part of me. I don’t know how or why, any more than I know why the auras come, but it happens. These are pieces of me, in those relationships, made real. What’s worse is that, as each piece of me gets trapped in these stones, that’s less of me that I have to give to the person in my life.

“I’m not stupid, or naive. I know that one of the reasons it didn’t work out with Michelle was because of the past. She tolerated me talking about it, only because she loved me, but no one wants to be in a relationship where they have to compete with the ghosts from someone’s past.”

Vicky nodded slowly. She remembered helping Mark get over Michelle. That had been an ugly break-up, with lots of anger and tears. Vicky remembered thinking it was doomed from the start. She had Mark pegged as the type who came with a lot of baggage, but this — this she hadn’t counted on. Yet, it made sense, and she wanted to believe.

“I wasn’t sure what was going to happen,” he said. “I didn’t know if I’d get that piece of myself back, or if it would get worse, but I knew I couldn’t keep going the way things were. I had to do something. I’ve thought about this for a long time, but I was always afraid of the consequences. I got tired of being afraid.”

Mark stood and walked back over to the boulder, bending to pick up the silver hammer.

“One down, two to go.” He said. “And I’ll have myself again for the first time in a long time.”

“Can you feel her anymore?” Vicky asked.

“No, no I can’t.” Mark said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the quartz. “I can remember, but I don’t re-live it. It’s more like looking at someone else’s life than my own, but that’s normal. All the people we meet in our lives, the constant flow of people as they drift through moments of our time, they leave their impressions on us. But the memories fade, until, one day, you’re looking through the photo album of someone else’s life.”

“How does it feel?” she asked, remembering his erection and blushing again.

“Better than you can imagine,” he replied.

“Oh, I bet I can.” She said, smiling, as he put the quartz on the boulder, and raised the hammer, readying another strike.

“Mark?”

“Hmmm?”

“What was the opal I saw sitting on your dresser the other day?”

The hammer came down in a flash of silver. Above them, the Aurora Borealis pulsed once, and then glowed even brighter in the sky.

Gabriel Strosser lay back against the sofa, letting the opium work its way through his system. He breathed slowly, in and out, regularly, allowing himself to relax into whatever visions visited him. He was looking for one in particular. A vision he had had just a month ago. A vision that haunted him during the day, and insidiously worked its way into his dreams at night.

In the corner of the rented room, a tall, thin figure stood. With hair the color of night, and skin of alabaster, he dispassionately observed Gabriel drawing from the pipe. He wore a black suit, with an overcoat lined with flames near the bottom hem. He was unseen, and would remain so until he decided otherwise. He was Dream of the Endless, and it was not boredom, nor pleasure that drew him here – it was duty.

“My sister,?? he said to the air. “I am neither in my gallery, nor do I have your sigil. Yet, I would ask you to come to me. Will you???

A breath later, and a young woman stood by his side. She wore a dress of black buttoned from neck to ankle, each button a perfect mother-of-pearl. She looked around the room, noticing the clothes heaped into a corner, the food uneaten and rotting on the table, maggots starting to appear on the beef still sitting on a plate. On a desk, papers were strewn about, inkwells turned over staining the wood. She looked over and saw Gabriel, his eyes glazed over, as the opium took hold. Then she turned, and looked at her brother.

“Hi, Dream. He’s at it again.?? She sighed.

“Yes. It would appear he is more tenacious then I thought.??

“It’s only going to get him into trouble,?? she replied. “Can’t you warn him away. Spook him or something???

“My sister,?? Dream said. “You know I cannot forcibly deny anyone entrance to my realm, least of all those who give us power.??

She sighed. “Yeah, I know. It’s just that – it’s just that I hate seeing someone so talented waste himself on something he’ll never have. You haven’t left it in the castle again, have you???

Dream reached to his belt, pulling the coat aside. A small pouch hung from it, which Dream fingered absently.

“No. I shall not make that mistake a second time.??

Gabriel began to see the trails appearing as he moved his head back and forth, looking at the candles that lit the room. He would make it this time. Yes. He would make it back to the castle, in the center of the Dreaming. He’d been there once. Just once.

