

# Dreamweavers Among Us

BLUE

### Book Two of the Draumrs Series

### by

### Ross Peacock
All Rights Reserved

This book is published for your personal enjoyment only and may not be copied or excerpted without the permission of the author. If you would like to share this book with others, please consider purchasing an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

©2018 Ross Peacock - All Rights Reserved

ebook ISBN: 978-0-9959759-1-0

Print ISBN: 978-1-9804765-5-9

Cover Art Credit: Best Designs, iStock, Getty Images 2015, licensed for publication.
Introduction to Book Two

Book One: RED, introduced readers to Draumrs. These everyday folks among us are the descendants of ancient mystics and prophets, who actually knew what was coming through heightened senses and foreshadowing vision. Most importantly, Draumrs can influence the waking actions of people by joining them in their dreams. Committed as a species to the welfare of humankind, Draumrs, or Dreamweavers, have been part of sentient dreams for recorded history, subtly creating and acting in dreams that help troubled beings make better sense of the world. Sexy and fun-loving, Draumrs also create the most memorable of human fantasy dream adventures just on a lark.

But, the Dreamweavers aren't perfect. The Clans, which are organized under the seven colors, also have a long history of conflict amongst themselves and among the humans that they guide. Draumrs aren't immune to the temptations of power and influence. In the past, this fallibility has resulted in highly destructive interference into the dreams of rulers: kings, popes, imams and despots. Believing in their dreams and in the glory to be gained, maniac leaders have followed fantasy paths that led to the destruction of peoples and countries in brutal world wars. When the Draumr making the dreams was also deeply disturbed, a nearly unstoppable force threatened all of mankind. Only the most desperate and equally brutal response from the combined Clans stopped the slide into total destruction.

The troubling past should have been behind them since the last global war caused mostly by a wayward Draumr more than 75 years ago. The new heroes of the Clans are young, energetic and hugely talented, but they are woefully naïve in both the destructive potential of Draumr influence and in the force of ancient practices coming back into play. History has unfortunately not been fully recorded or told, as successive generations lost touch with the madness of the past.

Banned and hidden by the Elders, ancient practices make use of other-world artefacts to multiply the power of the Dreamweaver. The colored 'stones' also allow Draumrs to reach across the dreaming-waking boundary to inflict real damage, and death, in dreams that actually become reality. The stones' power also has a corrupting and potentially destabilizing impact on the mental well-being of their holder. At the end of Book 1, an off-side Draumr, possessing the artefacts, appears well on his way to creating another global catastrophe.

The unlikely trio of called-up Leutnant heroes: Will, Sacha and Lulu, respectively from the Green, White and Black Clans, has its work cut out. Unsure of support from their only ally: Thomas, the Brown Clan master warrior, they now face a Red Clan foe who has shown that she will use brutal force, cunning deception and irresistible sex appeal to achieve the goals her, possibly insane, father has assigned her. Having already lost in combat to Xana twice, the last-hope trio must now pursue their foe to the other side of the world, where a gathering of world leaders presents a tempting and nearly indefensible target for a brilliant enemy already many steps ahead of them.

Unfortunately, because this novel is set in our world and includes occasional cameos by political leaders, there is a downside to the extended period needed to document the story. Presidential elections, can, for example, require a re-write of more than one character. And, when the gender of a newly elected leader is different from the predecessor, bedroom scenes also need updating to avoid confusion. Apologies, if some of these 'entirely fictitious' characters end up just one election or one uprising out-of-context; we tried our best.
Acknowledgements

Contributors

Many thanks to everyone who contributed thoughts and comments on the drafts of the Draumrs books. Particular thanks to Grace Peacock, whose original manuscript provided the concepts for the fascinating world of Dreamweavers.

Dream Weaver

Entertainers Gene Adkinson and Wade Buff were given a twice-weekly, half-hour program slot on Miami radio station WRUF in 1955. With the program ending at 10:30 p.m., they felt it appropriate to sign off with a song they had composed while in high school in 1953: "It's Almost Tomorrow" (words by Buff, music by Adkinson). Buff served as the lead singer, and the harmony part was sung by various female singers (Sally Sanborn, Mary Carr, Mary Rude, and others).

The announcer of the show, Chuck Murdock, couldn't figure out how to introduce the unnamed group and the song, so came up with the idea of running a contest on the show to name them. The contest winner stated that because the song they wrote was dreamy, they were weavers of dreams, thus 'The Dream Weavers.' Atkinson and Buff played together under that name only until the end of 1956.

John Lennon picked up the idea in his song 'God' in 1970 and Gary Wright made the term ubiquitous with his hit, so named, in 1975. As far as we are aware, Lennon was the only Draumr among these.
Cast of Characters

As introduced in Book One: Red....

Green Clan

Water Green – Elder of the Clan and aging former fighter

Jack Green – son of Water, an emerging leader as Water steps back

Will Green – nickname Duck, young fighter now emerging under Water's and Jack's guidance

Joe Green – northern cousin, Guardian of the river who died in an early confrontation

White Clan

Emma White – new Elder of the Clan, following the death of her father

Sacha White – nickname Snow, young fighter leading the good guys, already very capable

Red Clan

Mikilo Chernoyiv – nickname Cherry (translated last name) aging Elder of the Clan

Oksana Chernoyiv – nickname Xana, highly skilled and deadly agent of her father, leading the bad guys

Alexander Chernoyiv – nickname Lex, nephew of Cherry, nasty, but with uncertain skills

Bohdan Chernoyiv – nickname Bobby, killed by someone in an encounter with the good guys

Black Clan

Gloria Black – Elder of the Clan, having succeeded her father a few years back

Luise Black – nickname Lulu, youngest of the good guys team, highly skilled in martial arts but a lover first

Brown Clan

Jacques Brun – nickname Jake, Elder of the Clan, military expert and long-ago fighting ally of Water and Cherry

Thomas Brown – nickname Tom, son of Jake, current military liaison, deadly (possible double) agent

Grey Clan

Armand Grau – Elder of the Clan, head of the First Circle and most senior Draumr

Philip Grey – younger cousin in the Clan, intelligence expert for the good guys

Plus, of course, the many dreamers...
**Lapis** **Means Blue**

On waking, the young Leutnants made their way to the dining hall to get food and hot drinks. Water and Emma knew that they were busting with questions about the next steps and about the revelation of a previously unknown Blue Clan based in Asia, referred to as the 'Lapis' in English. An explanation was needed and the task of explaining fell to Jack Green.

"I could tell you that this is someone pulling your chain and that there is no Blue Clan. If we had the time or the luxury of a lark, I'd be the first to do it. Unfortunately, we don't have either, so I'll be brief and as forthcoming as I can. If the explanation sounds a little sketchy, it's because I don't know the whole story either."

He looked around at the assembled crew. As they were wide-awake and in-person, they now wore the workout gear of trainees, actively building both knowledge and skills. Tees, sweats or yoga pants were standard apparel around the clock. They were moving in and out of dreamscapes to practice skills, so clothes were mostly for comfort. Still, the women looked hot enough to cook a duck and Will looked half-cooked.

Jack started with a preamble. "The Blue Clan, or family last name of Lapis, are part of our lineage going back to the recorded origins of Draumrs in Europe. Until the late 1600's, there was quite a bit of movement between Clans on the continent and in Asia. America was still a wilderness. In the 1700's, a Lapis child assumed the 'reincarnated' role of Dalai Lama for all Tibetan Buddhists. This was Kelzang Gyatso Lapis. Whether or not he was a reincarnation of an earlier leader is inconsequential for Draumrs. His actual blood line was pure Draumr. What is relevant, is that by the time he consolidated his role leading the Buddhist sect around 1750, he had also taken the Elder's chair in the First Circle for the Blue Clan."

"With the spread of Tibetan Buddhism, the Draumr Blue Clan also spread its influence. The role of the monk was a great cover, but it also set the widespread beliefs of the primarily faithful Buddhist Blue Clan at odds with the non-religious European Clans of the times. Harsh words and minor skirmishes ensued. Throughout the 18th and 19th centuries, the influence of Western culture—mostly our Black and Grey Clans, rubbed up hard against Asian culture—the Lapis, until conflicts threatened to break apart Draumr unity of purpose entirely."

Seeing nothing but blank looks, Jack continued, "The Lapis leadership declared it had no further use for the hierarchy of the Circles and pulled out of all functional and oversight roles. In the 20th century, as global politics and wars broke up Western-led Asian empires, the First Circle agreed that Asian lands would come fully under Lapis control. The 'treaty' with the Lapis effectively established exclusion terms. In short, we didn't muck around on their turf and they didn't fart around on ours. But, we acknowledge each other's existence and maintain some connections."

Jack took a breath and looked around to see if the truncated story was making sense to all. No-one said anything as it was clear that he hadn't gotten to his point yet. He was still warming up the jury before asking them to do something with the information.

"So, let me get to the meat of the issue." Jack held his hands together and upward as if holding a five-kilo rump roast.

"Global boundaries are breaking down everywhere. There are no longer any clear-cut lines of demarcation, particularly as various regions move in and out of western or eastern influence. It is damn difficult not to walk on each other's toes. Of course, dreamers don't hold still either. Asians immigrate here. Westerners work there. We interact at a diplomatic level to seek permissions, and sometimes, to ask forgiveness, with a First Circle Elder designated as the primary contact for the most senior Lapis Elder."

He paused again. "Here's the kicker; for the last thirty years, the role of Lapis emissary from our Clans has been Mikilo Chervoniy."

This information finally caused a hubbub in the room. The realization that their number one enemy was also the First Circle's pathway to a whole other Clan, that could be vitally important, was a lot to accept casually.

"Why hasn't he been replaced?"

"Isn't someone doing something about this?"

"Are we fighting two Clans?"

"Did Xana get her new skills from the Blue's?"

They all had questions as it appeared that the entire strategy of surrounding and neutralizing one rogue Clan now appeared misdirected. All Cherry had to do was to ensure that the battle was dragged east and the Red Clan might well have the protection of another territorial Clan, probably with cousins everywhere.

"I can't tell you what the current situation is, so let's not jump to conclusions." Jack needed to restore their confidence.

"There may be nothing to Xana's trip east. It did have a legitimate purpose, apparently. She was a speaker at a conference. She may not be planning to do anything there, but saw the other-side-of-the-world junket as a useful way to disappear right back onto her home turf. Certainly, nothing that we have seen to-date would suggest any interest in Lapis affairs whatsoever. We now have to use channels and make appropriate inquiries. The last Blue Clan Elder: Lapis Lazuli, was a wise and pragmatic centenarian who was a Buddhist temple master by day. He would not have counselled, nor tolerated any Draumr action that would harm sleepers. But, he is gone now some 30 years. Any Blue Clan representation in the Halls disappeared entirely about then; we took it as a clear indication that he had died."

He wanted to get off the topic. "You can be confident that Armand is on the blower already seeking assistance and assurances from whomever he can find in charge over there. I would put my faith in him to resolve any issues with the Lapis in short order. Until this is done, we are somewhat limited in what we can do. We certainly cannot drop an assault team into Asia unannounced, so whether or not you want to jump in, you can't. Tom Brown has his resources already engaged quietly and out of sight. This is all we can do for now."

He also wanted to leave them feeling engaged. "Our primary challenge is to figure out what the Red Clan agenda is and where they want to take this. Whatever you can add to this picture is valuable. Detached speculation is a waste of energy. We'll have Xana back on the radar soon enough—then your work starts again. For now, clear your heads and stick with your training."

The Leutnant team was on its own as Jack left to consult with the Elders. Water and Emma were still in the camp, but both had indicated that they would soon need to move on to other business if there was no new activity. Jack rarely stayed in one place for long, so they expected him to just disappear as well. If they were to act as a team, they would soon need to ensure that they could do this from wherever they were, on short notice.

Snow was dissatisfied with the explanations and let it show by dropping the temperature in the room about five degrees. She shouldn't be able to do that, but both Will and Lulu felt the chill emanating from her. She wisely moved off to the big kitchen out back to spend time boiling water and fixing a green tea. The room warmed noticeably as she exited through the swinging door.

Will locked eyes with Lulu and gave a small shrug, indicating that Snow's frosty mindset was beyond him. Lulu winked and stuck her tongue out a few millimetres, leaving it there provocatively. Then she came over, kneeled in front of him and took his hands, focusing intently on the lines on his palms.

"Still got that stone?" she asked. She knew that Will kept it in a pocket at all times.

"Put it in your palm and close your hand."

Will wasn't sure where this was going, but didn't mind being petted a little by Lulu. She was a dark pool of exotic possibilities next to Snow's sparkling airborne aura. The two of them in the room together left a man wishing for a great big bed with him lying in the unbelievable space between them. It hadn't happened, but it was such a frequent fantasy that Will hoped that it was only a matter of time before the women fulfilled his wish.

Will had fished out the leather covered stone and found the alignment needed to make it seemingly sink into his palm. He closed his hand and could feel nothing of the stone, but his hand gained weight again as if it held three or four times the mass of the stone.

"Now, make it smell like fresh cut grass in here." Lulu's face and lips were just centimetres from Will's. She seemed to be offering a greater reward if he would follow her instructions. Will had no idea where this was going, but willingly went along. He closed his eyes and imagined being face down in a lush lawn just after the mower had passed.

"That's pretty good." Lulu was smiling from ear-to-ear when he opened his eyes.

Will sniffed the air and picked up the distinctive smell of fresh-cut green grass.

"How did that happen?" Will was pleased to have controlled the stone, even if it was just for a demonstration.

"Not sure, but I'm guessing that stone is older than anything else in the place by many thousands of years. I've heard about ancient practices that could control the waking world just like we now control the dreamscape. A Grey Novice I know in London is studying the ancient lore. Over drinks and you-know-what one night, he told me that he believes that there was once no boundary between sleeping and waking for Draumrs.

She let this sink in a bit, while running the tips of her fingers down the side of Will's neck and back up under his chin.

"I think that Cherry and Xana have figured out how to invoke these old powers. It's how they break your arm in a dream and you wake up with a fractured humerus. Or you can make sleep walkers do things among wide awake companions. It all makes more sense when it's connected through the ancient artefacts. My talkative little Grey told me that any still around were buried deep during a reform period, but if you can follow a set of coded instructions, you can locate them in crypts under cathedrals in old Europe. It's supposed to be a big secret."

She tapped his hand holding the stone. "Guess Water had this one hidden here somewhere? Funny that it seems to have been made for you long before there was a you. Or were you made for it?"

She smiled, "I guess either case makes you pretty special."

She lifted his head and brushed his lips with hers while she talked. Will was turning into a puddle under her caresses. Her dark eyes were all he could see.

Lulu continued, now whispering. "Funny how the weird little bishop Stefan shows up just about the same time we start seeing these reach-through effects. So, they apparently hid these stones under churches. Guess who spent a lot of time bopping about between old churches. I'm betting that Cousin Stephan pilfered some rocks like yours and Xana has one stuffed right up her ass."

She stopped talking and stuck her tongue deep into Will's mouth. She locked lips with him and drew him deep into a dark soft cubby of their minds, where Will could feel the heat of her body pressed completely against his. He wanted nothing more than to tumble together with her into a long deep embrace.

Then, she pulled her lips away and it all faded in a millisecond. She was grinning again. Nothing had been touching other than their mouths.

"See," She giggled. "Nothing to it among Draumrs; particularly horny ones like us. It's no stretch to imagine that the delusions can cause wide-awake people to do strange things. Particularly, if it's already in their nature."

Will was having a little trouble coming back to reality. His cock was hoisting a very distinctive tent in his sweats. He shuffled a bit to re-holster his junk. Lulu grinned and flicked her eyes down, just for a second. She whispered "later" in his ear, and then gave him some space by walking around his chair.

Will was intrigued with the theory and now considered his talisman more carefully. The ancient powers would explain the strange feeling he got when holding the stone. Having no developed skills, he wasn't sure that he could direct it or hope to control it, but the fact that he had it and that it appeared to be specifically made for him was intriguing. Had Water retrieved the stone as a weapon of last resort, knowing where this fight was going? Maybe he had been well-trained in its use and the knowledge was still stored away in his head somewhere. Some sort of preparation might also explain why a relative Novice like him was being dropped into this battle among master Leutnants.

"Have you told Snow what you suspect?" Will hoped that this wasn't a secret he was supposed to keep.

"Of course," Lulu was now climbing back into the sofa chair with him and was actually wrapping herself around his torso. She whispered again, so close that her lips were touching his ear. "And in just the same way," Her tongue was exploring his ear lobe. "when we were discussing your black, white and green fantasy movie."

Damn, they could read his mind. Just as Will was trying to figure out whether he should apologize or just be happy, Snow came back in the room. He had a moment of concern for Snow's reaction, given that Lulu was clearly claiming some private attention from him.

Snow laughed at his discomfort.

"I see that you two needed to huddle for warmth. Sorry about that."

She plunked herself on the rug against their legs and sipped her tea. They made room for her to snuggle back against the big sofa chair. Clearly, she had calmed down considerably. Whatever distance there had been between all of them before their training, there now was none needed. They each saw the others as intimates in a union of both minds and bodies. It was a wonderful new feeling for Will, who had been put off more than once by a possessive and jealous woman.

"I've just told Duck our theory of the artefacts."

Our theory? Will had the impression that this had been a flyer by Lulu. Now, he was wondering where and when these two had constructed this theory, apparently without involving him. It wasn't a stretch to imagine them in the sack together. As soon as the image crystallized in his head, he wiped the thought away. It seemed that he couldn't get his mind off sexual fantasies. He was now certain that he was broadcasting almost everything he imagined. Snow though, seemed to be quite content and was even absently playing her fingers down their calves. Concentration was going to be a challenge if they kept this up.

Snow stopped caressing and turned around to look up at them.

She opened her eyes wide and spoke with a cooling breath that seemed to make everything brighter and more detailed. It was impossible not to focus on every word.

"I think that we are supposed to figure it out and be ready to counter their next moves." She tapped his hand, holding the stone. How did she know it was there?

"Tonight, Will, you sleep with the stone in your hand and we'll see where it takes us. It will probably feel like the first time on a snowboard or taking the controls of a different plane, but we are experts at those hard things. We are here and together for a reason. Maybe the Elders can't admit that they are letting it out of the box. Maybe, we have to move beyond what they let us do."

For Will, Snow's assessment fell in place like fresh tracks in morning dew. He could see the connection to things that Water had said days before, but which now seemed to have been in a previous lifetime. He saw the impatient college kid questioning a ridiculous drive north in Jack's truck. He tried to relive the unplanned stop where Water had left them and returned with the stone. He had shaken off the possibility of an invisible man and a winking in and out Water, but it was starting to make more sense. Water knew about the artefacts and was probably highly skilled at using them. But, this wasn't his fight. He was too old. All the long-time Elders were. They needed new champions, but could not break ancient rules by laying it all out for them.

"I have to go see Water first. There is something else I need to get from him."

The women obliged by gracefully parting contact with him and letting him up, although they stayed together in the chair.

Will was now excited and a little nervous about where this revelation might be going. He also missed the contact with the women immediately, feeling alone even though they were just a few feet away.

"Where are we sleeping?" he asked. "In the loungers or in our beds?" Neither appealed to him right now.

"Hmmm, that's a toughie." Lulu grinned again, and leaned forward to run her hands over Snow's shoulders and down over her breasts.

"I think that very close together would be best." She feigned serious consideration of possibilities.

"It turns out that I have a king size bed that you have never visited, naughty boy." They both laughed and Snow now nuzzled Lulu's arms.

"Why don't you make your way back there when you're done with Water?" Lulu now feigned complete innocence. "We can work on our theory a bit before we dash off to sleep."

"The theory about the artefacts?" Will was a little confused.

"No, silly, our theory about what color Green, White and Black make when mixed together. I hope that it's not Brown, because we've already been down that road.

Both women laughed again, rose as one and headed off arm-in-arm.

Will shook his head and headed towards Water's room.

Concentrate. Concentrate.
The Talisman

Water Green had many notebooks. He observed and documented the world as a scientist might observe and document a bug colony under glass. Unlike most other humans, Water could see the invisible stimuli of the mind as clearly as the scientist might see the drip of whatever pheromone he was applying to get the bugs to fuck. Water rarely mistook the answer to a question of 'why' something happened. Through decades of practice and learned concentration, he could see the why in the environment, in the motivation of humans and in the failures of both things and people.

In construction, knowing 'why' had made him the very best at building infrastructure that precisely fit the physical world around it. Other roads pot-holed and heaved. Green Water Construction built roads didn't buckle under years of heavy use. People lied to others or committed actions they had no intention of doing. Others wondered about things; Water knew the answers. He could pick out reliable people and form committed teams that could tackle the seemingly impossible with great success.

Now though, he was doubting his abilities for the first time. He knew that age was a factor. A younger Water would just breeze over any gaps. Old Water was hesitating. Younger Water would have anticipated and moved decisively early on. Old Water wasn't sure; it was a failing that he hadn't experienced before and couldn't accept now. He had already made the decisions needed to hand over the reins to Jack and to Will. His last task, which he must complete to perfection, was to ensure that they were ready to take them.

Over the last few weeks, Water had filled in the final pages in a notebook that wasn't his. It had been handed to him half-filled decades ago when another Elder, his grandfather, had sent him into a war zone with little apparent hope of success. He had been a skilled Leutnant, not yet 20, and feared no hostile engagement. He had been in battle and had seen men die all around him with no concern for his own safety. He brought what rest and refreshment he could to the chosen side, while the enemy got no peace. They persevered against all odds, but only at the pace that humans can sustain. It was grinding on the soul, costly in lives and merciless in its cruelty. Draumrs did whatever they could, but were only guides and attendants. Men had to finish the war that they had started.

Near the end, his grandfather had drawn him to the Cathedral of Trees and laid out a challenge. One man on the other side: a scientist, could make a difference for the enemy that would reverse all of the Allied gains and change the outcome of the war. He had to be eliminated. The challenge was that no ordinary soldier could get to him. If he persisted in his work, the enemies of freedom would achieve a weapon so destructive that the entire balance of the world power would change. The individual was hidden away behind impenetrable walls in a fortress that could not be broken either from land or from the air. The deadly strike had to come through the dreamscape.

Water had expressed his incredulity at the possibility of doing this. As he knew his craft, horrid and frightening dreams could be created. In some dreamers, bad enough dreams over a long time might result in madness, so this was never allowed. The Draumr presence was normally only a wispy image in the dream. Fleeting and changing, it vanished when the dreamer woke. No matter how horrendous the dream, including dying in it, it was always only a dream. And most dreamers could just wake and shake it off.

Now, he learned from his grandfather that this wasn't always true. He learned of the ancient artefacts. Draumrs had employed them for many hundreds of years in Europe and Asia. But, they were now considered to be part of a long ago dark era and were banished from both practice and teaching. Except, when they were the last chance to save a civilization.

Water came home and was given such an artefact. It was the single Green Clan stone that had been passed hand-to-hand through each generation. It had a leather covering which adapted to his hand from the minute he touched it. Grandfather had also handed him the notebook, half-filled in his own fine hand with information that covered all that was known of the power of the artefacts. With his grandfather's help, he learned how to use the talisman on the dreamscape and studied how to kill the dreamer. Enemy soldiers, likely destined to die the next day, were sacrificed in their sleep for practice. It was brutal, but effective, and in a few weeks Water was ready to attack the single most important enemy.

It was all simple in the end. A pistol was conveniently at hand as the scientist was entirely paranoid when awake. He kept it for fear of assassins breaking down his door. In his final dream, no assassins came. He simply went to the drawer in a deep sleep walk, picked up and cocked the loaded weapon and blew his brains out. Water's hand had guided the entire dreamscape. He had invoked a feeling of depression so perverse that the man couldn't wait to die. Water he had witnessed the man's conscious being fade out in the moments after the shot. In the dream, the man had turned to him and seen him at the end. In death, he knew that he was not alone and that it was the right thing to do. He had smiled.

Grandfather had retrieved the talisman from Water and passed it back to the shaman charged with its protection. Water was told to forget what he had learned and to never speak of it again. He had sworn to do this. But, grandfather had not taken the notebook back.

Grandfather knew that young Water wrote all that he learned in the notebook. He knew that Water had faithfully logged each detail of obtaining the talisman and of how to use it. He knew that the shaman also had a grandson who would become the next keeper. The Elder died peacefully knowing that this was as it should be. The First Circle had closed and sealed any evidence of the use of an artefact to compel the death of a dreamer. For two generations, it was not spoken of again. But at least one Draumr in each Clan knew how to retrieve and use the artefacts of the Clan. One must always know.

Water now understood that it was his responsibility to pass on that knowledge and with it the life-long burden of its protection to his grandson. He had re-read the entire notebook, making sure that both his and his grandfather's fine pen work was legible to one with good eyes. He knew that Duck had the marvelous eyes of a hawk. He filled in a few last pages of directions on how to survive the expansion of the mind that was sure to follow use of the talisman. He also speculated on how to win against another similarly equipped, but this was all new, so these pages asked more questions than they answered.

It had never been anticipated that Draumr would confront Draumr in a dreamscape with lasting-effect consequences. Water could not see the possible outcomes, but the death of one at the hands of the other seemed most certain. Soldiers knew this gut-wrenching fear in hand-to-hand combat. One of them would die right there. There was no tapping out or surrender. For much of the struggle it was uncertain who that would be. Terror would grip both minds and both bodies. Mere strength or cunning wasn't usually the determinant. Most often, luck was. How to write about luck? It was the dilemma that Water considered each night with his pen poised. As yet, the page remained blank.

Water was up and completing some business paperwork when Will knocked on his door. He welcomed him into the suite of rooms that served as both his office and his bedroom. He observed Will's every movement. After several days of dreamscape practice and many hours in the gym at the camp, the 'Duck' was clearly moving like a capable Novice. Water thought of him as Duck for the last time.

There was no need for pleasantries. Water simply spoke: "So, Will, your hand carries the weight of the talisman. I can see it in the muscles from your shoulder to your fingers. I hate to tell you, but it gets heavier. You'd best keep up your workouts."

This was as light as the conversation would get.

"Have you questions to ask?"

Will had been running over the questions in his head, but now had so many that they were crowding each other out.

"Can you explain what this stone is and what is does?

"Yes, I could, for me, but you must learn what it offers for yourself."

"It feels like it is made just for me, do others have stones as well?"

"Yes, at least one other has something like this stone now."

Is this what we are fighting on the dreamscape?

"Yes."

"Can it be defeated?"

"I have to believe that good always has some small advantage, but unfortunately we do not know the answer."

"What should I do?"

Water now rose and withdrew the notebook from his desk drawer. He told Will how the talisman had been used in the past. He explained the notebook and how it had been passed to him.

"Are you ready to receive this from me now?"

Will hesitated a long time before answering. He had so little exposure to the ways of Draumrs and, to his knowledge, had never led a dreamscape intervention, much less fought a real battle in one. He had seen Snow and Lulu in action and assumed that they would be the front-line warriors, with his help and encouragement.

"Aren't the others a better choice to carry this off? Snow is the best there is and Lulu has combat skills that I will take months to develop. Shouldn't one of them carry the stone?"

"The talisman is destined to be carried by only one and I'm afraid that you are it. As you will learn, once opened with the talisman, the dreamscape is deadly to all. The holder must be practiced in the skills of observation and strategy. A hand-to-hand fight is dangerous as the slightest mistake can bring death. Your skills of selecting your ground or even avoiding the fight are most important. You are well chosen. As a team, you will need to watch each other's back, so each will be critical. But only you can control the effect of the talisman."

"Is death inevitable?"

"No, of course not. Death happens only if someone is killed. If someone drops a rock on his foot, he is just going to need medical attention for a sore foot when he wakes up. Death is only one possibility, the same as in the wide-awake world."

Water continued, "You must read the notebook thoroughly. It is yours now. I wish that I could have completed step-by-step instruction for how to counter another with an artefact, but if this has ever happened before, no-one chose to write about it."

Will was realistic. "The Red Clan will have much more experience than us in using the artefacts; we will need to practice with it as much as we can."

"I agree. But you must be aware that the use of an artefact will broadcast the existence of your dreamscape to others who know what to look for. You need to be very aware of strangers entering and be prepared to end the dreamscape immediately if you sense overwhelming danger. You had surprise in your favor with the nephews. This will be hard to achieve again."

Water continued, "You should go now and plan your practice with your fellow warriors. Read the notebook as quickly as you can and come back to me with your questions before I leave. I wish that I could go with you into this conflict. I believe that it may be possible for me to be near, but the fight is yours and it must be won."

Will took a long time to respond, but once again felt the weight of the talisman in his hand. He said nothing but closed his eyes and invoked the smell of the hunting lodge, smoky and gamey as the meat cured after a successful hunt.

"A small present, grandfather."

Water drew in the smell and closing his eyes; he heard the chanting of the women working the hides; he heard the boasting of young hunters and he felt the tired ache in his legs from days of running down deer. It was an experience he had not had in years. He opened his eyes and smiled at Will, saying many thanks and blessings in their language.

"You have given me great confidence, Will. Already the talisman is working as one with you. This is a very good omen."

"Now go, get your fellow warriors stirred up before their bed grows cold for you."

Water winked. Will smiled and clasped Water's out-stretched hand with his free hand. Water pulled him in for a long hug.

"I will return in the morning, grandfather. Good night."

As Will headed back to his room to freshen up and then on to Lulu's room in the guest wing, he still had many questions running through his head. He shrugged. Everything was about not knowing and then learning these days. He would have to deal with uncertainties one at a time.

The questions all vanished when he entered Lulu's room and found two sets of eager eyes peaking over the bedding, with just enough room for him left between them.

"Oh, you two didn't need to wait up for me." Will was doing his best at pretending to be surprised to see them in bed together and waiting for him.

Lulu feigned her own surprise. "You took long enough; I'm not sure that I remember making this date."

He smiled and started to turn his back to get rid of his pants and shirt.

"Oh, no, no." Snow spoke up. "Turn back around and go very slowly please." We have been fantasying about this for a while. We don't want to rush it."

They had been fantasizing? Still able to be embarrassed, although only a little, Will turned back and now made an elaborate show of getting out of his tee shirt first and sweats next. He was glad for his diligent daily TRX workouts that kept his abs and butt in shape. There was no enhancing the real thing with dream dust, particularly when on-stage in front of two very fit critics.

When he was finally naked and showing his keen interest via an attentive cock, he was allowed to climb up under the covers from the foot of the big bed. Warm skin on either side welcomed him. He lay back between the women and wondered what to do with his hands. He gently touched each of them but kept from fully exploring until invited. This was new territory for him and he would wait to be led. Briefly, he wondered if it was new to them, but the thought passed with a smile. Two world travellers, capable of planting just about any desire in whomever they chose. Probably, very little was new. No hang-ups could be kind of fun.

"Whatever shall we do with him now, Ms Black?

"I'm not sure, Ms White. He is quite a forward type, perhaps a little discipline is in order."

"Yes, I believe that he should be punished, by some mandatory endurance testing."

With that said, warm hands found his thighs and light fingers tip-toed around his cock, while a curious tongue worked its way up his chest and into his mouth. The lights dimmed all on their own. Will was lost in soft waves of warmth and eagerness. As the bed became less orderly, he found himself in strange new places that begged for exploration. He tasted the brilliance of Snow followed by the sultry darkness of Lulu.

Eventually, a condom was mercifully pulled on and he was allowed to plunge deeply into one after the other with the final release coming while a hot mouth was clamped on his and cool hands cupped his balls. Lost in the full body vibration of the orgasm, he heard loud groans that might have been his, but were likely the other two, achieving thumping and rubbing orgasms together for many moments.

They collapsed in a heap of legs arms and body parts, with three chests panting for air. After dead silence for a full minute, Lulu finally said. "Oh, I think we broke my bed."

Snow replied slowly, still catching her full breath. "It definitely needs a straighten up. Will, go piss, and clean your sticky self up, while we figure out the sheets."

Will laughed. She thought just like a man. No embarrassment now. And they weren't dreaming either. There was no part of each of them that the others didn't now know intimately. This was his fantasy taken way over the top. He figured out how to get his legs free and slid off the bed, heading into the adjoining bathroom. He walked straight into the shower.

He came back squeaky clean, leaving the shower running. The girls went in together while Will stretched out under the sheet. It was wonderful.

When they were all back together, Will reached for his talisman, which he had placed on the night table. He centered it in his palm and held his hand up for the others to see.

"Are you guys ready to try this out?"

"Lead-on lover, we're yours for the taking now."

Their dreamscape was entirely in Will's control, so naturally the setting opened where he was most comfortable, in a vintage and very rattily, De Havilland Beaver float plane high over the northern lakes at sunrise. The girls squealed with excitement at another plane ride and eagerly scanned the wide horizons of hazy green and blue, pot-marked with silver lakes emerging from overnight mists. In the direction of the sun, everything glowed golden and bright.

Snow was in and out of small planes and helicopters all the time in the mountains, but Lulu was a city girl who considered an A320 a small plane. She gripped Will's arm as he banked the plane steeply and dropped it towards the deep blue lake below them.

Over the headsets, Will announced: "It's our Green Clan hunt camp north of Sioux Lookout." Will pointed to a cluster of buildings on the east side of the lake. He buzzed low across the front of the camp to check for boats and to let them know he was coming in, then climbed and turned into the prevailing wind to approach for the landing.

The glassy smooth lake surface offered almost no resistance for a long glide in, then caught the floats in a gentle grasp as Will cut power and stopped 100 meters off one of the main docks. He taxied in and cut the prop as Snow climbed out on the float, secured a rear lead and then jumped to the dock. She threaded the lead through the eye on the corner of the dock and pulled the plane in. With the rear tied off, she moved to the front and took up tension on a second line, bringing the whole float securely in contact with the dock.

Lulu climbed down, struggling a bit with sea legs on the float and the floating dock. Snow grabbed her hand and helped her move up to the solid wooden jetty built above water level on rugged stone cribs. After securing the plane's controls, Will followed them up onto the jetty with its magnificent view of spruce and pine covered hills rising out of brilliant white mist across the lake. The mist reflected the sun, now rising over the hills behind the camp.

"It's beautiful here, Will." Snow exclaimed. She was excited to be back outside after days in meeting rooms, in the gym and in bed asleep. Even if it was all just a dream. Their practice dreamscapes were fairly sterile, with only simple apparatus to focus on a few skills at a time. This dreamscape was rich in all the detail of the waking world. The extra effect of the talisman had pulled every minute detail from Will's memory, right down to insects buzzing, fish surfacing and birds swooping. A distant loon calling to its mate completed the perfect picture.

Lulu was equally impressed, but not nearly so comfortable in the wilds 500 kilometers from the nearest big city. "So, Duck. Is this the best that you could do? I thought that all three of us would end up as bear stew in the side of some hill when that old bucket came apart in mid-air." She flicked her thumb over her shoulder towards the old yellow Beaver, now creaking and popping as sheet metal cooled.

