"Dreams and Nightmares"

Here's a snippet from Dreams and Nightmares by yours truly, which continues the story of Darin and gives us a look at the noble Nai'Oigher.


“May I present to you Mistress Obata, the Lady Dream, ruler and conduit of fantasy and desire.”

Dream stormed haughtily into her brother’s throne room. His terse summons the day before had infuriated her and sent her attendants diving for cover. Just who did he think he was, demanding her attendance like that? Sometimes his lack of gratitude for all she’d done for him was absolutely disgusting.

And why did he choose to live in such a dreary pit of a palace? Dream’s bare feet prickled against the hard stone floor, and she fought the urge to shiver. Her sheer gown, woven from the strands of joyous visions and carefree daydreams, wasn’t much help against the chill, and its lustrous shimmer was lost without a light source to reflect, but she refused to give her brother the satisfaction of causing her to change her wardrobe. She supposed it was better that she couldn’t see much of anything, if only because the darkness hid whatever vile, twisted things lurked in the corners of her brother’s lair.

Like Dream, her brother was Nai’Oigher, the elite of the Braegheayn nobles. Anything he’d asked for could’ve been his: the richest clothing, the finest foods, the most luxurious home. And yet he chose to live in a hole, far from the Dreaming Lands’ sole city, Maeda Criacao, indulging in whatever despicable desire struck his fancy. He could’ve been someone worth her time, rather than being a no one she barely tolerated.

Then again, she supposed such abhorrent behavior was likely just part of a day’s work for anyone named Nightmare.

Dream waited impatiently for a response to her herald’s announcement. Just as she was about to clear her throat in annoyance, a quick scale from a violin wafted through the dank air and sent a tingle through her bones. She shook off the feeling before it could take hold of her.

“It is typically considered good form to return a guest’s greeting with respect and courtesy,” she snarled to the surrounding darkness. “It is also common practice to light a torch or two when one knows company is on its way.”

Another quick scale screeched across the violin, and the sconces lining the walls exploded to life. Dream held her composure and didn’t so much as blink.

Nightmare’s throne room was a massive space, larger even than her own, Dream noticed with dismay. The walls were all sharp, abrupt angles. In the flickering firelight, they seemed alive and in motion – and slightly frightening.

Far across the throne room, a young man sat sprawled in a dilapidated chair perched across a crooked dais. His hair was long and unkempt, his clothing little more than tattered rags hanging loosely from his spare frame. He was dirty and exceptionally pale, as if he hadn’t seen the world beyond Nightmare’s catacombs in quite a while.

His violin, on the other hand, looked good as new. Oiled to a lustrous shine, it glistened softly in the strange shadows cast across the room.

Dream clicked her tongue and put her hands on her hips. “My idiot brother had best have a good reason to leave a mortal to greet me.”

“That he does,” the young man crooned as he swung himself down to the floor and strode toward her. She could tell by the slight twitch in his leg that he was doing well to hide his dread. It was shameful how her brother always felt the need to frighten people into doing his bidding. Dream herself was above such tactics, as well as such persuasions. “He knew it would make your blood boil.”

She just smiled and sauntered forward. “My brother has always known how to get a rise out of me. A singular talent, that.”

The man sneered arrogantly and played a sharp set of chords on his violin. In spite of herself, Dream shivered a bit. His parlor tricks were becoming annoying.

“Perhaps not so much,” he said tauntingly. He stopped ten paces away, trying to leave a careful separation between them.

But Dream kept on walking. “If it’s talent you want...”