Dreams Unite: An Epic Fantasy Novel: Realm of Bennington, #3

By K. Stan Tinos

Dreams Unite, the third book in the highly anticipated Bennington series, is a captivating tale that will keep readers on the edge of their seat.

 

In a mystical convergence of dreams, Ronnie Trudeau, Strago Celest, and Halsin find their premonitions filled with hidden dangers and conflicting motives as they hunt the powerful presence of an owlbear. 

 

Embark on a daring expedition through ancient forests and forgotten ruins to seek out the mythical beast. Stirred by primal instincts, you track its elusive form. Seek it not merely as a quarry but as a riddle. What ancient knowledge does it guard? 

 

These intertwined destinies weave a tapestry of intrigue and magic, leaving the reader immersed in the characters' adventures, struggles, and triumphs, wondering: What secrets lie beyond the veil of slumber? Only time will tell in this magical tale of deception, courage, and adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pocket Book
• Release date: Apr 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223718864

Book preview

DREAMS UNITE: An Epic Fantasy Novel

K. STAN TINOS

POCKET

Copyright © 2024 K. STAN TINOS

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

I dedicate this book to my family, both immediate and work-related. Without them, I would have completed this novel a few years sooner. May God watch over them!

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter eight

Chapter nine

Chapter ten

Chapter eleven

Chapter twelve

Chapter thirteen

Chapter fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter sixteen

Chapter seventeen

Chapter eighteen

Chapter nineteen

Chapter twenty

Chapter twenty one

Chapter twenty  two

Conclusion

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Books by K. Stan Tinos

CHAPTER ONE

The owlbear emerged from the morning mist as if it was born from it. It gazed out over the Kingdom of Bennington as daybreak approached on the eastern horizon. The silence deepened with the appearance of the owlbear, and it almost seemed as if the event was sensed throughout the valley. The transition from sleep to waking was as close as time ever came to being frozen. Everywhere, dreams gave way to being, and the valley stirred to life.

The owlbear was standing near the peak of the valley’s northern rim, situated in the Sunspire mountains and close to the edge of the fairy world. Bennington, a place full of forested slopes, bare rock crags, foothills, grasslands, rivers, lakes, forests, and scrub, stretched out before it. The sun’s rays created a hazy glow, illuminating the morning dew and casting colorful patches amidst the fading darkness. Castles, towns, and cottages were visible as vague, irregular shapes against the symmetry, as creatures that hunkered down in rest and breathed smoke from dying embers.

There were tears in the eyes of a green flame that swept across the valley from end to end, glittering with newfound life. It had been so long since such beauty was witnessed! A small stream trickled down and collected in a basin of rocks about a dozen yards from where the owlbear stood. A group of forest creatures gathered at the pool’s edge and stared in awe at the sight before them. The group included a rabbit, a badger, several squirrels and voles, an opossum, and a young solitary toad. A cave zu melted back into the shadows, and a bog merrow flattened back into its hole. Birds sat motionless upon the branches of the trees, and everything was still. The only sound was the gentle ripple of the stream over the mountain rocks.

The bear’s paws shifted, and its tail feathers swished, creating restless movements against the backdrop of the still-life world. The owlbear was the most graceful and beautiful creature ever created and would never be surpassed.

The sun rose quickly over the valley of Bennington, promising the start of a new day. The owlbear, feeling the sun’s warmth on its face, lifted its head to greet it. But it still felt the weight of the invisible chains that bound it, and the cold of their lingering presence dispelled almost instantly the momentary warmth.

The owlbear shivered. It was immortal and could never be killed by mortal things. But its life could still be taken away all the same. Time was the ally of the enemy who had imprisoned it. And time had begun to move forward again.

The owlbear moved swiftly through shadows and light, searching for its freedom.

Chapter two

I had a dream last night, Ronnie Trudeau announced to her friends at breakfast that morning. She might as well have been delivering a mundane weather report.

As the woman spoke, the wizard Strago Celest seemed lost in thought, his birdish face creased with concentration as he stared into space. The kobolds O’gho and Moro barely glanced up from their meal while the scribe Montblanc, a fuzzy-faced cat, gave her a polite look of curiosity, but that was not particularly difficult for a fuzzy-faced cat whose usual look was one of polite curiosity.

Only the grim Halsin, just come into the dining hall of Mistcloak Keep and seated next to her, showed any genuine interest—a sudden change of expression oddly disquieting.

I dreamed about home, she continued, determined to pursue the matter. I dreamed about the old world.

Excuse me? Strago was looking at her now, apparently returned from whatever planet he had been visiting. Excuse me, but did I hear you say something about…?