The other two laughed and all three hugged. It was great shared experience and both women were excited to learn more about the talisman and its powers. This first glimpse, perfect in every detail was beyond all their expectations. Will was excited as well, but very nervous as the creator and, apparently, the host. If monsters emerged from the bush, he would be on the hook for that as well.

They were all wearing the khaki cotton flight suits of Will's part time employer: Gossett Air Services. Will puzzled on this but then guessed that his brain had so few memories of beautiful young women on their way to a hunt camp that it defaulted all their clothing to his normal gear. Better this than the sweaty and smoky outdoor gear that most of the old broads wore. At least the women's suits were tailored to perfectly fit their hot young bodies. Both women had several top buttons undone and looked incredibly sexy regardless of the rough coveralls. Considering, he thought that he looked pretty sexy too.

The girls looked around the camp. There were various aluminium motorboats tied up, with faded life preservers hanging over a railing waiting for the rising sun to dry the dew out of them. Paddles, buckets and seat cushions were scattered around. The boats were obviously in active use. Some had fishing poles perched over the gunnels. Others had various shooting perches and accessories tossed loosely in. They were waiting for the camp of twenty or so men, and sometimes a few women, to come to life. The only sign of activity was a thin line of smoke rising from the kitchen building as a morning fire was stoked in the old auxiliary stove. Propane was now used for cooking and hot water, but the old stove provided the first warmth to the building and heated the traditional coffee percolators that would soon be in demand.

"So, it's very pretty; but why are we here?" Lulu was asking as she nimbly walked off the jetty, careful to avoid stepping on anything living. "Where is everyone? Wouldn't the noise of a plane coming in normally rouse a few characters, regardless of the hour?"

"You're right—by now this place would be jumping. Half of these boats leave in the dark each morning–so this is definitely a day off." Will laughed at the women's confusion.

"Actually, the guests and staff aren't in the dream because they aren't important to the dreamer. I could probably pop in a few un-showered and week-old beard types, still wearing the clothes that they arrived in, if you want?"

"Oh, no that's OK." Now Snow, who had been content just to take it all in, was curious as well. "But, who is the dreamer, if not you?"

Will grinned, "The original dream—our visit here—is the work of one dreamer who created the scenario of Duck coming to visit after a long absence. She is the camp boss and cook, the one who is heating up the kitchen over there. She's also my aunt, who I haven't seen all summer."

Will was getting the hang of it. "It's mostly her dream, but I planted the seed and now have full control of all the fine details. She is definitely in for a surprise when you two show up as well."

"So, you just picked her dream out of the air by chance?" Snow was still trying to figure it out.

"Thank the guiding hand of one Water Green at work here, my lovelies. Aunt Bell poked him with a complaint that she never sees us anymore and he obliged by suggesting that I come for a visit tonight, via this dreamscape."

As if on cue, Aunt Bell emerged from the cook shack, took a long look towards the docks and then came running down as Will waved to her and called something out, sort-of in a first language: "Hello Wawpatucke." Aside, to the women, he said, "She is roughly, 'Snow Goose Honking' by native name. As I'm apparently a duck, we have a lot in common." Will winked at the girls.

Bell was everything that you would expect in a camp boss and cook. She stood about 5' 4" and probably weighed 180 pounds, a good percentage of which was muscle. She wore a red checked shirt over a wide skirt, which stopped high enough off the ground to reveal untied, worn leather boots. Her whitish apron was tied around her waist and smudged with everything from meat blood to cake icing. Her flowing black hair was tied back with a dark green bandana. Bright sparking eyes lit up a deeply tanned and weather-worn face. She covered the forty yards to the dock in hurried strides, while wiping her hands on her apron, adding to the abstract splatter of stains already there.

"Sesap." Aunt Bell exclaimed. "Oh, it is so nice of you to visit. We never see you any more awake, but a dream is almost as good."

Aunt Bell now took a long look around at the camp setting, including the two women and the plane that they had come in on. "Sesap, if you are helping this dream, you have been practicing long and hard. This is the best dreamscape I have ever seen."

"It's a long story, Aunt Bell. Someday I will tell you how we do it."

"But, let me introduce my...er..friends?" Will looked at the women for clarity, but neither was volunteering to help him over his discomfort.

"This is Sacha White and Luise Black." He used their birth names as was proper with a formal introduction.

He turned to his guests. Ladies, this is my aunt Snow Goose, or Bell to white men and white women, which includes both of you for today.

Lulu grinned at the generalization. 'There's us and there's everybody else' was a pretty familiar social division for her. Bell would already know that they were Draumrs; Clans didn't matter anywhere but the Halls, as yet anyway.

The girls each extended a hand in turn. Bell took each of their hands in her tough calloused mitts and gave each of the women a careful once-over from foot to head. She gazed deep into their eyes, moving from Snow to Lulu, before letting them go.

"Your scruffy outfits don't fool me. You two are very special Draumrs. I can feel the strength and power of the warrior in each of you. A little anger and maybe some impatience too? Is a battle looming? Are you off to fight? You are guarding my little Sesap here well, I hope."

The women, now realizing that they were interacting in the dreamscape with an empath of considerable skill, immediately pushed all thoughts of the conflict or of the talisman out of their conscious minds. They sensed that Bell had read it all in an instant anyway.

"It is a difficult journey that you all are on," Bell said. "At least, while you are here in my dream, let me pretend to feed you for your battles ahead."

"We can certainly pretend to eat," Lulu replied, breaking the serious spell that had fallen on them. "I bet that you do incredible bacon and eggs. Dream or no, I could eat a horse, or moose, or whatever four-legged creature you normally eat up here."

They all laughed, the gloom was lifted and they moved to the camp kitchen together. Soon, bacon was frying, eggs were sizzling and home-ground wheat toast was popping. The coffee in the percolators was dark and rich, intended to set a guest up for a day on a tree stand or hours shivering in the bow of a boat while a blizzard howled. It was all so real that every nuance of flavor and texture was true to a real meal.

After they had eaten and chatted, Will turned his focus back to the talisman and the need to test more of its capabilities. He explained in minimal terms to Bell what they needed to test. He needed her to act in the dream with an effect that would be realized when she woke. They didn't want to kill anyone or anything, so needed an alternative test—but one that was equally as challenging.

Will had it. It was night and the entire real camp actually slept—12 men and several guides. They would wake for breakfast at 4:00 a.m. or so. Will leaned in close to Bell and made his proposal quietly to her.

Bell's reaction was swift and verged on outrage. "I would never do such a thing. That's disgusting, I could never live it down."

"But, Bell, you have no choice, I'm afraid." Will played it very serious. "I can compel this and before you wake, you will carry out my wishes, just as I have laid them out."

"Well, my young nephew, I hope that you are realizing that you will have ruined me and that I will probably have to leave camp. To be caught in such a morally distasteful act will wreck my reputation and make me the laughing stock of the entire tribe and probably the whole Clan. Are you certain that there is no other way?"

"The command must be contrary to your nature and wishes. This is the best test that I can think of. I'm sorry that I have put this burden on you." Will was sincerely apologetic.

The young women looked at each other in puzzlement. Given Will's easily perverted mind, they hoped that he hadn't really made a disgusting proposal to Bell. They imagined her naked on a picnic table giving each of the guests a morning quickie. Or maybe she would cover herself in cookie dough and let them eat all of it and her at the same time. The possibilities were endless from the playful to outright rude, given Will as the instigator.

"Well, now we must go." Will said with a sly smile to the girls. This has been a wonderful visit Aunt Bell, but we have to get some deep, dreamless sleep before morning. You too, once you have completed your task."

They all hugged and said fond farewells. Aunt Bell let the girls know that two wives was perfectly alright in the Green Clan, in case they both wanted to marry Sesap. Will blushed on cue and Bell winked. She had obviously picked up a lot in her little mind meld with the women. They joked about how maybe he wouldn't measure up to either once the bloom was off.

On parting, Bell gave Will one last scowl, then kissed him goodbye. The trio left her in the kitchen, quietly cursing under her breath.

They reversed the arrival pattern and Snow held the rear lanyard as Will pushed the nose of the plane around to the open lake. Snow jumped on the float and climbed into the co-pilot seat this time. Will had promised her that she could fly once they were airborne. Several pilot lovers of hers had imparted many skills, including flight control of a single engine plane. Lulu was hunkered down in a second-row seat, trying to ignore all the enthusiasm up front.

Shortly, they were airborne and headed generally southeast, back towards Beaucage Camp, if they were really flying. Snow took the controls and ran the plane through a series of turns, gentle dives and climbs, all of which sent Lulu into near hysterics. After a half-hour or so, Will asked "Enough fun?"

Snow nodded. "It was great. This is just the best dreamscape. Don't you think so, Lulu?"

Lulu in back had taken her headset off. She made a cut motion with her hand. They all connected with their eyes and nodded out.

Back in their bed and lying together under the sheet and quilt, they came awake for a minute and smiled at each other.

"That was something else for sure," said Snow.

"Next time we do New York City," said Lulu, who was very glad to be back on solid ground.

Will held up the talisman to look at it, then reached over Lulu and put it on the nightstand. He immediately felt exhausted and ready to fall into deep sleep. The women each rolled towards him and found each other's hand across his chest. This neatly put Will's hands in each of their springy bushes: A nice place to be. They all passed out almost instantly, sinking into dreamless deep sleep to renew their energy for the day to come.

After some morning fun, the trio split up, with Will and Snow heading to their own rooms to spruce up for real breakfast. They met again in the kitchen as various staff came and went. Water and Emma came over to sit with them carrying their cups of coffee.

"Luise," Emma said, getting Lulu's full attention with her gaze, "I connected with Gloria by telephone last evening; she indicated that all is good. Apparently, Cherry is the consummate host and she is struggling not to come back ten pounds heavier." They all chuckled at Gloria's constant concern for her figure.

Quietly, Emma continued. "She is confident that she will accomplish what she went over for as Cherry's truculence is breaking down each day. It seems like he has a secret that he is longing to share, so perhaps her work will be done shortly. She's a very brave woman. We all admire her commitment to this assignment."

Lulu nodded and accepted assuring hands on her arm and shoulder. She resisted playing the worried family member, as she too expected to be off to fight the bastards again any day now. It was just what they did. But, she kept it to herself. She was glad that others were watching out for Gloria. She knew that she couldn't personally allow the distraction.

Water now smiled and opened up with the group. "I know that you practiced with the talisman last night. I hope that it all went well?" He raised his eyebrows and looked around at each of the three of them. The women used all of their control to avoid blushing, but that wasn't what Water was getting at. He wanted to know about the dreamscape experience.

"It went well, I think," said Will. "The detail of the dreamscape and the control of the script are impressive. In a combat setting this could be a huge advantage over another who wasn't equipped with an artefact."

"Yes," Water agreed. "This is expected; dreams so real that dreamers cannot imagine that they are asleep."

He paused in thought. "But, you can see the disadvantage when opposing one who is also equipped. Even skilled Draumrs might be fooled into believing what they were seeing. The artefact is a dangerous double-edged sword."

"More practice is certainly warranted." He nodded towards Emma. "Tonight, is our last night here. I suggest that you all get together in a setting created by another dreamer. We will find it for you and you will intervene. The setting will be just as realistic, but now coming entirely from the mind of a complete stranger, who isn't a Draumr.

"Your control will only be of your own adaptations to help solve the dreamer's challenge. This joining is familiar to us, but normally we are just faint passengers on the dreamer's journey. With the talisman, all will change. You will walk the ground and breathe the air of the dreamer. He or she will certainly interact with you. It was my greatest challenge so many years-ago. You must understand this part of the technique before confronting a hostile Draumr."

Emma and Water finished their coffee over small talk and stood to leave. Will had been quiet and still since Water's proposal for tonight's training. He remembered that Water had told him of killing enemy soldiers in practice for his assassination of the real target. The prospect of killing someone made him feel ill. He was glad that he had not told the women this part. He committed himself to spending the day reading and memorizing the notebook. Somewhere in the detailed instruction there had to be another way.

As he and Emma were walking away, Water stopped and turned back to the table.

"Oh, by the way, earlier, I had a satellite call from the Sioux camp this morning. Uncle Julius was quite concerned about Aunt Bell. He thought that she had gone off her rocker and was wondering if you could come up and fly her out."

"Oh?" said Will, in apparent surprise. "I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"

Water had a sly smile of his face. "Well, apparently, when the men came in for breakfast before heading out, they found Bell in the kitchen cooking, clad only in her little French maid's outfit that she and Julius keep in the closet for private occasions, if you know what I mean."

He continued, "It gets better. She had cooked up nothing but French fries, goose liver canapés and creamed spinach dip for a dozen men expecting slabs of back bacon and bowls of scrambled eggs. When they complained, she leveled a shotgun at them and said that every last bite had better disappear or there would be nuts going missing."

He was now giggling so hard that he was having trouble finishing the story. "Needless to say, the men gobbled it down and got the hell out of there. Bell went back to her bed, but came running back twenty minutes later, fully dressed as normal and apologizing for missing breakfast. She could not remember any of it."

All three young Leutnants were busting themselves to keep from laughing. The women had chimed in with "oh-no's" and "oh-dears" as appropriate, while Emma looked suspiciously from one to the other.

"Now, you kids wouldn't know anything about this would you?"

Stuttered denials were given all-round.

"Good." Water was serious again. "Well, I told Julius that we were too busy to fly up today, but if it happens again, that you—Will—will personally come up and take Bell to the nearest shrink."

After the Elders had left, both women began pummeling Will, knocking him off his seat and onto the floor.

"What a mean thing to do to a very nice lady."

Will finally scrambled free and ran for the gym. The women gave chase.

"There may be some nuts going missing around here too..."
Roger That

The evening came too quickly for Will. He had made it through the notebook, but was only slightly more informed on the challenges of the talisman. Too much of the dated prose was written in riddles and metaphor. Did a dead bird flying mean the literal corpse of a bird flying through the air or mean that things that are impossible would happen, not involving birds at all? He was still very confused.

At dusk, he was called to the common room to begin the evening's exercise. Water, Emma and Jack were present. The women were already there, looking serious and detached. They were so close now. Was it appropriate to show any of that connection as they prepared for combative dreaming? Will moved closer to them and touched each of them. Snow and Lulu showed no concern for appearances and each hugged him fully for a long time. Unspoken, but felt by all: they shared a new dread of things that could go wrong. Will had informed them of the consequences of injury or death while in a dreamscape manifested with the ancient stone. Their preparation now needed to include resolute thinking about not dying for the cause.

Snow had her anger and frustration built since losing her client. Lulu had a mother literally in the jaws of the beast that they were fighting. Will knew that the same commitment was expected of him; he just wasn't sure that he had made that commitment. Both Water and Jack had said that he was the one who would make the difference when it came time to decide to kill or to be killed. He was in a war that had come looking for him. He had a new feeling in his gut that he had never felt before: a fear that he wasn't ready.

Water opened with mundane procedure, by indicating that they should sleep, as normal when working, in the single beds arranged off the common room for them. Now, Green Clan cousins would be present and would assist anyone who exited the dreamscape. This was new to the Leutnants, but was accepted as a necessary part of the training. That Water still used the word 'training' gave Will some comfort. Hopefully, that meant that failure wouldn't be fatal. Yet the stone in his pocket seemed to intercept and correct the thought. Anything that goes wrong could now be fatal.

Water continued, "You will move together to the place that we have chosen, based on a very troubled dreamer." He paused and connected by eye movement with each person to be sure that all heard him.

"The setting is real and once Will enters, with the effect of the talisman, dangerous for each of you. Yes, you can be injured or die. Know that and be careful. We know that you can control the dreamscape challenges to ensure your safe passage, but your experience with the talisman is so limited that you will learn new things each time you use it. All I can tell you is that this dreamer is troubled by events in his life, not by interloping Draumrs. It should be safe. Do what you can to help him find some peace."

Was Water talking directly to his doubts? Will pushed them down with a deep breath and clenched fists.

Emma now picked up the instructions.

"As we understand it, the talisman gives normal dreamers no special abilities or strengths in the dreamscape. You still have your abilities so you should prevail, but you can't control the creations of another's mind. Unlike other dreamscapes, any injuries you inflict will be real. If someone dies, they will be dead. Be ever aware, if you are attacked and injured, you will be injured for real on waking. Please be very careful." She was talking to all of them but let her eyes rest on Sacha as she finished. She knew that Sacha was raging to settle a score. Obsession could become dangerous preoccupation.

Will now reassessed the reasons for attendant staff in the room. They were a medical precaution. If one of them was severely injured, trained staff could step in immediately with life-saving actions. Were there actual trauma doctors behind the scenes? He suspected that they were on call and ready to act. This was getting very scary; which, he concluded, was just as Water had intended.

Water spoke again. "OK, let's get to it. We'll debrief over snacks and cocoa after and you kids can get on with whatever relaxes you later. He grinned and winked. He was also talking to Emma and Jack. Everyone smiled; tension was broken a little as the fighters moved to their loungers. They got comfortable and relaxed. The room lights were dimmed. Will closed his hand around the talisman. As one, Snow, Lulu and Duck closed their eyes and moved into the dreamscape together.

The team materialized just inside the hallway of a tenement in an urban setting. They were wearing urban grunge—faded, ragged denim and layered well-worn tops. The girls appeared to be wearing scuffed Doc Martins and Will wore old Nikes. Snow made a little fist pump after swinging her boot through the air. She had her war club in her other hand. Will had a back pack on that felt heavy enough to hold some useful hardware.

Lulu took a small bow as the instigator for the look and for their gear. Will just rolled his eyes.

Silently, they flattened against the wall and listened. The building had all the sounds of an occupied residence, with kids crying, TV's blaring, distant rap music and vehicle noise through a closed, frosted glass exterior door that gave the impression of a bustling local street outside. But, there was no-one else in sight.

"Well, guess I got my wish," Lulu smirked at the other two. "I was thinking more Manhattan, but this could definitely be New York. Lower East Side, I'd say."

Snow and Will now felt as out of place here as Lulu had the night before in the bush. For two country kids, this was foreign turf. There was nothing familiar about the tired hallway with worn and dirty painted walls, aged varnished woodwork and light fixtures from decades earlier. The scene around them included an inset of dull brass mailboxes, jammed and overflowing onto a pile of flyers and junk mail discarded below. There were plastic bags of garbage outside some doors down the hall and various pieces of junk furniture appeared to have been jammed at the end of a hallway rather than being discarded.

"What is that smell?" Will asked, still trying to take in each detail, assuming that it was relevant to the dreamer for some reason or it wouldn't be here.

"Week-old chicken carcass, if I had to guess." Lulu was full of information. "Probably coming from one of those bags down there. She motioned to the dark recess of the hallway, where more garbage bags appeared to be stacked. "Decaying meat makes for an aromatic mix, along with the human piss, dog crap, cooking grease and whatever-the-fuck that chemical smell is in the air."

Will now let his nose follow the lead and he too could pick up the various components of the stink in the hallway.

"Chemical?" Snow said. "I think that I found the source of that." She flipped her war club around and pointed to a cluster of air fresheners, old and new, hooked over a nail on the wall. "Someone is making a bad attempt at covering up the natural stink with a disgusting unnatural one."

Lulu now asked, "I don't think that our dreamer is in this hallway, but I'd guess he or she is somewhere in the building. Where do you think that we should go?"

Snow had more experience with interventions than the other two. "This is familiar to him. The vantage from this spot is crystal clear, so his mind is holding every detail. Let's walk down the hall a little and see what happens. Doesn't seem dangerous down there, unless the bacteria get us."

They crept past a staircase and peered around a corner. There was nothing there. The visible and touchable hallway just faded to black as soon as they got out of direct line of sight of the building entrance.

Snow found what she expected. "This isn't his turf down here. He just passes through it on the way in and out. He may never have been back here, so has no memory of it. I'd bet that he's upstairs somewhere."

They reversed their path and looked up the stairs. The second level also appeared crystal clear and very real.

"Could be this first apartment," Lulu was studying the entrance door. Seems like all the detail is here."

Will pointed to a small tag under the peep hole of the door. SUPERINTEDENT, spelled wrong. The tag was cockeyed and faded.

"He probably pays his rent here, so stands in front of this door waiting for someone to open it. He would remember every dirt spot and paint nick."

Snow said, "Possible that he or she is the Super, but not likely as the Super would definitely know the whole first floor. I'm guessing our dreamer is a tenant somewhere up there." She pointed up the stairs.

As they considered moving up the stairs, the entire building seemed to flex and shift on its foundation. The hallways expanded as if taking in a breath then returned slightly narrower than before. The once-straight steps now had a wave and curve in them and looked like they were built by a very drunk or very stoned carpenter.

"Crap." Snow caught the others arms and held them tight against the moving wall until everything settled into a more or less stable layout, but with different dimensions and obvious flaws.

"Drugs." Snow gripped their sleeves and brought them closer. "He's passed out after a hit of something. Probably booze in there too. His dream is coming from an addled brain. This could be the real danger here." She raised eyebrows to the other two and got nods back.

"He has staggered up these stairs before and this is what it felt like. The recent experience is crowding out the more accurate sober memories. This dream is going to be get progressively more surreal if his high is still coming on, even if he is already unconscious."

Lulu laughed at the prospect. "I've been in a few of these dreams all on my own. Not that the experience will be of much value. Could be a laugh though."

Will and Snow connected with a thought. Dreaming Under the Influence: DUI? They laughed at their pun.

Lulu studied the stairs for any sign of further movement. There was none. "Let's head up. Could be he's overdosing and that's what we're supposed to stop." She made a small palms-up gesture to the others.

"Normal dream, we could just fly up there, go through a solid door and appear as his long dead dog, Rex, from childhood, who can suddenly talk and who's there to convince him to straighten out. But no, we're new and improved; now we have to climb the goddamn stairs."

"Holy cow, what have you been smoking?" Snow was impressed with Lulu's creative scenario. She laughed, "I usually prefer to be a talking goldfish myself."

Will was still having trouble relaxing into the setting.

He said, "Remind me to check the notes on the stone again." He turned his hand up to the women. The impression of the talisman was visible in his palm. His sleeping self was squeezing it hard.

"Maybe flying is still an option if we push the right button." He forced a grin at the other two.

"Just watch your step. Break an ankle and you're looking at a few weeks in a cast back at the ranch."

Or worse; eternity in a box. They all had the same thought and locked eyes, but no-one voiced it.

"Let me go up first," Lulu said. "If the building starts coming down, maybe you two can catch me. I'll check both directions on the next landing and see if it gives us a clue where he, or she, is. Why does it feel like it's a 'him' all of a sudden? Something about the crack or heroin or whatever he's doing. Just seems more likely to be stupid male behavior to me."

She grinned at Will and then sprang up the stairs two at a time.

Lulu disappeared around the second-floor corner, then reappeared and disappeared in the other direction. She returned after a few seconds.

She shouted down, "Bad news, it's not this floor. He doesn't carry the image past what you would see going up the stairs. He's still above me."

Snow and Will leaned into the banister and looked up through the floors. The reversing flights of stairs provided a view of narrowing railings up all four floors. If he had constructed the view up there, it was probable that he was on the top floor.

Snow shrugged, "Just our luck in a building that might start heaving and twisting again any second."

"Watch your step when you come up." Lulu was pointing down to the stairs. He obviously boots it up and down these stairs. Every second step is sort of half not there."

Will and Snow followed Lulu's lead and moved up quickly, only landing on the wider second steps. The demented off-angle made them want to fall into the wall.

Lulu commented from above again, "Probably exactly what he does when he's loaded and trying to get to his place. Good to stay away from the banister for a much shorter tumble if you lose your footing."

They all looked around the corner on the landing and saw the hallway disappearing to fuzzy black just out of reach.

"Wonder what happens if you step out into that?" Lulu was now getting inventive. "Must be something predictable. Lose a leg, fall into the void, maybe end up outside?"

"Let's not find out." Snow was focused upward and ready to move on to the next flight of stairs. "So far—so good; but we need to keep moving."

For the next flight Will suggested that he take the lead. He was feeling very responsible for the increased risk and also wanted to see if he had any ability to control what was presented to them. The stairs were all now tipped down, towards the bottom, making the climb up more difficult. At one point, Will leaned forward and used his hands to steady himself.

By the third floor he's stumbling, came into his mind. Makes sense. came back as a distinct voice. One of the women picking up his thoughts or is there someone else?

All of them made it to the third landing safely. Will was standing stark still at the top of the stairs. As the women arrived, they heard a dull growling and, looking over top of Will's shoulder, saw a scruffy looking Rottweiler-mix dog with a piece of one ear missing and very yellow teeth showing through curled lips. The big tan and black animal was standing still in the middle of the hall about 15 feet away, but it was tensed and was eyeing them suspiciously. It was growling steadily. Will was frozen in place with one foot ahead. He hadn't moved since the first growl.

The entire hall and door behind it were clear and detailed.

"Nice addition," whispered Lulu. "Guess dog bite in your ass is something to avoid as well."

"That may be where we need to go," Snow whispered. "The door down there is clear as a bell.

"Hold everything here," whispered Lulu. "I'll quietly squeeze around behind you and check upstairs. If it's blacked out, we'll know that doggie's door is the one we need to go through."

She backed away slowly and gracefully, keeping Will and Snow between her and the dog until she was at the foot of the next flight of stairs. Then she worked her way up, covering the entire narrowing set of steps on her hands and toes. It seemed incredibly steep and she had to grip tightly to avoid sliding back. Goddamn druggie. This probably takes him a few tries on most days.

She observed that the upper floor was also clear and detailed, with one door in particular seeming to stand out as if lit by a floodlight. That's got to be home, she thought.

She retreated to the stairs and called down. "It's up here. Much brighter door than the others; it has to be his apartment."

"OK. Coming up," came back in a loud whisper from Snow. "As soon as we figure out how to leave Fido here without prompting an attack."

The dog seemed to be growing more tense and the growling was louder. Any movement would probably provoke it.

Snow leaned in to Will's ear, now whispering quietly. "I could kill it. One good blow from the club and it would be down."

"I have a better idea," said Will. "Give me the club."

"Just a minute," Snow reacted. "I don't know what you have in mind, but the club is pretty choosy. Not sure that it will like the idea of leaving me."

And on cue, the hackle feathers on the shaft of the war club rose in warning. It wasn't going anywhere easily.

Will whispered over his shoulder, still not taking his eyes off the dog. "Does it want you to lose a piece of your butt? Cuz, that's what is going to happen if it misses on the kill shot. That dog probably has a pretty thick skull."

"OK, OK. But you'll be careful with it right? It's very special to me. Got me out of a lot of jams."

Snow smoothed the feathers down and whispered calming words to the club. She slowly passed it to Will, who could feel it wanting to go back. But, it eventually quieted down a little in his hand.

Will whispered to it in his first language. "Sometimes even eagles must just fly away." The club calmed down completely and he could sense that it was now ready to work for him.

"Get ready to move," he said over his shoulder to Snow.

Then, he surprised her by whistling twice and tapping the club on the floor. The dog's manner changed and his ears came up. There was a slight wag of his tail. Will waved the club back and forth a couple times and the dog skipped a little, getting excited. It stepped in the direction of Will's last wave of the club.

"Get the stick." Will flung the club down the hall into the fuzzy darkness beyond view and the dog bounded after it. Both the club and the dog disappeared into the void.

"Hey." Snow jumped up and pushed Will into the wall. She was on her toes and right up in his face. "That was given to me a long time ago." She stared into the black where the club had disappeared. "Son-of-a-bitch. I feel naked without it."

Will made a couple attempts to put his arms on her shoulders, but she flung them off. She was very pissed and would not be calmed down. Not knowing what else to do she wheeled and put one of her boots through the wall, causing the entire building to shake.

"Careful, Snow." Will was now making calm down motions with his hands. "If this guy's construct doesn't have holes in it, we would be wise not to make them."

She glared at him, still steaming.

"Try something for me." He was still wanting to touch her, but she was keeping her distance. She finally looked at him.

"Just call it back," Will grinned. "If it's anything like the old ceremonial stuff around our camps, you won't be rid of it that easily."

Snow softened a bit and tipped her head as if considering.

Then she spun again and threw her right hand out in the direction of the void. There was a whistling of air moving and the club flew out of the black, directly into her hand with a solid thud. Its feathers weren't up though.

Snow smiled at Will in satisfaction, but then looked closely at the club and noticed a couple fresh chew marks among the traditional markings. Then she let out "Eeeww gross." exclamations along with a string of expletives. "It's covered in goddamn dog slobber."

Will had been smiling at the fortuitous return of the club, but now saw that it was time to quickly get out of reach. He bolted for the stairs and scrambled up before Snow could get him in her sights.

Lulu was waiting for him, "What the fuck were you two doing? The whole damn building felt like it was coming apart."

"Just Snow being dramatic." He got that much out before Snow erupted from the top of the stairs. She had added a thin backpack and the club head now stuck out, looking a little forlorn at not being hand-carried.

"You're bringing a nice shampoo along for my friend next trip in." She was pointing at Will, who was laughing at her forlorn papoose.

"OK, deal. But, you have to admit that it was creative, and it worked." He was gloating a bit. "What are tools for anyway?"

Lulu wasn't interested in a domestic right there. "Enough pissing around you two. What do we do now?"

"Knock?" was Will's suggestion.

"Jeez, this is New York, or somewhere equally gritty." Lulu was imparting some city smarts. "Knocking might get you a face full of buckshot. This guy probably lives way up here to ensure that nobody ever knocks on his damn door."

Snow nodded, but replied, "We have to get in somehow. We need a distraction."

Will was still thinking about the encounter on the floor below. "He must like that dog. It was a clear memory right down to the teeth and ears. Maybe it's his bud and comes up to visit him?"

Lulu wasn't convinced. "Or maybe, it waits to chase him up the last flight of stairs and he barely makes it every night. Maybe that's why the stairs on the last flight were so sketchy. That's exactly what normal stairs would feel like with a big snarling dog on your ass."

"Guess we'll never know, now that someone tricked the dog into leaping into the void." Snow was still a little pissed at Will's tactics.

"I still like it," said Will. "It's worth a shot to get him to open the door. I'll imitate the dog and scratch on the door. I can do that down low and off to one side. If he comes up firing, we'll know his opinion of the dog, but he should miss me. He'll probably stick his head out one way or another; to pet Fido or to confirm that he killed him."

Snow was skeptical. "This all assumes that he is still conscious and able to move on his own. If we get no response, we're going to have to break it down." She gave a serious look to others. "That could be the most dangerous thing we have to do."

As they were considering possibilities, the dream construct gave another series of heaves and sighs, with the floor tilting away dramatically and a yawning void swallowing the opposite end of the hall. They dove for the banister as gravity tried to pull them down the hallway away from the door. The hallway seemed to have stretched as well and there was now a significant uphill gap between them and the dreamer's door. The aged and slippery linoleum wouldn't give them much traction. Moving towards the door was now going to be a significant challenge.

Snow said the obvious, "Time to get over there or we're going to go down with the building. If he dies, it all collapses. I assume that we'll pop awake back home, but if stuff is falling on our heads here, we may not emerge unscathed."

Will considered the gap and looked at his runners. "These are pretty grippy. I think that I can still get enough traction on the cracks in the floor to work my way up there. Is there a rope in my back-pack?"

"Well, funny that you should ask; there is." Snow had flipped his pack open. She extracted a 50-foot cliff climbing rope.

"Secure it here and tie the other end to the club. When I get up to the door, send it over. And no aiming for my head."

"Would I do that?" Snow giggled. "I'll just make sure that you get to catch the slimy end."

Will started across the floor on his butt with the soles of his shoes flat against the obvious cracks and folds in the linoleum. Lulu leaned out as far as she could to hang onto one of his hands, but then had to let go as he got to the middle of the hall. As long as the building stayed stable he would make it across. He crab-scuttled to the other wall, then turned and got a grip on the floor molding, then on an air register and finally on the downhill side of the door frame to the apartment.

He turned and put out a hand for the club. Snow held it up and it neatly jumped across the gap right into his hand. He took up the slack in the rope while bracing his foot inside the door frame. He worked a loop through the air register and held it tight.

"Come on across." Will mouthed the words and motioned to the women.

They were both athletic and while slipping a few times, made it quickly over to Will. Lulu moved above him by propping herself against the outside top edge of the door trim. Snow stayed below, with a toe firmly lodged in the air register. She untied the club and retied the rope in case they needed it. She kept the club out ready to bonk any head that came through the door in anger.

"Ready?" Will mouthed the word, checking in both directions. He got a thumbs-up signs from each of the women.

He leaned as far out of the way as possible and then made one long scratch at the door. He did his best big dog impression with a soulful whine. He waited a few seconds then made another long scratch, just like a full-size dog bringing one paw down on the door. He repeated the whine and added small deep yips for good measure.

The girls were busting to laugh at him, but knew that this was deadly serious and kept it inside. They all waited for any reaction. At least the guy hadn't started putting bullets through the door. This was a good sign.

Suddenly, they heard a dull crash from inside the apartment and some mumbled cursing. More shuffling and bumping was followed by a louder voice.

"Hang on Thor, I'm coming." (long pause) "Who moved the goddamn furniture around?" (pause) "I'll get there...gimme a little time." (pause) "Old dog come to say goodbye to Roger, huh?"

There was another thud that sounded like someone going face down. This was followed by more scuffling and finally the door opening.

Will didn't hesitate. He launched himself at the occupant. He found himself on perfectly level floor, wrestling with a groggy, middle-aged man, wearing only his underwear, who offered almost no resistance. Once Will determined that he didn't have a weapon, he just bear-hugged him, with both of them sitting in the middle of the floor. There were no lights on in the apartment and blinds, where they were still intact, were drawn. The occupant had been nearly passed-out in his own dream before trying to get to his dog buddy.

Roger caught up with what was happening and let out a groggy, "What the fuck?" Then, he started howling and yelling incoherently. "Bastard robber... I haven't got shit left and you break in here? Fucking hoodlum..."

Finally, he sighed and spoke with a more defeated tone. "Got a gun? Just do me in now and get this shit over with."

He was still struggling to get free and turning his head trying to look at Will, while cursing him out under his breath. It took him a full thirty seconds to realize that there were two women, fairly attractive ones, standing right in front of him.

"Oh. Shit. Sorry." He found his manners. "Maybe forget the gun part. But, I really don't have anything left. You're way too late, if your plan is to rob me."

He gave up struggling and just sagged in Will's arms.

The women looked him over. Fit enough, but slipping out of shape; perhaps once, not too far back, an OK looking guy. His curly hair could have been cute, if trimmed up. A five-day beard gave his face some character. They couldn't see his eyes as he now kept them on the floor. Shy? More likely: beaten down. No wonder the dog was his friend; they both had likely gotten the same treatment in recent days.

