Nightfire | The Whispering Wall #1

Twenty Six: Shadow Runner

That night, he dreamed of demons.

It was a dream that didn't make a great deal of sense; one minute he was on the island again, only it wasn't Grace who was dragged into the crypt, but Nova, staring at him all the way down with those bottomless, powerful eyes. The next minute, he was sparring with Yddris, only Yddris had an axe and all Jordan had was his dagger; he was losing, and Yddris had him on the floor and then reached up and pulled down his hood and Arlen grinned that yellow grin at him before another demon came charging up behind. Jordan called out a warning but it was too late, and then the crimson turned green and there was that pounding, the beat in his head, going, going....

"Stop!" he yelled, and almost fell out of bed. The pounding continued, and Jordan's blanket was on fire. He remembered where he was just as Nika rushed into the room.

"Hang on," he said, breathing out a long sigh as they both realised Jordan wasn't being murdered. Jordan's face warmed as the Unspoken put his blanket out and pulled it off him, leaving it in a smoking pile in one corner of the room. For the second time, Jordan had woken up dripping with sweat, his nightshirt covered in dark wet blooms.

"Bad dream," he said, into the expectant silence Nika left for him. The dream's contents were slipping away from him already, but it left him feeling sick and shaky and oddly ashamed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay." Nika hovered there for a moment. "It's terrible timing for Yddris to be called away so often."

He turned, and Jordan's eyes followed to the ruined blanket. "He's gone again?"

"He's the representative for the Guild in the Reach," Nika explained. "All the heads of house have gone for a briefing from Lord Harkenn on how to handle the situation. He'll be back very soon, I'm sure."

Jordan nodded. Shaking off the chilling remnants of his dream, he eyed the man from under his damp fringe. "Did I wake you up?"

Nika shook his head. Jordan thought he could smell alcohol.

"You mind if I sit with you for a while, then?"

"Of course not. You're very welcome to." A gloved fist clenched at Nika's side. "I'd be glad of the company."

In his last set of fresh clothes, Jordan joined Nika in the front room a few minutes later. He wondered when he'd get the opportunity for a bath here; at the inn there'd been one readily available most days, but he hadn't seen anything that approximated to a bathtub in Yddris's house and his recent run of terrible nights was taking a toll on his hygiene. As he sat down on the floor near Nika's chair, he prayed to whichever of Nictaven's many gods was listening that he didn't smell too horrific.

"What is that pounding noise?" he asked abruptly, almost absently, and then blinked when he realised it had been out loud. "I hear it when Yddris is away."

"Nictaven," Nika replied, thankfully seeming to think nothing of the question. "The source of your magic. It runs underground. Only those with a direct link to that source can hear it."

"It's a bit much."

This elicited a short chuckle. "Aye, it is. Yddris will teach you how to tune it out."

It was then that Jordan realised he could hear people outside. "Wait, is it daytime? How long did I sleep?"

"It's almost midday."

"Oh."

"You needed the rest. You haven't taken it easy enough for someone who just manifested."

"I slept all night and most of a whole day. Sounds like taking it easy to me," Jordan muttered. Nika just nodded, still watching the window. Jordan noticed the bottle he had retrieved from the cellar the previous day sitting in the corner behind the chair, completely empty.