Gabriel sank back into the cushions, all the while remembering his visit. Remembering what it had been like to visit the heart of the Dreaming.

***

The journey had begun, like most, with a conversation. Sitting in McDougal’s pub, Gabriel was surprised when a rather attractive woman sat next to him at the bar. She had skin the color of milk, shoulder-length dark brown hair, and ruby-red lips. Her body was slender, her breasts small underneath her clothes. However, the oddest part was that she was dressed in a man’s suit of gray wool. She took a cigarette from a small purse, fit it to a holder, and lit it with a candle sitting on the bar.

“Hello, Gabriel.?? She said, nonchalantly drawing from the cigarette.

“Pardon me, miss. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. How do you know my name???

She smiled then. “I know a lot of things. I know your desire to become a published author. I know your desire to use, shall we say, unconventional methods of stimulating your imagination. I know your desire for the pretty little barmaid in the corner.??

She reached across them, cupping her hand into his crotch. Gabriel jumped.

“Excuse me!?? he said. “You presume an awful lot for someone I’ve never laid eyes on before. Furthermore, you still haven’t told me your name.??

She leaned back, laughing to herself. “Gabriel, you are very funny, but tell me this: was what I said false in any way???

He thought for a moment, and then answered.

“I’m forced to admit, no. Everything you said was true.??

She laughed again.

“You may call me Desiderio, if it helps you.??

“Desire???

“Ah, you’re an educated man. Yes, Desire is one of many names I am known by. It falls within my power to fulfill any or all of those things you’ve mentioned, or even those you never speak of.

“Tell me, Gabriel. What is it you desire most???

“The truth.??

“The truth??? She giggled. “Then why waste your talent writing fairy tales of things that never existed? Why not desire to become a great orator???

“Well…?? he began, “I’m not a very good speaker. In fact, it’s been a wonder I’ve been able to hold this conversation for as long as I have. However, that’s not the real reason: you’re wrong. There is truth to be found in every dream, in every story, from the lowliest barroom tale, to the oldest stories themselves.??

She raised an eyebrow.

“Is there now? How are you so sure???
Gabriel stared back into his glass.

“I can’t really say for sure. It’s not something I know, like a quadratic formula. It’s something I know in my heart.??

“Would you like to know for sure???

He gulped down the rest of his beer, and let out a deep breath.

“Who wouldn’t???

She smiled at him again, her eyes now glowing with a predatory look.

“Then buy me a drink, and I’ll tell you how.??

***

Gabriel reached down and loaded the pipe once more. He could hear the individual wings of the flies, hovering over his untouched plate. He could feel the vibrations of the passerby, as they walked along the cobblestone street. The trails were thick and now hovered in the air for almost a minute, before dissipating into nothingness.

Using a candle, he lit the pipe once more, and inhaled even deeper than the last time. He was close, he told himself. Just a bit more and he would pierce the veil, and return from whence he was banished.

Dream and his sister still watched him, silently. They waited until he was full into the stupor, and then she spoke.

“You’re going to let him do it, aren’t you???

Dream looked down at his sister. His face showed no emotion whatsoever.

“I don’t understand.??

“You’re going to let him continue to try and breach the castle.??

“My sister, I cannot keep him from entering my realm; however, I most surely can control where he goes during his visit.??

She sighed.

“He’s really a nice guy, if you took the time to speak with him,?? she said.

“We have spoken. Once. It was more than enough.??

***

Gabriel rushed back to his rented room. As he walked along the street, his eyes glanced nervously, left and right. His right hand fingered the package nervously. Once he reached the hotel, he quickly went to his room, closed and locked the door, and found his pipe. After loading it, he sat back against the plush cushions, lit it, and deeply inhaled.

The pipe fell from his hand and hit the floor, spilling its contents. They smoldered there on the wood, but quickly were extinguished.

Gabriel felt the room warp, and then fade as if a heavy fog surrounded him. He felt his breathing grow rapid and shallow. A cold sweat broke on his forehead. Gradually, his vision began to tunnel. Gabriel gasped, fearing what would happen if he blacked out.

And then everything sharpened back into focus, but nothing was the same.