The apartment was a sorry mess. Furniture was tipped over and random junk was strewn everywhere. There was evidence of a torn-up leather sofa and settee, just peeking out from under discarded pizza boxes, half-eaten take-out containers and piles of newspapers. The open closet still held various coats and jackets on hangers, but there was mound of unidentifiable discards piled half-in and half-out, rendering the door useless. A big flat-screen TV had a hole in it about the size of a beer bottle. The surrounding shelves suggested that an accompanying sound system had been haphazardly pulled off, leaving dangling patch cords and less dusty squares in evidence. One wall was splattered with something that was probably ketchup, judging from the pile of squashed take-out packs at the base. But, it could be blood.

The fighters were cautious. This was a training run and not supposed to be a direct confrontation with the Reds, but the possibility of violence and bloodshed had them all on edge.

While Will continued to hang on to Roger, the women made a careful sweep of the apartment. Each room was in the same sorry state: tossed, littered and randomly disfigured with whatever was at hand. There were six rooms in the big apartment and all had once been well decorated or equipped with both furniture and electronics. Most gear was now missing. What remained was pulled down and appeared to have been broken with some vengeance.

"Everything is torn-up," Snow swept her hand around open space. "This kitchen probably once had nice counter tops."

Various openings indicated that large appliances had once been there. Only a beat-up, half-sized fridge sat among the litter in the vacated alcove of its predecessor. Various liquor bottles, some still full, decorated most level surfaces. A few tipped on the floor had little puddles beside them. There were no glasses in sight.

This was the space of a straight-from-the-bottle drunk, who took out his misery on his living surroundings. If the dreamscape was a reflection of his real life, he was on his way down and nearing the bottom. People didn't live like this; they died like this.

Lulu returned to report on a quick survey of the rest of the place. "The two baths were once fully equipped with some high-end fixtures. But they're all torn up too. This high-end set-up is completely out of synch with the sketchy exterior and hallways of this old building. It must have been intentionally well-hidden."

The current state of desolation did synch with Roger's expression that everything was gone. Without protection, in this neighborhood, it wouldn't have taken punks long to clean the place out. He probably got his booze and drugs delivered to the door. He had stopped being cautious. The word on what was here would have gotten out.

Lulu was still puzzled, "But, why not dream of what used to be instead of this torn-up shit?" It was a good question.

Lulu exited again to inspect the main bedroom more carefully. She now found a black hand-gun with wood grip trim, oiled and wrapped in cloth in the night table drawer of the main bedroom. She slid open the action on the old .45. It wasn't loaded, but there were several full clips of ammo in the drawer right beside it. A concern, but not an immediate threat anyway.

The bedroom was the only room that had some semblance of order, with the folded-back bed standing like an island in the middle of scattered clothes. Several suits, ties and a half-dozen white shirts looked ready to go on closet hangers or over open drawers. One set was neatly laid out on a clothes-stand and chair. He still values his business clothes. The laid-out one was either this guy's chosen casket suit or he still has somewhere important to go.

Back in the kitchen, Roger had calmed down.

"You can take all the rest," he said, still wrapped up loosely by Will. "In fact, if you let me up, I'll show you where the last of my cash is."

Will didn't care about the cash, but sensed that there was no fight left in Roger, so got up and helped him to his feet. Snow stayed between him and the bedroom, just in case.

Lulu came back in and said, "Keep your money, Roger." She was flipping through his sparse wallet that she had brought back from the bedroom. She then asked sharply, "Where are you going with the suit and tie in there? It looks like it's laid out for a purpose." She handed his license to Snow.

"You're right." Roger looked up for the first time and slowly broke a smile. "I have to go back in to my old office tomorrow for paperwork. If things go right, I won't be coming back to this dump."

"What's with the gun?" Lulu wasn't fully buying his story.

"Oh, that stupid thing," Roger smiled again. "It's my father's; I'm taking it back to him tomorrow too. This is kind of a dangerous neighborhood. I had it for protection, but what's left to protect?

He paused, either considering his words or making them up.

"A lot of good it does when looters hit you while you're away." He swept his arm around the apartment. "But, I've never fired it. I'm not a gun person and I don't want to leave it here or they'll get it too."

It seemed to make sense, even in a dream, but left the team members wondering what purpose they had here. If there was no threat or imminent violence, why had they been put in this dreamscape?

"Do you mind if I get back to bed, then?" Roger was slowly inching his way in the direction of the bedroom.

Will locked eyes with each of the women and shrugged. Not much purpose in sitting around waiting to see what would happen. Maybe Roger wasn't supposed to be part of it. Maybe there was another dreamer still to come.

Will nodded, "OK, but we'll just hang onto the gun out here if you don't mind. Lulu spun on her heel and retrieved it and the ammo. She put them on the far side of a wobbly table. Roger shrugged as well. He worked up the smile again, turned and headed for the bedroom.

"So, what gives here?" Snow was still poking various pieces of furniture with her club.

She tried to answer her own question. "Maybe just getting in here prevented some other robber from attacking him or prevented him from killing the bad guy. Maybe Thor would have torn his throat out if we hadn't shown up. Maybe he gets a job with that suit and goes on to find a cure for cancer or to achieve world peace. Or maybe his kid does some day. You know: the butterfly effect."

Now she turned up her free hand and mimicked Will's shrug. Her expressions said that she wanted some other explanation if anyone had one.

While her thoughts were still hanging in the air, there was a tremendous crash from the bedroom. They rushed in, almost falling over each other in the narrow hallway. When they got there, a large bureau of drawers was tipped over on its face in the middle of the room.

"What the fuck. That wasn't like that before." Lulu tried to push the bureau with her foot and couldn't move it.

"Couple hundred pounds there. Think Roger is under it?"

Snow and Will suddenly remembered that he should be in the room.

Will stated the obvious, "Not unless he's flat as a pancake."

They quickly checked the ensuite bathroom and walk-in closet. He was gone, along with the good suit, shirt, tie and some polished shoes.

Will shrugged again and said, "Guess he left for his meeting before the bureau went over."

Snow tipped her head towards Will. "But the meeting is tomorrow, when he's awake, not in the dream. Right?" Then, alarmed, she asked, "Or is it?"

They all locked eyes and shouted together: "The gun."

They rushed back to the kitchen to find both the gun and the ammo clips gone.

The dreamscape started to change around them as they tried to keep their bearings and sense of any new danger. The kitchen walls closed in and became a wood-paneled elevator. They were back with Roger. He was now well-dressed in the clothes that Lulu had seen before. His back was to the wall, but the bulge in his jacket waistline suggested that the .45 was tucked in there. The danger was now very real.

Snow spoke first, as the elevator continued its rapid descent.

"Hey, er...Roger. How's it going? Or maybe where are we going? Is this your old office building?" She was trying to piece together the little information they had.

Roger was clearly focused and impatient. "No time to talk now; I have to get to the meeting."

Snow continued anyway, "Thought that you weren't here anymore; are you working again?"

"No, no...never happen. Never happens. No, this time is different somehow. This time there is actual work to be done." Roger looked very determined and no longer either depressed or anxious.

He looked around at each of them and broke into the, now familiar, slow smile. It was a little crooked and clearly forced.

"Guess you must be here to help?" He raised his eyebrows in an intentional question, but didn't wait for an answer.

"You've never been here before and this time I've got the Colt. So, thanks, if you did that. Maybe today will be the best day I've ever dreamed."

Snow was more cautious, but kept the dialogue going. "You know that this is a dream then?"

Roger laughed for real. "Of-course it's a dream—or nightmare more correctly. I have the same one about every second night. Maybe, finally, I can get rid of it."

The fighters looked up at each other with some relief. Just a dream. And Roger knew it. They were good at controlling dreams.

Lulu jumped in, "Hey Roger, maybe, for a change, we can make this a really fun dream for you. How about: away from here, maybe in a nice beach somewhere. You know: two guys, two girls. See what happens. What do you think?"

Roger looked up at her and blinked a few times, considering the possibility. This was obviously a direction his previous dreams never went.

While he was still thinking, the elevator finally stopped going down and the doors opened onto a massive crowd of people, all jostling and talking loudly. All four of them were suddenly part of the crowd, being pushed along towards several large entry doors that had now opened into an auditorium.

Will found himself close in behind Roger as the crowd surged forward. But, he wouldn't be able to reach him easily through all the people. He realized, too late, that other people were now crowding in and separating all four of them.

Roger seemed very content to go with the crowd and was now pulling away from Will. He entered the room and headed towards the front as other people moved into rows of chairs. Will, Snow and Lulu eventually got back together, but they had lost sight of Roger. People were sitting down all around them. Soon they would be the only ones standing.

"Quick, move out to the walls," Snow was directing. "I'll go up the middle. Move to the front, even if we stand out. We have to be close to Roger. These people are all just part of his dream. A pretty amazing part, considering that each appears to be fully formed and detailed. I don't think that he could do this on his own. It's not our doing, so something else is up. Be careful."

As they moved forward, they could see that the room had a formal stage at the front with various screens showing a company logo and various moving graphics. A center screen said "Welcome to the Regrets Conference". The lights dimmed and upbeat music started to rise in volume. Clearly, the meeting was starting.

Just as they got to the front of the room, the stage lights came up and a stunning red-haired female executive moved to the podium.

Suddenly, a spot light was on each of them.

Looking down, Will realized that he was now wearing a nicely tailored suit, much like Jack wore, with a somber tie and white shirt. He caught the images of Snow and Lulu across the room, now also dressed in typical business clothes. Snow had a classy white designer outfit on, while Lulu was stunning in a tailored black dress.

The red-headed executive spoke through a P.A. system. "Let's welcome our special guests from head office to the stage."

There was scattered applause from the front of the room along with a few distant guffaws and boos.

The redhead pointed to chairs on stage. Each of the Leutnants felt themselves compelled to move forward, climbing up side or center stairs to take a seat on the stage.

Will felt helpless, as unseen hands pushed him along. He looked to the women for help. He could see that Snow and Lulu were anything but helpless and had engaged a fearsome struggle with whatever force was pushing them. Eventually, however, they were also in their respective chairs, each fuming and stressing against unseen forces acting like several strong men holding them down.

The red-headed executive smiled broadly and returned to the microphone. She nodded to the seated team and then in a loud voice, spoke directly into the podium mike, which boomed her words out to the entire room.

"And here you have them folks: The Pricks That Cost You Your Jobs."

She swept her arm broadly across to the team members, who were now brightly illuminated in spotlight pools, while the rest of the room went pitch black. A strong murmur developed in the auditorium, then turned to outright catcalls. Soon shouts could be heard. The rumble of falling chairs and thumping feet suggested that the meeting participants were on the move towards the front.

Snow and Lulu were the most confused. Will should have been, but still lacked enough experience to know what should and shouldn't happen. Nothing had ever controlled either of the women in a dreamscape. They glared at the executive and together spat out: "Xana."

Xana relaxed her executive disguise and appeared as they knew her. She was still stunning in Will's view, even as the enemy he had been waiting to meet. She was laughing and turning her hands up. Not my fault that you walked into this.

She turned back to the room just as the lights came up to show the angry mob of former employees about to mount the stage in full attack mode. But, before they could get on stage, Roger's voice was heard on the stage already. He rapidly moved out of the wing, past the Leutnant team and fixed his loaded gun on Xana.

"Bitch. Now you pay. I'll save bullets for these three, but you get yours first."

He fired rapidly in her direction, sending bullets flying into the floor, the podium and the wall beyond. The gun jumped and kicked in his hand. He was a terrible shot.

No bullets hit Xana, but she was momentarily distracted. It was all the time that Lulu and Snow needed to break free and to launch themselves towards her. The crowd had been frozen in place by the gunfire. The still life image was now rapidly dissipating into blackness. Xana had lost her control of the dreamscape. She took off towards the darkness behind the stage curtains, with Snow and Lulu in full pursuit.

Will knew from the experience with the victims on the beach that he had to keep Roger protected and dreaming. But, Roger still had the gun. He had managed to eject the empty clip and slam in a full new one, but he hadn't remembered to cock the weapon. Will used the moment of advantage to leap on him and wrestle him to the stage. As they struggled, the stage dissolved to a smooth black floor in an endless black room. One bright overhead light kept them in a spotlight circle. The only other concrete thing that remained of the nightmare was the gun.

A much stronger than expected Roger now put up a good fight, leaving Will wondering if he could actually win. They both had one hand on the gun, with the barrel moving back and forth between them as they rolled on the floor. Will strove to control the dream and Roger, but he still hadn't mastered creating a new reality for the dreamer. He tried to remake the gun into a football or just a piece of wood, but it clearly remained a loaded hand gun. Somehow, Roger got his other hand free, pulled the slide back and succeeded in chambering a round. Now the struggle could be deadly for either of them.

Off-stage, in a dark cavern similar to the Cavern in the Halls, the three female Draumrs faced each other ten feet apart.

"You know that you can't beat us both Xana. Give it up." Snow knew she was almost Xana's equal. With Lulu there, they should have a significant advantage.

"Yeah, bitch. Roger got that part right." Lulu was itching for an actual punch-up. "But, don't roll over too quickly, I need some knuckle work to help me sleep tonight."

Xana looked back and forth at each of them and laughed again.

"Just like old times, isn't it girls? Shall ve go at it with swords and shields? Except that you children have never played for real; just for fun." She stopped smiling.

"But, I have no intention of hurting either of you or the sweet little Duck out there. This is still just practice for all of us."

With a last laugh, she spun on her toes and disappeared into a whirling cloud of reddish dust. First pebbles, then small stones flew out of the spinning cloud, stinging Snow and Lulu. As the stones got larger, they hurt more. They should have been able to just wave them off, but they kept coming and kept on getting through. At the point where they were walnut-sized, Lulu gave it up and said, "Run."

They both turned and ran back in the direction they thought that they had come. The cavern collapsed down to a dark rock tunnel, which eventually formed into building walls and floor. They were running towards an open door far down the hall which was lit by the remaining stage light in Roger's dream.

Still far away, they heard a single gunshot. They both gasped.

When they came through the door, Will was sitting by himself on the floor with the gun in his hand. There was the smell of cordite in the air.

"Did you kill him?" Snow was most concerned for Will first, but he appeared unharmed; she now worried that Roger had died.

Will looked up at each of them and shook his head.

"We were struggling and he was actually getting the upper hand. He was incredibly strong and I was losing strength. In another few seconds he probably would have succeeded in getting the gun barrel on me and pulling the trigger. But, then he just stopped fighting.

"Did he kill himself then?" Lulu now asked as she had suspected that the suit had been picked out to be buried in all along.

"No, he had control of the gun and just fired one shot into the air. It was loud. He kind of laughed and then disappeared. It seemed like he was also released from the terror, as he winked before he faded out. I think that he just decided to wake up. He may have figured out that he beat the nightmare.

Snow was relieved, "Thank goodness. Maybe no-one was hurt this time."

She looked back in the direction of the tunnel entrance, which was now gone. They were kneeling or sitting in featureless black space.

Snow updated Will on their fight. "Xana clearly has something going that we haven't encountered. I bet that we will all have real bruises when we wake up. We were almost stoned to death by a mini-cyclone pitching rocks. I've never had that happen to me before."

She continued, "We should bug out while we can. I want to debrief the Elders and find out what they know about Xana's new-found abilities. She may or may not have meant what she said about not hurting us. But, we apparently aren't in the way of her real intentions as yet. She even said so: 'This is just practice'. There is definitely more to come."

Lulu piped up, "Well, I'm just glad that Roger didn't put that one bullet in Will." She looked puzzled. "Why is that gun still here anyway? Wasn't it in Roger's dream?"

They all looked at the gun still in Will's hand; it suddenly took on a dull reddish glow and promptly faded out of view, leaving a wisp of smoke behind.

Will howled and shook his hand. "Damn thing burned me on the way out.

He was blowing on his singed hand and then shook his head. "I think that we can safely assume that none of this dream truly belonged to the dreamer. This was Red Clan controlled. We'll have to get much better at playing on the enemy's battlefield."

Lulu pulled Will to his feet. "Remind me to check in on old Roger some night soon to show my appreciation for him not killing you. I did sort of promise him a better dream."

They all laughed in the relief of tension. Together, they bugged out to their beds, where their support teams were ready for them to wake-up.
The Ruse

Mikilo Chervoniy had finally made his way to his own simple bed, leaving Gloria Black in the luxurious guest quarters, fully enraptured, but unsullied. He was being the consummate gentleman. Perhaps, soon, they would share a dreamscape coupling reminiscent of the old times. Cherry smiled at the prospect of winding back the clock to days of revolution and nights of passion. Gloria had been one of many conquests; young and naïve, but well-schooled in Draumr creativity. She had certainly been one of his favorites, both asleep and awake. He was feeling very young again at heart, from the romantic titillation and from the deeper thrill of his renewed political pursuits.

Perhaps he should have her new partner murdered? English puffy lord something or other. She might then agree to stay with him. The sinister possibility was just one of many unfettered thoughts he mulled in his head now that wheels were in motion. No; no extra murders were needed to make him very pleased with the unfolding campaign, so perfectly staged and now ready.

He struck a dreamscape suitable for the meeting of his Bulo (war) cabinet. Unlike the Halls of the Circles, his setting was all about the trappings of power and conquest. He sat, as so many criminals and dictators alike had over the decades, in the main drawing room of Richard's Castle in Kiev. For his meeting, he had pushed out the walls and replaced window views of drab downtown Kiev with vistas of windswept cliffs above the Black Sea at sun-up. All that remained faithful to the actual setting was the solid oak table, faithfully carrying the stain of blood from arguments that ended badly for some of his waking foes. Cherry traced an old pattern engraved when the table had been used to calmly arrange the murder of hundreds by the Russian brutes. His knife had made the cuts in 1953 as he idled quietly by, while ensuring a fellow Ukrainian, young Nikita Khrushchev, would rise to ultimate power while standing on the idiot Stalin's cooling corpse.

Now he summoned his entourage to the Bulo with similar intent, but with no question of who was in charge. Unlike the puppets he had manipulated through night terrors or night fantasies, his Clan charges needed nothing other than his orders to move forward. He had mulled his plan for so long that it seemed almost self-evident in simplicity and grace, to him. Others, unaware of the end goal, needed to be told what to do at each step and saw only the binary possibilities of immediate reward or immediate punishment. Nothing but complete success was rewarded; the failing effort behind all other outcomes was remedied with swift and memorable correction.

Cherry remained in a very good mood. All of his plans had so far met with complete success. Thanks to the brilliance of Oksana and the passable efforts of the cousins, he had proven out the capabilities he needed to go forward and had passed off a contrived scenario as explanation to the doddering Armand Grau. Oksana was confident in her ability to achieve his end goal. Alexander, now under Stephan's tutelage and reinforced with Red Clan cousins, was ready to lead a critical dreamscape that would keep the interfering Clans busy while he took his real plans past the point of no recall.

Once events were truly set in motion, Cherry would simply sit back and wait to be called, by both his friends and his foes. All parties would need his special skills to guide them through a political and military quagmire perfectly suited for a power swing back to his old friends. Certainly, Draumr guidance would prove useful on all sides, once the inevitable outcomes were clear. Men could always be counted on to start new wars—just not ones big enough or soon enough for an impatient Cherry.

There were currently only three members of the Red Clan gathered. The big table had plenty of space for more chairs that would be filled during engagement reports in the weeks to come. Novices who proved themselves would get field promotions to the Leutnant rank within the Clan and have the opportunity to appear at his Table. These would be new leaders who had not been tarnished by the decadence and passivity of the Circles. They would know only the Red Clan way and their faith in the omnipotence of its leader.

Stephan and Alexander now sat across from each other with Cherry sitting alone at the foot of the table. An empty chair at the head of the table was in place for the fourth member, when she appeared. Both men were in militia dress consistent with the setting and purpose: rough, worn and probably shit and blood stained. Cherry, by contrast, was resplendent in a tailored dark wool suit, brilliant white shirt and deep red tie. Small medals of past campaigns sparkled in either lapel. They came from appreciative rulers and were lavish with precious jewels. He personally favored his own gold insignia of wheat and poppies bound in red enamel sash. It was his emblem and personal seal. As banners would start to be hung and flags added to backdrops, this insignia reminded everyone that Cherry was watching whenever they acted in his name.

Stephan, as the brother of the man he knew only as Mikilo, felt comfortable in breaking the near silence that hung in the room as the tip of the knife scraped gently around the same wheat pattern now deeply aged and darkened in the table top.

"We should acknowledge the sacrifice of our nephew Bohdan to our cause, brother. He was a bit of a nuisance, but as the first to die he should be elevated to a hero in the Clan." He paused long enough to check that the idea was not being dismissed out of hand. Simply a frown from Cherry would be enough to leave the idea to die on the table.

With no immediate reaction from Mikilo, he continued. "He died while outnumbered in a valiant effort to protect his bother; who himself had been ambushed by the White and Black bitches. It is a story worth telling for both motivation and caution.

Alexander now reacted to the faux elevation of Bohdan's fumbling actions, mumbling, "He wasn't my brother. I didn't need his fucking protection. He was just an idiot. He should have just gotten out of there while he had the chance."

Lex didn't look up, but absentmindedly rubbed his jaw, fully in place and outwardly unblemished. It had hurt like hell when Snow's boot heel broke it and knocked out half his teeth in the dreamscape. But, he had still been partly in control of the dream, so had limited the real damage. At that point, she didn't yet know how to control effects that carried though to waking. He planned to show her what it was like, if not how to do it, the next time they met.

Stefan was bravely persistent. "But, others were not there to assess what did happen, or could have happened. They do not know the details yet and if we wait or say nothing, the story they will hear will be the lies of the First Circle, spun for the benefit of the other Clans."

He was exerting his second-in-command authority to openly recommend without being asked, but would now to wait for Mikilo's pronouncement. Regardless of the lack of outward disapproval from Mikilo, Stephan knew was poor practice to invest in an idea that would go nowhere.

All his life, Stephan had been the consummate back-room player. Whether as a whisperer to Heads of State, or as a spiritual advisor and confessor for Archbishops, Stephan had lived a privileged life that was just far enough into the shadows to not be noticed. He had never found much value in bravado. Yet, like his brother, he had been there to influence decisions in favor of Red Clan interests. He wore his Bishop's mantel, not as a symbol of his faith in the Eastern Church, of which he had none, but in a symbolic nod to the angular power of the Bishop on the chess board. As there was no Queen, he relished the notion that he was the closest defender of the King, who was his brother. The modest daytime 'habit' of a priest was also useful camouflage for his nasty second nature that was always near at hand and usually needed to be tightly bound in.

Cherry finally spoke, "His brave death at enemy hands will be recorded and, in due time, celebrated, brother. For now, Bobby served us best as the scapegoat. I have turned out my hands and shrugged often at my inability to control the impulses of his child's brain and his man's dick. I can hardly now make him a hero for bumbling, as Alexander has said. In time...."

He nodded to Stephan, letting him know that his opinion had been valued, "We will honor him once his contribution to our complete success can be noted."

"Now, on to details." He nodded to the empty head of table chair. "Oksana will join us for but a few minutes before we break. She is on her assignment and must maintain her secrecy. We must assume that the First Circle is now watching everything that we do, so we must dream very carefully. I can protect small gatherings from prying, but any who are actively engaged on a dreamscape must also protect their physical location. Correct, Stephan?"

"Tak (yes), for safety, the sleep location must be well-protected from external attack. An agent can just shoot you as you sleep." He was talking only to Lex for now, but knew that the message would need to be passed on to others.

He continued, "Each dreamer, particularly ones employing artefacts, must be guarded by a fully-awake protector, who must stand ready to wake the Draumr and end the dreamscape if physical danger is near.

He added, "Within the dreamscape, of course, the only protection is the skill of the enabled Draumr."

Cherry nodded and now turned to Alex. "You have seen the skills and speed of the White and Black women—are they Sacha and Luise?"

Alex finally looked up to answer, with a gravelly voice. "Yeah, Snow and Lulu, to me. Duck...er, Will, Green was there as well. And Tom Brown is lurking somewhere. He seems to be hard on Xana's tail as she moves around.

He wanted to show his more considered manner, as a means to separate himself from Bobby's obvious disposable status.

"Snow and Tom are the ones to actually worry about. They were both masters of the combat halls. I assume that hand-to-hand, they are still pretty tough. Lulu's probably good, but a lot younger; I don't know what she can do. Will's been out of it so long, I can't imagine that he is much of a threat."

He rubbed his jaw again. "If Snow hadn't surprised me with that damn flying log, I could have taken her."

He made a fist and thought about pounding the table, but stopped short. "Next time, she's dead."

Cherry raised his eyebrows as he spoke. "Hopefully not; we do not want to kill any of them, but you are due some compensation. Pain should be sufficient, and if you have studied well, perhaps she will need a few months of recovery." He was considering both the comment and its source.

After a moment, he spoke again. "They will be studying the lasting effect of injury or death that Oksana has perfected and that you are learning. They have access to the considerable expertise of the Green Clan Elder. Be aware that the next encounter may be deadlier for all concerned."

He turned to Stephan. "The Elders may be old or distracted, but they are no fools. They will know the source of this ability. These Leutnants are their chosen combatants—they will ensure that they are ready and, probably, equally equipped with their artefact."

He now returned his gaze and black unblinking eyes to Alex. "Are you certain that you can compel actions on sleepers? It is critical in the next stage."

Alex wondered if he could blink, but answered quickly, knowing that he was must commit what Cherry wanted. "Yes, I have practiced and observed with Xana, er Oksana. It can be done. I can do it."

He was gaining confidence in his assertions, although the rough edges of his voice continued. It was a lasting effect caused by his simple possession of the artefact and the severity of his dreamscape injuries. His physical body was not permanently damaged, but his dreamscape persona would always bear some scars.

"Dobre." Cherry stated the obvious, spun slightly as good wishes, but hanging in the air as a clear threat. "You are critical in the diversion. Without it, we may not have the time we need. You will achieve all of the goals of your mission."

Or else that knife goes in my eye. Alex denied the thought the instant it crossed his mind, but he shuddered ever so slightly in doing so. Stephan stared coldly. Cherry simply turned back to Stephan.

"So, what of the event, all is in place?

"Yes, brother. We have the complete itineraries for the leaders and their wives. For one night, they will all sleep in the adjacent connected buildings on the conference property. There can be no external disruptions as all will be inside multiple rings of security. We are aware of personal staff schedules and of security details. Each person who could prevent or disrupt the series of events will be controlled."

"The chosen person will be beaten and raped at our hands on the dreamscape, but her husband will see the acts committed by your selected despoiler, while he is helpless to intervene. Each will be out of their actual beds sufficiently to retain evidence that the seduction actually took place. We can compel retaliation by the husband for what is only an imagined event."

He continued, "The brazen, apparently unprovoked, revenge attack will cause chaos at the highest level in both countries. The stage will be set for your dreamer to act for national pride and for settling of scores. Assuming that he has the means in place and shows decisiveness in acting, the success of the inevitable military response is assured."

He smiled and nodded deeply to Mikilo, "Suffice to say, no one will continue to care about minor events and realignments closer to home once the international crisis begins to unfold."

Stephan loved the plan and was almost giddy that it was coming to fruition. He smiled to himself. Cherry thinks that he thought this all up. Let him enjoy the beauty of it. Finally, we will be together on the dais, as we both deserve.

"Dobre. Leave nothing to chance. We must also know the location of each Draumr Elder and Leutnant who stands against us. They need not take us on in battle to foil this plan. One leak. One telephone call. It could be shut down in an instant and years of planning be put to waste."

Cherry was blunt. "If anyone's loyalty is suspect, just kill them. No permission needed. Is that clear?"

Both Stephan and Alex nodded. They also smiled slyly and stared at each other. Neither had much use for the other, but their individual fear of Mikilo served as a common motivator to work together, for now.

"Now, I must talk to Oksana. You will stay with us until dismissed. Say nothing unless asked. She is the master of the conference center plan and I'm sure has it well in hand with our allies. But, as timing is critical, we must ensure that our clocks are synchronized, so to speak."

As he finished speaking, Oksana materialized in the chair at the head of the table.

"It is good to see you daughter." Cherry showed only the slightest hint of any real emotion.

"And you father." Xana glanced at Alex and Stephan, nodded to each, but gave no greetings. She was dressed in dark street clothes that gave no hint of purpose or location.

"Stephan, what are your dates?" Cherry spoke with no preamble.

Stephan needed no notes, he replied, "The timing of the important dreamscape is between 20:00 and 21:00 Greenwich Time on September 16th. Other, distracting activity must happen both before and after. Even if we are found out, there will be too many choices for the intervenors to figure out, and nothing will point to the real purpose.

We expect the retaliation to occur at approximately 3:00 GMT on the 17th. Allowing a few hours for information to be reported on the news channels, the local events here should happen late morning. The military response must follow in the next 24-48 hours, when any local obstacles will be removed."

Xana was able to instantly calculate time zone differences. She and Lex would engage their dreamers at 3:00 a.m. and be out of the critical dreamscape in less than two hours.

Stephan continued, "Having said this, there should be up to two weeks of complete confusion to follow. Few commentators or investigators will be looking beyond the Middle East for any news during that time. I would expect the heads of most governments to be equally distracted."

Oksana finally spoke again: "Very good." She had reviewed all of her plans and step-by-step actions in her head. "This will fit our requirements...thank-you."

The thank-you sounded like an afterthought and curt dismissal.

Cherry continued for her. "The date is less than a week out. I will expect updates daily through Stephan. Alex, you have your orders." He paused, perhaps considering whether to add "good luck". He didn't.

"You two are dismissed."

Stephan and Alex nodded slightly while they were able, then both dematerialized, leaving empty chairs.

Oksana spoke more openly once they were gone. "I have a new security concern. I have not been able to shake Tom Brown. He is here in Hong Kong and closing in on my temporary safe spots. I need to move to my final location for the dreamscape action, but cannot risk doing this while he is tracking me. I believe that the only way to solve this problem is to lure him in and kill him. He will be no threat to me while he is asleep. I can ensure that he is distracted temporarily. Then, I can use an agent to dispatch him. He will not feel threatened. As far as he knows, he can simply wake up at any time."

"Are you certain of your control when dealing with a strong Draumr? Tom Brown is a killer in his own right. He may already have orders to eliminate you." Now Cherry showed some actual concern for his daughter's well-being.

Oksana tried to hide any fears that she had. "I don't believe that he will suspect the counter-attack so quickly. After all, they have no real proof of my involvement in anything but 'practice'. He cannot simply murder me. His desire to talk me into surrender will be all the advantage that I need."

She tried to reassure her father. "I will disappear and remain off any dreamscape for the remaining days. The Greys should not be able to track me, once I have the protection of our friends over here."

Cherry cautioned, "We need to avoid any further deaths in the other Clans, if at all possible. We must think about the new day to come."

Cherry was anticipating the complication that could arise if Tom Brown was suddenly murdered near to where Oksana was last seen. He had not gotten to where he was by being impulsive. His death would move a much larger force of Draumrs into the Far East, where even the Blue Clan territorial prerogative might not dissuade them. He had to keep the First Circle's focus in the West as long as possible.

Oksana was young and had only known success in her life. She could throw caution to the wind and get away with it most of the time. This might be the exception.

"There is good reason to find a less dramatic solution. We do not want to give the Brown Clan, or any of the others, reason to intervene more aggressively. We already have Green Clan blood on our hands, but this was necessary to back off Water Green. The fewer Draumrs with reason to hate us right now, the better. I do expect that they will be forced to come to us hat-in-hand eventually. They should feel fear now, but perhaps not burning anger, while we can manage it."

Had it been anyone but his daughter who proposed the wrong approach, he would have added a verbal or physical lashing to ensure the lesson stuck. She was his one weakness and he could not be harsh with her.

"I will ensure that a high level Blue Clan complaint is launched, with the demand that he be pulled back, at least temporarily. By treaty, he should not be there without their awareness and permission. Use deception if needed, but do him no harm for 24 hours. Can this be done?" Cherry knew they had time if he could maintain the veil of innocence that he had so carefully hung.

"I believe that I can manage this. One way or another." Xana smiled, but only briefly.

She hoped that her overall manner suggested disappointment. She knew her father was aware that she and Tom had been and might still be occasional lovers. It was the kind of distraction and delay that she specialized in. She wasn't bothered in the least that Tom would live. In fact, she had an inner sigh of relief that her father had 'corrected' her first plan as being too aggressive. She knew that he expected her to be as brutal as he was. But, she had other plans for Tom. The proposal had been a calculated failure.

Cherry nodded and concluded. "This may be our final conversation for some days. We cannot risk being monitored or giving away your location. I will get a message to you one way or another by tomorrow evening your time. Hopefully, you can be on your way with no delays or complications.

"Thank-you father. Now, I must go."

Before she left, she could not help adding a small familiarity. "A little love life looks good on you, Tato. Perhaps, give my regards to Gloria Black?"

Then she dematerialized.

Cherry, now alone, closed out the dreamscape and returned to his bed. He woke fully in an instant and headed for his liquor shelf. He poured several ounces of St. Remy brandy and took a full swallow of the tumbler. The burn brought all his senses back to full cycle and produced the rosy warmth he was looking for. These matters could actually disrupt a good sleep. He smiled at his daughter's impudence. Just like him once.

With that thought, he cocked his head at the faint sound of music from the guest suite. Gloria was still up and listening to some very sexy music. He took the bottle and headed off to see what she was up to. Perhaps a night cap together would help them both get to sleep more easily. Cheery could enjoy a small diversion, before his real work started later in the night.
Russian Bear

President Boris Pulisin was really enjoying this dream. He was moving swiftly on a beautiful chestnut Budyonny stallion, which seemed able to navigate the winding forest trail all on its own. He was holding the reins tight to the horse's neck trying to feel every powerful movement of the stallion's head and torso. He had to ensure that he moved as one with it, while ducking to avoid branches flying at him as they weaved through the dense clusters of trees. It was early winter; light snow covered the ground, with a touch of frost on each of the limbs that brushed his steer-hide jacket. It was a brilliant day, with early morning sun extending long rays through the evergreens and bare hardwoods, sparkling windless snowflakes that drifted down from the tree tops.

He had a wolf-skin ushanka hat pulled down tight against the rushing wind. Off the side of his saddle, he could see the gleaming butt end of a 7.65mm Dragunov Tiger rifle in its long holster. He was hunting. He was a great hunter. He couldn't imagine a better dream.

He knew that he was never really alone, but here in this brilliant snowy forest, he seemed to have lost the pack of followers normally clustered around him. No military guards, no aides, not even his trusted guides could keep up with him today. He was on the trail of something big. All alone was how he wanted it. This would be his prize and no-one else's.

He kept his eyes on the faint set of tracks ahead of him on this difficult trail. The ten-inch wide paws showed the broken rhythm of a bear on the move. Judging by the galloping gait and three-metre distance between strides, it was big and very aware that it was being chased. Broken branches and flattened brush showed that this animal could pretty much make its own path. A brown bear this size could move quickly through just about anything, but couldn't do it for long.

