Mirror Play

By Seth Giolle

Angelina has tasted dreams, and her Projection is top notch, but she’s never fully known the extent of her own powers. In truth, they’ve always scared her a little, and nothing simple ever happens to them. It’s always something world-ending that she, Gordon, and Simon have to stare down when even the adults have turned to run! In her experience, those adults usually then turned on one another.
She suffers enough nightmares from just what they’ve already known, but now again, she must face the impossible: an age-old magical Staff from the time of Osiris, powered by a dark Algrinai soul, and the will of Mirazdan bent on maniacal obsession. Even Anubis and StarBen doubt their chances of success. In the least, she’s convinced they doubt she has it in her to stop Mirazdan before the world is engulfed in a fresh Armageddon.
It all terrifies her, but her friends and family are relying on her. She’ll have to pull off a miracle ... or watch her world burn.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jan 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781794887077

Seth Giolle

Seth Giolle was born on a small, rural farm in southeast Ontario. After Travelling throughout Canada in all its splendour, he once again makes Ontario his home.

Book preview

Mirror Play

Book 10 of

Future Kings

By Seth Giolle

Other Books in the

Future Kings Saga

Stalkers

Kasheteh

Canchock

Sides in a War

Casting Shadows

The Karzalean Key

Lost Idols

Mirazdan’s Mirrors

Dusty Tomes

Reflections of Reality

 Chapter One

Angelina glanced up and down the street with a sense of wonder. None of it was real, but the cool breeze, the pavement under her feet, and the smell of fresh berries - it all felt so completely true. She’d dreamed before, plenty of times, but never this vividly, and this was the first time she’d ever been inside someone else’s.

The other reason she knew this couldn’t be real, no matter how realistic everyone’s hair swayed and laughter broke over common talk, is that this was an Iroquois Falls that had been swept away with the wars. The real town was nothing like what she had on display around her.

Houses further down, past the market, stood tall with pristine window glass, clean walls, well-maintained gardens, and evenly-cut grassy lawns. The businesses and store fronts around her were just as well kept with full stock and happy clerks. The streets even looked freshly paved with rust-free sewer caps and surfaces! And the way everyone was dressed was so old. She’d seen images of the fifties and placed the hats, purses, and footwear about that age.

‘Remember to stay alert,’ came drifting on the warm breeze that brushed her cheek.

Angelina scowled. Yeah, yeah. I am, she mumbled softly, stepping fully off the curb and starting down amid the many wooden market stands with their fresh vegetables, pies, and sweets for sale. There had to be twenty farmers and artisans out selling their wares. They had plates, rugs, and toys for sale further down.

Why’s this all so real for me? I’ve never dreamed in this much colour, and it feels so much more real than real.

It’s more real because you’re in their reality, not your own, Anubis put in, turning around to her left.

The disguise of a blond haired woman of fifty had been dropped for his actual, Egyptian self, golden shoulder garb and white wrap at the waist. He even bore his jackal head with those big hears and canine snout. Someone pointed behind them, and Anubis glanced around, dropping to the ground to scurry under the nearest stall as a tiny beetle. The pointing stopped, and everyone carried on like they hadn’t seen a thing. Angelina walked on trying to cope with having the Egyptian God pop up so often.

When he wasn’t supposed to.

Breaking one of his own rules.

Some wizards just couldn’t take their own advice.

This isn’t much of a test if you two keep intruding, she reminded them. The farmers and bakers, even a few barbers with handlebar whiskers she now realized, wore long white aprons and smiled wide. They were so chipper and chatting it up with the men and women in their suits and nice dresses. Small yappy dogs were tugged along on leashes or carried. Children ran through with balloons or toy airplanes. And where is the dreamer in all this?

‘That is, in large part, your test,’ StarBen reminded her, his voice carried on the breeze once more. ‘And though he is not supposed to be interrupting you so much, Anubis is correct. When you’re inside another person’s dream, everything will appear more real than reality. It has something to do with how keen and sharp your senses are when overlapping someone elses’.’