What did you dream about the old world, High Lady? Impatiently, Montblanc interrupted Ronnie, his polite curiosity turning into faint disapproval. He looked at Ronnie meaningfully over the rims of his eyeglasses. He always looked at her like that when Ronnie mentioned the old world.

Ronnie pressed on, Do you remember Eli Grier? She was my old law partner. I had a dream about her last night. In the dream, Eli was in trouble. It wasn’t a complete dream, as it felt like I came in halfway through the story. Eli was in her office, frantically sorting through papers. Phone calls were coming in, messages were being delivered, and people were lurking in the shadows where I couldn’t see them. Eli looked terrible and kept asking for me. She was wondering where I was and why I wasn’t there. I tried calling out to her, but she didn’t seem to hear me. Then, there was some distortion, darkness, and twisting of what I saw. Eli kept calling out for me, but something came between us, and I woke up.

She briefly glanced at the faces around her. They were all listening to her now. But that’s not all, she added quickly. There was a feeling of an impending disaster lurking behind the entire series of images. There was a terrifying intensity to it. It felt so real.

Some dreams are like that, High Lady, Montblanc observed with a shrug. He pushed the eyeglasses back on his nose and folded his forelegs primly across his vested chest. I have read that dreams often reflect our subconscious fears, Montblanc stated. He adjusted his eyeglasses and crossed his forelegs neatly over his vest. Montblanc was meticulous in his mannerisms.

Not this dream, Ronnie argued. It felt like a premonition, something more significant.

Montblanc sniffed. Are you suggesting that you want to return to your old world based on an emotionally distressing but unfounded dream? The scribe made no effort to hide his distress now, as his worst fears were about to come true.

Ronnie was hesitant. It had been over a year since she had ventured into the magical realm, hidden deep in the forests of the Green Mountains, a few miles north of Woodford, and entered the Kingdom of Bennington. Ronnie paid a high price to become Queen, starting with a letter she found in an old wooden box bequeathed to Ronnie by her mother. She was driven by desperation rather than reason. The people of Bennington did not readily accept her as their Queen, and she faced attacks on her claim to the throne from all sides.

Creatures whose existence she once believed impossible almost destroyed her. Magic, the force that governed everything in this strangely intriguing world, was a two-edged sword she had been compelled to master to survive. Since deciding to enter the fogs, her reality had been redefined, and the life she had known seemed far removed from her present existence. Despite partially forgetting her old life, she pondered occasionally about returning to it. As her gaze met that of her scribe, she was unsure how to respond. I must confess that I am worried about Eli, she finally admitted.

The dining hall was silent and tense. The kobolds had abruptly stopped eating, their baboon-like faces frozen in a half-grin that exposed their sharp teeth. Montblanc was seated stiffly, his body rigid with fear. Halsin looked pale and appeared ready to say something, but Strago Celest spoke first. Wait a moment, High Lady, he said thoughtfully, placing one bony finger over his lips.

He rose from the table, dismissed the serving boys who stood clandestinely on either side of the room and closed the doors tightly behind them. The six friends were alone in the cavernous dining hall. Strago seemed unsatisfied with the situation. The great arched entry at the room’s far end opened through a foyer to the rest of the castle. Strago walked silently to its mouth and cautiously peered around to survey the area.

Ronnie was curiously observing Strago, trying to understand why he was being so cautious. In the past, only six of them lived at Mistcloak Keep, but now there were many retainers of different ages and ranks, including soldiers, guardsmen, emissaries, envoys, messengers, and others who comprised her court, all stumbling over one another and into her private life when it was least convenient. But it was no secret that Ronnie had considered returning to her old world—and practically everyone had discussed it openly. Besides, the people of Bennington already knew that she was not a native.

She smiled ruefully. Ah, well—it couldn’t hurt to be cautious.

She stretched, loosening muscles that were still tight from sleep. She was a woman of average appearance, her height and frame small, her weight evenly distributed. She moved quickly and precisely, having kept a daily jogging routine in her old life. Her face was tanned from being in the sun and wind, with high cheekbones and forehead and long, flowing mahogany-colored hair. While age lines started appearing at the corners of her eyes, her eyes remained brilliantly brown and steady.

