Chapter 12: Terrors of the Night
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   The captain's room was fairly - though not excessively - large.  A table
sat on one side of the room, with a chair next to it and writing materials
on top of it; a compass was set in one corner.  On the wall behind the
table hung a map.  There was a bed on the opposite side of the room - and a
decent one, at that; far better than the cot Locke had in the crew cabin.

   Driel strode to the map and began to trace a path on it with her finger.
"We started at Jidoor," she muttered, "and we've been going east -"  She
glanced at the compass as if to make certain they *were* travelling east.
"- for a few hours."  Her finger moved to the right.  "And Lola is..."  She
began slowly turning to the right.

   Alcan walked over to the compass, and when Driel came to a halt, he
said, "Northeast."

   "Northeast," Driel repeated.  "Then..."  She slowly moved her finger up
and right on the map.  "... Nikeah... Doma Castle..."

   Alcan joined her in front of the map.  "What about these mountains?" he
suggested, pointing out a mountain range further to the northeast.  "When
someone wants to hide something, they often go to mountains.  At least in
my experience."

   "Yes, of course," Driel said, nodding.  "But it can't hurt to check the
town, and in any case, we'll need to stop for supplies at some point.  Will
obviously wasn't expecting passengers when he last stocked up."  She
started toward the door.

   "Driel!" Alcan called, trying to suppress another yawn.

   She turned around to face him.  "What?"

   "Do you mind if I -"  The yawn came out then.  "- sleep in here?  I
mean, it *is* your cabin now.  But the floor downstairs is so
uncomfortable, and I want to try to get at least one good night's sleep..."

   "Sure," Driel told him.  "In fact, I'll make that an order - get some
sleep."  She smiled.  "In your exhausted state, you'd probably fall off the
side of the ship too."

   "Thanks," Alcan said, and as Driel turned back around and headed for the
door, he walked toward the bed.  Once he had climbed in, though, he
realized that he was not yet ready for sleep, despite not having slept well
in... how long?  Only a day?  Less, even?  It felt like it had been much
longer.

   He thought back on what had just happened.  That man in the dark
clothes... he had seemed afraid of Alcan.  Why?  Was he after Alcan?  But
here, in this world, Alcan hadn't made any enemies yet.  Unless that...
Rhiannon... had sent someone after him... but then why would that someone
be afraid of him?  It didn't make sense.

   And the captain, Will Bryant... Alcan suddenly pounded the mattress in
frustration.  "Damn!" he muttered.  "Why...?"  /Why does death follow me
everywhere?/  Alcan felt responsible for the captain's death.  Perhaps his
instincts had been right; perhaps the captain had been untrustworthy from
the start.  But still, the instinct for self-preservation was a strong one;
the captain would not have jumped overboard without a good reason.  Perhaps
Will had thought that if the stranger was so frightened of Alcan, then Will
was as good as dead if Alcan was threatening him.  "Why?" Alcan moaned.

   Then Alcan's weariness took hold, and he yawned once more, all thoughts
but that of sleep submerged in his mind.  He rolled onto his side, trying
to get comfortable; a few minutes later, he fell asleep.

   And dreamed.

                               *  -  *  -  *

   "Goodnight, honey," Alcan's mother said to him, kissing him on the
cheek.

   "'Night, Mom," Alcan replied.  "Sleep well."

   "You too," his mother said.  "See you in the morning."

   "See you in the morning," said Alcan, completing the ritual they had
gone through for as long as Alcan could remember.  The twelve-year-old
sometimes wondered why they always said the same thing to each other every
night, even when they might not actually see each other the next morning.
But it was not particularly important; at the moment, he had other, more
important things on his mind, like sleep.  Yawning, he turned over,
gathering the blankets around him.  His mother blew out the lamp, then
left the room and closed the door behind her, leaving Alcan in darkness.
Which suited him fine.  He closed his eyes, and...

   Alcan stood next to his bed; he'd just woken up after a good night's
sleep.  He got himself dressed, then headed out to the dining room,
expecting to see his parents and at least a couple of his older brothers
there.  To his surprise, however, his mother was not present.  "Where's
Mom?" he asked his father.

   "She left early to go riding," his father, Tarlan, replied.  "She'll be
back this afternoon."

   "Why couldn't I go?" Alcan complained.  He'd learned to ride a horse at
the age of ten, and he considered himself a good rider now.

   Deln, his oldest brother, turned to him.  "You know very well that
you're not old enough and not experienced enough to go on such long rides,"
Deln said.

   Alcan turned to Deln, about to reply...

   In an eyeblink, the scene changed.

   Alcan sat in his seat at the table.  Like his four brothers and his
father, his face was downcast.  His mother had not been heard from for over
a month; despite the hundreds of men out searching for her, she had not
been found.