You basically have their senses doubling your own, Anubis noted, glancing in from behind the painter who was doing portraits at twenty cents a pop to her right. The black face, ears, and snout were gone a second later, and Angelina closed her eyes.

Damn, that had made her jump!

She just walked on, trying to focus. Maybe that was what Anubis was trying to do: force her to focus amid distraction. He had seen his own brother, Seth, lose his mind Dream Walking like she now was. He was worried she’d do the same?

Test or not, it was both exhilarating and scary to actually be Dream Walking. She wasn’t just projecting thoughts or vicariously exploring night echoes. She was really there! They’d warned her the worst could happen, so she was anxious about making a wrong move.

Maybe Anubis was also trying to calm her. By getting her so irritated that she wasn’t thinking about those other worries? Just then, she’d love to know what it was like without his head popping up out of the blue so often nearly giving her a coronary a minute.

This street was never this long, she observed.

She picked up an apple from a vender on her left and, in true dream fashion, produced the exact amount of change from her other hand. She had a vague sense that she’d reached into her pocket for it, knowing full well she hadn’t. The man accepted her money and carried on bagging some potatoes for a mother of five. Angelina stepped around them and studied the next few stalls she passed. There were old-time radios in one and working television sets in another.

Neither of them had been there before.

She turned around paying more acute attention to detail. The people and clothing were the same, but the stalls were offering louder items: buzzing radios, hedge trimmers, and blenders, and they were all emitting obnoxious sounds. And everyone was staring at one person, a little girl of eight or nine. Like Angelina, she wasn’t dressed like everyone else.

Angelina was wearing her Egyptian string top with white undershirt, like she’d been wearing since their time in Etmo, along with the more comfortable joggers.

This girl was dressed in poorer clothing with tears and a shirt that was too small on her, and her hair was all a mess while everyone elses’ was perfectly combed.

I think I found the dreamer, she mumbled.

The clouds had even moved in, and a cold wind brewed, chilling Angelina to the bone. The girl ran, and Angelina started after her. No one ran that fast! She tried to keep up, but the other people were bunching up and refusing to move, and the dream street behind her was being whipped up in a small tempest, literally being shredded into nothing!

‘Remember your training,’ StarBen’s voice prompted.

But I can’t follow her, Angelina grumbled, finally giving up and standing there feeling incredibly frustrated! She’d stopped moving. That had been a clear enough instruction, but calming herself was another step to go. And the world is being destroyed behind me, she growled.

‘Destroyed for what?’

Emotion is your enemy in a dream, Anubis put in, the man beside her transformed into the Egyptian God in a blink. It not only draws the dreamer’s attention to you, but it brings on the dream’s ire too. You’re lit up as bright as the dreamer and may take all its wrath in that dreamer’s stead.

He was gone again, and Angelina glanced around. The people were staring at her now. Damn again – he was right. He was more annoying than StarBen!

She drew her meditative practises in and sucked her anger and irritation down into a small ball before popping it. This was a dream world, and she was a shadow within it. Her training so far had covered that much too. And the people did look way. They even started walking away, so she followed.

The dreamer is moving to another location, she reasoned, thinking back on the multitude of instruction StarBen had been throwing at her both in and after leaving Etmo, so the dream is moving with them, but I can’t remember what that means for me and how I find where that new setting is. She looked up and around. No hints this time, not even jackal heads with startling, and jumpy, input.

Fine, she’d figure this one out for herself.

The town of Iroquois Falls was changing. The street that should have turned left at the stadium hit a brick wall ahead, and the store fronts at this end didn’t have any items for sale. The lights weren’t even on, and doors were locked with heavy chain. And everyone seemed to be walking towards a distant hill that was drawing ever closer by the second.

She knew that hill.

That’s the unfinished house frames where we met the first time, she mumbled, where you, Gordon, Simon, and I first met at least. Only it’s a real house in this dream. It’s a nice house in this dream more to point.

The people were vanishing, as was the world behind her at an alarmingly steady rate. Her panic tried to worm its way back in, but she refused to bow to emotion again, not so soon. Besides, she had an idea.

She closed her eyes and wished herself up on that hill, and she was soon standing in a tall maze-like flower garden in behind a tall four storey house with its white shutters and climbing vine.