Her gaze shifted ceilingward. Morning sunlight streamed through high glass windows and danced off polished wood and stone. She glanced at her friends: Strago Celest, the wizard whose magic frequently misfired, a ragtag scarecrow of patchwork robes and tangled gestures; Montblanc, the court scribe, became a soft-coated Centurio through Strago’s magic and left that way when the magic couldn’t be found to change him back again, a cat in gentleman’s clothing; Halsin, the handsome grim who was half man, half tree, a creature of the magical realm with magic of his own; and O’gho and Moro, the kobolds who looked like big-eared baboons in pants, were a messenger and a cook, respectively. She had found them all so strange in the beginning. She found them comfortable and reassuring a year later and felt protected in their presence.

She shook her head. She lived in a world of dragons, witches, gnomes, trolls, and other strange creatures of living castles and fairy magic. She lived in a fantasy kingdom where she reigned as a Queen. It was something she had always yearned for yet never thought possible. The old world was long past; the life she had once known was now a distant memory. Odd, then, that she still thought of that world and life so frequently, of Eli Grier, of the responsibilities and obligations she had left behind. Threads from the tapestry of last night’s dream entwined within her memory and tugged relentlessly at her. It seemed she could not forget easily what had comprised so many years of her life…

Strago Celest cleared his throat.

I had a dream last night, too, High Lady, announced the wizard as he returned from his inspection. Ronnie’s eyes shot up to meet the tall, robed figure seated on a high-backed chair. The wizard leaned forward, his eyes focused on something distant. He scratched his bearded chin with his bony fingers and spoke in a low, cautious voice. In my dream, I saw the missing books of magic!

Ronnie understood the other’s caution now, as only a few within Bennington knew about the books of magic. Strago’s half-brother initially owned these books, the former court wizard of Bennington, a fellow Ronnie had known in the old world as Potts. It was Potts, in league with a disgruntled heir to the throne, who had given Ronnie the queenship—confident that Ronnie would fall victim to one of any number of traps set to destroy her, confident that when Ronnie was finally dispatched, the queenship would become his to barter again. Potts had attempted to make Strago his ally by offering him knowledge from the hidden books of magic, but instead, Strago and Ronnie had become allies themselves. They had managed to elude all of Potts’ traps and had permanently cut all of his ties with Bennington.

Ronnie’s eyes fixed on Strago’s. Potts was gone, but the books of magic remained concealed somewhere within the valley…

Did you hear what I said, High Lady? Strago’s eyes were shining with excitement. The missing books—magic gleaned by wizards of Bennington since the dawn of her creation! I might have found the missing books! His eyes danced. His voice dropped to a whisper. They are hidden in the catacombs of the ruined fortress of Grymforge, high in the Sunspire! In my dream, I followed a torch that no hand carried. I followed it through the dark tunnels and stairways to a door marked with scrolls and runes. The door opened, revealing blocks of stone flooring, and one of them was marked with a special sign. I touched it, and it gave way to reveal the books. I remember it all vividly as if it actually happened!

Now, it was Ronnie’s turn to look dubious. She started to say something in reply and stopped, not knowing what to say. She felt Halsin stir uneasily beside her.

I wasn’t sure whether I should talk about my dream or not, to be honest with you, the wizard confided, his words rushing. I thought maybe I should wait until I could determine if the dream was false or true before sharing it. But then you spoke of your dream, and I… He hesitated. Mine was similar to yours, High Lady. It wasn’t so much a dream as a premonition. It was strangely intense, compelling in its vividness. Unlike yours, it wasn’t frightening; it was… exhilarating!

Montblanc, at least, was not impressed. All this could result from something you ate, wizard, he unkindly suggested.

Strago seemed not to hear him. Do you realize what it would mean if I were to have the books of magic in my possession? he asked eagerly, birdish face intense. Do you have any idea of the magic I would command?

It seems to me you command quite enough already! Montblanc snapped. I would remind you that your command—or lack thereof—over magic reduced me to my present state some years back! There is no telling what damage you might cause if your powers were enhanced further!

Damage? What of the good I might accomplish? Strago wheeled on the other, bending close. What if I were to find a way to change you back again!

Montblanc went still. It was one thing to be skeptical—another to be foolishly so. He wanted nothing more in all the world than to be human again.

Strago, are you sure about this? Ronnie asked finally.

As sure as you, High Lady, the wizard replied. He hesitated. Odd, though, that on a single night, there should be two dreams…

Three, Halsin said suddenly.

They stared at him—Strago, his sentence unfinished; Ronnie, still trying to grasp the significance of Strago’s revelation; Montblanc and the kobolds speechless. Had he said…?

Halsin repeated, Three, and then continued, I, too, had a dream—and it was strange, disturbing, and perhaps even more vivid than either of yours.