   Tarlan raised his head slowly to look at his sons, then opened his mouth
to speak.  Even before the words came out, though, Alcan knew what they
would be.  After six weeks, his father had finally made the decision they
had all been dreading.

   "My sons..."  Tarlan hesitated a moment, then continued.  "Your
mother... is no longer with us."

   The room was silent for a full minute; then the silence was broken by
sobs.  Alcan realized they were his own.

   Blink.

   Things had finally come to a head.  Tarlan had become more and more
depressed in the eight years since his mother's disappearance - Alcan still
refused to acknowledge her death, and would not until he had concrete
evidence of such - and had become more of a tyrant than a father to Alcan
and his brothers, making them do useless chores of all kinds imaginable.
They had tried everything they could think of to bring their father out of
his depression, but nothing had worked.  And now it had come to this.

   "For the thousandth time, NO!" Tarlan told Alcan firmly.  "You have
duties in the castle!"

   "But, Father," Alcan said, trying to calm his father down, "it's hardly
dangerous, and besides, I need a break -"

   "I'LL decide when you can have a break!" Tarlan roared, and Alcan jumped
back, startled.  "And I doubt that it will be anytime soon," Tarlan
continued.  "Perhaps some extra work will serve to remind you who's in
charge here."

   "But, Father," Alcan tried again, pleading now, "it's so boring and -"

   "Enough!  Back to your work!"

   Alcan turned and began walking slowly and purposefully toward the door,
the last of his patience gone.

   "I said GO!" Tarlan yelled.

   Alcan quickened his pace.  When he was finally out of the throne room,
he slammed the door behind him angrily.  "Damn you, too," he muttered.  But
a plan was already forming in his mind, a plan that would get him out of
this mess once and for all.

   Blink.  And suddenly Alcan realized what was happening.  /No... not
this.../ his mind cried in anguish.  /Not again.../

   Alcan stood in the hall of Geswine's inn, having just woken from his
first sleep in nearly two days.  He closed the door to his room behind him,
holding the key in his hand.  He headed down the hall to the innkeeper,
intending to return the key, then purchase some supplies around town and
head out of Geswine.  But as he passed through the common room, he noticed
that everyone looked upset about something.  He approached the innkeeper
and, after handing him the key, asked, "What's happened?  Why's everyone so
upset?"

   "You don't know?" the innkeeper said, a bit surprised.  "No, I suppose
you wouldn't."  He paused uncomfortably, then continued, "The king and
princes... were murdered the night before last."

   Alcan stepped back, stunned.  His father and brothers... dead?  "No..."
he whispered desperately.  "No, that can't be..."

   Blink.

   Alcan stood a short distance from the entrance to a village that had
somehow appeared out of nowhere just a moment ago.  There were two people
standing at the entrance; probably guards, Alcan thought.  They looked his
way...

   Suddenly, the part of Alcan that knew he was dreaming recognized the
town.  /NO!/ he screamed in his mind.  /Not Selendia!  Not again.../

                               *  -  *  -  *

   "Alcan?  Are you alright?"

   That was Driel's voice, Alcan realized.  He opened his eyes, rubbed the
sleep out of them, and saw her standing over him with a worried look on her
face.  "What?" he said, not yet awake enough to comprehend the question.

   "I'd just come up from checking on Locke, and I heard you cry out.  I
came in here to see what was the matter."

   "Locke... oh, yes," he said, coming fully awake.  "Locke should have
been sleeping up here," he muttered to himself, "not me."  Then, to Driel,
he continued, "Just dreams.  Nothing to worry about."

   "Nightmares," Driel corrected.  "You certainly didn't sound like you
were enjoying yourself.  What were they about?"

   "How long have I slept?" Alcan countered, avoiding Driel's question.
Yes, he had talked to her about it the other day, but it was still an
uncomfortable topic.

   "A day and a half," Driel replied.  "Now, what was that nightmare
about?"

   "A... day and a half?" Alcan repeated, startled.  He had never slept
that long at once before, although he realized he did feel quite rested.
Then, regaining his composure, he asked Driel, "So where are we now?"

   "Stop avoiding my question," Driel said sternly.

   "Look, it's not something I like to talk about," Alcan told her, annoyed
at her persistence.

   "Your family, isn't it?" Driel surmised, a note of compassion entering
her voice.

   "I said, I don't want to talk about it!" Alcan nearly yelled.

   Driel turned back toward the door.  "Well, sorry," she tossed back
caustically as she walked out.  Then, just as she was about to shut the
door, she added, "We're a day or so from Nikeah."

   /Nikeah,/ Alcan thought sadly as Driel nearly slammed the door shut.
/How many will die here?/