Gabriel stood in the center of an enormous hall. Corinthian columns rose up on either wall, while he stood on a floor of polished marble. The ceiling rose high into the air. At the far end, however, a throne sat upon a raised dais. The throne itself seemed to be carved from night itself, adorned with jewels the size of grapefruit.

Gabriel gaped at the room. For a few minutes, he was completely bedazzled by the scale, and rich beauty. Then he remembered why he was there, and slowly made his way toward the throne.

Desiderio had warned him that if he were caught, there was nothing she could do to help him. He was inside the castle of Dream himself. He had found his way to the very heart of the Dreaming; courtesy of the “special?? brand of opium she had supplied him.

In that bar, Desiderio had told him about the tools Dream used, as part of his duties for the Dreaming. She told him about the helm, carved from the bones of a dead god; the ruby pendant – the focus of much of his power; the small pouch, which contained the very essence of dreams themselves. There, she had said, would he find the answers which had eluded him. What the pouch contained would give him dreams of such purity and vision, that the very nature of truth itself would be laid before him.

Gabriel licked his lips, and glanced around nervously. Once satisfied that no one was in the room, other than himself, he began to ascend the dais, toward the throne. On a small table, seated beside the throne, was the pouch he sought. His hand trembled as he reached down to pick it up. Both hands were shaking as he pulled the drawstring keeping it closed. With the index finger of his right hand, he gently slid his finger into the pouch.

***

Gabriel was on his fifth bowl now. The visions were coming with regularity, getting sharper and clearer with each draw. He had reached the Dreaming again. In his dreams, he walked an ancient path, a path that had only one destination: the castle. The path led through a forest and meadow of emerald green, as if the beauty of the rolling hills of Ireland had been amplified a thousand fold. He walked past brooks, and streams, always catching sight of the castle over the next hill. Any minute now, he told himself. Just one more hill, one more river to cross, and he would be at the gate of the castle. Let this King try and stop him then.

He remembered sliding his finger into the pouch, and feeling the sand contained within. In less than a moment, he felt the Universe open to him. He experienced the fame and glory that was due him – he was the most celebrated writer of his day. He felt the soft warmth of the woman beneath him, one of many he had had that week, every one cultured and educated yet writhing beneath him like the prostitutes in the Red Light district. He experienced the sweet joy of adulation, as the crowds swelled to hear him speak. He was Cicero, Shakespeare, Milton, Plato, Aristotle, Sophocles, Homer; the list went on and on. People whispered his name in reverence for the truth he brought to everyone.

Gabriel Strosser — modern-day Prometheus, bringing fire down from the gods themselves, enriching every life on Earth. King of Infinite Space, and Time Immemorial.

He was tired. It seemed that the journey was a lot longer than he thought. Yet, he had come further than he ever had before. All he needed was to keep taking the opium, and he could remain in the Dreaming indefinitely. He didn’t even notice the actions of taking the drug itself anymore. His mind had detached, and the body acted on orders given long ago. He shrugged, and continued to trudge along the path.

In the corner, the pair continued to watch in silence.

***

Gabriel screamed when he heard his name whispered from behind him. Quickly pulling his finger back, he pulled the drawstring tight, and held it close, attempting to conceal it with his hands.

He turned, and looked at the figure before him.

A young man, with skin the color of alabaster, dressed in a black wool suit stood before him. His hair, also black, stood out in an unkempt fashion on his head. But it was his eyes. Looking into his eyes was like looking into a pit so dark and deep, that it went on forever.

“May I ask what you’re doing here??? the young man enquired.

“Well, umm, you see…?? Gabriel stammered. “I really don’t know where I am. I just arrived here.?? He stood with his arms crossed behind him, hands cradling the pouch.

“Actually Gabriel, I believe you know exactly where you are. I believe you know who I am. Finally, I believe you know I cannot allow you to steal from me.??

Gabriel flushed in embarrassment, but then allowed it to turn into defensive anger.

“Now see here, you! I’ve stolen nothing of yours! How dare you call me a thief!?? he said, shaking one fist at the figure before him.

The figure stood in silence for a minute, a finger poised on his lips, watching Gabriel.

“You’re correct. You haven’t stolen anything from me yet.??