In a few kilometers, the effort of hurling 1200 pounds over too much terrain would catch up with it. Then, the bear would give up running and turn to make its stand. A fully-grown male wasn't really afraid of anything, so would expect to fight then and there for its life. If Boris were another type of predator, one that depended on physical strength, teeth and claws, the odds were good that he would be the one to die at that spot.

He planned to kill the king Kamchatka at very close range. Close enough, that any mistake would give the bear a fair chance at killing him. It was only right to honor such a formidable adversary by letting it smell the fear and excitement it provoked in its killer. He needed to look into its eyes to see the recognition of its defeat; to have it see the steeled conviction in his eyes before he shot it through the heart. It was a rule that he applied both to great beasts and to honorable men.

The stallion was in a full sweat, indicating that they had been running for a long time, but it showed no sign of slowing nor gave any indication of fatigue. The froth from its muzzle blew back over him as the great animal churned in continuous motion. He floated above the saddle, barely aware of the ground rushing below. His rough wool leggings glistened with the horse's sweat that froze on contact in the winter cold of this Caucasus mountain. Every detail, including the smell of the horse, its raucous breathing, the pounding of its hooves and the rip of the cold air hitting his lungs told Boris that this was real. Yet, he knew it was a dream. But, what a dream.

The rough track now broke down a steep embankment and started to zig-zag abruptly between rock outcroppings. The horse finally had to slow to navigate the sharp turns and to ensure its footing. Boris could feel the hooves sliding as the pitch increased and more and more rock scree mixed into the dirt.

Looking down the slope, he became aware of a sharp drop beyond a cliff off to his right, just visible through thirty meters of forest, but coming closer as they slipped and slid down the uneven chutes of the narrow track. This was better ground for a bear than a horse. The bear could bounce off the rocks and descend virtually straight downhill. The stallion needed to worry about the peril both it and its rider were falling into. His adversary had picked the escape route well, perhaps hoping to throw off his pursuers entirely.

But, the Budyonny wouldn't be put off yet. The horse neatly stepped through gaps in the solid rock and seemed to find just enough footing to keep up the calamitous descent under some slight control. Boris held on tight as they dropped together, sometimes sliding several meters until the sure-footed horse found purchase in the loose shale under them. Gravity was starting to be a driving force as the mass of horse and man plunged downward with decreasing assurance of stopping.

As the trees thinned, Boris could now see that the parallel cliff was actually a drop to a small river running through a narrow canyon. They were rapidly closing in on the cliff edge, which was now running near-parallel just a few meters away through the trees. He had to trust the horse to pick a passable route and to avoid a side-slip that would take them right through the few saplings guarding the edge. Any unplanned crash off the trail would send them both cartwheeling to the river five meters below.

The stallion finally saw the end of the trail merging with the cliff edge in front of them and applied full brakes, consisting of locked and dug-in front legs and haunches dropped to the ground to apply the strength of massive rear legs against the slide towards the edge. With just a meter to spare, they came to a full stop, with the stallion sitting on its ass. Boris found himself thrown forward half way around the stallion's neck, and looking eye-to-eye with it. He was sure that there was relief in his eyes, but could see only anger in the horse's eye.

Righting itself, the stallion blew hard through flaring nostrils, reflecting the exertion of the stop and its frustration at being stopped. It shook its head hard from side-to-side and let out several grunting neighs, which were probably the horse equivalent of "holy shit" at the close call, and "fuck me" at the frustration of the interrupted chase. Boris had quickly pulled himself back upright as well, just in time to avoid getting a face full of horse teeth. He now gingerly climbed down from the quivering animal. He rubbed his frozen ass and flexed leg muscles that had been in a death grip on the horse's ribs for the entire cascade down the steep pitch of dirt and rock that ended abruptly mere centimeters from disaster.

"Thank-you, my good friend, for letting us both live," he said, as he patted down the horse's chest and front legs. "Is always good to know one's limit. And today, flying is beyond our limit. Even in a dream."

As both rider and mount calmed down and slowed breathing, Boris began to wonder what of the bear. It had come this way as well, for surely the stallion had its scent and track clearly in its head through the whole of the pursuit. He studied the ground and picked up the great paw prints clustered at the edge of the small cliff. Leaning forward, he could see how the bear had descended the rock cut between several good size cedars growing up from the cliff base. Brown's didn't normally climb trees, but this one had used its huge claws to grip the cedars, while sliding down the cliff to the riverbank below.

"Smart beast, this one. He knew that this route would stop you, my friend, and he hoped it would stop me as well." He continued to pat the quieting horse, which now joined him in surveying the ground and river below.

"You're stuck up here, I'm afraid," he consoled the stallion. "But, I'm not."

"This Kamchatka has to be very tired as well, and likely over-confident that he has ditched us. So, maybe, he's taking his time climbing up the other bank. Maybe, he's stopping for a drink. Maybe, he's not so tricky as we give him credit for."

He reached under the Budyonny and released the saddle cinch, pulling the black military saddle and blanket off the horse and to the ground. Reaching over the horse's head he slipped off the halter and bit, leaving the stallion free of any encumbering tack. He unfolded the saddle blanket and threw it lightly over the horse's back.

"Stay a little warm while you cool down. Then, run back to the barn my friend and get some oats. Or go find a filly and sow some oats." He laughed at his pun. "Work is done for you today."

The horse bobbed its head as if in understanding and turned to climb back up the trail, but looked back and paused as if to ask, "Are you sure?"

"Get going; just me and the king out there now. I'll see you again some other night."

With that, he pulled his rifle from the saddle holster on the ground and slung it over his back. Laughing loudly at the absurdity of talking with a horse in a dream or in life, he leaned out over the cliff edge and then dropped to a narrow shelf, catching himself against the same cedar that the bear had employed. He was pressed right up against the trunk as he secured his position, staring at fresh three-inch deep gouges in the wood. He shuddered as he considered what those paws would do to human flesh.

With a few footholds and some shinnying down the tree trunk, he landed on the river bank in one piece. Now, his quarry would have the advantage of both size and speed. Alone, on foot, with no dogs or local guide: this was a foolish engagement. Had he still had been training raw KGB recruits, he would have told them that this was exactly the sort of fix not to get into.

But, he smiled, "What's life without a little risk?" It was just a dream.

The bear hadn't hesitated in crossing the small river. A six-foot wide channel, broken through the thin ice, clearly showed where the big animal had just kept right on going. Boris would need a little more skill as the ice wasn't thick enough to hold him and he had no idea how deep the black river ran. He also had no plans to swim in the frigid water. Scanning upstream, he saw a small set of rapids, which told him that there the bottom was shallow enough to wade. He hoped that he was dreaming well-oiled boots for the unavoidable ford of the river.

He made his way across with surprising ease, finding himself on the other side without any soakers. Why not? It was his dream; if he didn't want wet feet he wouldn't have them.

He worked back up the far shore to where the bear's path went straight up across several small rock plateaus and then disappeared into forest clinging to the very steep hillside. If he hoped to stay with his foe, he faced a challenging climb. He started up, trying hard to look ahead and up for any hint of a resting animal, while looking down enough to find secure footholds for his boots. He stayed on the track of the bear as much as he could, although it was clear that its four feet digging-in were better suited to the task than his two.

After half an hour of steady climbing, he was becoming as sweat-covered as his horse had been. Knowing the deadly consequences of over-heating in the minus 10˚C temperature, he attempted to open his clothing as much as possible. He wished that he had put himself in better shape, or maybe made himself a few decades younger, going into this dream. Too many years of rich living and sitting in soft chairs was now weighing on him like a hundred-pound pack.

Boris finally saw the top of the hill as a rock edge above him with no trees visible beyond. It would be the most dangerous place to encounter the Kamchatka. He was obviously making a huge noise in his clumsy climbing approach, which was unavoidable in the loose rock and deadfall of the slope. He couldn't unsling his rifle and still pull himself up with both hands. He had no way of knowing what was waiting over the ledge.

So, let's be a little smart ourselves. He now moved laterally as far down the rock face as he could and instead of attempting to climb up and over, he carefully ascended the lower limbs of a beech tree growing a couple meters in front of the ledge. He planned to just get his eyes over the ledge height to assess the situation, hopefully while still out of the bear's reach. He now tried to move silently, knowing that he couldn't hide his scent, but at least hoping that he would have time to steady himself and his rifle for a shot if the bear charged. With aching muscles, he achieved a high-enough central crotch in the tree where he could brace himself. He crouched into it while working his rifle strap over his head and shoulder. With minimal movement and in super-slow motion, he chambered a 180-grain round, closing the bolt in complete silence. He silently praised the precision design of the weapon, first conceived as a sniper's tool. It had never been in a more-deadly encounter.

With the rifle now snug to his shoulder and cheek, he slowly stood to get his head and arms clear of the ledge. He was looking down the rifle, with his finger on the trigger guard. As he raised himself inch-by-inch, he took in and assessed each detail of the landscape before him.

There was a definite clearing. It would be a good place for a clean shot. He prayed that he would see the bear resting and waiting for him. Once it saw him, it would stand to challenge him. He would wait, perhaps for one or two heartbeats, and then take his shot cleanly into the animal's exposed heart. He hoped that the single shot would drop the bear cold, but knew that this was unlikely. The tree perch might still be needed for survival.

As he rose, he was startled by a scene completely beyond his expectation. Yes, the bear was there. But, it was flat on the ground. It now appeared as a dark brown lump of fur, half a meter high in the middle and stretched-out to three meters long. It was huge, but wasn't currently a threat. Was it so exhausted that it had gone to sleep? Not likely. Maybe, it was that old and had died of exhaustion? His head spun looking for explanations.

He was desperately searching for an answer to guide his next move, when he saw something else in the framed landscape of the clearing. As his visual cortex separated the new image from the background, the object resolved to an unexpected form. There was a man on the far side of the bear, sitting on a boulder and casually smoking a long-stemmed Starkov pipe. He was no more than five meters past the downed bear.

Raising his head from under a wide-brimmed hat, the man locked eyes with Boris and nodded once. He then ignored him, gazed off into the distance. He noisily struck a wooden match off the boulder to re-light his pipe. The flare of the match briefly illuminated his face. He was familiar. He was apparently oblivious to the rifle pointed in his direction and to the huge bear lying at his feet.

Boris had only one thought: Son-of-a-bitch, he's killed my bear.

Continuing to curse, Boris had to descend the tree and move back to his original path to find a set of footholds to get him up over the lip of the rock edge. He had re-slung his rifle, so emerged on all fours, effectively unarmed and completely at the mercy of either the bear, if it wasn't dead, or the man, if he was an enemy. He hated the symbolism of being an ineffective, late-comer to the final encounter. When he could finally stand, he again un-slung his rifle and proceeded to circle the bear with a wide berth, all the while sighting his weapon on the animal, while glancing at the man on the rock, who continued to ignore him. As he cautiously moved closer, he could see that the bear was very much alive and breathing steadily. He heard a rough snoring sound as the animal breathed heavily through an open mouth. From the obvious sheen of its coat and soaked muzzle, it had probably dropped of exhaustion right there. But, is it near death or just asleep?

"Asleep," grunted the man. "Just like you." The interloper spoke without looking in Boris's direction, even as he answered the unspoken question that he had asked.

Boris now divided his attention between the bear and the strange old man on the rock. He had gotten only one glimpse of the man's face under the broad brimmed felt hat. He had only heard but a syllable or two of his voice. But, both fragments registered as someone he knew from past encounters. He could see no weapon and the man was certainly not threatened by the bear. Boris knew that a sleeping bear and an awake bear in a charge were separated by only fractions of a second. He kept his rifle trained on the bear.

The man was dressed more as a peasant farmer than a hunter. He wore black mud-caked wool trousers over rough work boots. His buttoned short coat was woven in the traditional style of Crimea, with small braided highlights showing that it had once been a dressier garment. Now, it showed wear spots on the arms and at the seams. He thought that he could make out bone buttons. He couldn't clearly see the old man's face, but could see white hair falling from under the weathered hat and a grizzled grey chin showing several days growth of beard.

Now the man spoke again. "He has run hard, being afraid of many things, this bear. Now he sleeps while his killer stands over him. Not really much of a fighter." He laughed, "Sort of like your country, no? Big and lazy, asleep and unaware."

Now the speaker lifted his head and looked directly at the president. It took only a moment for Boris to recognize Mikilo Chervoniy. A fragment from the past, he should have been old and frail, based on his age and long-ago time in the bureaus of past governments. But, this Mikilo was looking both well-aged and possibly fit enough to have actually gotten himself up the small mountain they were on.

"Mikilo, what are you doing in my dream? Are you really here or am I finally just adding nonsense like in any other dream?"

Cherry answered, "I'm here Boris, and call me Cherry; it's what my friends do and I am certainly your friend now. I hope that you can remember how productive our friendship once was."

Boris was still splitting attention between the man and the sleeping bear.

He now could recall Cherry's guiding role in some of his early political moves. Just through an occasional meeting or phone call, but it had always been good advice when he was forming his own sharp skills and gaining power. Not needed any longer, though.

What he was doing in this dream was a complete mystery. As he hadn't already killed the bear, perhaps he was just there as a symbol for Boris's own father, long deceased, but still somehow a voice nagging him daily to be more ruthless. His father had been a communist party strongman who had fought reformers at every turn. If he appeared in a dream now, it was to harp about the glory of the past Union that Boris was accused of letting slip away.

But, perhaps there was no symbolism. Maybe Mikilo was just Mikilo?

"Er, Cherry, how can you be so calm beside this bear? It's the largest that I have ever seen. Surely, it can tear both of us limb from limb in a second. Don't you want to get behind me and put some distance between us and the bear?"

Cherry laughed and stood. "This bear? Hah, nothing much can wake it. I think that it might sleep here until it dies of old age and stupidity."

With that, he stood, walked swiftly to the bear and gave it a solid kick in the rump. There was no reaction, other than a grunt and continued snoring.

Boris jumped at the kick, but now approached the bear as cautiously as a house cat ready to jump back, eventually prodding its chest with the extended barrel of his rifle. It was certainly dead asleep, as Cherry had indicated.

"So, it is no threat then?"

Cherry laughed again. "No threat? Of-course he is a threat. He can rise and kill both of us in a second. He can tear down these trees." He swept his arm around the clearing.

"If he chose to, he could toss these boulders down to the river. It is the most threatening beast for hundreds of miles in any direction. Yet, as I said, it is oblivious to the enemy now standing just in front of it."

Boris had relaxed a little, now trusting that the bear wasn't about to immediately rise up and kill them. He continued to circle cautiously around it.

"Do you know that this bear had a name?" Cherry asked, as he re-lit his fussy pipe.

Boris eyed him suspiciously. He hated folk stories.

He responded, "Yes: Kamchatka. It is a brown bear. Of-course I know what it is."

Cheery nodded, but continued, now using the stem of his smoking pipe as a pointer. He touched his chest with it and then pointed at Boris.

"Yes, and you and I are men. Caucasians, of very similar Slavic background. Surely, this is what we are, but we each have a name as well and so does this bear."

Boris was prepared to be pissed-off by this continuing dull conversation that had now taken the place of a very exciting dream.

"So, what? Someone named him." He felt obliged to play along if just to get to the end of the discussion. "What is his name, then?"

Now Cherry looked Boris up and down. He said only one word: "Russia."

Boris tilted his head. "Russia? Who names a bear after a country?

Cherry took a long time answering this question.

"You did; your ancestors did. This bear is the country you pretend to lead. Its name is Russia."

Now Boris was pissed off for real. Ignoring the bear, he walked fully around it and stood defiantly before Cherry. He was close enough to throw a punch, or more likely, to crush his skull with the butt of the rifle.

"Dream or no, you can't insult my country."

Cherry didn't budge and showed no more fear of Boris that he had of the bear.

"Relax, Boris. I'm your friend remember? This is no insult, just an observation. Look over my shoulder to the south and tell me what you see."

Boris now looked up and through the sparse tree-tops to see tens of kilometers of open country, dotted by dark plumes of smoke, billowing high into the sky. Some were close, but many were far way.

"What are these fires?"

Cherry now removed his hat and moved to stand beside Boris.

He pointed to the far horizon.

"These are the future. The land is your southern flank in less than a year from now. Here are your Republics and your seaports. All are under attack by the upstart caliphate. You should have stopped it in the Middle East battle ground, but you didn't. You were hesitant. Turkey has been rolled over. Its allies have abandoned it. The fanatics have the support of their mother countries and now aim to extend their reign across your dissolving southern borders. Pipelines and oil depots burn now. Soon, it will be your cities."

Boris shook his head. It wasn't possible. No terrorist group could invade through the vast terrain needed to reach Russia. He had treated the continuing conflict in the Middle East as a foreign war. Important for influence yes, but not strategic to Russia's territorial interests.

"This cannot be happening. You are pointing to an illusion...my friend?"

Cherry nodded again. "Of course, it is not happening this night as you sleep like the bear behind you. But, unless you wake up from your long slumber, and act when I tell you to act, it most certainly will come to pass."

"When you tell me? How will you tell me?"

"In dreams like this, I will come to you. Maybe, it will appear to be your dacha or mine. But, we will meet and I will again tell you what to do. When I do, don't doubt and don't hesitate."

"But, this is just a dream. I must have many. I forget them all in the morning and nothing changes. Why would I ever do anything that a dream specter tells me to do?"

Cherry held his gaze for a long moment. "Because, this encounter isn't just a dream, my friend. It is your only chance to save Russia, by waking it up."

Boris was still slowly shaking his head in disbelief. He looked at the black plumes and then back to Cherry.

Cherry now raised a hand. "Speaking of waking up. Perhaps now would be a good time to use that rifle." He calmly pointed over Boris's shoulder.

Boris spun to find the Kamchatka standing at full height immediately behind him. He had to look several feet above his head to see the bear's gaping mouth and two-inch long teeth. The bear snarled and shook its massive head in a clear warning of an attack.

Boris fumbled for the rifle at his side, briefly losing his grip and needing to look down to avoid dropping it. As he looked up again one of the bear's massive front paws came through the air with the speed of a champion boxer's right hook, catching him flush in the side of the head and knocking him through the air.

The blow crushed his ear and shredded the tissue from his scalp to his shoulder. His neck muscles were stretched and tendons torn. His brain violently collided with the inside of his skull. His last conscious thought was of Russia. How surprising and how powerful it really was.

President Boris Pulisin regained consciousness in his Moscow apartment, alone in a bed soaked in blood from open contusions along the side of his head and neck. As he tried to sit up, torn neck muscles and bruised tissue screamed in pain. He let out a loud groan and fell back to the drenched and sticky pillow. With his hand, he probed the side of the head, finding torn skin and more fresh blood. He touched his ragged ear, but could hear nothing from it. His head rung with a dull roar. He briefly tried to focus on where he was and what was happening, but could make no sense of any of it. A serious concussion was limiting most coherent thought.

Finally, he succeeded in clawing himself up to a sitting position. He reached for the telephone to call for help. What the fuck happened to me?

After he mumbled something incoherent into the phone to bring help, he sat on the edge of the bed with his injured head in his hands. He could make little sense of the bedroom surroundings, but had a crystal-clear memory of the end of his dream.

Mikilo Chervoniy had said that they would talk again. And then he apologized for the bear part.

Boris searched his limited thought processes for other explanations, but could find none. He had been flattened by a giant bear in a dream, causing injuries that now seriously threatened his waking health. If this was true, how much else was also true?

Pondering the question, he passed out, pitching forward onto the floor and landing with a dull, lifeless thud.
Waking the Dead

Xana Chervoniy woke quickly and was on the move out of one of her rented apartments in Hong Kong, on route to another. Each had been set up by independent agents with no reference to her or to any activity that might take place there. Careful choice and appropriate bribes ensured that no local police or other nosy government bureaucrats would stumble upon her. She could sleep in relative security, when dreaming, and in peace, when not.

She assumed that her dreamscapes were being monitored for possible Draumr intervention. But, she also knew that this took time and an accessible party to the dream. The Red Clan Bulo dreamscape was secure, her father ensured this, but her physical location might not be. Until she was certain that the Lapis had exerted authority and backed off the other Clans, she could not afford a major confrontation. She made sure that anyone who saw the faded and stooped Baba on the move would think an old woman was just off for potatoes or smokes. No one would ever see her face on the street; most certainly not Thomas Brown.

As Tom had not been thrown off her trail by her decoy and persisted in Hong Kong, putting out more bribes than her team, she assumed that it was only a matter of time before they would meet in an encounter that could be deadly for one of them. They had been teenage acquaintances with five years between them, but later, when years didn't matter, became dreamscape lovers. These were memories that she would invoke in him. She hoped that a split second of hesitation on his part would be all she would need to put him out of action. But, he was also a trained killer in the not-so-secret employ of his father. She could not be certain of her superiority, particularly in the flesh. Right-now he was her most worrisome problem and needed a solution.

Her father's plan to have him booted out of the Lapis territory was a good one, but might not succeed quickly enough. She was impatient to get on with her assignment. Time was now precious. She didn't want to kill him, but that reluctance didn't prevent her from ensuring that he was no threat for just long enough for her to get out of town. Red Clan cousins had been secretly established in the area to assist her. She would call on them by good old-fashioned telephone.

After a few calls, her plan was set. She decided that she would not be the attacker, but would provide the distraction that would allow another to do the job. Tom would be poisoned with street drugs. Hopefully, he would survive, then he could be thrown out of the territory for good reason, having obviously fallen into the grasp of opiate addiction. If she chose, the overdose could be fatal. Much would depend on how a dreamscape encounter went. As silly as it seemed, she couldn't wait to see him again in one of their favorite places.

By early evening, word of a sighting of Xana Chervoniy was working its way back to Tom via his network of informants. Unknown to him, at each step a Red Clan cousin watched the information pass, inexorably leading them to Tom's temporary HQ in a suite of rooms at the Peninsula Hotel. Once they were certain that he was there, a second message was initiated indicating that the sighting was a mistaken identity. By nightfall, Xana's agent was in place with the means to pose as a hotel staff-person and gain access to his room. She could now proceed with a distraction plan that they might both enjoy.

Tom Brown had slept in the morning to join the First Circle meeting and was active for the remainder of the day, utilizing his contacts to get the message out that he needed to locate the red-haired Russian athlete. He didn't get to the fine point of actual Ukrainian nationality; the fact that she was a well-known 'Gweilo' with red hair was enough. He greased this request with cash up-front and let it be known that there was a considerable reward for precise information. She might as well carry a neon arrow, four feet-high; she would be noticed if she was out and about.

When word came of a sighting, he engaged capable local agents in his employ to surround the location quickly. As they closed in, a second message came that the sighting was a mistake. But the second message originated somewhere else. This discontinuity was enough. Tom knew that Xana had tracked him down. Now, he could only hope that he proved tantalizing enough bait that she couldn't resist attacking. He quietly moved his agents back to allow her access.

He assumed that Xana would come to him in a dreamscape first, perhaps hoping to just kill him there. He now believed that she might well be capable of doing this. It was an invitation he couldn't turn down. He did a hundred push-ups to clear his mind, then poured a cognac to cool down. He headed to his bed.

The dreamscape setting was one of their favorite places, the private top-floor 'Rafters' suite of the Widder hotel in Zurich. The two-story suite of rooms occupied the entire former attic of the century old hotel. Dark beams and highly polished wood lined the cathedral ceiling. These contrasted with pure white stone and plaster walls. The luxury suite now had the feel and look of an alpine mansion turned inside out, but with the most modern of fixtures and furniture. The million-dollar conversion had been Tom's idea and, awake, he was the preferred occupant. It was both private and secure. The suite was one of his frequent residences, none of which he owned or needed to look after. Hotels were easier. He and Xana had enjoyed this room together wide-awake more than once; it was cute that she had picked it again as the dreamscape setting to murder him in.

He checked details and could find nothing missing. He was dressed in high-end Lululemon men's work-out gear; manly, but soft and oh-so-easy to get out of. The dining table was stocked with fruit, cheese and Henkell Trocken on ice. Two glasses waited. The luxurious woven cashmere blanket was neatly folded down and one corner of the silk top sheet was discretely turned back. Not yet stripped for coupling, the king size bed would not require any thinking or extra effort to make it so. Lights were dimmed and a soft eastern European opera: Prokeiv, he thought, was playing on a sound system so fine it rivaled a Swiss watch movement for precision.

There was the piano. Perhaps Xana would play something before the deed was done. Remembering her sitting naked at the piano, reaching a musical climax that covered almost every one of the 88 keys, was one of those images that was permanently burned into the screen of his brain. He wondered if she would still play that way on request.

There were even the sounds of a Zurich night in active bustle below the slightly ajar windows. Horns of Benz taxis beeped discretely in the crowded city core. She had thought of everything or, perhaps, he was now starting to add his own detail. Mustn't get too comfortable; it is a dream with sharp hidden teeth.

He walked carefully around the suite looking for any surprises, until he heard the sound of the rain-maker shower running in the big marble and glass Huusli bathroom on the other side of his dressing area, two rooms away. There she was.

Now, he had time to think about tactics. Unlike Xana, he did not have any experience murdering someone in a dream to dispatch them for real. He had used the threat and prospect of real death to scare various nasty types into making desperate confessions. Then, they woke cursing damn dreams as they were rousted out of wherever they were holed up. He believed that Xana had killed the Japanese or, rather, caused him to do himself in. She was likely also responsible for Joe Green's death. His Hong Kong suite was high up in the hotel. Could she cause him to jump out the window?

But then, he was no simple sleeper. He had once been one of her trainers and mentors. She would know better than to come at him with her weapons already deployed. No, the attempt would be as subtle as the black widow's post-coital sting to her mate, literally.

The second challenge, after staying alive, was getting her to reveal where she slept. He believed it was short kilometers away from Hong Kong, but it could really be halfway across the world. He could accept great risk, but the only reward he was truly interested in was securing her actual person, ideally while she still slept. They both had pretty clear motives and agendas.

Tom also really hoped that, like the spider, she might postpone the troublesome bits until after they had drunk the Trock, ate the cheese and fucked at least once or twice. No reason not to enjoy the dream while they could. He poured two glasses and headed towards the sound of the shower. He felt warm humid air reaching inviting tentacles up the hallway. The door was wide open.

Xana knew Tom was in the dreamscape and sensed that he was approaching. She was thoroughly enjoying the fantastic multi-head shower, even if it was only a construct in her head; now it was in both their heads. She was pleased that he had accepted the setting and gone along with her on all the fine details that came with her perfect recall of the Zurich suite from half-a-dozen stopovers there with Tom. He was her very favorite lover. She had never told him that. It was such a shame.

He appeared at the bathroom door. She knew that he couldn't see her clearly through the steamed-up glass of the shower enclosure. The shower was the size of a small room, done in exquisite marble and featuring three separate sets of shower heads and wall nozzles, each with individual digital controls. 'Three' had puzzled Xana when she had visited. Briefly, she wondered about who a third person in the shower with them might be? Or, more likely, it would be two vixens with him? Never mind; she had banished the thought.

She used one hand to rub off steam in a circle in line with his eyes, as he now rested standing against the entry door frame watching her fuzzy image moving under the shower head.

"You found me," she said, lightly. It was meant to be ironic and got a smile from him.

"Or, you me?" He meant in Hong Kong.

"Yes, well that too." She smiled through her little porthole, fully aware that her breasts and other body parts were now in contact with the glass and definitely attracting his attention.

"But, I meant in these great big rooms," she laughed. "We could have played hide and seek for quite a while."

He now moved fully into the room and sat against the counter. "But, we have better games to play." He was still dabbling with the double-entendres, testing if she was already poised to strike.

"Yes, darling, let's play some games again, for as long as we can." This was an offer of armistice that he could gladly accept. She slid the end shower door open and returned to the shower head at the other end of marble fun room.

It is one of the great joys of dreams that you can shed all your clothes without putting the wine glasses down, if you are a Draumr. He lost his clothes at the thought and entered the shower with the two crystal glasses. He was quite excited to see Xana naked, and wet, again, but in his own exercise of control, he entered with a fairly relaxed cock. He was wonderfully happy to see her. It was the strongest of contradictions.

She took his offered glass as she stepped towards him to very nearly touching. He could feel the heat that the hot water had added to her lightly freckled skin. She was a half-head shorter than him so looked up with sparking green eyes as she took a sip. Freckles covered her nose and ran away off her cheeks. She looked innocent and lovely. Her hair formed a slick dark blood-red main that flowed off her shoulders and down most of her back. He kept his eyes locked on hers and drained his glass. She then did the same. The Trock was still ice-cold, of course. The glasses should have shattered on the marble floor as they dropped them, but both simple faded out as they fell. Now, they had their hands free.

"Seems like you could use a warm shower," she joked, glancing down at his slightly droopy cock. She took him by the waist and spun him under into her shower heads.

The combination of near-scalding hot overhead and ice cold below chest height caused him to catch his breath. But, just as quickly, the pulsating lower jet nozzles rose to near perfect temps along with the rain shower from above. The sensation was like stepping into a hot robe after a swim in an icy lake. Xana moved in with him, now touching his body with hers from thigh to chest. She hooked a leg around his calf and an arm around his waist and locked in the contact from the waist down. She rocked her hips to press her mons into his upper thigh. He obliged by catching her lower back with his hands and pulling her hardening breasts against his chest. He looked down at her face one last time, and then attacked her open mouth with lips and tongue. They both felt his cock make its urgent way up to full mast between them.

A dreamscape shared between two Draumrs can be a confusing place if both try to lead. Generally, one sets the stage and the other only brings forth objects or characters. The plot of the dream, if there is one, comes from the dominant, generally more experienced dreamer. Not unlike sex, in many ways.

Although Xana had picked the setting and established her place in it, she was now pleased to relinquish the fucking to Tom's expert mouth, hands and body. Too often the seducer for other motives, she now was fully prepared to surrender completely in his arms. He sensed the giving-in and took charge with both passion and desire. It had been too long for him as well.

Damn. The realization was inescapable to Tom. He had pursued her not to destroy her, but to pull her in and protect her. He was a little in love with Oksana Chervoniy. It was the most dangerous situation that he could imagine.

Tom moved his hands down and under Xana's buttocks. A tough and muscled 55 kilos awake, she was a feather for Tom to lift and press against the warm pebbled wall of the shower. She hiked her legs and locked them around his waist. Ever so slowly and delicately he lowered her until he could feel himself just entering her vagina. Their tongues were locked in their own embrace, but both had eyes wide, taking in every reaction and cue from the other.

With a slight move backwards, he repositioned himself against her but not inside. They rocked together in unison to rub the length of him up and over her again and again. She was ready to scream with agony as he pulled back and finally plunged fully into her. She held on with all her strength as he moved not in and out but up, over and around, catching every possible point of burning heat in her flooding vagina. The wave started again and took her higher and further into the caldron; she now became aware of increasing urgency in Tom's movements. The lovers lost their mouth contact as each panted for breath. Legs that should have been screaming for relief kept pumping with need-driven energy. They both reached for the climax building in nerves and muscles that were connected as if belonging to a single being.

Xana dug her fingers into Tom's lower back and encouraged each thrust with squeezes and grunts. His breath was cascading against her shoulder in a series of hot waves as he gasped for oxygen to fuel dozens of muscles moving with a single purpose. When she saw his eyes roll back she pulled him tight and took over the rhythm, driving him deeper and hotter than he had dared to go. With shared groans, they both came in a star-filled explosion of colors and electric nerve ends that ran out to breathless shaking and quivering. They stayed in motion for a long minute while the aftershocks gradually smoothed out. Finally, she let her legs drop and collapsed in his arms. They slid down under the warm water together and hugged so tightly they became as one in the moment.

While the waking pursuit should have snapped back to immediate concern in both of them, it was easier and much more agreeable to just let the afterglow of the intense Draumr sex carry them along for the time being. Nothing was said or needed to be; the mutual agreement was bound in their continued embrace and tender caressing.

From the warmth and hardness of the shower, they moved together to the cool softness of the big bed. No need for towels, they dried as they moved. Once under the sheets, they looked at each other with a mix of adoration and apprehension. It was strange to make love to your obvious enemy; neither was completely certain that the truce would hold once the fire of passion fully died down.

The peace of the dream needed to end sometime. But for a few minutes, they could just pretend it could go on forever.

"So, darling, ve have a problem." Xana was the first to speak. Her head was on the next pillow and her legs and arms were still intertwined with Tom's.

"What do ve do?" She smiled, sincerely, with sparkle still in her green eyes. Tom knew he should be fully on his guard, but was still mired in the realization that she was the most beautiful person he had ever known.

"Yes, it's a problem," Tom finally replied, wishing with every part of his body that he could put off dealing with the problem for a long time.

After a long pause, he finally stated the obvious, "I need to bring you back with me; nothing more than that."

"And why is that my love?" Xana moved closer to him and spoke in a whisper as she moved her lips lightly over his neck.

Tom answered, "How about, just to stay with me for a few weeks, in Zurich, in this room perhaps, for real? I would love if you would do that."

Now Xana was starting to move more of her body against him. She judged correctly that he had long enough to recover from the coupling in the shower. Tom's body response was detached from the serious conversation his brain was trying to manage.

"That sounds vonderful; I vish that I could. But, I have orders from my father that I must complete now. It becomes quite complicated, I'm afraid."

Tom pulled back from the embrace slightly so that he could look into her eyes again.

"Orders to kill?" He felt a chill starting near his solar plexus and must have tensed in response.

"No, no, my darling," Xana moved her hand to the small of his back and pulled him back close to her.

"I am being sent to a nunnery to have my private parts sewn up. My father thinks that I fuck too many Browns, Blacks and Greens for my own good."

Given that his stiff cock was just about to enter that marvelous private part of her again, Tom couldn't help but take the bait.

"Blacks and Greens?"

"Hah-hah—jealous pervert. In this and in many other things, my father is wrong. I only fuck one Draumr and he is Brown to the core."

Tom couldn't help but laugh with her. The surface message was clear: she was his and his alone at the moment, but what did she mean by saying her father is wrong? His heart skipped the smallest of beats at the possibility that she might be a victim in all of the violence herself.

She could not defy Cherry. He understood that. But, perhaps, she could let him help her find a way out with no more crimes against their craft.

"I'm very glad that Brown is me," Tom whispered back, relaxing again at her touch.

He almost wanted to tell her what he was really feeling; he was falling deeper in love with her and might now have trouble fulfilling his own orders from Jake, which were to stop her: one way or another, including killing her if necessary. The possibility now made him feel ill. But, he was entwined with a viper. She was a beautiful one to be sure, but could still be deadly in a split second of inattention. He had to keep his focus. He had to accept the possibility that this could end badly.

"Nunnery?" He suspected that everything she said had meaning and purpose. Was this code for something else?

"Just as bad I'm afraid. A place vhere I must learn to change my vays." Xana giggled slightly. "So, let's vear it out before they make me a virgin again. Talk later."

She rolled on top of Tom, spreading her knees to take her weight, so that she could float above him. She covered his mouth with hers and locked her tongue around his, drawing air in through his nostrils. After a long deep kiss, she broke contact and, still supporting her weight, began to move down his chest with her mouth. He felt his cock jump as it was rubbed by her thick and silky mound of public hair—in the most gorgeous shade of deep red as he recalled. More kissing and sliding down and he was lost in the possibilities of what was to happen right now.