And she felt it: it was kind of like a warm feeling that she knew wasn’t real, but it was still like she was cold and drawn to that warmth, and she instinctively looked to the house. And she knew the dreamer was inside.

Energy is drawn to the dreamer, she remembered. I should follow that sensation. I suppose you mentioned that, she conceded, but I didn’t feel it so solidly before. Why is it so warm now?

‘The more agitated the dreamer, the stronger the sensation.’ Angelina started down the garden path with those tall flowers growing up the hedge walls on either side. It smelled so nice, and there were bugs buzzing around and skimming her head and ears, but she didn’t mind. ‘What do you know of your dreamer so far?’ StarBen’s voice prompted.

That she isn’t popular, Angelina joked. She found Anubis staring at her expectantly with arms crossed as she passed a statue of a woman with no arms. Fine, she groaned, staring to the house and putting on a serious expression. The marketplace was an offering of vegetables, food, and items that weren’t open to her. When she walked through, it all turned loud and techy, and everyone was pointing at her. Further thought. And the weather got really cold.

It was sunny enough now around the house though the statues of men and women in the garden were definitely becoming a little morose, and the steps she started up were in good condition, but stray grass was creeping up from below, and they were in need of a wash. The whole house, as well kept as it was, could use a serious cleaning from dirty windows to wind-swept wood.

The food symbolizes necessities of life, she rambled on, running her hand along the stone railing at her side. Luxuries and goods would represent simple things that we need to survive, and she was denied them, so in her waking life, she feels the simple and necessary things she needs to live are denied her. Everyone’s pointing at her, so she feels singled out and, she had to pause, hated? No, just alone? They weren’t calling her names, so I don’t think it was hate though she may hate herself.

‘And?’ StarBen’s voice prompted.

Couldn’t he put more emotion into his voice? That way she might get some hint as to whether or not she’d been right just then!

A house is the dreamer, she forged ahead, fingering the brass door handle at the top of those steps. It was ornate and decorative, but also tarnished, so very much imperfect like the rest of the house. So she feels stable, but unclean. Maybe she’s falling apart and losing her mind a little. Something must have happened that’s bringing her ruin. Is this dream from when the world fell, when the Algrinai invaded? Maybe they’re attacking, and that’s the dirt?

‘Remember the marketplace,’ StarBen Prompted.

Angelina frowned. The way they were dressed? Right, this was back before the invasion, so it’s a childhood dream. They’ve no clue what’s coming yet.

She tried the door, and the handle moved.

It’s pretty gloomy, she grumbled. Anubis stepped out from behind the one darkened statue in the background, about to speak, but she raised a finger for silence. I’d say someone’s died, leaving her alone, so her whole world is turning dark and falling apart. Anubis remained quiet, and she turned to face the glass double doors with a grin.

The silence was wonderful!

The door opened quietly, and she stepped inside.

The marble floor and scant carpeting were in good shape, and the paintings on the wall were well framed, but their faces were so stern, and a deep silence hung over the place. Too many shadows clung to wooden tables and clay floor vases. This silence wasn’t welcomed. Angelina started across and down a wide hall with careful steps.

If this person was dealing with a recent death, they weren’t dangerous, but their emotional stability would not be assured, so she, and her dream, could lash out at any Walker wandering these halls. If she was caught up in a disintegrating world, she’d simply wake from her real world meditation, but if the dream attached itself to her, and then it broke off, she’d awaken fractured. Her mind would have been altered by the dream, and she’d retain some portion of the dark from the other person.

She didn’t want to be fractured.

Or melded. That was another fun risk.

They’d gone through the dangers of Dream Walking and what to avoid. She had her safety measures in place, so she should be fine, but she was still cautious walking down that marbled hall, looking in through doorways into billiard rooms and empty kitchens. A sitting room was complete with red plush chairs and a table-sized turning globe. Book shelves lined the walls, and a stuffed peacock perched in a corner with its coloured tail and long neck. Like the chairs, the bird stood out against the dull greys, plain browns, and deep greens.