“Now that’s more reasona—“

“However, that’s only because you have not gotten away with your ill-gotten booty. Please show me what’s in the hand you have behind your back.??

Gabriel gulped audibly. His hand trembling, he brought it from behind him, and raised it up to the figure – empty. He gasped. He could still feel the weight of the pouch, but it was gone.

The figure drew aside the suit coat, and Gabriel saw the pouch hanging there.

“Little human.?? The figure said. “Did you really think you could get away with your larceny? That you could just tiptoe into the heart of the Dreaming, and make away with one of my tools? That I wouldn’t notice its absence, nor know immediately who had taken it???

“Who are you??? Gabriel asked.

“Not that I owe you anything, much less my identity, I am Dream of the Endless. I am the ruler of this realm.

“And you. You are in far more trouble than you could ever possibly imagine.??

Gabriel paled. He’d been warned about Dream; that the task would require guile and cunning; that he’d most likely be caught, and at Dream’s mercy. Yet, he’d just experienced a fraction of what the contents of that pouch could give him. He knew, in his heart that he’d do it all over again.

Dream looked at him, for what seemed an eternity. Sweat dripped from Gabriel’s brow, as he silently awaited whatever punishment Dream would arrange for him. He knew it was useless to run. The heart of the Dreaming was the source of Dream’s power. The world conformed to whatever he wished it to, no more, no less.

Dream sat on his throne, and looked at Gabriel some more. Then he spoke.

“Go.??

“I can go??? Gabriel asked, not believing his ears.

“Yes. Do it quickly before I change my mind.??

Gabriel kneeled in an act of genuflection. “Thank you, sire. Thank you!??

He rose, and then turned walking toward the doors at the opposite end of the hall. He had made it about two-thirds of the way when he heard Dream’s voice whispering in his ear.

“Do not thank me, Gabriel Strosser. You know not what challenges lie before you, and you will not take back the knowledge you have gained. Yet, you will remember that you had it. That is the state you will live in for the remainder of your days.??

Gabriel ran from his castle, Dream’s words echoing in his mind.

***

Gabriel was completely exhausted. He just couldn’t understand it. The castle was right there, for God’s sake, he thought. He could make out the individual turrets now. His walk slowed, until he was forced to crawl, but he continued forward, each step closer driven through sheer force of will.

Then a fog rose up, and Gabriel lost sight of the path. With no choice, he continued to crawl forward, relying on faith that he was still on the path. The fog became thicker and thicker, until he could no longer see the ground beneath him. He didn’t even notice when the normal sounds of the forest subsided, to be replaced by silence. He crawled forward. It was all he could do any more.

The fog seemed to lift after a few minutes. He stopped for a second, and squinted to make sure, but he swore he could see three figures in the distance. Heartened by the thought of company for his journey, he rose, and stumbled towards them. Perhaps they had some food, or water he could drink. He suddenly realized he was very, very hungry and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and teeth from dehydration. Yes, they would take care of him, he decided.

As he got closer, they came into the clear. Three women, sitting on the white surface that now seemed to be the ground. They each held onto something, and Gabriel noticed that they seemed to be knitting. The first held a ball of yarn, which she was unwinding slowly, as the second seemed to be measuring out lengths of the yarn. Once she was satisfied with her measurements, she would hold her hands out to the third, who cut the segments with a sharp motion from the shears she wielded.

Gabriel reached the three ladies, and tried to bow, in order to make their acquaintance. It was then that he realized that he was falling. Falling to the ground, unable to even raise his arms to help cushion the inevitable blow.

The last thing he heard was the voice of one of the ladies, who said: “Welcome, Gabriel. We’ve been expecting you.??

***

Gabriel saw the room begin to come back into focus, but still the three ladies hovered above him. He tried to raise his hand, to touch the hallucination, but couldn’t find the strength to lift his arm.

He gurgled once, trying to greet them, and then died on the couch.

Dream and his sister still stood silently, in the corner, observing. Then he turned to her.

“My sister, it appears that your duties are now required. I shall take my leave so that you may fulfill your obligations.??

“I’m not sure I understand why you did that, Dream. I’ve always thought you were a little aloof, cold, but I always thought that deep underneath, you might really care about them.??