"Yes, talk later..." Tom was very willing to wait all night for her explanation.

They had made love for hours both in and out of the bed. The Trock bottle was empty and a good portion of the fruit had been eaten or otherwise put to good use. Although they told each other exactly what they were thinking and wanting at the moment, they had not come back to the figurative elephant in the room. They both had orders to stop the other, including killing them, if needed.

Weary and needing some dreamless sleep, they finally found themselves wrapped in the thick monogrammed bathrobes of the Vidder and squeezed into a big lounge chair before a crackling fire in the hearth that dominated the far end of the suite. None of it was real and it all had to end soon. They were both now more on edge, knowing that something had to give.

"Tell me now, what you can," Tom finally coached Xana.

He continued, "Can I help? Can we find a way out?"

Then, after a hesitation, "Or, are we doomed?"

"I cannot explain vhat has happened or how it happened," Xana was speaking in a whisper. "My father has a need to regain his strength and to once again earn the respect of others."

She paused, "Unfortunately, under Stefan's influence, he has let a Genii out of the bottle. It may not be possible to put it back."

Tom wanted to help her feel that she wasn't betraying any secrets.

"You mean the ancient magic of lasting effects?" He questioned. "We know all about that. It is a serious offense to have broken the decree against its use, but not a fatal crime. You can come back."

"I'm not sure." Xana had lost any joy that they had shared. She appeared on the verge of tears.

"Pacts have been made outside your Draumr Clans. I fear that my father may have sold his soul for one last grasp at political glory."

Tom now thought that he understood. Cherry had seen a chance at regaining some worldly fame or maybe needed to pay off the power brokers by doing things that simple dream interventions couldn't achieve.

"Are you involved?" Tom hated the possibility that she was central to the plan.

"I vas. I helped to perfect the method and to train my cousins." Xana was now crying softly and wiped her eyes on her robe. She took a number of deep breaths to regain composure.

"I have now refused to go further. As a result, I am banished to reside vith the Blue Clan in a fucking monastery while the plan unfolds."

She leaned back to check the expression Tom's face. His wrinkled brow confirmed that he was having trouble with this explanation. She smiled up at him, now through the tears. "See, I vasn't kidding vhen I said a nunnery. This is almost as bad."

Tom was deeply confused and uncertain about his next move.

"So, you aren't part of his plan any further?"

"No, maybe, perhaps...I don't think so. Father has given instructions to his Lapis friends, vithout telling them the truth. I suspect that I am to be educated in some higher level of meditation, while I am contained and out of the vay. He may have a use for this later. He does nothing vithout his reasons. I vill learn vhat is to become of me in time."

Xana was more composed now that her story was out. She had made most of it up on the fly once she realized that she could never kill Tom, so had to find a way to get off his radar. She hoped that some small parts had been accepted as truth. Acceptance could mean not dying, for Tom.

"Father's plan and his operatives are all in the old country. I know no more. If he made a deal vith the devil, it was probably with Pulisin himself. I didn't vant to know and don't care. Do vhat you need to do to stop him. But, he may choose death over disgrace, you know that?"

Tom replied, "Yes, I do know. My father certainly would as well."

They both drifted in their own thoughts, struck by the same dilemma, that they were, in many ways, just the current actors in a play that had been running for centuries. Who wrote the script was unknown; that the Elders were the rotating stage directors was clear.

Xana hoped that she was being sufficiently morose about the inevitability of the plan; sufficiently sincere about her supposed lack of further involvement. She could handle whatever came along, but a good cover story reported to the First Circle might keep some dogs off her trail.

"Where exactly are you going?" Tom still had considerable doubts, but the explanation held the tantalizing possibility that Xana might be cleared of any further wrong doing. He could still rescue her.

"I don't know and can't know. I am to meet a Lapis Elder here tomorrow, under cover and vill leave vith him for an unknown destination. It's probably up in the Himalayan mountains, if I had to guess. I'll be out of any dreamscape for months, I suspect, so effectively isolated and protected. I'm sure that father had both goals in mind when he set it up."

Xana now exuded sincerity and appeared to be dismayed by the unfolding events. She had spun a believable, if slightly far-fetched story. In his current satiated and depleted state, with her mostly naked and warm in his arms, had he believed her? It was time to test that and to complete the final step in her plan.

She pulled back slightly. "I'm sorry, my love. I have to go now. I am completely exhausted, in a very nice vay, thank-you. But I must get some dreamless sleep now, as I don't know when I vill sleep again."

Xana was asking for his release. Had he accepted the story?

"I can't just let you go," Tom replied.

Xana felt a moment of disappointment. Will I have to kill him after all?

"I have to track you to where you end up. Nothing less would be acceptable to the First Circle." Tom was looking for a way out for both of them.

Xana breathed a sigh of relief. "I can't help you. I vill be watched closely." Xana could easily join in this fiction. She smiled at him and gave a small shrug. "But, I can't stop you either, if you are able to accomplish this vithout my participation."

"Where are you sleeping?" Tom now asked.

It was the test of her faith in him. He could be poised to grab her or to assassinate her the second he knew her location. Does she believe me?

Xana decided that it was the only means to achieve her ends. She had to believe that he was a little in love at least and could not kill her. Some honesty now might be useful later. She saw it as a way to close the trap and get away, while reinforcing the uncertainty about her role in events to come.

"I'm in a second-floor room at the Pearl guest house. At 10:00 a.m., I am being picked up out front by my new master. You cannot interfere with this Lapis Elder or with the cousins now guarding me. But, if you vant to follow me, you can be ready then." She sighed and put on her most worried expression. "Keep your car and your helpers out of sight. I don't vant to start a shoot-out on Blue Clan territory."

It was a half-truth. If someone investigated, they would find that she was checked in there, and apparently asleep in her room. The rest would be a mystery, as Tom would not be conscious at 10:00 a.m. She now had to trust in her Red Clan cousin to do her job.

Tom blinked and then nodded. He decided to accept the information as truth. It was a simple test. Even if she couldn't surrender, they could track her every movement once they had her whereabouts. He nodded and replied, "Let's get some sleep then. I will do all that I can to protect you. You know that you can reach out to me at any time."

"I don't know vhat the future vill bring, but I vill always have a place in my heart reserved just for you." She had to work very hard to be sincere now.

They gazed into each other eyes as she dematerialized the dreamscape. The true test was about to happen.

Tom, unfortunately true to his word, was exhausted and let himself slip into deep dreamless sleep. He should have woken and filed the report and probably had her room raided, but he calculated that there was plenty of time still to do that. He had left instructions to be woken at 6:00 a.m., in less than two hours. There was plenty of time to make arrangements for 10:00 a.m.; he needed some sleep.

For her part, Xana didn't hesitate. She rose immediately and reached for her telephone. She keyed a number and said a single phrase: "Act now; he can live."

Minutes later, at the Peninsula hotel, a chamber maid left one suite of rooms and carefully locked the door. She was restocking supplies and ensuring that rooms were ready for arriving guests at any hour. Westerners frequently went right to bed in the morning as they caught up on jet-lagged and sleepless travel. She nodded to the security guard stationed at the central point of the floor across from the elevators. He was at a built-in desk with monitors for elevator movement and occupants, as well as stairway and floor traffic. He had been paying close attention to the maid and to other staff moving about the hotel in the night. Nothing was out of the usual.

The maid passed him by and moved her cart towards other suites in an adjacent corridor. After passing him, she turned and asked in fluent Cantonese, as an afterthought apparently, if the guard would like a juice and breakfast snack. Without waiting for a reply, she carried it over to his desk and left it with a big smile.

"Please enjoy, we all work too hard sometimes, no?"

The guard nodded, but didn't touch the refreshments, either to accept them or to give them back.

The maid let herself into another suite down the hall and disappeared. Having shown appropriate disinterest, the guard now couldn't resist the cold bottle of juice. He pushed the snack cake into a drawer, and then took the bottle and downed the contents in one long swallow. He would need to find a place to discard the bottle later, as eating or drinking while on station was forbidden. But, he was thirsty and his relief was still an hour away. Who was to know? He knew exactly which views the monitors covered and had made sure to lean back out of sight of the camera.

The fast-acting sedative took only a few seconds to kick-in. The guard felt a strange sensation, then heard a loud buzzing in his ears and was out cold in his chair.

The maid came out of the far room and lazily made her way back to the guard desk. She was wearing transparent surgical gloves. She went over to the unconscious guard and gently nudged his shoulder, as if trying to wake him. He didn't respond. She tried again with no response. She made an elaborate shrug for the camera, then casually moved her cart over to the door of Tom's suite and let herself in with a pass key. She left her cart in plain sight outside the door.

Moving without a sound, she came into the bedroom and around his bed. She stood silently for a full minute observing his breathing. Then, she silently removed a sealed plastic bag from her pocket. She cautiously opened it and took out a gauze pad. At full arms-length she brought the pad up close to Tom's nose and mouth. Slowly, she closed the gap, so that Tom was eventually breathing mostly through the pad. He didn't wake when it finally touched his face. The pad contained a powerful, odorless anesthetic. After 20 seconds of full contact, the maid repacked the pad, removed her gloves and dropped both items into a room garbage can.

She carried the can out of the room. Checking discretely that the guard was still out, she dumped the can into her cart garbage bag, then selected a stack of three towels from her cart and re-entered the room.

Now, she didn't need to be concerned about waking Tom. The sedative in the pad was enough to keep him deep asleep, just like the guard. She set the stack down on the end of the bed and separated the towels, exposing various implements stashed in between them.

The maid put on new surgeon's gloves and took out a disposable syringe from a kit. She put on a stethoscope. She took Tom's hand and carefully wrapped his fingers around the syringe and then around a small vile. With her hands, she drew a clear fluid from the vile into the syringe. She tossed the half-empty vile towards the bathroom. It bounced and rolled under a chair near the bathroom door. She used a rubber tourniquet to pop up a vein in Tom's arm and injected the fluid completely. She left the tourniquet in place but also tossed the syringe in the direction of the bathroom as well. This time, she hit the open door and the syringe ended up against the sink vanity.

Now, she took a second vile and loaded a second syringe with a colored fluid. She found a second spot on the vein and inserted the needle, then released the tourniquet. She drew back some blood, but before pushing the plunger in, she took the stethoscope and found Tom's heartbeat on his chest. She counted carefully against 15 seconds on her watch. Then, she slowly began injecting the fluid, listening intently to Tom's slowing heartbeat. At about 1/2 empty she stopped injecting, but listened for another 30 seconds. Satisfied, she removed the syringe and gathered all the paraphernalia.

She took out some other items as well and entered the bathroom. She dropped the rubber tourniquet on the sink, dropped a wrinkled foil pouch on the floor, put another in the garbage and dropped a dirty, mostly empty syringe on the floor. Coming back into the room, she again checked Tom's pulse and smiled.

She next removed a small round Petri dish from the towels, opened it and rubbed a half-unwrapped syringe tip carefully across the colorful contents of the dish. She then went back to Tom's arm and pricked three additional spots over veins. She reloaded the needle with more of the Petri surface matter and did the same on the other arm. Then she pulled back the covers and did the same at several points on Tom's thighs.

All of the spots immediately turned an irritated red. In an hour they would be swollen and appear to be infected with street bacteria. Anyone examining Tom would conclude that they were looking at a regular-use junkie with poor hygiene habits.

The maid left Tom's exposed arm bleeding a little. She pulled his bedding half-off and tossed his clothes from a chair onto the floor. She came back to Tom and mussed his hair. Satisfied with the overall impression of the room, she packed up everything that wasn't being left behind in the towels and moved quickly to the door. As she exited, she hurriedly deposited the 'dirty' towels as a bundle into her laundry bin. She rushed to the guard and made a vigorous effort to wake him, then hurried to a house phone by the elevator and called the number for the housekeeping supervisor. In a shrill and panicked voice, she said that the occupant of Tom's suite was having a medical emergency and then pushed the disconnect switch in the middle of saying it again. She pushed her cart toward the service elevator in a great rush, disappearing out of camera range.

As soon as she was clear, she retrieved the towels with her implements, put them in the garbage bag and took that off the cart. She left the cart in the hallway and headed down the stairs. At each landing she shed and bagged some part of her maid's outfit, finally removing a wig and breast padding just before exiting the stairs four floors below. The maid, now a man in tee-shirt and shorts with his workout gear in a bag, turned the corner in the corridor and entered a room using the guest key he had received at check-in. He appeared to be just coming up from the exercise room. The next morning, he would check out as normal, heading to an investment conference in a full business suit with all incriminating evidence well-hidden in his very expensive attaché.

The door guard woke up just before hotel security and medical staff arrived at the floor. He was groggy, but no-one saw him still asleep. He didn't know anything about the maid's call or how anyone would know anything about what was going on in Tom's suite. Over his protests, the supervisors pushed into the room to find Tom unconscious with barely any life signs. Emergency medical assistance was called, as were the police. Tom was taken away without regaining consciousness. Police arrived and began collecting the evidence in the room; comments regarding a self-inflicted street drug overdose were made and recorded.

Tom's own security team arrived several minutes after the police. They immediately concluded that this had been an attempt on Tom's life by an outside agent. It had to be Xana. They reviewed the floor video and quickly determined that it was the maid who had drugged the guard and attempted to kill Tom. That meant Xana might still be hiding in the hotel. They secured local police cooperation to block all exits and started a floor-by-floor search. Except for the abandoned maid's cart down the hallway, nothing was found.

Unfortunately, Tom was treated first at a local hospital emergency room, where a police report of illegal drug use was filed. The local police investigator viewed the maid's activity on video as normal and concluded that she had called for help, but then run off for unknown reasons, leaving her job behind. Many local workers had a fear of police involvement as it was easy to become the scapegoat, when blame had to be assigned. Disappearing witnesses was not uncommon.

The police felt that no wrong was done, but would need to interview Tom for possible possession charges when he recovered. A local lawyer secured by the Brown Clan, assured them that this would be fine. They left Tom under minimal guard at the hospital.

It would take some hours to arrange to move Tom to a private hospital considering the circumstances. After a time, the emergency doctors advised that Tom had played with a very dangerous mix of sedatives and opiates that should have killed him. He had been very close to death before they administered stimulants to counter the effects. He would be unconscious for a few hours and then bed-ridden for a day or two. They couldn't say if permanent damage had been done.

The hotel search turned up nothing and the trail on Xana was now cold. It was left to a Brown Clan cousin to connect by telephone with Jake and update him on all that had happened. Jake advised Armand and others that doctors were already on route to Hong Kong via a private medical plane to retrieve Tom. It was an obvious attack, but there was nothing more they could do until he was conscious and able to tell them what he remembered.

At exactly 9:59 a.m., Xana exited the Pearl guest house and walked briskly up a narrow side street to stand at the edge of the main road. She stood for almost a minute in plain view, looking around as if trying to catch the eye of a watcher, if there was one. She knew that a bank machine video camera across the street captured her image. Other police surveillance above the street would also confirm her presence and departure.

It was the final stroke in her hastily planned deception and was intended to give Tom some help in pleading her innocence. She didn't need the cover nor any help from the other Clans, but she had considered that a possible innocence plea might be of use later, if the world was truly going to Hell. It might keep her from being assassinated, but probably not. In truth, what happened later was of no significant concern to her now.

A black Jaguar XJ limo silently rolled to a stop in front of her at exactly 10:00 a.m. She opened the rear door and got in, sinking into the luxurious seat amid a mild scent of saffron. The divider window to the driver was up and the rear passenger compartment was shielded from outside view by deeply tinted windows. As soon as she was in, the car moved away from the curb and into downtown traffic at full speed.

Only once they were moving did she acknowledge the presence of a companion.

"Master Kunchen, it is very good to see you again," Xana nodded keeping her eyes down as was custom until he replied.

Kunchen Lapis motioned upward with open hands. "Please, please, no formalities and no deference little Pema, we are equals with Buddha and before our ancestors. I am very happy to see you as well."

"I trust that you have had no difficulties on your journey so far?"

Kunchen was pouring sparking water for Xana. He motioned towards cut fruit, figs, cheese and rice crackers laid out on a silver plate on a center console.

Xana only now remembered that she hadn't eaten in about a day and had spent the energy of a day-long fucking marathon while taking in no real nourishment. She was ravenous.

She spoke in perfect Singapore English between bites. "I have had some minor challenges, Kunchen. They have served to strengthen my resolve. The necessary solutions may yet benefit our shared cause. I believe that I have successfully vanished without a trace. My greatest threat is neutralized. These are good omens of complete success to come."

Kunchen beamed and nodded at each statement; he knew most of this already. "Excellent. Then we are well underway on our journey."

"My apologies though. I will need some dreamless sleep." Xana was missing that desperately now.

"This is perfectly fine. You have three hours or so to rest under my protection before we reach our destination on the mountain. Dream or dream not, as you chose, none will observe or interfere."

Xana knew their final destination was away from Hong Kong and Shenzhen. A monk's retreat in the near mountains had been carefully chosen, to be both isolated and well protected. It was sufficiently close to the Shenzhen's fabulous Mission Hills Resort, where the next moves in Cherry's chess game would be played out.

She would gather in the mountains with some of Kunchen's Blue Clan family members, who could join her, Stephan and Lex in the final dreamscape, if needed. That the locations were entirely within Lapis territory and accessible only by permission was a significant bonus. With luck, there would be no real interference.

Her final leg of travel into the monastery was circuitous, just to ensure that no amount of intelligence gathering or map reading would give away her location. She knew that her double traveling back to Kiev hadn't fooled the Brown Clan intelligence network, but it might prevent them from engaging civil authorities immediately. No police agency would agree to look for her here, when she was clearly already at home in Ukraine.

Kunchen observed her fading attention. "We will arrive in the afternoon, little flower. Many are waiting and many more along the way wish us success in this bold endeavor. Rest now; we will have plenty of time for talk later."

Xana stretched out and leaned her head back in the plush seat. She longed for the cleansing relief of dreamless sleep.

She turned her head and observed as metropolitan Hong Kong and then Kowloon whizzed past her window. She was glad that their speed meant that people were just a blur. She didn't need any more faces burned into her memory.

Unlike Cherry, she was not driven by a zeal for regained power; nor was she compelled to act by simple allegiance to her father and to the Clan. When the gambit was first tabled, she had examined every aspect of it, including the need for some to die, and concluded that the pay-off in deaths-prevented was well worth some sacrifices.

But, my job is to make it happen perfectly; still so much that could go wrong. With that thought, she faded to deep red nothingness.
Twenty Paces

The deployed team of Red Clan cousins was growing in numbers, as Cherry's plan stepped through each final stage of implementation. Briefing notes told new arrivals most of what they needed to know. Most would not be involved on the dreamscape, but many might be needed to deal with the fallout of injuries or unexpected complications on the ground.

The annual meeting of the globe's 20 most powerful economic countries was happening in the Peoples' Republic of China (PRC) for only the second time. The 'G20' meeting was the culmination of a year's work by key advisors, Ministers of Finance, State Secretaries and Development Officers. The two-day meeting was the decorated and perfumed final stage, intended only for public inking of vague agreements and, for a brief period, for the heads of sometimes hostile governments to sit around an enormous table and supposedly seek solutions together for the world's problems. The host country was accountable only for the setting and the security. Although each host country had wishes for a progressive meeting filled with many accomplishments, few, in the know, expect these wishes to come true.

The Hong Kong/Shenzhen meeting location would take over the Shenzhen Mission Hills Resort, newly reopened near the scenic Tiegang Reservoir. The idyllic setting was inspired by 500-year-old tapestries of the locale that depicted a dream-like vision of mountains and water. Every detail at the five-star resort was aligned with this vision. Guests would feel like they are entering the soft and welcoming dream vision of the ancient artists.

Most of the various country delegations, including their princes, presidents, chancellors and prime ministers would be housed on the resort, taking over either entire wings, complete floors or just a few suites, depending on how self-important they feel and how self-indulgent they are. The public and most of the regular resort staff will be shoed far away from this warren of ego-driven politicians and their spouses.

For some accredited attenders, the resulting privacy will allow a little drunken debauchery among old friends. For others, the secluded setting will afford the slim possibility that a late-night congress might actually achieve some dressed-down progress on the sticky issues that carry too much political baggage for consensus discussion in the light of the day. Suffice to say, the Far East location will sufficiently disrupt westerner sleep rituals to ensure that someone is up and wandering just about any time during the night.

The resort is conveniently surrounded by the open land of the golf courses and the reservoir edge, making it relatively simple to isolate from any who would disturb the tranquility of the leader's meeting. The location in PRC also helps the assurance of calm surroundings. Unlike more liberal, and more unruly, past meeting locations such as Toronto, London or Seoul, there is little risk of disruption by mass issue-driven protests or by the actions of determined anarchist groups. The President of PRC, and conference chairman, expects that no cars will be burning outside the conference site this time around. Ten years in jail wait for any who would cause him to be disappointed.

The G20 will bring together several players who are critical to the success of Cherry's strategic endeavor for Russia, and by extension for himself and his Red Clan, and, of course, for world peace, although the latter is an afterthought and will be slightly delayed in coming. Escalating tensions also help; with some of the powers represented currently balanced upon the knife-edge of restraint, needing only a small push, one way or another, to let the dogs of all-out war loose.

America will be represented by its blustering president and his somewhat mysterious first lady. Their presence is useful to ensure that the American media spotlight is fully on the conference. The U.S. has been actively moving to disengage from global responsibilities outside its narrow self-interest wherever it can. With no obvious accountability for the disruptive events on the horizon, the expectation is for a 'run-away' American reaction to the furor of the involved governments.

As Cherry has explained to his team, "It used to be that any action that started with an American black eye was quite productive; they were once certain to react with violence to the smallest affront."

He shrugged, "Unfortunately, the doddering U.S. president is so lacking in constructive dreaming ability that he is a poor target for any motivation, except the stroking of his own cumbersome ego. He is unpredictable in a crisis, so might become a liability at some point. More likely, he will just be one of the dumbstruck when our dreamers take charge."

The Europeans are actually much more important to the plan, in that they represent the real counterbalance to Russian influence and territorial interests. The German chancellor and her spouse present a tempting target. Without her at the reigns, the unruly horses of the EU team would surely pull the wagon of pledged unity apart in short-order, leading to a tantalizing power vacuum perfectly suited to Russian re-emergence. The former mother country could reasonably expect renewed interest in eastern alignment from the periphery countries, now so cozy with the West, if they see their western sponsors focused entirely on intra-EU squabbles.

France and the other advanced countries are of little importance, except for their continuing babble and their useful inability to deal with the unchecked migration of thousands of refugees. Like a school child trying to brush ants off her jumper, the northern countries jump and squeal, but accomplish little, as they are still sitting squarely on the ant hill of mass displacement. Their leaders are inconsequential for Cherry's plan.

The Middle-East is where the real action is. There, leaders have real skin in the game and each faces a growing direct threat to their sovereignty and to their institutions from the bubbling stew of religious, cultural and ethnic conflicts taking place right in their front yards. Most leaders would eschew the need for 'super-power' management of their local insurgencies, but each understands that, individually, they have neither the reach nor the resources to resolve the underlying causes of the nasty little skirmishes happening all around them. As a consensus is impossible among them, each holds onto faint hope that the imbalance of might flowing from the significant involvement of a major world power will work in their favor. Of course, having little idea which way that imbalance will tip often makes for curiously infidel and promiscuous bedfellows.

Attendance by the heads of state of Saudi Arabia, Turkey and, as a special guest, Iran, makes this meeting most interesting to Cherry. Clearly, each nation has a significantly different agenda for the expanse of bloody sand that connects them and, for some, that covers their significant resource wealth. Each also has a reason to seek the grace and support of Russia in dealings with the insurgents at their door.

Cherry rubbed his hands as he explained to his team, "Each Arab or Persian state is driven by religion, history and ambition, but none can simply step up and take the actions needed to advance their cause, without potentially risking the ire of the others and jeopardizing their hard-won support from the West." He paused, laughing, "Little do they know how ineffective and fleeting that support will be in the turmoil to come."

"But, there is no point in allowing any of them to trip into a bigger war by a fool's accident, as war, under the incompetent direction of men has a habit of becoming messy and pointless."

The statement reflected his philosophy: war, if it is to be purposeful, needs the guiding hand of a skilled Draumr, who can do much better in steering a useful course through to a satisfying and complete end game. Cherry knew exactly where he wanted the end game played and which of the states must be the winners and which must be the losers.

Now, it will be up to his ensemble players to complete the series of scripted moves that will inevitably put the critical elements for the Russian leader's glorious victory, or certain failure, solely in Cherry's hands.

As with the political participants and their supporting casts, Cherry has also spent the better part of two years ensuring that he has the access he needs to make the statement he intends at the G20 meeting. He needs only one person actually in the main conference room as almost all the important interactions will take place on the dreamscape. For coverage and possible support, many Blue Clan members have worked their way into on-site roles as housekeepers, servers and technical staff. They may each have a diversionary role to play, if needed. But, only one person, who must be from the Red Clan, will be needed at the finale.

For almost a year, a Red Clan cousin has been making his way up the ranks of the security detail of one of the most important leaders. Through dream suggestions, emotional sudden resignations and, of course, the cousin's superior anticipation, the path has been cleared for him to emerge. He is a currently the senior agent in the leader's personal security detail. He is now assured that he will be in the room, located within feet of the leaders, and that he will be armed. There is just one shot to take that will let all hell break loose.
Only the Brave

Obviously, there had been a security gap and there had been an attempted murder. As no-one in Moscow could explain it or hope to pin immediate blame on a visible culprit—terrorist or otherwise, a FSB decision to hide all evidence of the incident was supported by each of the handful of people who had actually responded that morning. Anyone who might have thought that the actual story might make good Internet fodder was suitably advised of the poor life choice that would be. As far as the world must know, the President was slightly injured while engaging in some friendly martial arts sparing. He would be recuperating out of public view for a while.

Under a cloak of secrecy, Boris Pulisin was spirited off to a private hospital, where he was operated on, stitched, scanned, medicated and bandaged-up. It would take some days for his severely damaged state to heal to the point of credible alignment with the story that had been spun out. Security was now multi-layered and airtight.

When Boris's scrambled brain came back to some order of coherent thought a day or two later, he was told the martial arts practice story and asked if he remembered anything. An apologetic sparring partner was actually brought into the room to ask for forgiveness for the accidental strike, or two. Boris had started to mumble a strange story of a bear several times, but realized that no-one was buying it and that some were observing him very closely, perhaps wondering if the President had permanently lost it. He now added that he had only dreamed about a bear, after already being injured.

"Yes, your opponent is about the size of a bear," his aide commiserated. "In future, we hope that you will pick on someone more your own size." A nervous laugh was met with a slight node from the bandaged President, who was now also starting to believe that the sparing story actually made more sense and that his memories were just the stuff of clouded recall.

"Please, Mr. President, get some rest now." The aide was backing his way out of the room, pushing the 'bear' of an opponent along with him. "Please try to get some sleep, as tomorrow we must try to get back to business.

Yes, back to business. Boris let his eyes close and drifted off to his first medication-free sleep, not quite sure if he wanted to or not.

Cherry was sitting at the plain steel and veneer meeting table in the unadorned small conference room of Boris's Black Sea dacha, preparing to sip a dark tea that he had poured from an ornate pot now sitting on an inlaid serving tray in the center of the table. There was also a bottle of expensive cognac on the tray and several tiny glasses waiting for possible toasts to the proprietor's improving health. Even though it was just tea at this point, Cherry nodded to Boris and said a polite 'Nostrovia' before he drank. Boris's waking health definitely needed the wish.

Cherry frowned at the scuffed table and plain walls of the room. Mismatched chairs and a worn carpet completed the downscale theme. Cherry was often perplexed by powerful peoples' lame attempts to avoid ostentatious displays of wealth, when everyone already knew that they were worth billions. However, for the old communists, dressed-down accommodations seemed to suit some inner need to appear to buy into the silly idea of equality for the proletariat.

Unfortunately, being afraid to show your success sometimes led others to believe that you might be weak or vulnerable; far better to have them think that you are invincible. Cherry planned to make Russia's coming predominance, and the rewards for the few who would lead it there, very obvious to the rest of the country and the world.

"Again, my friend, apologies for the violence of the Kamchatka." Cherry briefly looked down at his boots in deference and opened his hand to Boris.

"But, then it was your dream, and the bear is only dangerous if out of control." He now looked up and smiled, "You will never underestimate it again, I'm sure."

Boris looked around, surprised less by the dream setting, which was very familiar, than by his lack of injuries. He was apparently perfectly intact, dressed in casual work clothes and feeling quite comfortable. Mikilo Chervoniy sat across the corner of the table from him, also similarly attired. Boris looked fully around, perhaps remembering that bad things can come from behind. Once he had surveyed the entire room, he relaxed a little and also picked up a poured tea to drink in response to Cherry's small toast.

"What are we doing here, Mikilo?" Boris had understood immediately that it was another dream. The final conversation with Chervoniy in the previous dream was fresh in his mind now.

"Will I be beaten up again?"

"No danger in this setting, Boris, for it is your home." Cherry waved his arm around. "Feel free to walk about or to get more refreshments if you wish."

As if on cue, a beefy, middle-aged Red Clan cousin appeared at the doorway with a small tray of dark bread, kielbasa, pickled beets and sliced fresh onions. She nodded to each man as she set the tray down.

"Nothing else for now, Natasha, thank you." Cherry dismissed her, but Boris could hear that she was still moving utensils and plates in the nearby kitchen.

Not a bear, but perhaps she is just as deadly a killer. Boris's thought was met with a small smile from Cherry.

Boris made no effort to get up or to explore, so Cherry continued. "Well, then, let's get on with our discussion. You have much to do when you wake. It will tax you somewhat, I'm afraid, but your head will be quite clear, so that you can give all the necessary orders, even if from your bed."

Boris was a little startled as the far wall of the room lit up with five high-definition video screens, each showing a different setting under the apparent surveillance of some high-tech monitoring system. The largest screen at the top appeared to be a satellite image of the Middle East at very high altitude above the earth; territory from the eastern Mediterranean north to the Baltic and east to Pakistan was visible in the image. Smaller screens arranged below showed images of middle-eastern style buildings or industrial sites. One showed a dusty street-scape with military equipment in the background.

Boris waved his hand back over his shoulder at the screens. "I'm certain that you wish that you had this technology in your dacha all the time. Alas, it is only here for us tonight, but what you see in the images is very real."

"So, what am I supposed to be seeing here?" Boris asked, not seeing anything of particular interest immediately.

"First, let me show you the hiding place of one of your enemies." Cherry turned to look at one second-row screen where a street-scape camera zoomed in on the larger building, with the camera apparently going in through a window opening and resolving on a group of scruffy men working to open packing cases of heavy weapons. Several trucks backed into the building were half-loaded with similar gear.

The larger high-earth image also rapidly panned and zoomed in order to show the apparent top of the same buildings as a fighter bomber would see it through an on-board targeting system. As the on-screen cross-hairs centered on the building next door to the warehouse, a change of data on the screen indicated that a guided bomb was released and on its way into the village.

Both screens suddenly filled with a huge explosion of dust; the aerial view included the top of a massive cloud of smoke; the internal view showing a sideways blast of dirt and debris knocking over the men and any unsecured piles of materials. As the smoke cleared—too quickly for real time—it was obvious that the adjacent building was demolished, while the actual warehouse was only slightly damaged. The working men dusted themselves off and rushed to finish packing the trucks.

"Close, but no cigar, is what the Americans might say." Cherry laughed. "I have no idea what that means, other than your bomber missed."

Boris blinked at the images on the screens. He suspected movie-business trickery, but the frantic actions of the men and the settling dust certainly looked real.

"It doesn't matter which group of insurgents these are; the point is that traditional bombs don't work. You might as well try clearing rats with hand grenades. Your intelligence sucks. You make a lot of noise and mess, but the rats in the pipes and hidey holes hardly notice the boom. In fact, they appreciate the help in recruiting more rats."

The warehouse screen went blank as the earth view screen view pulled back again to include the entire region. The image then panned and zoomed back in to a different location, this time to provide an overhead view of several streets in a town in southern Turkey. A light armored vehicle and several trucks rolled down one street, while a small group of men gathered at an intersection on the parallel street. As the LAV entered the adjacent intersection, a flare from a weapon in the attacking group was followed by a tremendous explosion that took the LAV right off the ground. The trailing vehicles were trapped in the side street and also immediately came under small arms and grenade attack.

"Turkish ethnic separatists attacking government troops," Cherry said. "Possibly these are your comrades; I suspect as much, as they are using a Russian shoulder-carried rocket launcher. You aren't making any friends in the current Turkish government here." He laughed again and took another long drink of his tea.

The earth-view now pulled out again, panned east and then zoomed back in to an overhead view of a TANAP gas and oil pipeline terminal in eastern Turkey. The scene on one of the other screens resolved to a landscape view of the same terminal site, from several kilometers away. Moving again, the satellite view now zoomed in on the Ardahan compressor plant. Another screen resolved a similar long view landscape of the facility. Finally, the satellite image swung to the north and zoomed in to show an overhead view of the southern east-West pipeline. The camera filled the screen with a bird's eye view of the Sivas gas compression station. The last active screen resolved a landscape view of the same station, as the satellite image pulled back to include all of the territory between the three locations.

"Now, I'm going to show you something very effective." Cherry turned and pointed to the three landscape images of the industrial sites. As Boris lifted his eyes to follow Cherry's point, all three scenes erupted in simultaneous explosions. There was no sound; in silence, huge fireballs soared into the air as sheet metal, pipes, valves and parts of buildings flew out from the centers of the blasts. The satellite image showed three overlaid starbursts at the locations, just for effect. Following the initial blasts, enormous geysers of flame hundreds of meters high erupted as the compressed gas or oil at each site caught fire.

"Is effective, yes?" Cherry opened his hands as if expecting an answer, but moved on as Boris sat stunned by what he was seeing. "A few pounds of plastic explosives, in just the right place, and up they go. Who needs high-tech bombers, when your donkey can carry the weapon much better?" He laughed again at his own joke.

Boris was still staring awestruck. "Has this just happened now?" He was suddenly feeling very sick inside, not from injury, but from helplessness at what he was seeing.

"No, no, and this is the good part: nothing has happened yet. You still have a few days to prevent this, maybe." Cherry turned his hands back and forth in a 'so-so' gesture. "Maybe I should say that you can get your country better prepared to deal with these attacks than you are at the moment, for the fanatics who will plant these bombs are already just like the rats—in their hidey holes and ready to strike."

"But, how can this be possible?" Boris was still incredulous. "There is adequate security, there is surveillance; no-one can plant bombs at these locations."

"Ah, my friend," Cherry now slowly shook his head. "Do you learn nothing through our meetings? It is also impossible for you to be attacked by a bear in your sleep, yet here you are."