This must have been the dead person’s favourite room, she suggested, walking along with hands behind her back. Or things they loved together. They’ve retained their colour when everything else is losing it.

There was a scurry of feet behind her, racing up a rounded second floor stair well, and Angelina turned. She was a shadow. She couldn’t run after her. Giving chase hadn’t worked before, and it wouldn’t work well now. So she closed her eyes and focused on the heat. It flowed all around the posts and railings. It clung to certain chairs too, but it was warmest and flowed along the corridor upstairs. She imagined herself a part of that flow. And she projected herself upstairs in that hall.

The girl in her blond hair was playing in a corner, and she looked up, but said nothing. Angelina just smiled and pretended to clean the suit of armour that she was standing beside with an invisible duster.

Blend into the background. Be just another part of the dream, a shadow, and the dreamer will just assume you belong. And the girl did. She looked back to her porcelain doll and resumed combing its hair.

Taking the chance, Angelina stepped into the bedroom on her left. It had to be a parent’s room with its large bed and make up table all decked out for a fifties lady to make herself look beautiful. It had lights and a fan hooked up as well as a reading stand to one side. It was all so nice and neat.

But it didn’t look lived in.

She walked back out into the hall, nearer the girl and passed into the opposite bedroom. This was one larger but it had three beds. Two were messy, but one was untouched. The smallest wasn’t too badly off. She decided that bed belonged to the girl.

The untouched bed was the dead person’s?

A brother died, she whispered.

‘The signs suggest that,’ StarBen agreed.

But is this before or after that death? Anubis asked. He was her reflection in the long thin mirror she passed.

She’s hiding, Angelina replied, still keeping her voice low. She started a wooden rocking horse off before walking on and out into the hall again through a second door. The girl was making a house with playing cards now, the end of the hallway having extended behind her from where it had been. The cards had a car design, and small dented and crumpled metal cars sat overturned around her. She’s trying to hold to this one moment to avoid accepting the truth. What about the third bed though. Where is he? I’m assuming it’s a boy from the baseball bed sheets.

‘If he has withdrawn in the real life, he simply wouldn’t be at home in her dream,’ StarBen suggested in his wispy voice in her ear. ‘This is the upstairs,’ he added, leaving the sentence incomplete.

Where people rest in safety, trusting the house is locked, Angelina continued for him, knowing he was testing her on this point, so her other brother isn’t present in comfort or rest. Nor are the parents. Their room isn’t even lived in. Thinking further, she shrugged. They may have never been supportive. Their room, where their support should be symbolized, is vacant. She’s been alone a while.

There was a knock at the door downstairs, and the girl looked up. Angelina noticed she was wearing worn and torn clothing again. She’d been wearing a dress just seconds before. She stood, the card house collapsing in a wide flutter at her feet, and she walked solemnly towards the stairs.

The walls were leaning in to a rounded point above the girl. In fact, the whole house groaned and complained. Floor boards sounded like they might crack under her weight, and her shadow extended from a downcast sky outside.

The air smelled stale.

There were flashes of the front door opening and the shadow of two men overlapping the girl’s tear-stained face. Angelina drew back to avoid merging with the dream plot. She felt the pull as more images passed quickly through: an abandoned rope swing and children chasing a small girl down an overgrown path. Angelina fully yanked herself back at last and found herself in the hall with Anubis standing solemnly beside her, watching her closely.

I thought I was her for a second there, Angelina gasped with a shiver, hugging herself for warmth. That was unpleasant. It wasn’t symbolism, was it? That was a memory.

A few brief experiences but exaggerated, enmeshed with extreme, strong symbolism, Anubis agreed, still watching her face closely. It is important to keep your distance and not follow the dreamer at such times.

Angelina rolled her eyes. Yeah, yeah, again, she’d been told as much, but it was harder to remember some things in the moment. How did that guy in South America stand so closely to me without being drawn in?

Anubis smiled and vanished. He likely suffered some, his voice lingered, hence he didn’t fight you that next follow up confrontation. It took him a full day to recover.

Angelina hadn’t thought of that.

There was a scream downstairs, then out back, then in the room to her left, and Angelina burst into