Dream sighed.

“My sister, I do care for them. Far more than I am apparently given credit for. They are the reason we exist, after all. If it weren’t for them, there would be no need for Dream, Despair, Delirium, Desire, Destiny, Destruction, or Death. I respect them as fully as I can. I respect the one power, which their Creator endowed them with: free will. They are free to choose their path. Free to chase after dreams. Free to spend their lives trying to make them come true. Some fail, get turned around on their path, and die unhappily.??

Dream vanished then, and his sister looked over at Gabriel, lying dead on the sofa. She started towards him, and heard Dream’s voice one last time.

“Some of them remain true to their path, and experience the best my petty kingdom can offer.??

She walked over to the corpse, and whispered, “Gabriel? Gabriel, get up.??

Gabriel Strosser rose then, took a step away from the couch, and looked back at his corpse.

“Oh, ugh. I was a sight at the end, wasn’t I???

“It’s ok, Gabriel. Not nearly as bad as some of the people I gather. Are you ready???

Gabriel turned and looked at her. “I guess so.??

“Then take my hand.??

He took her hand; there was the beating of mighty wings, and then silence.

***

Outside, Desire pulled her coat tighter around herself. Her brother had thwarted her again. She had thought the whole proposition was a long shot. Still, the young writer had lots of promise, and there were thousands more where he came from.

She smiled, and walked out into the night.

A soft breeze preludes the arrival of Aliweyr to the Wakening Lands. She lands softly on the ground and quickly looks around. In the distance, she can see the form of Woushi as the dragon patrols the Circle, the focus of teleportation in the new lands of Velious.

Catching Woushi’s eye, Aliweyr nods slowly at the dragon, who turns and looks at the wood elf intently. There is a small roar and from underneath Woushi, a bear cub comes running towards Aliweyr. She smiles; bending low with open hands as the cub runs up to her. A quick hug, some scratching behind the ears as the cub murmurs low in its throat, and a final roar from Woushi, and the cub departs running back to the dragon. Aliweyr stands and smiles at the cub and then looks over at Woushi, who still watches her. Then, with a nod and a small wink, Woushi returns to her patrol.

Hefting her shield and readying her staff, Aliweyr closes her eyes and listens to the song within. With ease born of long practice, she begins to twist the song and harness the magical power granted to her by Tunare. In a few seconds, Aliweyr metamorphs into the shape of a mist wolf. Pawing at the ground for a moment and sniffing the air, Aliweyr orientates herself and starts off across the dense jungle floor.

The way is dangerous. For although she has assumed the form of a wolf, the evil the giants bring to the shores of Tunare’s home have somehow corrupted some of the beasts native to this land. The air hums with the clashing power of Tunare and Rallos Zek and Aliweyr almost doesn’t notice a male Dark Elf step out of the brush in front of her, until she is almost on top of him.

Never breaking stride, Aliweyr runs swifty to the center of the jungle, whereupon she spies a lake. In the center of the lake, connected by a short bridge and guarded by two fauns, is a crumbling tower – her destination. As she circles the edge of the lake, the two fauns begin to draw their weapons. Then with a sniff of the air, and a feeling of the aura surounding the mist wolf, they return to their positions and pay no notice as the wolf runs past them and across the bridge.

Inside the tower, Aliweyr once more resumes her normal, wood elf, form, but does not give up the spirit of wolf just yet. She has a good journey ahead of her, and the beast will aid her in getting to the end quickly. Looking around, she climbs a ramp to her right, easily reaching the second level. There she spies another faun, standing in the corner, listening to the sounds of the jungle around them. Then, his eyes open, and a small smile crosses his face as he recognizes the visitor.

“Aliweyr. It’s good to see you,” he says, the smile growing wider.

“My Lord Phillip, it is indeed a pleasure to see you,” she says, bowing slowly at the waist.

Phillip Aghllsews laughs out loud.

“Now don’t give me that formal court speech. You know that I can see right through it,” he says, chucking to himself. “Aye. I know, Phillip.? She replies. ?You know me too well, aged one.?

?Aged One! Why I?ll show you!? he roars swiping playfully at her head. She ducks under his arm and begins to tickle him where she can beneath the thick fur coat.