Ronnie noticed the deep concern on Halsin’s face; it was more pronounced and more intense. She had been preoccupied before and had not paid close attention. Halsin was not one to exaggerate, and that something had genuinely shaken him. She sensed a hint of fear in his eyes.

What was it that you dreamed? she asked.

He waited to speak. He seemed to be remembering. I found myself on a journey through familiar and foreign lands. Although I was physically in Bennington, my mind was elsewhere, seeking something. I could see my people, but they were nothing more than dim shadows whispering urgently to me. There was a sense of urgency, but I didn’t understand why. Nevertheless, I kept searching.

He paused. As daylight faded into darkness, the moonlight flooded the woods, surrounding me like a wall. I found myself alone and so frightened that I couldn’t even call for help, even though I desperately wanted to. The thick fog stirred, and the shadows seemed to close on me, threatening to suffocate me. His hand crept over Ronnie’s and tightened. I needed you, Ronnie. I needed you so badly that the mere thought of not having you there was unbearable. A voice within me whispered that if I didn’t finish my journey quickly, I would lose you forever. Something in the way Halsin pronounced that single word sent a chill down Ronnie Trudeau’s spine.

Then suddenly a creature appeared before me, a poltergeist come from the fogs of the predawn night. The grim’s eyes glittered. I encountered an owlbear, Ronnie. It was so bright that it appeared to reflect the moon’s light. It was an owlbear, but something more. It was not brown as the owlbears of old, but snow white. It barred my passage; its head lowered, and its claws dug into the earth. Its robust body seemed to twist and change shape, and I saw it was more demon than owlbear, more devil than fairy. It was blind in the manner of the great marsh bulls and had their fury. It chased me, and I ran. I somehow knew that I must not let it touch me—that I would be lost if it were to touch me. So I ran as fast as I could, but the owlbear was right behind me. It wanted me and meant to have me.

His breath came quickly, his slender body tense with the emotions within. The room was deathly still. And then I saw that I held a collar of spun gold—real gold threads drawn and woven by the fairies of the old world. I didn’t know how I had came to possess that collar; I only knew I mustn’t lose it. I knew it was the only thing in the world to harness the owlbear.

His hand tightened even further. I began to run, searching for Ronnie. I sensed that the collar needed to be given to her, and if I didn’t reach her quickly, the owlbear would find me, and I would be… He trailed off; the tension in the room was palpable.

He trailed off, his eyes fastened on Ronnie’s. She instantly forgot everything he had just told her, lost in those eyes, in the touch of his hand. For an instant, he was the impossibly handsome man she had come upon swimming in the waters of Whilom almost a year ago, siren and fairy child both. The vision never left her. She recaptured it each time she saw him; the memory became life all over again.

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Montblanc cleared his throat. It seems to have been quite a night for dreams, he remarked archly. Everyone in the room but me appears to have had one. O’gho, how about you? Did you dream about friends in trouble or books of magic or owlbears? Moro?

The kobolds hissed softly and shook their heads, but their wary look suggested they didn’t want to take the matter of these dreams lightly as Montblanc did.

There was one more thing, Halsin said, his gaze fixed on Ronnie. As I was running away from the creature chasing me—be it an owlbear or a devil. I came awake, but I felt certain the dream was not yet over—that there was still more to come.

Ronnie nodded slowly, her reverie broken. Sometimes we dream the same dream more than once…

No, Ronnie, he whispered, his voice insistent. His hand released hers. This dream was like yours—more premonition than a dream. I was being warned, High Lady. A fairy creature is closer to the truth of dreams than others. I was being shown something I am meant to know—and I have not yet been shown all.

There are stories of sightings of an owlbear in the histories of Bennington, Strago Celest suddenly mentioned. I remember reading of them once or twice. They were from long ago, and the reports were vague and unconfirmed. It was said that the owlbear was a demon spawn—a creature of such evil that even a single gaze upon it was enough to become lost…

The food and drink of their breakfast sat cooling on plates and in cups on the table before them, forgotten. Despite the empty dining hall, Ronnie felt like eyes and ears were watching them. This made her uneasy. She looked at Strago’s unhappy face and then to Halsin’s again. Had she been told of his dream—and perhaps even of Strago’s—and not experienced her own, she may have disregarded them entirely. Ronnie didn’t usually put much faith in dreams. But the memory of Eli Grier, nearly frantic with worry in the darkened office because Ronnie wasn’t there when she was needed, hung over her like a cloud. It was as real as her own life. She recognized a similar urgency in the narrative of her friends’ dreams, and their insistence reinforced her belief that dreams as vivid and compelling as theirs should not be dismissed as mere byproducts of last night’s dinner or overactive subconsciousness.

