The Final Storm (Part 3)

Bob Willet

At about two o’ clock Ralem had woken up from a horrible dream about the cats. They seemed desperate, which made them even more deadly. They shrieked, seeming to search for something within his dream, which happened to be one of him riding on Jaydon by the beach. Fake-Jaydon had defended him before he had been brutally killed. Two of them, a tan one with an abnormally large jaw and protruding fangs, and the familiar grey one had tackled Ralem from Jaydon’s heaving back. “Where are you?” it snarled, “What is your plan? Tell us!”

Ralem shook his head, his head sinking into the sand from the pressure. “I won’t tell you anything.”

The cat pressed harder and Ralem felt the scenery change. The sun flickered out as if it had been snuffed, stone walls rising out of the sand. Chains and other devices swayed from the newly erected walls, torches sparking to life and casting demonic shadows on the walls. Ralem found himself strapped to that horrible torture chair. The horrible smell of a dungeon filled his nostrils,  the dank, iron smell of blood and other odors that couldn’t be identified. A familiar, callused finger ran up his shoulder blade. “Where are you hiding your secrets? Open up to us now or we’ll kill you slowly.”

Ralem fought against the manacles, but it seemed like his limbs were refusing to move. His heart leapt to his throat in fear. “NO! DON’T!” The finger lingered. He could feel his tattoo trying to elude the torturer’s touch.

SCHNIK!

Ralem unleashed a bloodcurdling cry. “AGH! STOP!” The taloned finger started moving, tracing up his shoulder. The screaming, dreadful screaming screeched through his brain and clawed at his heart.

The walls shook. Stones rumbled darkly. The cats hissed, demanding more answers.

“Ralem, Ralem, wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP!”

Ralem snapped to the real world, breathing heavily. Across from him, Jaydon sighed and leaned back to his haunches. “I thought you’d never wake up. Bad dream?”

“Yes,” Ralem said breathily, realizing he was covered in sweat. “Jaydon- the cats. They’re upset about something.”

“Duh. I just killed one of their own. Of course they’re upset,” Jaydon remarked. “But… I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that. The cat we fought seemed too… easy. And plus, he talked about being in a high position in Vulnaire. It was all too fishy. And not the good type of fishy either.”

Ralem dipped an eyebrow, “High position? That’s definitely not good. That means that cats are maybe even accepted in Vulnaire by the Queen!”

“No. Definitely not. The Queen would more likely hang them on her wall than have them in high positions. I think they’re more likely pretending to be humans so that they can live under the protection of the Queen or something,” Jaydon said.

Ralem was surprised by how sophisticated the wind dragon sounded. “You’re right. But… what would that mean?”

Jaydon shrugged, “I was hoping you’d know. Aidan doesn’t seem to know anything on the subject either.”

            Ralem groaned as he tried to get up, before slumping sideways on the hay bale. Jaydon tossed him a couple fruits and vegetables he had nabbed from the garden. “Eat. You must be starving.” As Ralem dug in, the dragon continued, “Well anyway, just think of what those things could be doing. If that one was really in a high position, they could be using the Queen like a puppet, kind of like what Lauri does with the Queen of Baroke.”

            Ralem choked, spewing apple pulp everywhere. He wiped his mouth, “You never told me you thought that about her.”

            “I keep some of my suspicions to myself. I don’t really care, though. Lauri is easily the oldest, and Vali probably the wisest beings in the whole country. It is good that they have a big say in the country’s doings.”