?Mercy! Mercy, I say!? he cries out between guttural laughs.

The two step apart and as the laughter subsides, the air grows stiff as they both realize it?s time to proceed to the next step.

?Well, I?ll come with you. I haven?t seen the Great Mother in some time,? Phillip says as they begin to ascend the next ramp. Aliweyr releases the wolf?s spirit, realizing that Phillip wants to walk with her. Reaching the top of the tower, the both walk up to the gigantic rose growing on the tower?s roof.

?It?s more beautiful every time I see it.,? Aliweyr says looking up at the blood red petals, glistening in the dew and humidity of the jungle.

Phillip nods, ?That it is lass. That it is. Shall we?? Aliweyr nods quickly, straightening up and bringing herself to her full height. Then, she walks forward and caresses one of the rose?s petals.

There is a small breeze and she is gone.

Phillip sighs to himself, then he too reaches up and touches the rose petal.

***
Aliweyr materializes at the center of the Druid Circle, and waits patiently as the Protectors of Growth inspect her prescence. Although she cannot see them, she can feel them around her, feel them reaching out with their senses and judging her. She is not worried. She?s more at home here, than any other place on Norrath.

Phillip appears next to her and after a moment, the two begin to walk to the north, towards the home of Tunare, the Great Mother. As they walk, Aliweyr takes in the sounds and smells of the alternate plane. She listens to the gentle clop of the steeds, the guttural roar of the kodiaks, and the soft padding of the wolves. They walk in silence for a bit, and as they come to the river dividing the plane in two, Phillip speaks up.

?You give up much by offering yourself into the service of Tunare. You realize that don?t you?? he says.

?Aye. However, I have lost much in my travels and I grow weary of the adventure.? She replies.

Phillip nods. ?You still haven?t shaken that Barbarian mode of speech I see,? he says, smiling once more.

Aliweyr turns and looks at him. ?I don?t think I could if I tried,? she says. ?Nahmid was a powerful influence on me.?

?He wouldn?t agree with this you know.?

?No, I don?t know that. I know that he would have me follow my heart, no matter where it led.?

?I?m sorry. I don?t mean to bring up painful memories at a time like this.?

Aliweyr stops for a second and turns to face the faun.

?It used to hurt. It used to hurt a lot. Now? now I just accept that he?s gone.? She says in a low voice. ?We never did find his body, did you know that??

?No, I didn?t. That?s a shame.? Phillip replies.

?Sometimes, I think he planned it that way. He wasn?t ever one for much fuss when it came to himself.?

Phillip nods and they continue to walk.

?What of the others?? he asks.

Aliweyr sighs, knowing that Phillip will keep questioning her until he is sure she knows the answers herself. She thinks back and remembers the companions she traveled with most frequently: Ishiro, Jorum and Koricyn. She smiles to herself as they walk, letting her mind play over the memories of crawling through dungeons, tracking down ever elusive enemies and treasure, of the gatherings in the taverns and the laughter and merriment as they each learned about the world, each other and themselves.

?Jorum supports me. He has long known of my increasing dissatisfaction with the way that my life was headed. He was upset at first, but accepts it more with each passing day. I?m sure right now that he is out tormenting some other Druid with his wit. And I?m sure he is still killing every Dark Elf he runs across. He has promised to visit me, here, in Growth when he is able. Despite his patronage to Karana.? She grins.

?I haven?t spoken to Koricyn since she departed that one night in the thunder and rain. Tracking is difficult as it is under those conditions, but tracking a Ranger who does not want to be found, is another matter entirely. I do not know how she feels, since I am not able to talk to her.? Aliweyr says, her voice growing strained.

?Ishiro. Ishiro is the brother I never had. Although, when we first met, you could have sworn we were going to kill each other at any moment.? Aliweyr smiles, recalling the trip across the Karanas in the dead of night. ?Ishiro? understands.?

Phillip nods as they come to a rise and, upon cresting it, are given the first view of the home of Tunare. A massive oak, standing hundreds of feet tall, it is surrounded by a small group of treants, who circle the tree, endlessly chanting their prayers to the Great Mother. They start down the slope, and Aliweyr feels the song grow within her. The song, however, beings to change, becoming more layered and complex, richer and stronger, mixing with Tunare?s own song of power.