Why are we having these dreams? she wondered aloud.

This is a land built on dreams, High Lady, Strago Celest replied. This is a land where the dreams of the magical realm and the mortal world come together and are channeled one to the other. Reality in one is fantasy in the other—except here, where they meet. He rose, spectral in his patchwork robes. There have been such dreams, frequently in up to half a dozen scatterings. Kings, wizards, and persons of power have had such dreams throughout the history of Bennington.

Dreams that are revelations—or even warnings?

Dreams that are meant to be acted on, High Lady.

Ronnie pursed her lips. Do you intend to act on yours, Strago? Do you intend to search for the missing books of magic—just as your dream has advised?

Strago hesitated, his brow furrowed in thought.

And should Halsin seek out the golden collar of his dream? Should I return to my old world and check out Eli Grier?

High Lady, please—a moment! Montblanc was on his feet, a decidedly worried look about him. It might be wise to think this matter through more carefully. It could be a grave mistake for the lot of you to run off in search of… of what may very well be a collection of gastrically induced falsehoods!

He faced Ronnie squarely. High Lady, remember that the wizard Potts is still your greatest enemy. He cannot reach you as long as you stay in Bennington, but I am certain he lives for the day you are foolish enough to venture back into the very world where you left him trapped! What if he discovers that you have returned? What if the danger that threatens your friend is Potts himself?

There is that chance, Ronnie agreed.

Yes, there most certainly is! Montblanc pushed his glasses firmly back on his nose, his point made.

He glanced now at Strago. And you should be wise enough to appreciate the dangers inherent in any attempt to harness the power of the missing tomes of magic—power that was the tool of wizards such as Potts! There were rumors long before you, and I came into being that the tomes of magic were cast in demon iron and conjured for evil use. How can you be sure that such power will not consume you as quickly as fire would a piece of dried parchment? Such magic is dangerous, Strago Celest! As for you— He turned quickly to Halsin, cutting short Strago’s attempts at protest. —yours is the dream that frightens me most. The legend of an owlbear is a legend of evil—even your dream tells you that much! Strago Celest failed to advise in his recitation of the histories of Bennington that all those who claimed to have seen this creature came to a sudden and unpleasant demise. If there is an owlbear, it is likely a demon strayed from the Underdark—and best left alone!

He finished with a snap of his jaws, rigid with the strength of his conviction. His friends stared at him. We are only surmising, Ronnie said, attempting to soothe her agitated scribe. We are only considering possible alternatives…

She felt Halsin’s hand close again about her own. No, Ronnie. Montblanc’s instincts are correct. We are past considering alternatives.

Ronnie fell silent. He was right, she knew. Not one of the three had said so, but the decision had been made all the same. They were going on their separate journeys in pursuit of their separate quests. They were resolved to test the truth of their dreams.

At least one of you is being honest! Montblanc huffed. Honest about going if not about the danger of doing so!

There are always dangers… Strago began.

Yes, yes, wizard! Montblanc cut him short and focused his attention on Ronnie. Have you forgotten the projects presently underway, High Lady? he asked. What of the works that require your presence to see it to completion? The judiciary council meets in a week to consider the format you have implemented for hearing grievances. The irrigation and road work at the eastern borders of the Emerald Grove is set to begin once you have surveyed the stakings. The tax levy requires immediate accounting. And the aristocrats of Emerald Grove are to visit officially three days from now! You cannot just leave all that!

Ronnie glanced away, nodding absently. She was thinking all at once of something else. Just when was it she had decided that she would leave? She couldn’t remember making the decision. It was almost as if somehow the decision had been made for her. She shook her head. That wasn’t possible.

Her eyes shifted back to Montblanc. Don’t worry. I won’t be gone long, she promised.

But you cannot know that! her scribe insisted.

Ronnie paused, then smiled an entirely unexpected smile. Montblanc, some things must take precedence over others. Bennington’s business will keep for the few days it will take me to cross over to the old world and back again. She rose and walked to stand close to her friend. I can’t let this pass. I can’t pretend the dream didn’t happen and that I’m not worried for Eli. Sooner or later, I would have to go back in any case. I have left too many matters unfinished for too long.

Such matters will keep better than those of this kingdom should you fail to return, High Lady, her scribe muttered worriedly.

Ronnie’s smile broadened. I promise I will be careful. I value the well-being of Bennington and her people as much as you.

Besides, I can manage state affairs quite nicely in your absence, High Lady, Strago added.

Montblanc groaned. Why do I feel no reassurance whatsoever at such a prospect?

Ronnie cut