Boris abruptly felt his injuries return along with his bandages and stitches. He was suddenly in great pain and felt lightheaded.

Cherry leaned in and secured Boris's arm as he tipped a little off-balance at the pain and weakness that he suddenly felt. Cherry said nothing until the wave of pain slowly eased, and Boris could open his eyes.

"What I cannot show you, is how you will defeat these bastards. That is up to you to decide." Cherry spoke very slowly while locking eyes with Boris. "But, I can tell you what to do tomorrow: Listen carefully."

"When you wake, you will summon your military Chief of Staff to your bedside. He will be expecting your call. You will order him to move the Motorized and Spetznaz divisions of the 45th Army to positions along the northern border of Georgia, with provisions and fuel ready to move south for an extended mission. Only your preparation now can defend the region from the attacks you have foreseen here."

Boris nodded slowly and repeated back. "Only I can stop these attacks."

Cherry smiled and leaned back, now reaching for the tray on the table.

"I think that this is enough for tonight." Cherry patted his arm. Let's have one little drink of this excellent cognac together, and then you get back to your rest. We'll talk again."

On the screens, the fires burned brightly. Boris couldn't take his eyes off them.
Dark Places

Jake Brun met Tom's medical evacuation plane at a planned stop in Istanbul, as it was on-route to Zurich. He didn't need to hear any details from Tom directly to conclude exactly who was to blame for the physical attack. He considered the assault an outlandish breach of trust and a very personal declaration of war by the Red Clan. He couldn't know that the Red Clan agent had carried the means to murder Tom, but had been called off by Xana. That Tom wasn't dead seemed to him to be only due to his resilience and, perhaps, to good luck.

The in-person meeting was more to confirm that Tom wasn't permanently hurt and to advise him of how an aggressive intervention would proceed; it would continue without him, at least for a few days. Sitting next to Tom's stretcher in the medical suite of the executive jet, Jake asked the doctor and attendant to give them some privacy. Tom was now conscious and clearly on the road to recovery. He got up and sat in a chair close to his father.

The one-time dose of drugs was less serious than the local doctors had diagnosed; he was no addict and the apparent skin infections had already faded. He also had much more control of his physiology than local medical doctors would expect. Draumrs weren't superior beings, but they could use any rest period to speed up physical recovery. Each passing hour of sleep had allowed him to clear more of the lingering effect of the medications from his system. He was still groggy, but was able to give Jake a full account of what he remembered, or more accurately, what he chose to discuss. The intimate details of his encounter with Xana were off the table.

"I can't definitely say who was behind the attack, father." He clearly remembered the tender dreamscape encounter with Xana. It was difficult to reconcile the vicious attack with her final words to him. However, she may not have been in control. The Red Clan cousins or Cherry himself were certainly nasty enough to have attempted the blatant assassination of anyone interfering with whatever scheme they had in play. And there was another possibility.

"How do we know that it wasn't the Blues?" he questioned, not really accepting that possibility. "We were on their turf and the Red Clan is the closest thing they have to an ally in the Circles. Maybe, they were just trying to stop a proxy war in their territory. A well-planned disabling stroke with no real damaging consequences would fit their style." The questions were left hanging.

Tom did relate Xana's confession to prior involvement and her admission of specific details of her movement in Hong Kong. The local team had acted as quickly as they could, but was too late to apprehend her. A review of surveillance confirmed that she had done exactly what she had said she would do. Had Tom acted on that information immediately, rather than staying asleep, she could be in their physical custody right now. He felt that the mission failure was all on him due to his capitulation to exhaustion, rather than ensuring that Xana was intercepted.

In spite of the apparent contradiction provided by her confession and willing exposure, Jake wasn't convinced. Without saying so, he judged that Tom had fallen for her trap. In his mind, she had known all about the attack and had hoped that she could confuse them by creating a cover of ostensible innocence. He had already determined that she was guilty, even if only by association.

Tom knew his suggestions wouldn't change Jake's plan at this point. He dreaded where this 'now-personal' fight might end up. All he could hope for was some consideration for mercy.

"I don't want her hurt," he croaked out the request, choking on his dry throat, but also on his mixed emotions. He was fully aware of the potential for violent reaction from Jake and his network of agents. Even if Xana had made her escape good for now, if a 'dead or alive' warrant was put out, her safety was at risk. Jake's own band of hired killers would act first and only ask questions later. They were used to being the final solution for eliminating the vicious criminals, destructive war lords or murderous despots that the Clans couldn't otherwise contain. Surrender usually wasn't desired.

Xana might be a lethal actor with deadly intent, but he was in love with her. In his heart, he believed that she had just wanted him out of the line-of-fire. And if it was her doing, she had executed that plan with precision and with due care for his eventual well-being. He wished that he could take her out of the action just as effectively and safely. If she continued to be involved in killing others, had she sealed her own fate? The warmth of his feelings and his hope for reconciliation of only a few hours ago were fading away to grim acceptance that there might be no easy finale to this play. It was out of his control.

Jake leaned in to speak quietly about his plan of attack.

"We're going to take the fight directly to Cherry. He has set the precedent with the attack on you; we're perfectly justified in closing down his home base and taking him into custody. Plus, we need to rescue Gloria Black, who we presume now has no ability to leave on her own. We believe that she has is concerned for her safety when she says that everything is fine. Probably with a gun to her head. What else can she say? It seems like we made a mistake sending her in."

Tom was taken aback by the audacious plan. Executing an attack would take a significant force. Cherry was on his own turf, where he was surrounded by his own security system and where he most likely controlled both local police and the military. It sounded like a vengeful reaction rather than a considered next-step in controlling the course of the larger conflict.

"How is that even possible?" Tom asked, now somewhat fearful for his father's well-being. "Won't he be inside a fortified compound with lots of armed security?" A public fire-fight wasn't Draumr style, particularly not in the quiet Ukrainian countryside.

"We have been making preparations for a week. This isn't just a reaction to your attack, nor do we expect a lot of violence. If security needs to be removed it will be done quietly by experts already in place. However, with any luck at all, we'll catch most of them sleeping." Jake winked at Tom. He wasn't kidding about the sleeping part.

Responding to Tom's concern for Xana, he added, "We believe that Oksana really did stay in the Hong Kong area, so she is out of the action for now. But, if by some chance she is back home with Cherry, we'll do everything we can to bring her in safely as well. Neither will be hurt unnecessarily by our hands."

He made sure that he had Tom's full attention. "I know that she means something more to you. When the time comes, I will give her every chance to surrender peacefully."

Tom should have known Jake wouldn't head off half-cocked. He had probably been waiting for orders from the First Circle prior to the attack in Hong Kong. Whether he had them now didn't matter; he had put his own plan in motion and would see it through, as he always did.

"Just be careful, father. Even if Cherry is unlikely to be wielding his own cannon, we've seen that the Reds aren't afraid of creating casualties. There are forces at play here that none of us have dealt with in a long time. We have to assume that any dreamscape encounter has a deadly potential."

"All the more reason for me to drop in and resolve this face-to-face, wide-awake." Jake showed no emotion, but Tom knew that 'resolve' included a range of possibilities.

As Sun Tzu advised centuries ago, the best way to kill the snake, or to defeat an army, is to cut off its head. Tom knew that the ancient Blue Clan Draumr spoke and wrote from a time of vicious wars between different sorts of Clans. But, the advice never seemed more appropriate and timely.
Ground Zero

The debriefing of the Draumr team at Beaucage Camp the next day didn't go well. Everyone, particularly each parent, was relieved that the fighters had survived the unexpected dreamscape encounter with the Red Clan more or less unharmed; but their acknowledgement that they were mostly ineffective in any direct intervention against Oksana left the group uncertain and concerned.

The women had actually ended up with some significant bruises from the flying stones. Will's hand was only slightly burned, but he was now wearing a wrap over a traditional ointment prepared by an older Green cousin. He had been skeptical of the mashed plant leaves and scraped tree bark preparation, but it provided immediate relief to his burned palm, so was now much appreciated.

Snow related Xana's comments again, that: "this is just practice" and her advice that they stay out of the real fight.

"It's confusing, as she apparently acted well in advance to bring each of us into her game: me on the mountain, Will on the northern lake and, for all we know, Lulu through Gloria's past friendship with Cherry. In one way or another, we were each pre-selected for this fight. Almost as if she, or someone else, was setting up a game needing specific players. Now, she's telling us to get lost for our own good. Doesn't make any sense."

Snow paused, then continued. "Unless, there has been a change of plans that she can't control." It was a question to the strategists.

Some of the support staff and Jack seemed to be considering this information as a new revelation or at least as a conclusion that they hadn't previously worked through. Snow could see none of the same surprise in Water's or Emma's reaction.

She continued, "So, having drawn us into the fight, she now seems to enjoy demonstrating how futile our efforts at intervening actually are; then she more or less tells us to go back to our toys. Maybe, she is just being a bigger bitch than we thought and can't resist showing off her new skills to her rivals in the Halls."

Lulu jumped in, "I don't think a few years of age gives her that much more experience, or ability, certainly not against both of us... er, all three of us." She squeezed Will's good hand as if to say: Sorry for forgetting you. Even though she was several years younger than him, what she really meant was their combined experience in using all their skills.

"Snow, all on her own should have easily been her match." She shook her head. "At the very least, it should have been a pretty equal tussle."

Will had been carefully watching Water and Emma while the women vented their frustration. He might still need more work to fully refresh his dreamscape skills, but he was very good at seeing through facades in real life. There was information that the two Elders had, but for some reason, weren't sharing yet. Each connected with him via briefly locked eyes, but neither said anything at this point. They were both stone-faced.

The group broke the tension by sharing some laughs at the ridiculous locales of the dreamscapes and Lulu's description of the now slimy and chewed-up state of Snow's battle club. A Green cousin offered to carve her a new one in his next dream, but she said, "Thanks, but Will here is committed to drawing a bath for him and the chew marks will make for a great campfire tale someday. I'll stick with my old friend."

Once they had completed the dreamscape de-brief, they moved on to new information coming in from the Grey Clan agents monitoring the Red Clan dreamscape activity. Jack now spoke in his role as conscripted Grey Clan advisor to Armand. First, he summarized information about the attack on Tom Brown.

The details were a shock to the Leutnant team and all of the others in the room. That he had been physically attacked outside of a dreamscape seemed to raise the stakes in the game for all of them. There had been good reason for the Elder's desire to be safely behind the tight security of the Green Clan homestead.

Jack continued, "Frankly, what is most amazing is that Xana was apparently in Hong Kong while she was interacting with you in the dreamscape of a sleeper located in New York. At more or less then same time, or shortly after, she interacted with Tom in another dreamscape and then was physically seen in Hong Kong just hours later."

He paused to ensure that the Elders were in agreement that he should continue. Water nodded: go-ahead.

"Reaching out independently over that kind of distance is an anomaly for sure. We do it with combined dreams to join together at the Halls, but to singularly intervene with a dreamer and to control a setting that far distant is pretty much unheard of. It's another new twist in this unfolding scheme. I doubt that this is an inherent skill, even for Oksana; it must be accomplished with the help of a powerful artefact."

He was cautious with his words, but knew that the Leutnants needed to fully understand what they were dealing with.

"Seems likely that the Red Clan has access to a more potent arsenal of ancient devices than we first thought. Some capabilities, like this around-the-globe dreamscape control, are fairly benign on their own, but were determined to be undesirable for good reason when these things were supposedly put away for good 80 years ago. Guess it's sort of similar to having a car capable of going 200 miles per hour in your garage; some abilities are just too tempting to resist. Eventually, someone is going to take it out and floor it with unfortunate results. You think that you can hide the keys from the kids. Better that you just get rid of the car."

The conclusion of the metaphor was a mild rebuke of the Elders who hadn't completely destroyed the ancient artefacts decades ago when they had the chance. There was no published record of the decision to store them, supposedly securely. Only the eldest of the Draumrs knew that there had been a credible 'doomsday' argument made and accepted for keeping them, just in case.

Jack continued, "At any rate, Oksana's Far-East location has helped us to focus our intelligence gathering; we are starting to come up with some plausible reasons for both her location there and for her, or Cherry's, feint attacks here in the Americas."

"We believe that they wanted us to focus on local impacts, like injured innocent dreamers, as a diversion from their actual targets far from here. It was also practice for them, both in seeing what they could do and in countering our efforts to stop them. At any rate, time has run out for practice; we believe that the real event is at-hand."

He passed out briefing notes at this point that summarized the names and locations of various Red Clan cousins that had been active in recent dreamscapes. The Leutnants took a minute to read the narrative, and then Snow piped up.

"Most of these appear to be in the Far-East; dead in the middle of Blue Clan territory. What's going on with that?"

Jack nodded and continued. "We didn't have a good explanation for that, as we assumed that, just like us, the Blue Clan would have responded quickly to an unauthorized scheme involving a lot of nefarious dreamscape interventions in their territory. Frankly, as we gathered the data, it made no sense that they weren't already on their 'high horse' and demanding withdrawal action from the Reds and from the First Circle."

"But, there has been nothing. No complaints. Even in response to Armand's inquiries to those who we believe are the eldest of the Lapis, there was no answer forthcoming. With ample evidence of an unfolding plot in hand, we are still being stone-walled by various Blues only offering to look into it."

He raised his eyebrows as he looked around. "The only logical conclusion is that the Blues are in on the plot; that somehow, a nasty coalition between Red Clan and Blue Clan has been put in place to attack some common area of interest. The first possibilities considered were influential people controlling local interests at border regions or maybe the owners of transportation routes that crossed over from West to East."

"The other possibility is that leadership has completely broken down in the Blue Clan, which has been without a designated leader since the passing of Lapis Lazuli, we assume, something like 25-30 years-ago. So, without hierarchy, there might be gaps in their structure that let the Reds in to do as they please. Or, possibly, the Reds are just playing a role in a Blue Clan insurgence?"

"Turns out, the new data indicates that it's neither of these." He smiled at reaching a different conclusion, but it wasn't a smile of relief.

"Oksana's location and the concentration of dreamscape activity by the Red Clan cousins in and around Hong Kong have given us an answer, we believe." He paused again, to be careful with his next words.

"The most likely reason that the Blue Clan isn't actively protesting Red Clan activity is that the plot has nothing to do with their local interests. The location and the timing indicate that the actual target is almost certainly the G20 conference in Shenzhen that starts in three days, just over the PRC border from Hong Kong. This is the meeting of the heads of government from the globe's twenty largest economies; sort of a Who's Who of politics and power. The concentration of leaders and likely jet-lag of the Western politicians creates an easy target for Cherry's nightmare contingent."

"Whatever the Red Clan is planning to pull off, it will likely involve one or more of the leaders present. Who knows which ones and who knows what they have in mind, but we can be certain that Cherry has an interest in the balance of power right back on his home turf in the Ukraine, or more broadly, in Russia. He may also want to test the rookie American leader's tolerance for disruption."

"The Blue Clan may have agreed to give him a free hand. Perhaps there is something in it for them too. They generally are no friends of autocratic governments, so embarrassing China by spoiling the highly visible event might suit their local interests."

Jack was almost done, but now added, "Of course, this is all unconfirmed, but one additional interesting event has surfaced." He smiled again.

"The Russian president, Boris Pulisin, has been reported to be mysteriously injured in some contrived practice of karate or a similar contact sport."

"It's a sham. We know that he hasn't been active in this kind of sport in years. It seems entirely likely that he was beaten-up in a dream. We have seen, and can see, that injuries are entirely possible." He nodded to the bruised and burned fighters. "And, we know just who might have laid on the beating."

As if anticipating questions, he added, "Is he being further threatened or coerced by Cherry? Unfortunately, we don't know these answers."

He paused again, knowing that there would still be lots of questions. He held up his hand in order to finish completely.

"To summarize the things that we do know: Oksana and other Red Clan agents are active in Hong Kong and there is no Blue Clan response. Pulisin has been put out of commission. These facts make it pretty clear that there is a well-thought-out plan in play. The big question for us is how to disrupt it and survive?" Now he was finished with his part of the briefing.

As a murmur grew and questions started to come out, one of the Elders stood. Silence quickly blanketed the room.

Emma White wasn't the person that you would expect to get up and set a direction for the group. Her specialty was one-on-one; her influence was in the quiet whispers and assurances she provided to others who needed to make difficult decisions. But, as she had possibly the biggest stake in the response team with Sasha more or less leading every fight, she now felt it important to speak to the entire team and to all of the support cousins now gathered.

"I agree with Sacha's assessment that we have been specifically drawn into this fight for reasons we can't know at this time. I have searched my past interactions with the Red Clan for any clues. I know that there has been frustration at waning influence; this feeling probably comes from Mikilo Chernoyiv himself, as his home country and region have changed around him."

"It is no surprise that he might attempt to regain influence in his territory. Why he would intentionally draw us in and defy the First Circle are questions that we can't answer. But, the fact is that we are now in the fight and we have no choice but to see it through. As has been said before, there is a record of global chaos and heartache following historic First Circle decisions not to act or not to act decisively enough. More than once, the reason for inaction has been the misdirection of another Draumr. We aren't perfect. We know that good and bad exists in all societies; ours is not exempted. So, we have to carry on, perhaps even more aggressively, as long as there appears to be a threat to humankind's safety and well-being."

Now she made eye-contact with each of the people in the room.

She began to turn to Water, essentially giving him the floor, but finished by saying: "We are all committed now; and we must all stay committed." She briefly locked eyes with Snow. There was sadness in both of their hearts as they understood that this commitment might well be to the death. Snow nodded ever so slightly and put on her bravest smile. Inside, she was glad that she was still really pissed. Getting into a fight would be no problem; surviving it, as Jack had expressed, might be.

Water acknowledged Emma's support with a brief squeeze of her shoulder as he stood and then slowly walked around the room.

"This is our home. Strangely, we might wish that the fight had stayed right here. Close to home is close to the heart. We would have no problem, any of us, in defending our people and our land to the end." He got nods and grunts of agreement all around.

"But, it appears this fight will now be a foreign war. Good thing that we're pretty good at those too. Guess, if you think about it, those are the ones we actually prefer. Saves rebuilding costs when somebody else's place gets bombed." There was a light chuckle in the room, as he lifted the tension somewhat.

"So, now we have to go deal with our troublemakers where they have chosen to make their stand. Doesn't matter that it's on the other side of the world, we have the ability to go to them and we will. If that's what they want, then they will get their wish. We will just have to be more careful and more nimble."

He continued, "Jack will tell you more now. But, tonight, many of you will be on a jet heading over the Arctic and landing in Hong Kong about this time tomorrow, except that it will be this time two days from now. Time moves quickly too, when you chase the sun back into the ocean." He smiled at his own lame attempt at metaphor. He would never be a story teller. Several people in the room leaned in to their confused neighbours and whispered: "He means crossing the date line..."

When the whispering stopped, Water continued, "Jack will cover the plan. The team needs to be active locally in advance of the conference, with capability and readiness to shut these crooks down."

He paused as if now considering what else to say. "Be assured that we are attacking on more than one front. By the time we engage them in China, they should have lots else to worry about. That's all I can say."

He turned and headed back to his chair, laying a hand on Will's shoulder as he passed and smiling at the two women. His confidence was infectious; they each had the thought: we can do this.
Stage Right

Within a few minutes of the briefing ending, it seemed that the whole Green Clan complex was moving in one direction: west to get to the Far-East. Only a few would actually go, but everyone was pitching in to equip the team, getting ready to lend support, or if need be, to stretch out to the far dreamscape to join the fight.

Somewhat like interceptor pilots, briefed and ready to climb into heavily armed jets out on some remote tarmac, the three young fighters were prepped and counseled; then were given space to deal with their own thoughts as they waited for word to head to the Escalades to depart.

As they finally sat together, again in the lounge that had been the comforting and gentle place of their physical union, seemingly only hours before, they now sought out the physical touch that was real here but only illusionary in their dreams together. They had come back together with hugs and kisses. Now they sat with knees and hands touching, heads leaned in together and weary eyes locked.

Will knew that they needed to talk about tactics, but wondered when in the next dozen hours they would do it. Was it too soon to ask questions about their vulnerability? Were the women, who outwardly were confident and bristling for the fight, just as uncertain as he was? Do winners ever talk about possible defeat? He had played enough rugged knock-down sports to know that only winning thoughts were allowed in locker room. Coaches only expressed confidence in them, but their coaches, the old ones, weren't going into the fight.

Possibly the toughest fighter on the First Circle team: Tom Brown, had fallen and almost died when confronting Xana on her turf. They hadn't fared much better. Was it possible that she really was invulnerable and would just as easily cast them aside if they became a real encumbrance to her or to Cherry's plans? Will was irritated that these thoughts were dominating his mind, but if they charged ahead ignoring the obvious vulnerability of their team, they wouldn't be doing anyone any good. They would just be dead.

Snow finally voiced the thoughts that Will had been trying to silence in his head. "We need to change our approach the next time in." She opened her hands to show that this was more of a question than a direction. She was the acknowledged leader the team, mostly due to Will's still-unfolding knowledge and Lulu's younger age. She felt that she was Xana's match; she could win all on her own in a fair fight, but this fight was turning out to be anything but fair. Now, her thoughts were on how the team could be a much stronger force. They had been brought together to multiply their individual strengths. The Elders were confident. Or were they? Obviously, they had to be positive, but was it false optimism intended only to bolster their spirits? She knew that they had to figure out their own plan of attack quickly.

Lulu responded, "I think that we saw some things earlier that we can build-on. She squeezed Will's and Snow's hand and continued, "Even though it was only the Red cousins back on the beach, we saw that they could be defeated if we kept them off-balance." She grinned. "Just shine a brilliant white light in their eyes, and then whack them with a blackjack from behind. Oh, and also have a green gremlin fucking up all the rules with his magic stone."

They all laughed together and some of the tension lifted. Lulu was great at cutting through the fog of hesitation. She was leading in her own way and obviously wasn't afraid of anything. They just needed to pull or push together and to ensure that no-one separated them.

"Think they'll allow us a little bag of in-flight whiskies on the trip over? I could really use a little snort and the young Green cousins slipped me a bag of Canadian Club shot bottles. I mean, in fourteen hours we could get fairly pissed and then sober up again with no problem."

Will finally had a chance to say something positive. "I'm pretty sure that we make the rules from here on out. It's our skin in this game. I'm also sure that I can't sit still for that long a flight without some fun. I'm good for a couple shots if you guys are. They probably won't let me fly the damn plane anyway, so I may as well get a little buzz on."

After another laugh among them, Will held up a hand and motioned for quiet, while looking around conspiratorially. He whispered, "I've finally also had a chance to read through all of Water's notebook. It seems that the talisman and other relics from our 'witchcraft' past really do need to be directed by the Draumr that they belong to. I think it's why he was so concerned that the rock, er..talisman, was an exact fit to my hand. The old guys didn't engrave the leather as an exact image of my hand. How could they? The wrapping changed itself to fit my hand. This was the sign that he was looking for."

The women both blinked in some confusion as they hadn't felt the pull of the stone in their hand the way Will had. When they had examined it, it was just a leather-covered rock that smelled a little of sweat and age. The concept of owning the talisman hadn't occurred to them.

Will continued, "Apparently, anyone can haul them out and, with a little practice, get some OK results; but only the next-in-line can wield each one fully. The stones have their own agenda, so to speak. Or, this is as much as is known about them."

"Water thinks that this limitation should be vulnerability for the Reds, as there are breaks in the hand-to-hand passage of their relics. Unfortunately, or, maybe for us, fortunately, wars and political disruptions in the 1800's destroyed their lands and ended the line of direct descendants. Cousins took over, leading to Cherry's line today. Whatever rocks they have hauled out should not be a power match for mine in my hand."

He continued, "Water confirmed that the Green Clan relics have been passed hand-to-hand to sons or daughters over tens of generations. My stone is mine-alone, and should be much more powerful when I need it." He watched the women for any sign of skepticism.

Snow was paying close attention; rather than doubt, she expressed some new found hope. "So, your little rock was always coming to you for just this purpose?"

"Yes and no; Water never intended to pass it on." He smiled, "That's the irony here. As wise as he is, he was wrong when he thought it could simply be put away forever. It doesn't work that way. He was required to pass it to a descendent, by the artefact itself."

He paused, reflecting on how hard it must have been for Water to call for a dangerous weapon that he probably knew would forever dull the bright oblivion of his favorite grandchild. How many previous generations had tried to shed the burden of the magic, only to be forced back to it when it became the last choice to end war and find peace?

"Keeping the talisman is part of the obligation of my direct line of ancestors, and I suppose, will continue on forever in my descendants. With luck, it will stay on the shelf again for a long time. But, given the dark nature of at least a portion of mankind, it must always be available when needed to restore the balance. Or maybe, just once, to prevent the imbalance that leads to so much destruction."

"Then, the Reds can't use their relics against us?" Snow was still trying to grasp what Will had only begun to understand from hours of deciphering Water's handwritten 'how-to' manual, penned seventy-five years-ago.

"No, any Draumr, particularly a skilled one, can wield the Clan relic. But, it will have a somewhat limited effect. We can't be sure, but Xana and the others shouldn't be able to fully direct their items effectively against us, or against me, more specifically."

Will could see the women sitting up and starting to grin. He was afraid that they would 'high-five' in premature victory celebration. He held up both of his hands in a stop signal. "There are problems, unfortunately."

"One problem is also the possibility of real weirdness happening when more than one Clan's relics are brought to play in a shared dreamscape. The notebook contains some reference to avoiding this; sort of 'don't cross the streams', stuff. As much as I can decipher, there is no record of the Clans going to war against each other with the relics in hand. We may be on new ground here. Or, on very old ground that no one survived to write about."

He continued, "The other thing is that I've only had this thing for a few days and have had no real practice with it. The notebook also says that weeks, or, preferably, months of practice are needed to fully understand a talisman and to get skilled at using it." He dropped his hands and shrugged. "We may still be screwed."

Lulu wouldn't be put off. "Well, as the song says, or suggests, if we gotta be damned, there's no one we'd prefer to be damned with than you, brave holder of the rock." She jumped on Will and gave him a long deep kiss that put most her tongue far down his throat. Then, she did the same thing to Snow.

Both of the others felt the rising warmth of desire heating them from the loins on up. It confirmed that their union was much more than as comrades in the battle. They could think and act as one. At this moment, that one mind wanted nothing more than a long playful night back in the big bed. But, as they each realized, it would have to wait. In unison, they each said, "Soon, it's a promise." The same thought and same words had come to each of their lips at the same time. Surely, ancient ghosts were helping them at every moment, asleep or awake.
Wheels Up

It was never entirely clear where Jack Green came up with his novel solutions, but it was always just a little astonishing at how effective he was at producing needed fixes out of the blue. This observation was never more the case than as the team drove up to the fully fueled and piloted Bombardier Global 7000 private jet waiting for them at the North Bay airport. The small commercial airport was once a military airfield and boasted a 10,000-foot runway. Plenty of room to take off in one of the few private jets that could fly the 7000 miles to Hong Kong non-stop in just over 13 hours, if jet stream winds over the Arctic Ocean were with them.

The small team consisted of the three fighters: Snow, Lulu and Will; Jack and Emma as their guides, a couple medical specialists and several Grey Clan cousins who would handle intelligence and logistics. The luxurious plane easily accommodated the small group. After a round of hugs and best wishes on the tarmac, including a long embrace from Water for each of them, they proceeded quickly on board and were taxiing away. Fittingly, as Draumrs, they would disappear into the night and not emerge from darkness until over China a full calendar day and a half later.

Will had received his final direction and blessing from Water in the hours before their departure. He felt that the last hug may have been an 'in case' gesture. In case it doesn't go as planned; in case you need to regroup and fight harder and longer to survive; but, not: in case you fail. Failure wasn't an option, so now it wasn't part of anyone's thoughts.

The hours on the plane started with a small celebration, that inevitably led to a bowling pin rack of empty shot bottles standing on a table between the leather lounge chairs of the executive jet. It turned out that the bag of CC minis supplied by the cousins was just enough for almost everyone on the plane, with the exception of the pilots of course, to have just a couple. It wasn't a party, but was enough to help people relax and settle into small tasks that would fill some of the time.

Information was still coming in to the Greys as various teams around the globe connected dots or added new intelligence to the growing case against the Reds and, possibly, the Blues. There were whispered consultations among Jack and the Grey cousins, that led to quiet directions being given to resources waiting for them at their destination. Jack made a point of briefing Emma and the young fighters with any new information, but concluded each update with the same assurance that everything was as expected and well under control.

Emma stayed with the fighters for a couple hours, encouraging conversation on experiences, frustrations and expectations. She didn't step-in to soothe feelings or to pump-up confidence, although with a simple touch and a few words she could have done either. She knew that dealing with the prospect of injury or death, and committing to absolute rejection of the possibility of failure, took strong emotions. She sensed that the young fighters were both confident and realistic in their expectations. They were committed to the fight to come and weren't burdened by fear beyond normal caution when dealing with a deadly enemy. Together, they were a formidable threat of their own and, she sensed, not hesitant about how deadly they might need to be.

After a few hours, everyone needed some sleep. It was Snow who suggested that they take a complete break by going somewhere together. She had a proposed destination for them, but consulted Jack and the Grey's first.

"Are we safe in a dreamscape now?" She asked Jack, but turned to Emma with the question as well. Jack and Emma shrugged a little, but turned to the Greys for their response.

Philip Grey responded, "I can't give an absolute assurance as we are still documenting all the artefact effects that we've seen and are trying to complete the picture of what might be possible. To-date, we have seen an ability to enter non-Draumr dreams everywhere on earth, but not to enter a Draumr dreamscape anywhere, uninvited."

"So, is that a yes?" Snow didn't have much patience for the cautious approach of the Grey's, but knew that their attention to detail might well save her life.

Philip continued, "I'd go with your gut-feel, if you've got one." He hesitated, then restated, "A feel, I mean, not a gut."

Another hesitation. "Hmmm, that didn't come out quite right either."

Philip was trying to hide his slight embarrassment. He finally just stated, "It will be fine; sweet dreams."

Completely out of character, Snow stood and walked over to Philip, giving him a big hug and just a little of the White physical buzz. He blinked, but then smiled broadly.

Snow whispered to him, "Philip, you are the fourth member of our team. We will do this together, or not at all. Thanks for everything."

Then she turned back to the others, but spun around again. Out loud, she said, "Want to come along?"

Philip now blushed, as he had heard about both the dreams and the pre-sleep frolicking of the young fighters. Being the 'fourth', might mean being invited into some fairly erotic space. He considered his response.

"Way too busy right now, Sacha. But, when we have something to celebrate, sure?"

It was a loaded answer and question, and they both knew it. Snow grinned and winked, "It's a date."

Emma and Jack also grinned and shook their heads. Jack whispered, "Kids, where do they get these ideas."

Snow returned to sit with Lulu and Will. Still grinning from the innuendo-filled flirting with Philip.

"Phil says we should get some sleep."

Will took the bait. "Phil? Who is Phil?"

"Oh, just my new best friend..." Snow was now gently poking Will to see if she could bring out any hint of jealousy in his response.

There was none. "Oh, that Phil. One of my best friend's already," deadpanned Will. "Much more flexible than some others I know, who are all black or white about everything." He feigned serious consideration. "Phil is more open to all possibilities."

Lulu turned and glanced over at Philip, catching his attention very briefly. She mouthed him a long-distance smooch. Turning back to Will, she said, "I'm trying to picture you boys together, but the mental image is making my teeth hurt. Way too much sugar and not nearly enough spice."

Now they all grinned. Snow hoped that Philip didn't think that they were laughing about him or his inclusion in the group. She looked over, but he was already heads-down in consultation with his cousin.

"Anyway, Phil-ip gave us the go-ahead to get some sleep." She really meant to get away to a dreamscape together, but as weary as they were, the actual sleep part would be just as welcome as the distraction of leaving to a dream space.

Lulu groaned, "Yuk, more training?"

Lulu had actually trained harder than either of the others and never shirked either the demanding mental tasks or tactical practice of their dream sessions. She wanted to bulk up to the point where she might take out Xana all on her own, even if that was still a stretch goal. In truth, she wouldn't know until she faced her.

Snow replied, "Yeah, but a little different this time. I think that we need some away time, along with some more conditioning and I have just the place. I go there a lot and I can paint it perfectly for you guys."

Will was curious. "I'm not much of a snowboarder, if that's what you have in mind. I suspect that you two will leave me in a facepaint somewhere pretty quick.

Lulu laughed, "Faceplant, dummy. And that's something skiers do, not boarders. Boarders just totally crash out and burn."

"Augh. Neither sounds like much fun." But, Will would give anything a shot and it was just a dream.

Snow jumped back in. "No, no faceplants, and if we can help it, no crashes or burning. No snow, or not much anyway. You'll love it, I guarantee it."

As only Draumrs can do, they settled back, closed their eyes and met in a shadowy place in only a few seconds. On the plane, they now slept comfortably.

As the setting resolved, they found themselves sitting on a rock ledge beside a trail high over St. Moritz: The Piz Nair. In unison, Will and Lulu gasped at the beauty of a sunrise just edging the far mountains with gold, below a luscious deep blue sky. They also gasped at the sudden lack of oxygen at the altitude of close to 3000 meters.

They were dressed head to toe in cool-weather Spendex biking suits topped with knuckle protective gloves and some serious chest, shoulder and elbow armor. Downhill bikes and helmets waited for them in a rack beside the trail just a few feet below. Before the others could say anything, Snow had already jumped down and was hauling back the closest bike, a gleaming monster, naturally finished in white and silver.

"I guess you guys can figure out which ones are yours." She waved to a pair of bikes in the rack. One was all black and nasty looking, with more dings and scrapes than a dumpster. The other looked perfectly new in British racing green, with a cluster of digital gauges arrayed along the handle.

Lulu and Will looked each other up and down, laughing at their outfits, then jumped down and went to their formidable steeds like knights heading into battle. They should have anticipated that this would be a competition, it usually was.

"First one to the village gets a rubdown from the losers. And I do mean Losers." Snow grinned again. She drew their eyes to the distant and tiny roofs of a village a thousand meters below.

"Trust me, this is a novice downhill, except that it's a little steep in some places. But no cliffs, jumps or rock-slide avalanches, I promise."

She now pointed up to the couloir hanging just above them full of last season's snow. It was already cold; soon this ground would return to the skiers who had owned it for the last century and the boarders who were doing their best to make them nervous.

"I ride this trail all the time when I'm here. Sometimes I go up, but we don't need to be climbing tonight. We just need a little adrenaline kick."

"Oh, and once we're at the trail entrance, I'll give you two a two-minute head start, just so I don't embarrass you too much.

She jumped on and pedaled off, as Lulu and Will shook their heads and mounted their bikes. The heavy rigs were perfectly fitted to their arms and legs. Fully-suspended on muscular tires and hard-set pistons, they were also equipped with enormous disc brakes. These bikes were designed for one thing: careening more or less straight downhill. The pair wobbled a little getting going, but then found a rhythm and immediately fought for the lead, even if they were still on the level walking path.