They arrive at the base of the tree and walk through the circle of treants, who part to grant them entry. Walking through a hole in one of the roots, they arrive at a chamber level with the open ground.

Phillip reaches out and gently takes hold of her arm. ?Are you familiar with the ritual?? he asks softly.

?Aye. I have seen it done before. Is Prince Thirneg ready to receive me??

?He is. Just enter through there and present yourself before him.?

Aliweyr walks through the opening as Phillip remains outside. Once inside, she walks around the center of the tree, and sees Prince Thirneg standing in the far back corner. Lifting her head and straightening her back, she walks forward, then drops to one knee, her eyes facing the floor.

?Rise, Aliweyr Draconisbane,? Prince Thirneg says. ?What business do you have with the Great Mother??

?I seek the Ritual of Nature?s Absolution, my Lord.? She replies.

?I see. What, may I ask, has caused you to seek out this particular ritual??

?My Lord, the song within me grows softer and more lamentable. I have served Tunare long and well. I have protected her interests and the natural world on every know part of Norrath. However, my time there is done. I have passed through Autumn, and now enter the Winter of my service.?

Prince Thirneg nods as she speaks.

?Yes child, you have served Tunare well. Better, in fact, than anyone but the Great Mother could have predicted. Especially, after the regrettable incidents in the Butcherblock Mountains. It?s written in your eyes child, you seek merely to complete the cycle of life. For that, I can only thank you for your service, and give you my blessing to see the Great Mother.?

?I thank you my Lord,? Aliweyr says, the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She smiles at the Elder Faun nonetheless. Then she turns and departs from the chamber, once again seeing Phillip outside.

She walks up to him, and embraces him, hugging him tightly. He also hugs her back, and whispers in her ear, ?Of all Tunare?s Soldiers, you were always my favorite.?

Aliweyr begins to cry softly, and slowly pulls back away from the faun. She looks into his face and sees the tears welling in his eyes as well. She smiles one last time, then turns and begins the ascent into Tunare?s chambers.

As she walks, she hears the now familiar voice being to speak within her.

“Welcome child. What is thine wish?”

?I seek your Absolution, Mother.?

“That is among our power to give. Dost thou truly understand what price is paid to gain it?”

?I do Mother.?

“Very well. Thou wilt enter the chamber and present thineself before us. Then we shall grant our absolution.”

Aliweyr climbs the ramp, stepping higher and higher around the tree until she arrives at the entrance to Tunare?s chamber. Trembling slightly, she enters the chamber and walks to where Tunare waits, standing. Her eyes on the ground, she steps forward and kneels before Tunare. No sooner has she settled then she feels hands reaching down and taking her own, lifting her to her feet. The hands reach down and cup her chin, raising her eyes until she is looking into the face of the Great Mother herself. Aliweyr begins to weep openly at the beauty before her, understanding for the first time, every note and chorus of the song within her. Her heart begins to fill with joy and happiness and for a brief moment, Tunare smiles at her.

Then, taking Aliweyr into her arms, Tunare pulls her close and kisses her very gently on the lips. Aliweyr feels Tunare?s love coursing through her, filling every part of her body, the absolution cleansing her soul. The song within her reaches a crescendo, and then falls slient. At that moment, Aliweyr discorporates and a gust of wind fills the chamber. The treants below cease their chanting for a moment. Phillip Aghllsews looks to the stars overhead and smiles.

?So long lass. Although I cannot see you anymore, I can already feel you in the world around me. That will have to do.?

***

On the open plains of the Karanas, a mist wolf howls at the moon rising to the south. Others join it. Then it sets off towards the west, where the rest of the pack has gathered to hunt. They greet the newcomer warmly, and soon, the pack sets off in the search of new prey for the hunt.

The inn was asleep as Cluracen unlocked the door to his room. It was late, and the click of the lock could be heard down the corridor as well as the creak of the hinges. Cluracen tensed, but quickly relaxed as he entered the room, closing the door behind him as he did so.

The room was small, but comfortable with a dresser and mirror against one wall, a small closet set into the opposite wall, near the door, and a spacious, comfortable bed set in the middle. On either side of the bed, candelabras sat waiting to be lit. On the dresser, a pitcher of water and a bowl were placed. At the foot of the bed, a window opened onto the Market Square below. Although quiet in the late hours, it was sure to be filled with bustle in the morning. Torchlight filtered in through the windows from below, giving the room a soft, sepia illumination.

Cluracen stepped over to the bed and laid his pack down on it, gently, as if to not disturb the patterns in the quilt. Unlacing the top, he reached within and pulled out a metal cylinder, about a foot long and six inches in diameter. He also reached in and pulled out a black oilcloth bound with leather straps. Untying the straps, he unrolled it on the bed in front of him and looked down at the instruments of his trade.

Lying on the cloth, each held by tip and pommel in leather, were an assortment of daggers, dirks, and knives, each gleaming in the torchlight. The cloth was not full, however. Several spaces showed where knives had been removed and were not yet replaced. Reaching into his sleeve, he withdrew another dagger and carefully placed it into one of the empty receptacles. He continued to do this, reaching into hidden confines in his clothing, extracting a dagger or stiletto until all the spaces had been filled. Then he re-rolled the cloth, bound it shut, and replaced it within his pack.

Reaching to the side, Cluracen began to unbuckle the straps holding the Mithril Breastplate to his torso. Despite the armor?s excellent protection against bodily harm, it was extremely light and Cluracen easily lifted it from his body and laid it on the floor. Next he removed the Ravenscale shirt he wore underneath it, magical chain as black as his hair, and laid that on the dresser, next to the bowl and pitcher.

Taking the pitcher by the handle, he poured the water it held into the bowl and placed it back down. He reached his hands into the bowl, cupping them and then lifted them to his face to wash the dirt from the road off it. After he had done this a couple of times, he looked up and looked at his own face in the mirror. Sea-gray eyes stared back at him, and Cluracen was astounded to find wrinkles starting to form at the edges of his eyes. He smiled to himself, enjoying the irony of being given an extended life, but short enough to notice the changes as they slowly occurred. Running his hands quickly through his hair, he checked it and his thin moustache for any signs of gray, but found none. He wondered if the Koada?Dal ever noticed the changes, or if they woke up one day and suddenly realized they were older.

The thought brought back memories of Kelethin, of sunshine hazily filtered through the trees of the forests of the Faydark. Of laughter and merriment as the children ran down the ramps and dared each other to levitate from one platform to the next. Of nights spent drinking and gambling with some of Faydark?s Champions as the Rangers called themselves, and nights spent on a blanket under the moon in a frenzy of lust and heat and passion. Of old friends, long thought forgotten and old loves, long since ?

Cluracen straightened with a jerk. He banished the thought from his mind, instead letting his eyes trace the patterns of scars on his chest. Some were long and thin, winding their way across breast and shoulder. Some were round and circular, where an arrow had managed to get through his armor, but not quite deep enough to kill him. Some worked their way across the tattoo etched into his left breast, the sigil of the Ebon Mask ? the Rogues Guild of Neriak. And a very tiny one, just to the right of his breastbone where the tip of the dagger had managed to pierce the skin as she slid it between his ribs.

He winced visibly with the memory. Though it had been twenty years since that night, the memory still played across his mind?s eye with crystal clarity. He recognized what was happening. He was exhausted and he couldn?t keep those things locked deep within him from leaking through the walls in his mind. He should sleep, he told himself. With rest and a good meal, all this vanishes. All demons become harmless in the full light of day.

He stepped away from the mirror, but only far enough to pick up the metal cylinder lying on the bed. Placing his fingers in just the right places and applying a bit of pressure, he heard the lock click, and twisted the top open. He reached inside, pulling a glass tube fitted with a brass stand at one end. Turning again, he placed the tub on the dresser, and for the first time in ten years, allowed himself to look upon the Rose of Firiona he had gathered so long ago. He sat on the edge of the bed, letting the memories rise up in his mind, knowing he was breaking all rules he was taught about control and discipline. He closed his eyes, lay back on the bed, and began to remember.