Catching up with Snow at the turn to drop into the true downhill track, they paused and swallowed hard. Snow had said it wasn't a cliff, but that was just barely true. It looked near vertical.

"Just stay on your brakes, mostly rear, and you'll be fine. Oh, and don't pass on the bends or when going through a herd of goats. You know, standard safety stuff."

Snow grinned at them, but the upturned sparkle in her eyes was all that showed through the full head helmet. In helmets, armor and gloves, they looked the part if not feeling it at the moment.

True to her form, Lulu screamed and plunged down, pedaling furiously, hands nowhere near her brakes.

Will shook his head. What the hell did these women get me into?

He had been faking the novice part a little as he was very familiar with mountain bikes, if not these monsters designed only to keep you alive while falling out of the sky. He kicked in and gave his best war-whoop, pedaling as much as needed, but suspecting that gravity would soon give him all the push he needed.

Snow considered her offer of a two-minute advantage for about a minute, then she dropped in. Never hurts to bend the rules just a little.

The race turned out to be less of a speed test than a test of survival. Both pursuers stopped to reinstate Lulu onto her bike after she pulled a little too much air on a small jump and ended up in her own facepaint against the side of the next bump. The bike, of course, simply returned to its original state, with Lulu doing the same after thirty seconds of cursing. Then, she was off again.

Will managed to stay upright, but not without brushing a couple trees and hitting one rock hard enough to jar his nuts halfway up his abdomen. A brief moment of worry passed when the 'nards' seemed to recover quite nicely as well.

Snow never did pass the other two, but was content to simply track them over the bumps and jumps and through the wide gravel-spraying turns. Pumping hard down the final flat pasture, past cows rather than goats, they all cheered together as the village pub came into view. Rather than ride into the village, they dumped the bikes and just fell down together in the soft autumn grass. Still heaving a bit, but in much richer air now, they quickly turned gasps into giggles and friendly jibes.

Snow quipped, "I've seen enough of Will's shiny ass to last me the whole trip. I should have passed him just to improve the view."

"Well, if I hadn't needed to stay back and watch out that one of you ladies didn't chip a nail or smudge her dress, I could have been here fifteen minutes ago," countered Will.

"What the fuck, I did break a nail," chimed in Lulu, "And this shit sticks when we wake up. I'm going to need an emergency mani-pedi."

Will cut in, "No worries, no artefacts along this time. It's in my bag. You'll wake up as good as new, for what that's worth."

Lulu huffed and faked being insulted. "Nice. All sweet words when you want to get laid, but now you're dissing my bod. See if I ride the range with you or on you again, mister lumberjack, or whatever backwoods thing it is that you do."

"OK lovers, play nice." Snow continued, "I'm just fucking exhausted. That was just about perfect."

"Sure was," said Lulu.

"Now about the rubdown. I'm actually a very game loser, if we could get rid of these damn chastity suits."

"Mmm...I take it all back. You two, minus the suits is just about the only thing I want to dream about right now." Will grinned and was already rolling over to face the women.

"No sooner asked then done," said Snow. "But, then we need to head deep for some real rest for an hour or two. They'll be tapping us awake before we know it."

A warm breeze rose across the softly waving grass to caress suddenly bare skin. The cows, if aware of the strangers in their midst, apparently took no interest. High above, a single raptor circled on the same breeze as it rose against the slope of the mountain. The observant bird took considerable interest in all that it saw below.

As predicted, the wake-up taps came too soon. The team had actually only been asleep a few hours when an incoming intelligence report caused Philip and Jack to wake them.

When they were fully awake and had something to eat and drink, the Elders convened the entire group to hear the report. As now seemed to be standard practice, Philip delivered the details without emotion or equivocation.

"Reports from the Baltics and Middle East indicate that that there have been many Red Clan dreamscape interventions concentrated in Turkey inside the frontier with Georgia. We don't have sufficient monitoring resources in the area to specifically determine if these interventions are targeting specific government or industry leaders, but this is a fairly remote oil-producing area, that would still be of strategic importance to a number of factions."

Philip paused to let the information sink in.

"One thing that we do know is that there are no significant political players in the area. The Turkish President, Mert Yilmaz, is actually already in Hong Kong near the G20 location. Russian president Pulisin is still laid up and nobody else in the area commands much influence. It's not clear what is going on."

He paused again, consulting notes that he had taken on the sat-phone calls. "The only other disconcerting intelligence from the area indicates that several divisions of Russian ground troops have been moved south and are massing near the border with Georgia, which must be of some concern locally. Public explanations indicate that these are long-planned joint military exercises, but NATO says it knew nothing about them."

Now he explained, "Protocol would have been to fully brief at least the NATO coordinator in Turkey, to avoid any kind of misinterpretation. As far as we know, this wasn't done. This kind of troop movement could only come on direct orders from Pulisin, so his sudden ill-health may be the explanation for a screw-up. But, it's a lot of soldiers and equipment fairly near a NATO-protected frontier. These things, fortunately, are for wide-awake politicians and diplomats to work out. We don't see a direct dreamscape connection to Cherry."

Philip nodded to Jack to pick up at this point, as he had been in touch with Jake Brun and with Armand by separate satellite connections. The elders didn't want to risk a dream connection that might still somehow be intercepted or monitored.

Jack now said, "As Philip indicted, we can't yet determine what is going on as we don't know who the dreamers are or why they are being targeted. Are the troops somehow connected—who knows? One theory that we have had to engage is the possibility that disruption in the region is actually Cherry's target and that the whole Hong Kong set-up is yet another diversion, intended, successfully I guess, to put our key resources as far away as possible. They may want us to engage them in meaningless sparing to supposedly protect world leaders who have nothing to do with his real goal."

Jack shrugged and extended open hands to the team. "We won't know until this all plays out, unfortunately."

The fighters were having trouble putting everything in context.

"So, are we turning back or diverting to where the action is?" Snow was disturbed by the possibility that she would be cheated out of her anticipated direct confrontation with Xana. The prospect of finally beating Xana had been keeping her going, regardless of its impact on the grand scheme. She intended to take the smirking Red Clan bitch and her various slimy relatives out one at a time until this threat was eliminated.

Jack responded, "No, our mission doesn't change, at least until the G20 is over. We will land, get set-up and be ready to jump in should any one of the G20 leaders be engaged by a Red Clan or Blue Clan dream intervention. We have the resources in place now to give us the advantage of speed, capability and, hopefully, surprise. So, we will continue. If nothing comes of it, we will have done what we were asked. Then, we'll move on."

Jack continued, "Jake Brun is stepping up the Brown Clan plan to attack Cherry directly, on the ground, at his dacha, in a few hours. Capturing Cherry and releasing Gloria may be all that is needed anyway. If Cherry has some local point of interest or minor influence campaign underway, then there may yet be a resolution when he is brought kicking before the First Circle. Gloria, once she is free to speak, could have succeeded in regaining his confidence and may know the entire plan as well."

Jack focused in on Lulu. "Whatever happens there, Gloria's safety is paramount. No matter how belligerent his outward tactics may be, we know that Cherry would never harm her. And we won't either."

Lulu smiled and commented, "Gloria will probably just deliver him to you, depleted. Could be he's already lost interest in the rest of his plan."

The obvious reference to the original oddball plan to have Gloria fuck sense back into Cherry, caused everyone to laugh and release a little tension.

Jack shrugged and smiled. "Hell, we believe that Cherry arranged to take President Pulisin of Russia out of the picture by beating the shit out of him in a dream. More than a few people would actually applaud that bit of recompense."

After another round of chuckles, he continued, "Except that they have hurt a whole bunch of innocent people and must answer for that, we have to say that the actual impact of all this on world affairs has been pretty minor to date. Our job is to keep it that way."

Emma had been listening intently and was carefully monitoring the reactions of the young fighters. Except for the anger that they all felt at the possibility of no actual engagement, each seemed to be quietly calm and each was just as determined. If anything, their bond one to the other was even stronger now. Yes, they are ready for whatever comes.

Emma now spoke, "I think that we should take all of this with the proverbial grain of salt and just add it to our bag of possibilities, which we all know contains many paths that will not be followed. Whether the Red Clan main force awaits us in Shenzhen or whether they have dispersed back to their home territory in hiding, we still have a significant task to accomplish. Focus is needed. Very soon, we will be engaged in some way; we have never known what coming before, so it's still sort of be ready for anything."

Everyone nodded and felt strong agreement that they were on the correct path. The young fighters gripped hands and pushed together to consider any change in tactics that they should consider. Snow suggested none were needed and the others immediately agreed.

Everyone that could went back to sleep for at least some of the remaining hours on the plane

After a dozen hours in the air, the co-pilot came back to advise that they were now on descent into Shenzhen Bao'an International Airport, where the plane would be met by cooperative PRC immigration staff. In less than an hour they would be on the ground on route to their local base of operations in a well-protected mansion, well outside the security perimeter for the G20.

A brilliant late morning sun was streaming in through the plane's windows as shutters were raised. Their base at the Green Clan compound was now half-a-world and two calendar days behind them. To everyone on the plane, the separation felt much farther than that.

The dark-shaded windows of the transport vans cut any outside viewing of the occupants, but allowed the fighters and entourage to gape in bleary wonder at the eclectic buildings flying past in the bright sun. The entire city of more than 10 million people had been built in only thirty years; it was randomly sectioned by glass and gleaming metal as dramatic towers rose on all sides. The drive, at seemingly breakneck speeds, was made more interesting by the skill of the professional drivers piloting their vehicles and, apparently, most others on the road. High speed merges, rapid turns and sudden exits were accommodated without a single horn blast or much use of anyone's brakes. The vehicles glided though streets jammed with every kind of motorized vehicle, including several thousand motorcycles and scooters, and a mass of pedestrians, also, apparently well-versed, well-skilled and well-rehearsed in the subtle rules of street survival. Not a bumper nor hair were harmed.

Will had traveled a lot, but had stayed on the less worn paths, intentionally avoiding the crush of the biggest cities. He now wondered if he had been more places and done more things than he actually remembered. This all seemed sort of familiar. Certainly, in dreams, he could have accompanied sleepers from the heart of any city and probably have enjoyed a stroll through their town with them. But, he suspected that if he had, he would probably have made it at dawn on deserted streets. The middle of one of the world's busiest cities at high noon was his version of a very bad dream.

"We have got to hit the bars when this crap is all over," said Lulu, suddenly cutting into everyone's distracted thoughts. "I've lost count of the party possibilities next door in Hong Kong and this place is like two or three Disneylands all jammed together." She poked Will in the ribs to get his attention back into the van.

He replied without looking over. "I heard you. I suspect that you think that I'm such a green, no pun, country boy that you could lead me far astray among the bright lights and pounding music of a couple dozen shooter bars." Will turned and grinned at her. "Right?"

"Why Duck, that's a great idea." Lulu laughed and made to grab Will, without success as he neatly ducked away.

Considering her empty hands, she continued, "I didn't know that we had a mind reader among us." She now winked at Snow.

Looking back to Will, she continued, "Keep practicing that pitch and I guarantee that I can get you laid by an Eastern lady who will blow your socks off, with some very ancient Yin and Yang techniques. No pun there either, bro..."

Snow was waiting to see if the verbal sparring would continue. When Will just smiled and gave a nodding expression of considering possibilities, she jumped in.

"Enough talk of playing later. Besides, if we're doing Hong Kong, it will be with some Blue Clan characters that I haven't seen in years, but who will absolutely show us the best of their town. Assuming that we're not at war with them, of course."

"Of course." Lulu laughed again. "Always better to not be trying to kill each other when out on the town together."

Snow went back to observing the buildings getting shabbier and the streets getting more narrow. Like Lulu, she had been here before and knew that the big cities could always provide a maze of hidden places for de-stressing, whether completely stoned or stone sober. This was a sober trip for now.

As if on cue, the security man in the front seat turned and said, "We're almost there." He motioned to the trailing van turning away from them.

"Splitting up here and coming in from different directions, not that it would fool the best, but at least we'll know who our followers are when they have to come down some tricky little routes with us."

At only slightly reduced speed, the van now cut through an underground parking garage and came up in a back alley, then accelerated briefly out onto a different street and turned again into the drop-off lane of a big hotel. This move gave them the cover of many similar vehicles and would have forced anyone following to commit down the one-way ramp to the front entrance.

As soon as they were stopped close to the main entrance, a nod to a doorman, some words and a subtle pass of an envelope resulted in a large delivery truck slowly being waved out directly behind them. Now anyone watching from that vantage wouldn't know if someone got out and entered the hotel. After a few seconds pause, the driver pulled the van out and headed back into traffic, now moving across three solid lanes of vehicles with magical ease. Then they were back down side streets and making many hard turns. At the last one, they turned into a closed court though gates open just long enough to accept them. They were home.

"Amazing drive," Will said for all of them. The driver, who might have been in his seventies, just smiled and nodded. Will thought: If we ever need a fast getaway, he's our guy.

Then they were all piling out, happy to stop moving at last.

The other van was already there. As the young fighters and cousins piled out, they were greeted by Jack and Emma under the overhanging roof of the modern mansion, but quickly pulled inside away from any outside eyes. It seemed impossible that there were any, but Jack wasn't taking any chances. He apologized for the hustle as the outside of the immense mansion was well worth an extended viewing; one that would have to wait.

"I doubt that they went to the expense of hiring a PRC satellite to watch us, but in this country, it's best to assume that you are always the subject of someone's curiosity. There is a reward system for passing on those curious observations. Hopefully, our cover of being G20-related bureaucrats would satisfy the average solider on the street. Beyond that, who knows?"

He added, "Oh, and if you do go out for a stroll, speak only Swedish, because that's where we're from." He grinned. "Helps to explain the gorgeous women and handsome men, too."

He preened a little, adjusting his jacket and brushing back a random black hair in his reflection in one of the ornate mirrors lining the entranceway. One thing he didn't look like was a Swede.

Everyone joined in with somewhat hesitant grins, never knowing how seriously to take Jack's explanations, but also sensing that the caution was real. The solid stone house could probably withstand a significant physical attack, but the Red's had shown that they didn't really need violence to take you out. Tom's near-death encounter was still fresh in all their minds. Now they were at ground zero in this fight.

They were barely settled into individual bedrooms, when Philip Grey came around to get them for a briefing. They each had their own rooms, but knew that most of their sleeping would be done in a common room somewhere deep in the building. Philip gave them overly-detailed instructions on how to get there, suggested that they grab some food in the kitchen. He indicated that an important meeting would start in 30 minutes with a conference call to Jake Brun and his team.

Caught a little off-guard, Lulu asked, "Is there bad news about my mother?"

The others turned to Philip as well, half-expecting a bureaucrat's non-answer, but then remembering that he was part of the team and would tell them anything he knew.

"Not that I've heard and it's not likely any update will be part of this call." He hesitated, but then continued, "The 'Baltics' team as they are being called, is just a few hours away from busting into Cherry's dacha, so there will be news for sure, but probably not until their next report."

It was an honest and complete answer.

Lulu said, "Thanks, Philip. I'm really happy that you're our guy in there. We can't control much that far away, but getting the straight goods helps a lot."

Philip blushed a little. "You got it." He fist-bumped Lulu, somewhat awkwardly, then grinned and turned away.

"Practice, practice..." Philip was air-fist-bumping as he walked away.

Lulu whispered, just loud enough for the retreating Philip to hear, "I'll give him about 24 hours of horizontal practice if he pulls my Mom's ass out of this fuck-up unscathed."

Will and Snow rolled their eyes. A full day of Lulu, in the flesh, in the sack, would probably do poor Phil in.

The magnificent dining room of the mansion had been taken over as their command center. The darkly polished over-sized table and high-back chairs gave it an air of formality that was only partly off-set by the growing mess of laptops, cables and briefing books now taking over the table's surface.

The interior of the mansion was opulent in sandalwood and teak trim, with golden curtains now completely drawn to cover every window. The intricate standing floor and table lamps had all be turned on and in some rooms, been supplemented with temporary studio floods. The extra lighting showed the intricate design attention someone had put into the place. From appearance, it was 100 years old, yet was built only ten years before. Like many destination sites in the city, faked age and glamour were all part of the veneer.

Soon enough, the work of the team would move to the dreamscape and the mansion could return to its preferred state of subdued light and dark corners. For sleepers and those worrying about them, the mansion's fortress-like depths, most useful for shutting out unwanted intrusion, would soon be most appreciated.

Squat furniture in leather, wood and rattan filled adjacent rooms, most of it now pushed out to the walls to create working space. A sitting room had been completely emptied and outfitted with a compact medical suite, that could support everything from minor patch-ups to major surgery. Wisely, this room was now behind closed doors as medical staff prepared for crises that they hoped would never come.

Local staff had been provided through a cleared agency that regularly supported the Brown Clan in field activity. None were Draumrs, as this would necessarily have had to involve Blue Clan oversight. From experience, however, many of them were well aware that they were employed by special people. They knew not to be concerned about what the visitors might do while sleeping.

Fully discreet and proven, the employed agents filled in the background of the mansion, acting as cooks, house staff and technicians. The same team had provided transportation. If necessary, they could each also provide highly skilled and deadly armed defense of the operation as well.

The young fighters had found a kitchen well-stocked with each of their favorite foods, but had taken only small portions of the western fare. They were also indulged with glasses of a mystery smoothie that the crusty Chinese cook with a sabre scar on his cheek had insisted they each try. His off-kilter grin and intense eyes had made him fairly persuasive.

"Trust me," he said, "Have been feeding dreamers since before you are born. Seen the wrecked shape you come back in. Please, fuel up."

With that said, he poured them each a thick greenish glassful from the blender, topped with a significant shake of hot sauce. He winked, also crooked, and stirred the glass with a long silver spoon before ceremoniously handing each one over. He bowed slightly to each of the women.

Will, ever observant, upon getting his glass, was pretty sure, from a telltale bulge, that the 'cook' was wearing a shoulder holster under his smock. He wondered if there was also a knife at-hand capable of inflicting the same sort of gash on someone else. He decided that there almost certainly was. The agent didn't bow to Will, but winked as if acknowledging that they shared an awareness of the possible deadly fight to come.

Will tried the drink and found it acceptably bland, until the hot sauce charged through and lit up his mouth. But, it was temporary as the milky texture of the smoothie soon coated his throat. He nodded to his protector and smiled, saying, "OK, that's actually good."

Not certain if he was more assured or more frightened by the presence of capable killers in their midst, Will turned and followed the women into the dining room. At least Scarface could cook. And at some point, much later, Will planned to be damn hungry.
The Actors Come on Stage

Months before the arrival of any significant dignitaries at the Shenzhen G20 meeting, advance security teams had arrived to prepare the Mission Hills Resort to receive the vast apparatus needed to protect the heads of twenty governments clustered together within only a few thousand square meters. Prior G20's, moved on short notice, or located in volatile settings, had been a huge challenge to plan for and to manage.

Experience has shown that the best place for a security perimeter is far away from any potential target. Nearby street protest mobs and uncontrolled public access to adjacent buildings were a nightmare for the heads of the respective country security details. The Shenzhen location, in no-nonsense Peoples Republic of China, brought some comfort to the security teams. Nevertheless, the resort facility needed many additional security measures embedded behind the scenes simply to enable the appearance of casual security during the meeting.

Some countries had sent dozens of specialized security staff ahead of their delegation. Some smaller countries, or those who were less nervous, made do with only a few extra staff. Regardless, for a perpetrator to enter the facility and even come close to approaching a dignitary in the light of day would require some X-Men combination of invisibility and super-speed. It was lucky then, that the Red Clan attack now needed only darkness and sound sleepers to move forward.

Most of the delegations, except the local PRC representatives and the huge U.S. contingent were being housed on the resort. The Americans, numbering over 100, would have taken up too many rooms; besides, they were never comfortable in shared spaced. Deep in the files of the Secret Service team assigned to protect the delegation, diagrams showing blast radius risks and mass force attack concerns all supported a fully-independent site with multiple perimeters and multiple escape routes.

The resort was still packed to the edges with other large delegations, each appropriately positioned to give them some separation space from old enemies and current antagonists, of which there were many. For a 48-hour main event, final preparations took most of 48 days and many fine adjustments to ensure everyone, if not 100% happy, would at least be satisfied enough not to complain too loudly.

Most delegations consisted of various set-up teams and lesser officials who had done all the leg-work to get their leaders into the correct chair, with the correct words to say when the lights came up. Proximity, in this case, worked better, as side meetings and briefings could happen quickly with little fuss.

These conferring aides needed none of the glare and noise of the main conference to accomplish things. Nor would their work ever be publicized under their names or functions. Effective diplomacy was highly dependent on quiet spaces to float possibilities. It also relied on back offices crammed with communications staff who could turn out draft after draft of agreements plodding ponderously down the crooked road to consensus.

The leaders themselves were mostly following crooked paths towards the conference. The conference itself, like the neighborhood dog park, afforded many opportunities to piss on posts, but with little consequence. The route to the conference plotted through executive visits in regional allied countries offered a much more effective means of marking territory. It also let the G-everyone-else countries, not important enough for G20 status, feel that they were somehow represented through their proxy big brother ally, who 'most certainly' would carry their concerns to the conference.

As the conference kick-off date grew nearer, the world leaders were generally on the move, first into the region and then into PRC itself. All were greeted with appropriate formality and pomp. The same under-secretary of the Party greeted each plane as it landed and deplaned presidents, princes, chancellors and plain old prime ministers. Slightly off-key national anthems were played by the spruced-up military band. Most leaders were happy to be near the end of a multi-stop tour that had been partly about diplomacy and partly about time-zone conditioning.

As the western leaders were most displaced from home, they had also used the days leading up to the conference to get on Hong Kong time, as much as they could. The experienced ones had well-honed routines for doing this. New leaders, anxious to impress, might forget how challenging an intensive meeting can be. Handlers, mostly longer in tooth, were close at-hand to ensure that they presented a rested and energetic image for the cameras and for the voters back home. Of course, a few didn't give a crap about voters, secure in their dictatorship or their royal robes.

Ilya Kutnetzov had taken a shorter route to the conference. The Russian prime minister was a last-minute stand-in for Boris Pulisin, who officially, was now recovering from an unfortunate sporting accident. Kutnetzov himself had some trouble with the purported explanation when he met with the president. Although he was twenty-years on from his last military assignment, he knew the signs of an outmatched brawl when he saw them. Black, blue and heavily bandaged Boris had picked a losing fight with someone or, more likely, with a bunch of someones, given his boss's reputation for ferocity in a punch-up. Ilya had heard whispers that the injuries happened in a closed room behind security in the middle of the night. But, he assumed that this was just another mythical creation of the nattering under-staff, who mostly knew nothing of the boss's real activities.

Someday, he would hear the real story, when he needed to. If he never needed to, he wouldn't wonder about it. He had survived and prospered in the new Russian system by being pragmatic in all things. He avoided dangerous skeletons in his closet, because he made sure that others did his dirty work. He kept his ears open and his mouth shut. His role was clear: be there when the boss needed him. Be open to new ideas. New ideas came from the boss. These ideas quickly became his ideas. And, if there was some question about the agreement of others, he would ensure that the question was answered only as absolute agreement by them as well. He felt himself the pest exterminator for all the rodents and crawling things that might get in the way of the boss's vision for the Republic. Governing for the people was easiest when the people were only rarely involved.

Ilya's wife never traveled with him anymore. She had tagged along while he was on his journey up the political ranks, as a small village mother to his now grown children and as a dutiful, if very plain, spouse somewhere in his shadow. As he climbed first the communist party ranks and then the post-communist free party leadership, a supportive wife was needed somewhere in the picture, at least while the cameras were snapping. As a reward for duty-served, Panna Irena Kutnetzov had enjoyed a privileged and well-stocked life beside the fine garden of influence that husband Ilya had cultivated so carefully.

"Who can complain?" she told her sister, when Ilya's pretty much constant absence was noted. "He has his needs, but he makes sure that mine are met first. I wish him only not to be unlucky or stupid." So far, Ilya had been neither.

Leadership came with perks, including some attractive and dutiful aides, who were much better traveling companions than his wife anyway. He had carefully cultivated a reputation as a womanizer, by occasionally letting a dalliance with a buxom liaison become common knowledge. He was said to have little taste in women beyond tits and ass. The owners of the tits and ass were dutifully paid well to complete the story for anyone who inquired.

"He's all hands, that Ilya," complained a blond in Murmansk.

"What a stud he is in the sack," whispered a dusky beauty in a Caspian resort.

"His poor wife, with all the women he chases," said one of his compatriots, rolling his eyes as Ilya cozied up, once again, to the youngest and best-looking women at whatever boozy reception they were attending.

His exploits were exactly as they described them, but not with any of the women. Ilya's real tastes had always been towards fine young men; young men who could keep a close secret and who would benefit greatly by stepping through the doors that Ilya opened for them. They came and they went. He never demanded loyalty, just absolute silence. And, of course, the appearance of strict heterosexual preference on the part of both parties. These young men knew the score as well. Russia had some catching up to do on LGBT acceptance. Being a philandering womanizer was just fine though.

Kutnetzov's route to Shenzhen had only one stop on the way. As was expected, he had stayed two days in Beijing, read politically and socially correct speeches at a gathering of some sort, at a dinner of convenience and at an official opening of some joint-venture industrial complex that, prior to the trip, he had never heard of. He had been impressed by the perfectly full houses at the events, the seemingly choreographed applause at exactly the places where his script said to 'stop for applause' and the enthusiastic cheers of the workers and students at the industrial site. That none of them understood any Russian hadn't seemed to matter.

But, it had been tiring. Although he couldn't admit it, the good life had been tough on his aging body. The thirty extra pounds he carried seemed like sandbags some days.

At the moment, he was getting a much-needed massage from his current aide-d'camp: Petr, who had marvelous large hands and a marvelous thick cock. The cock was currently stowed.

Between grunts of pleasure, Ilya was trying to figure a way to do as little business as possible on the final stop of his journey.

He commented, "I have to say Petr, the Chinese communists have a better system of mass enthusiasm than we ever had. Sure, in the old days, we could drag out a crowd of flag-wavers and chanters, but you never fucking-knew that there wasn't a potato or rock coming out of the back row to express their real feelings. You had to keep your eyes open, be ready to duck and always have a solider or two near at hand."

He paused and grunted as the massage hit a particularly tight spot.

"The Chinese, on the other hand, seem to have found a way to make the dummies actually feel good about one more state-imposed order to appear or to be forced marched around yet another useless alter to the leadership." He sighed. "It's no wonder that they are kicking our ass in just about every conceivable way. They can tell these people to do anything and they do it at double time."

He was on a roll. "Our fucking lay-about citizens just drink more and curse us as not providing enough pay for doing nothing."

Petr was listening to a now-familiar refrain. Ilya was going nowhere further and had no ability to change anything. That he complained about things was a sign that he was slipping into bad habits. It was nearly time for Petr to move on, as he could see that there were stronger horses emerging to hook his wagon to. But, for the time-being, there was this little bit of work to get done here and now.

Petr leaned in and whispered, "We should get organized for the afternoon meetings, soon, my Papa."

It was an endearment that Ilya particularly liked.

"We have Turkey, Indonesia and Canada lined up for chats and shows. Nothing needs to be accomplished, but each had expected to spend time on some real business with president Pulisin, if he had been here. We should make a small show of pretending to listen anyway."

Unfortunately, Petr hadn't stopped moving his hands as he was talking and now Ilya was pretty sure that he didn't want to get up, get briefed and go through the motions with a bunch of third-rank countries, that he was sure were just looking for some press coverage.

Ilya considered for a few seconds, then said, "Piss on them. Tell the secretaries to call off the meetings, as I am 'slightly under the weather'. Many apologies and all that bullshit. Then, make your way back into this bed, while we have an hour to talk about your future."

Ilya already knew that Petr was getting ready to move on. It could be with his blessing, if they could spend some quality time working on his final contribution together.

Petr smiled, nodded and headed off to connect with the communication staff person. He didn't have to hide his hard-on, as he didn't have one. That would be his next task.
Stage Left

The Brown Clan team at the Red Clan dacha on the coast of the Black Sea had been in surveillance mode for several days and was anxious to get going. Team members had positioned themselves in nearby homes, with the ready agreement of local owners, who, having suddenly become inclined to take an extended trip in Europe, were more than pleased to let a trusted local firm provide property maintenance services for them in their absence. That both ideas originated in dreams was long forgotten, as the residents happily packed up and left on their simultaneous excursions.

A small contingent of non-descript and rusty trucks belonging to the maintenance crews had shown up to dispatch lawn mowers or tree trimmers, all with little fuss and no obvious appearance of any other purpose. The absent owners were actually getting a lot of services for a very economical fee.

Unseen from the roadway or any other property, the various trucks had each dispatched one or two covert agents and their equipment, who, after dark, had moved into well-planned forward positions at properties on three sides of Cherry's estate. The trucks themselves stayed nearby, ready for a rapid evacuation to a helicopter extraction point when needed.

The individual team members included Brown Clan cousins and hired specialists, who were chosen for their local knowledge and perhaps, if needed, local influence with authorities who might accidently become involved. The plan was to infiltrate and neutralize Cherry's estate defenses with no obvious outside commotion. For all visible intents, it was life as normal, if a little vacated, in the seaside micto.

Directed by Jake Brun, from a temporary control center set up in a nearby dacha, the team members had memorized layouts, practiced and timed required movement and determined how defense positions would be eliminated. Lethal assault weapons, if needed, would be limited to silenced small arms and close quarters knives or garrotes. The hope was that each security person might be surprised and neutralized quickly with non-lethal means, then secured and silenced, while the team moved inward. The operatives all agreed with the plan, but understood that the odds were high that at least one and probably more of the guards would not be all that surprised and might well need to be dispatched with extremely lethal force.

With pressure for intervention building in Shenzhen, the 'Baltics' assault team now found their timetable had been set for them, whether they were ready or not. Jake Brun had moved preparations forward and provided a final briefing to each team member on the mission goal: neutralize and secure Cherry and on the mission's prohibition: absolutely no harm must come to Gloria Black.

At 6:00 a.m. local time on the day that they must act, Jake joined a conference call with the Shenzhen-based young fighter's team. Armand Grau and his senior Grey Clan advisors were connected in from Europe, most likely London.

After somewhat subdued greetings and various light, but clearly nervous comments on the local weather and accommodations, Jake opened the actual briefing. "We are just past dawn here and ready to initiate the plan this morning. Several days of surveillance indicate that activity at the dacha doesn't pick up for a couple hours, when various house staff repeat more or less the same activity each day; they can be seen opening the place and moving about with refuse or other materials. Today has an expected supplies delivery quite early—that will be us."

He continued, "If we are going in today, it should be within the hour. Not to catch everyone in bed, but to take advantage of overnight security coming off-shift and perhaps relaxing with daylight. We expect to drive right up to the door in one of our trucks, which was 'borrowed' from Cherry's grocer. It should have no problem getting through the front gate; that's all the advantage we'll need to let us take out the inside-the-house defenses, whatever they may be."

Jack wanted to be sure of the timing. He leaned forward and spoke to the teleconference unit on the table in the Shenzhen mansion. "So, you'll go within the hour and be wrapped up in only a few minutes?"

Jake's reply sounded distant through the telephone connection, but was clear and direct. "Unless the teams run into something we don't anticipate, we should be inside and in control of the house in less than 90 minutes from now."

Jack was sensitive to Lulu's presence and to everyone's concern about Gloria's well-being. "Your teams understands that there can be no harm to Gloria? If it comes to a stand-off with her involved, you'll back down and just hold ground."

"Understood." Jake knew that he was being asked if he could reign-in the anger he still felt from the attack on his son, when confronting Cherry.

"Our plan is not to hurt anyone. If it comes to a stand-off, we will turn negotiations back to London, with faith that Cherry doesn't want to hurt Gloria either, no matter how nefarious the rest of his plan is."

He continued, "Interestingly, we had seen no sign of Gloria or Cherry outside the dacha until a brief appearance yesterday on the front porch, where they walked out, looked around and made a few comments to each other about the weather and the trees starting to come into color. Then, they seemed satisfied with something and went back inside. We thought for a moment that they might go for a drive, which would have made our job a lot easier, but they just casually went back inside."

He paused, then continued, "What was pretty obvious was that they are both in good health and not hiding from anyone. Gloria didn't give any indication of being held against her will, but of course, she didn't know that anyone was watching." He paused again, "Guess we'll find out shortly."

The team in Shenzhen took the opportunity to smile and nod to Lulu, as if agreeing that this new information was good news anyway.

Having heard enough from Jake, Armand now broke in to confirm the priority of the First Circle in the actions. He sounded as if he was repeating a well-rehearsed, or at least well-thought-out script.

"We are all working hard to prevent a global disaster, so will obviously have to gauge the heavy-handedness of our methods against the potential for much more serious consequences if we don't take swift and conclusive action. We have already seen the murders of innocents and of Draumr family members on both sides. Unfortunately, these violations of our 'raison d'etre' raised the stakes for all us and now warrant whatever means needed to shut this farce down."

There was silence on the call as everyone waited for Armand to clarify his expectations.

"As the team in Shenzhen now readies, we believe that there is the potential for a murderous attack on a senior global leader by Red Clan family members or their agents. We don't understand the convoluted thinking behind the assassination, but we are well aware that some inter-nation relationships are tenuous at the best of times, so could certainly be tipped into war with just such a push. This outcome is even more problematic if the apparent push is seen as a terrorist threat on the soil of a well-armed super power. So, it must be prevented."

He continued, "Having said this, we must also be concerned for the safety and well-being of all of our family members, no matter the Clan or the rank. As Jake has confirmed, Elder Black's safety is paramount. Our Asian intervention team's success and safety is also paramount. Neither goal can be compromised. Beyond that, we will show concern and act with prudence, but there may need to be casualties...; so be it. As of this moment you have your directions and the authorization of the First Circle to take whatever action is necessary to prevent a disaster."

There was another silence as the Shenzhen team members now looked to each other for acceptance and recognition that this was it. Within only hours, they were likely to be full engaged against Xana and her cohorts; this time it wouldn't be for practice or for show.

Armand sensed that the teams needed to move their focus to their tasks. "Please tell me exactly what to expect out of this day, which by the way also looks to be sunny and very pleasant here later, thank you for wondering."

Jake had expressed relief that continuous rain on the Black Sea coast was finally ending with a sunny day, so this was a small poke to him to get on with it.

"Thank-you, Armand. We are all clear on what we need to do." Jake had already given out as much information as he intended to. "What do we expect in Shenzhen?"

It was Philip's turn to step-up and speak for the team; he did so with much more confidence than he had shown earlier, now feeling that he had some authority to speak for the young fighters' team. Jack nodded to him and with a hand wave, indicated that he should go ahead.

"Philip Grey here. It will be early in the evening local time when you complete your operations there, on the timetable that you've indicated. Certainly, we will know and I assume any Red Clan members will know, the outcome of your initiative. There is a small possibility that Mikilo Chernoyiv will call the entire operation off, once under your control, but this development is not expected. I'm certain that the players here have marching orders that cannot be interdicted; meaning we will have to confront them with our own appeal, at the very least. Much more likely, is an unavoidable intervention to prevent their actions from having the effect that they desire."

Jake wasn't a patient as the rest. "So, for all the cautions and possibilities, what do we really expect and what can we do about it?"

Philip was a little taken aback, but Lulu, across the table from him, mouthed a silent "keep going," with the small fist bump motion that was now their shared secret.

Philip smiled and started again, in a more definite tone, "We will be able to see any Draumr controlled dreamscape activity as it unfolds in a target dreamer. With the aid of the Green Clan artefact, we will be able to join the dreamscape uninvited, so to speak. As we expect Red Clan activity to be focused on a sleeping politician later in the night, we should have ample time to position ourselves and to intervene successfully."

He smiled, "And, that should be the end of the scheme, with no further casualties, except, possibly, anyone not willing to listen to reason."

Snow couldn't resist the slight boast. "I'm hoping that they don't listen to reason right away, so that I can thrash the bitch's ass."

Snow and Lulu did a slow-motion high-five, while Will tried to look completely enthused, even as it was obvious that he didn't share the women's desire for a fight. The rest of the room was left in uncommitted silence.

Emma spoke first. "I won't say 'children', even though you are still our children, because you are, in fact, the most capable and fiercest adults in this room and possibly on the planet, but...but, this is a fight that we must try to avoid, if at all possible. The presence of the artefacts makes any direct confrontation on the dreamscape as dangerous, or possibly more dangerous, than the situation of the brave Baltics team members possibly walking straight into the guns of a physical enemy. We know that any injuries or deaths on the dreamscape will be real and permanent. Extreme caution is called for, no matter how tempting a fight may be. Control of the dreamscape by multiple uncooperative, artefact-enhanced, Draumrs is nebulous at best and the threats that you face may be both sudden and under the control of a very capable Draumr foe. Bottom line: we just don't know how this will play out."

Emma paused and looked from one young fighter to the other, ending with a long gaze into Sacha's eyes. It was the same worrisome look that Water Green had given Will on his departure from Canada.

Emma continued, "I apologize for the lecture, but this needs to be said clearly. She now looked around the room, ending this time with Philip, whose gaze she held while finishing.

"We must know in advance what we are facing; we must maintain our strength together and we must use all of our capabilities to achieve our intervention without injury."

Philip could feel the command moving through his head and into his heart like slowly expanding ball of molten metal. The heat of the command seared his will and his commitment, to his own death if need be, that the dreamscape team would never feel that they were detached from any member of the support team or feel in any way lacking in knowledge of what was coming next. He nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact. Emma knew that she had his pledge.

She eased the tension in the room with a final comment. "Bring the misdirected Red Clan children back to us and we will set up a battleground for you and Xana in the Halls, with no artefacts present. You can beat each other senseless, until it is all out of your system, if that's what is needed to clear the air. No fouls and no harm will accrue. This is the way it must be."

The team members room exhaled together, then laughed as one. Quips started almost immediately.

"I'd buy a ticket to that."

"Make it a team fight and I'm in."

"I say swords and shields, for some real action."

Jack shushed the commentary, well aware that Armand and Jake were still listening in. "Let's leave all that for later. Right now, we're on a timetable and need to get moving."

He wanted to end the call. "Jake, you'll update us the minute that you have something to report?"

"Absolutely. We'll be back to you in no time now."

Armand then said, "I encourage you to focus your enthusiasm on the fights at hand. Good luck to all of you."

The call was over.
Pushing Rope

Jake Brun gave the concealed and poised assault teams a countdown of two minutes. At 30 seconds to go, the seconded grocery truck crossed the outer gate threshold with no delay and proceeded up the driveway at what they guessed was the regular speed for a local delivery guy: about ten miles an hour faster than the rickety vehicle could safely manage on the twisting pavement. Loud music blared from the open windows of the skidding and careening truck. When the vehicle finally shuddered to a rattily stop alongside the kitchen entrance to the dacha, no-one had paid it any particular attention. Surely, it was being observed but, apparently, they had guessed correctly that the normal 19-year-old driver was a reckless handler of his employer's truck. A cautious approach would certainly have raised an alarm.

A young Brown Clan agent, suitably dressed in local attire stepped out the driver's side door away from the house and went around back to open the rear doors. As he did, he was handed out a heavy door ram covered in butcher's paper. He swung it to his shoulder and headed to the entry door. The wrapped object could have been a quarter of a veal calf, if no one was paying too close attention. When he reached the door, he tried the handle and found it both unlocked and unguarded. He swung it open, placing the ram on the ground as a blocker to prevent anyone closing the door. Only then did he whistle the first notes of Beethoven's 5th. This was the go-signal for all teams.

The remaining three-members of truck team poured out of the back of the van and rapidly gained access to the hallway off the kitchen. They were armed and ready, but ran into no resistance. A second three-man team came across the lawn from a neighboring property, using shrubs and hedges to hide their approach to the rear patio entrance doors.

After both teams indicated that they were in place with no resistance, Jake and his two team members entered the property up the main drive at full speed in an obvious military assault vehicle. The intent was to draw fire from any hidden guards as a distraction for the two penetration teams. As the vehicle closed on the front entrance, there was no gunfire and no sign of any resistance. Jake's driver came to a sliding stop on the front turnaround circle. The big wooden entry doors hadn't opened. Once the dust settled, there was complete silence.

Jake queried the other teams, "What have you got? Any encounters?"

The kitchen entry team reported, "There's activity in the kitchen, but they have a radio turned up. I don't think that they know we're here."

"That would be pretty fucking unusual, seeing as this house has cameras on all sides and most certainly has entry alarms on all doors." Jake was nervous about a trap. It was a classic military move to feign weakness to draw the opponent into a shooting gallery.

He queried the other team. "How about the back?"

"Same report, no sign of anyone, friend or foe." A pause filled the radio channel with weak static. Then, a talk button was pushed again, "Are we go to enter?"

Jake knew the layout of the house. There were plenty of rooms that could be filled with gunmen, which couldn't be seen or scanned from the outside.

"Hold your positions." He considered what Cherry would least expect.

Considering, he said, "I think that we'll just knock on the front door and see what happens. We need the bad guys to play a couple cards."

He shrugged to his companions and they quickly got out of the truck. The two agents spread wide and took cover positions behind pillars. Jake then got out and just walked straight to the big wooden front door and gave it three sharp raps with his gloved fist. After twenty seconds and no response, he repeated the raps. There was still nothing.

He commanded the other teams over the radio, "Hold your positions, but be ready to move. We're going in the front door."

Jake wondered if he was facing a locked door that might need to be blown open, but gave the handle a try anyway. To no surprise, given the kitchen door situation, it moved freely. The door was unlocked.

Swinging the big door inward, Jake used the door-jam for as much of a shield as possible, while quickly ducking his head into the opening and scanning in the empty hallway. There was no-one there. The hallway itself didn't pose too much threat, unless booby-trapped, but the massive staircase beyond certainly did. He motioned for his team to move forward, using hand signs to indicate that the threat was now likely to be through the open double doorway to the main foyer.

He keyed the headset mic and whispered, "OK, we're holding here. Other teams move in slowly until you have secured adjacent rooms. Interrupt and silence the kitchen staff, politely, if possible."

The kitchen entry team simply stood up and walked into the kitchen as if they belonged there. The cook and two red-haired assistants stopped working and displayed momentary looks of surprise, which broke into broad smiles.

The cook dusted her hands on her apron and pointed to a sideboard. "Kava?" There was coffee, bread and meats laid out, apparently for expected guests.

"Chief, I don't think that we surprised anyone." The team leader held a finger up for everyone in the kitchen, meaning "hang-on a second," while he reported the reception.

Just then the patio team leader broke in. "J...there's lemonade and sweets laid out here. And a card that says: 'Welcome Visitors. Please ring for more service.' It's in English. I think that it's intended for us."

Jake was pissed at the ruse. "Don't eat any food and don't for a second take your eyes off anyone or anything. It still might be a trap."

He waved his men forward. "Piss on this playing around, let's open this place up."

They quickly entered the foyer, scanned for threats, ducked around the staircase and lined up on either side of big solid doors leading to the dining hall. If there really was no-one of interest here, they needed to clear the place and come up with Plan B. There was no time to waste.

Jake radioed the others, "Keep holding. We're going through the main part of the house from the front."

One team member reached across and grabbed the big dining room door handle with one hand. The other team member did the same on the other door. Jake just stood in full-view six feet from the doors. He was starting to get the idea.

Jake indicated 'on three' with his other hand and counted down by closing fingers into a fist. On three, the agents pushed the doors inward and came up with their weapons facing the long run of the big dining table. They stopped dead in their tracks.

"Dobruy den, dobruy den (good day)."

It was Cherry himself rising from his seat at the far end of a laid-out breakfast table. To his right, Gloria Black was radiant in morning dress and bright jewelry. She also rose and toasted the visitors with a glass of something bright yellow and fizzy.

Gloria smiled and said in a warm and welcoming voice. "Jake, we thought that you would never get here, and then you took so long to just come in. I hope that the sausages and buns are still warm. We have planned a great meal for you and the men. Er, I assume that they are all men, under those toques and vests and stuff."

Jake walked straight in and stared at both of his First Circle peers.

In fact, the table was laid out with exactly as many place settings as he and his two 'men' would fill. It only took a few seconds to fully realize that this had been no surprise at all. They were expected. Cherry had known precisely when they were coming and how many they were. If he had decided to resist it would have been a bloodbath.

Now Jake had a decision to make. He could still attempt to take Cherry by force, but that would mean trying to haul him and Gloria out bodily, when there was certainly some security in the house that would most likely step in immediately to prevent that. Gloria could not easily be separated from Cherry, meaning that their directive on her safety would be a complication. He couldn't see a way out, other than maybe just playing along and seeing where this would go.

He locked eyes with Gloria. She winked and spoke up. "It's not what you planned Jake, but I can assure you it is the outcome that you want. Now, all of you get rid of the gear and sit down. Tell your other men to enjoy themselves where they are."

She paused, then added, "We guarantee everyone's safety." She leaned over and kissed Cherry on the ear, causing him to laugh and grab her for a big smooch.

Cherry now met Jake's still cautious stare. "Ve have much to tell you, our fellow dream master. And, much that ve need your advice on. Ve have the world's fate in our hands once more and ve all must now pull together. Please sit and ve vill chew on this problem together, vhile we chew on some good food. Procho (please)."

Cherry stepped around the corner of the table and pulled out the chair to his left, motioning for Jake to sit there.

Jake hesitated, still very unsure of the scenario before him. The possibility of a trap still seemed high, although he could discern no insincerity in Gloria. Cherry, he just plain didn't trust. He clicked his mic and gave the code word for each team to proceed to clear the building. Moments later, with no apparent encounters, an 'all-clear' code came back from each team leader.

With his men reporting no security or defenses anywhere after a complete search of the dacha, Jake finally approached the table, but stood away from the offered chair.

He spoke directly to Cherry, "I should just kill you. You tried to murder my son. The First Circle wants you back to answer for this, but I believe in simple solutions. I can tell you that Gloria's presence is the only reason that you're not trussed up and in the back of our meat truck, on your way to be tried, or be disposed of in a deep hole somewhere on route. Gloria asked me to consider something you have to say. Now would be the time to say it."

Jake hadn't drawn his sidearm, but the open flap on the cross-chest holster said enough about the extreme measures that were still a possibility. His two men had eased out of the room and stationed themselves outside the doors.

Cherry displaced a moments consternation at the refusal to join in the meal, but then shrugged. "Yes, I have some things to tell you. But, perhaps we should now close the doors first, my friend. You are in no danger." Cherry had lost his Slavic accent, which from experience, Jake knew came and went depending how Cherry was playing his Eastern European roots card. The pretense was no longer needed.

Jake nodded and said "OK, we'll be fine here," loud enough for his team to hear directly and for those on the radio to know that the tension was easing just a bit. He finally took the offered chair.

Gloria got up to push the doors closed. She made a point of telling the agents outside the door that they should take a break and head to the kitchen for something to eat. Both smiled at her, but neither moved an inch. After the doors were closed, one agent moved to the front entrance so that they could ensure a rapid exit if needed.

After Gloria returned to her chair, Cherry nodded to her and then started to speak slowly with his eyes downcast.

"I am truly sorry for the unfortunate need to temporarily demobilize and expel Tom Brown from Hong Kong. I can now tell you that my daughter, Oksana, made these arrangements as she saw fit. From all reports, they were completed by professionals exactly as directed, with no lasting effect. We could not, at that time, disclose our plans and we could not risk Tom disrupting larger more complex arrangements, which, as he is very capable, he surely would have done."

Cherry held up a finger to indicate that he wasn't done. He did need to take a couple breaths. Jake perceived either a real or feigned physical weakness, but simply added this to his observations with no consideration.

Cherry continued, now looking up and tipping a mischievous eyebrow and grin towards Gloria and then to Jake

"You do know that they are very much in love, our children?" He nodded his head as if getting agreement back. Jake didn't show any reaction.

"Oksana had every reason to protect Tom and, I'm sure, she will apologize and attempt to make it all up to him when this difficult period is over."

Jake wanted to move the conversation along. He said, "This is a nice story. Tom has, in fact, recovered from the attack, which as I understand it from medical staff, came close to killing him." He looked from Cherry to Gloria and back. "Hardly a simple 'arrangement' of convenience."

He continued, "Others will decide if these actions are criminal. Tom will certainly have some say in your daughter's fate. Whether he feels she might be forgiven for attacking him may not matter very much. She is complicit and personally responsible for at least two deaths of innocents that we know of."

He paused to ensure that Gloria was listening carefully as well.

"The best thing that you could do is to pull her out of whatever convoluted scheme you have underway. Shut it down now and we may still be able to find space for some measure of forgiveness all around."

Neither Cherry nor Gloria responded, so Jake continued.

"If you leave her and whichever of your nephews you've recruited, out there with no orders to stand down, they may well be killed on the dreamscape."

He paused again, but receiving no response, took a different tack.

"Gloria, your daughter may well kill his daughter today. Or she may herself be killed. But, our team will succeed regardless. One way or another, unless we find a way to pull this back from the brink, both of your children are at risk of death. It would be much easier if the order to end it came from you two."

There was silence, as all three Elder Draumrs considered where the conversation should go.

Jake was confused at the lack of any kind of response. He was still very nervous. What are they waiting for?

Just then, Jake's radio crackled in his headset. "Chief, there's a big black Benz wagon coming up the drive...fast. Should we stop it?"

Jake turned to Cherry, "Apparently, we have company arriving. Your men returning? Are we going to fight this out here still?"

Cherry smiled and slowly shook his head. "No, no violence please. This is just an emissary. He should be escorted directly to us, as the conversation cannot proceed without him."

Puzzled, Jake considered the request. Again, Gloria nodded and indicated agreement.

Jake keyed his headset, "Watch it closely. If an unarmed person emerges, escort him or her in. Any sign of arms or hostility, light it up."

The radio crackled again confirming agreement.

"So, who is this emissary?" Jake still expected some elaborate Red Clan ruse to put the intervention off-track. He was also aware that far away, a team in Shenzhen was waiting for his confirmation that the Red Clan headquarters had been shut down.

"We have ten minutes, then it will be too late." Jake showed no emotion or any indication of leniency. "That's exactly how long you have to call Xana off, or I let the Shenzhen team go after her, without mercy."

Only one of the minutes had passed when the dining hall door opened and the emissary entered the room. Jake was dumbfounded, but neither Gloria nor Cherry was surprised, when Armand Grau walked briskly through the door.

Armand nodded to Jake, but neither made eye contact nor gave any response to his obvious surprise. He proceeded around the table on Gloria's side, stopping to give her a long embrace. He moved on to Cherry, who did not stand. Armand simply patted him on the shoulder, but to Jake it was an obvious greeting of some respect. When he got to Jake, he caught him as he stood and said quietly, "Please sit. We have some work to do...all of us."

Jake wasn't ready to go on without some explanation. "I thought that you said you were in sunny London about an hour ago?"

Armand allowed a small laugh. "My team was, I wasn't. I believe that I said that the day here would be sunny. I never said that I was in London. And as the rain has ended, that is what it will be...here."

Jake rolled his eyes and shook his head. He wasn't used to being the butt of anybody else's joke.

Armand then sat at the table beside Jake. He pulled a dark black leather portfolio out of a small briefcase and opened it. Jake could see that it contained several 8" x 10" head shots of people. He didn't recognize the top photo, other than to see that it was of a well-dressed Asian man, who was at the front of an equally well-dressed crowd. It was obviously taken by telephoto lenses from some distance, as the entire scene was in crisp focus.

Armand continued to speak softly. "You should dismiss your men back to your base of operations. I can confirm that there is no threat here and will not be at any time in the future. We may have some use for their skills away from here yet this evening, so please have them get some rest. They must maintain absolute silence until you contact them again."

It was a confusing direction, obviously expected to be received without further explanation. Jake knew that the prior agenda had changed. He had no reason to argue, so stood and left the room briefly to give the commands. When he returned, everyone was as he had left them: silent and waiting for Armand to explain what was going on.

Once Jake was seated, Armand took the three photos from his portfolio and spread them on the table in front of Jake. Jake did recognize the last picture as Lapis Lazuli, the long-deceased Elder of the Blue Clan and a former Elder of the First Circle. The others were unknown.

Armand began, "Jake, first my apologies for the set-up today and for not being able to bring you in to this development sooner. There is an important reason for this, which I will discuss in a minute. What I can say, is that as of this moment, we four represent a quorum of the First Circle and its only current incarnation. We will act together from this point forward as the Circle, with all necessary authority to take whatever action is needed."

He paused, considering his words. It also gave time for a logical question to form in Jake's mind. What of the Green Clan and White Clan Elder's? Why aren't they part of this?

Armand anticipated the question. "The Circle has not contracted. As you know, Emma White is engaged with the team in Shenzhen. Water Green has advised that he will be stepping down, passing the Green Clan chair to Jack Green. Water chose not to travel out from North America and it isn't appropriate to connect via outside communication. Jack is also supporting the team in China, so that transition will happen later."

He continued, "None, but we four, are fully aware of what we will discuss in a moment and it must stay that way. I cannot explain further for the time being, other than to say that any dreamscape activity can be and will be observed, regardless of our wishes otherwise. For now, only face-to-face meetings can proceed. That limitation puts us together here and now."

Jake was now completely confused, but was prepared to pass control of the situation fully to Armand. Why and how Cherry had regained status as a decider and a fully engaged member of the Circle was still a mystery. At least he had wiped the grin off his face. Apparently, wherever they were going with this, it was now all business.

Armand waved his hand over the three pictures. "Here we have, as it now turns out, pictures of our true enemy and two possible allies; all are family members of the Blue Clan. There is good reason that the dreamscape fight is moving to Asia, but it's not what you think. It's not what any of us thought, up to a very few hours ago."

Armand, glanced at a Post-It note stuck to the inside of his portfolio and apparently remembered something else.

"Oh, and, before I forget, I have given the fighter team in Shenzhen the go-ahead to engage Oksana and anyone else they find, with whatever force necessary. My communication, Jake, indicated that your mission here has failed. You are out of contact, possibly down in the fight. Mikilo has escaped to parts unknown, with Gloria in tow, in all probability against her wishes. Suffice to say, the ground team in the Asia is pissed. Guess you could say that they are seeing red, as they enter the fight."

He shrugged. "Let's hope that they are all as precise and effective as we need then to be. The future now depends on it."

"Now, let me get back to these pictures...'
Marching Orders

Jake Brun had never felt this strange and confused in his long life. Over the course of a few minutes, he had to stop being angry, cool down the hot blood rushing in his head, decide not to shoot anybody and put-up with being told what to do by Mikilo Chernoyiv, who was the one he might well have shot. All changes to be accepted simply because his boss is telling him that this is OK.

The explanation had come out in pieces, with most contributions by Gloria Black and Armand Grau. Mikilo wisely stayed silent up until the end. Only when Jake turned to him, did he speak up to confirm what the others were saying.

Jake asked, "So Mikilo, this is what your bad behavior has been about all along?"

Cherry chuckled ever so slightly, then replied, "Well, no, no, my friend; we cannot say the challenge was clear from the beginning. From the beginning, we were just tending our garden around here. Cleaning up corrupt and lazy politicos, that sort of thing. It wasn't until we started cleaning out the little snakes under the little rocks that we could see the tails of the big snakes under the big rocks. Our 'partnership' in the east has raised the stakes to today's life and death threat. Our actions will prevent tomorrow's war, or maybe, cause it, if we don't act precisely today."

Gloria and Armand had told more or less the same story.

Now, he was being told to get to a cot and to sleep quickly in order to help complete a sinister scheme that he had spent the last three weeks trying to disrupt.

Jake wasn't sure that he wasn't already dreaming. Or, maybe he had dreamed the whole convoluted scheme since the beginning and would wake up to just one more boring day at the office.

The dreamscape setting was the Black Sea dacha, where Cherry had already met with Boris Pulisin several times. The process of creating a complex web of beliefs, fears, false knowledge and compelled behaviors had taken some time. During the days that had passed, Boris had recovered most of his faculties from the bear attack, but the fear of that scenario being repeated was useful to Cherry, who referred to it often.

Cherry had also focused on Boris's reaction in order to bring the right mix of influential characters to the table with him. Now, near the end, those characters included Boris's mother, his former KGB boss and a past Soviet president. All, of course, were dead, so their presence played on Boris's fear of dying himself. None ever had a speaking part, but their simple ghostly presence unnerved the living Boris enough to leave him open to accepting Cherry's misinformation and now, his final demand for action.

In this dream, the three Elder Draumrs played the assigned parts, conveniently disguised from any outside observer by Cherry using a Red Clan artefact.

Silent, but watching, and nodding when cued by Cherry. The conversation in Russian was mostly understood by Armand and Jake. Gloria didn't care to know what they were discussing, but enjoyed seeing the vibrant dreamscape Cherry in action. She had to work hard to maintain the death-mask visage of Boris's mother without giggling at Cherry.

"So, comrade president, we are near the time for you to rise up from your sick bed and to lead your country against the terrorists lurking at your borders." Cherry had already built misconceptions of hordes of invaders poised on all sides of Russia. Now, he needed particular focus.

Calmly and quietly Cherry reviewed what was already agreed.

"You have your troops positioned in Georgia; as you know that they will be needed in Syria. The barrier to their engagement is the corrupt and disagreeable leadership in Turkey. Many citizens, poised and ready to step in, will support and praise your help in removing these crooks. But, you must move quickly when the terrorists show their hand or they will steal this golden opportunity from Russia."

"Are you ready for your final orders?" Cherry needed to be sure that the final compulsive responses were locked-in and unassailable, even in the face of contradictory waking information.

Boris glanced at the ghostly specters along the table, but then came back to Cherry. "Yes, comrade Mikilo. I cannot complete what I must do without your direction."

Jake maintained the stony visage of the former KGB head, but felt himself leaning in, in astonishment at the compliant Russian president's response. No-one dealing with Pulisin while awake would ever attempt to give him a direct order.

Pulisin noticed the movement and took it as a further sign that he must comply or face the terrifying wrath of the dead, who were already haunting both his sleeping and waking thoughts.

"What must I do, comrade?"

Cherry now let him breathe just a little.

"Relax my friend. It is nothing so unusual. It is only what is expected. You must simply defend Russia. You must demonstrate to the world that only Russia can end the terrorist threat in the Middle East. And you must help take charge of the streets in Turkey, in your new ally's moment of need. You will order your troops forward when the bombs go off. This is what a great leader would do, when required."

Boris had nodded agreement at each of the suggestions, but stopped nodding at the mention of bombs.

"Bombs?"

Cherry continued, "Yes, comrade, as we have seen, the oil fields will come under attack. This tragedy cannot be prevented. But, you will respond with vengeance, sending your troops where others have feared to go: Across Turkey first; then across Syria."

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, comrade. It will be a glorious path to complete victory over the terrorist caliphate."

Cherry smiled. "Certainly, my dear friend, it is what each of Russia's protectors want."

Cherry nodded to the observing wraiths. Each took their cue, also nodding and slowly smiling at Boris. He closed his eyes and sighed in obvious relief.

It was time for him to wake up.

Devastation Row

Philip Grey called the Elders and fighters together following a telephone call from his father. He knew that the information would be devastating to Lulu; he dreaded his task of passing it on.

He had protested to Armand that it was inappropriate for him to be the messenger on something this important, but Armand had insisted, indicating some urgency of actions at his end that would preclude a conference call. Philip tried to contain his emotions as he prepared to relate the grim news to the small group.

"I will try to provide the information exactly as I heard it from Armand."

He looked around the room briefly, realizing that more and more he was being drawn into a leadership position. Now, he would be expected to speak for Armand and to answer questions that he had no answers for. He hoped that Jack would take charge, once he had delivered the new information.

Philip spoke bluntly, "Armand indicates that, as far as he knows, the intervention in the Baltics has failed."

There was a collective intake of breath and shaking of heads. Philip could see questions forming on the fighters' lips, although not from the Elders.

He quickly continued, "The details he related are that Elder Mikilo Chernoyiv has escaped the dacha, taking Elder Black with him, most likely against her will."

"What about Jake Brun and his team?" The question came from Snow as Lulu was digesting the news of her mother's fate. Will had taken her hand in consolation.

"Armand indicates that Jake Brun is out of contact. He couldn't confirm his status, but indicated that his information did not come from Elder Brun directly. Perhaps a team member contacted London or they have observers at the scene; I don't know any details."

He continued, "Armand's exact words were: Expect the worst; Jake is down and is unable to communicate."

"I have no more information from the location than this. I'm sorry."

As Philip had expected, the eyes of the group turned to Jack Green. Emma White was the ranking Draumr, but Jack was considered the war counsel, so it would fall to him to direct the team on their actions.

Jack asked Philip, "Did Armand give any direction as to our next steps?"

Philip swallowed to get some saliva back before speaking.

"Yes, he said to go after Xana with everything that we've got, as we are now the only ones who can stop her. He said that the First Circle directive of using 'whatever means necessary' still stands."

"Oh, and he said: Good Luck."

It was early evening outside the windows of the mansion. Dusk was rapidly draining the light from the sky. Nearby, the brilliant nighttime lights of Shenzhen would soon fully replace the brightness of day. Inside the team headquarters, without most lights on as yet, it had become significantly gloomier.

The team now knew that this night would be the one that would decide their fate and perhaps decide the fate of peace in the world. There could be no doubt now that the Red Clan and their agents intended to murder a key world leader. Of all the billions of people on the earth, only the six of them in the tight circle around an antique wooden kitchen table, had the knowledge, and possibly, the means to stop it.

Jack raised his eyes to Emma; with her nod, he began to speak to the team.

"Well, this is bad news, but for us, it is only confirmation of the need to carry on with what we have prepared to do."

He looked to Lulu. "We have no reason to believe that Gloria is in any danger, although she may well be fairly pissed at her treatment. I continue to have confidence that Cherry will not hurt her. Jake Brun is tough as nails. We can hope for better news on his situation. Unfortunately, though, we cannot be distracted from our job, particularly now."

He continued, "We came here to stop a crime. It would have been nice if our effort hadn't been needed, but this hasn't happened. So, you three must take the fight to the Reds, here and now."

Jack anticipated some rising anger in the team; he could see that both women were fuming and ready to start punching walls. Will was calmer, but also tense and, potentially, more explosive, given that only he could be the carrier of the deadly talisman. Like any winning coach before a big game, Jack knew that the team's emotions had to be brought under control, lest they cloud judgement and prompt over-reaction. He would need Emma's help to get them ready.

As if on cue, Emma spoke up and asked the fighters to put their hands together in the middle of the table. All did, except Philip.

Emma smiled at the reluctant fourth fighter. "You too, Philip."

Lulu pulled her hand out and grabbed Philip's hand, bringing them both back to the center. Jack put his hand in too. Emma covered them all with both of her hands.

"Now is not the time for anger or for undo urgency. Right now, is the time for clear thought and calculated actions."

Each of the others felt as if the red fog that had crept into the edges of their vision was now dissipating. The room and Emma's words came brightly and sharply in focus.

"We have a task ahead that will not only require the best of each of you individually, it will require the best of you all together. This is our advantage. It should be our primary strategy. If you can isolate each of your enemies and work together to defeat them, you are unstoppable."

The single final thought stuck in each of their minds: We are unstoppable.

As they pulled back and started to give each other confident fist pumps and nods of agreement, Jack brought them back to the practical reality of what they needed to do next.

"Get fueled up. It could be a long night asleep. As evening fills in here, the politicians will be going to bed. Heaven knows, with the time-zone difference, some may already be out cold and some may not sleep at all. But, we know how to cast a little sand into the heavy eyes of reluctant sleepers, so we have to assume that Xana and her cohorts do too. You should be ready to go in just a few minutes."

He continued, "Philip, we must know immediately of any Draumr controlled dreamscape opening up in the mind of any guest. You know all of the targets; is there any issue with catching them the second that they open up?"

Philip now responded in a firm and confident voice. "We know that three capable Red Clan Leutnants are nearby and active: Xana, Lex and Stefan. None of these can initiate anything without us knowing it. With the capabilities that Will's talisman gives us, we can step directly into any dreamscape that we chose."

He continued, "Recall that the Red's made no effort to hide dreamscapes or dreamers previously. In fact, we were more or less invited in several times. We concluded that this behavior was boosting or showing off. It's not likely that this will continue, unless, as we should expect, that there is a trap waiting."

He looked around for confirmation that the others were following his logic.

"I think that we should go after the dreamscape that they hide or try to close off to us, and avoid stepping fully into anything that is too inviting. As, er...Emma has said, staying together and forcing them to take on the whole team is probably the best tactic."

Philip could see that there were questions forming, so wanted to stop talking; but he wanted to contribute something else.

"Also, our external strategic assessment of how they might attempt to impact global politics suggests that they won't kill a leader in his or her sleep. A night death, while tragic, would be written off to natural causes and would have little global impact."

The group members each nodded in agreement with this assessment.

Philip continued, "What they probably want to do is to set the stage for a very public event. Maybe, an attack by an assassin or an agent with obvious affiliation to one country or to one culture. For example, a crazed security guard, who already has a weapon, shouts fanatical slogans and starts shooting. This action would have significant impact on nationalist anger and on a likely response. The dreamscape target for the compulsive action may not even be a politician. It may be someone who has easy access to the chosen politician."

"So, if you agree, we are likely still dealing with the compelling 'planted-thought' that Draumrs have always used. But, normally, this compelling motivation must be something that is already part of the target's nature."

He checked for agreement with nods before proceeding, "This limitation may not be in effect with the artefacts involved. The most effective 'lasting effect' would just be proof to that individual of some harm or grievance that must be redressed. Presumably then, we will be looking for a dreamscape cause for something dramatic to occur in full public view during the main conference. What that is and how they plan to pull it off is the mystery, at this point."

As it turned out, the team members had few questions. The discussion among them turned to the unknowns, only some of which Philip had touched on.

"Do we have any idea what to expect of old Stefan?" Lulu thought that she knew Xana and Lex pretty well, but to this point they had never encountered Stefan in a dreamscape.

Will responded, "Water told me that he remembered him as a nice enough guy, who could have been pretty capable in any area, but who dropped out of the picture twenty years ago to fill a political role for Cherry behind the scenes in the old eastern-bloc countries. Water doesn't consider him a fighter in any regard, so it would seem unlikely that he is suddenly capable now."

Snow added, "Apparently, much of the stumbling bumpkin stuff at the First Circle was an act though. If he spent a couple decades influencing politicians, he may be the linchpin in their strategy to turn someone against a leader. I would look for him just behind the other two, but running pretty quick if threatened."

Lulu wasn't as conciliatory. "Unless he falls on his face and gives up, he's still on my hit list no matter how fast he runs."

It was time for bed. As much as they would have liked to sleep together, this night would require them to take to separate cots that were directly accessible by the medical staff, if necessary. The fighters had donned the standard light cotton sleeping wear. They gave each other final hugs before moving towards their cots. Will had his talisman firmly in hand, inside a fine deerskin glove given to him by Emma, for good luck. The stone felt comfortable and ready.

Snow took her expected leadership role. "We'll meet together in a dreamscape on the grounds of the conference center. I studied the floor plans and a detailed video that Jack supplied. I can fill in most details. It won't be exact, but it will give us some feel for the setting of the actual conference session tomorrow. "

"Plus, the setting will provide a calling-out challenge to Xana. Maybe we can get her on our turf without other dreamers present. Seems unlikely that she will just fall for the challenge, but as Philip said, we've encountered her strutting and proud before. It's a weakness we might be able to exploit."

Philip came into the room to report that all of the support staff were now engaged in intensive monitoring.

"If anything at all happens, you will be the first to know. If you're OK with it, I'll join you on the dreamscape for a few moments once we have a target for you. I wish that I had your skills to join the fight, but I would just get in your way."

Lulu gave Philip a long hug and a short kiss. It was what he wanted most at this point. The others followed with much shorter hugs.

Will now spoke for them, "We'll see you shortly then, Philip. I don't imagine that this will take very long to get going. Xana will surely know that we're up the minute we step through to the dreamscape. I expect that you'll have something to tell us right away."

As only Draumrs can do, they fell asleep in unison immediately. In only short moments, they emerged together on a lawn behind some trees and statues only a few meters from the main conference center building of the Mission Hills Resort. It was full daylight. There wasn't a soul in sight.

Each of the fighters was now dressed in their preferred battle fatigues. Snow was in off-white leather and carried a backpack of items that she might want. Her battered war-club stuck out the top, fortunately now free of dog-drool after a cleaning. Will gave the club a passing glance and saw its hackle feathers rise an inch. It was obviously still wary of him.

Lulu was dressed all in black above calf-high Doc Martens, as expected, in a tough looking synthetic weave. Past experience told her that some protection against a knife attack was prudent. She had several snapped-down pockets that likely held some persuasive weapons of her own. Will thought he could make out brass knuckles outlined in the form-fitting material against her hip.

Will himself had reverted to his standard battledress greens. He hadn't thought to add anything except a second deerskin glove, so that both hands were now covered in the protective leather. No sense busting bare knuckles.

A perfect replica of the talisman had come along and was nestled securely in his palm. He could feel its warmth and power, even though he wasn't concentrating on it. The sensation gave him confidence that the stone would make the difference when the time came.

Snow looked to each of them. "Ready?"

Will nodded, but Lulu held up her hand. "Just a second." Suddenly, she leaped and executed a perfect spinning kick, knocking the head right off of a seven-foot tall ornamental statue. She landed lightly and gave a small bow.

"Now I'm ready. I've been waiting too long to get back into this."

Will blinked at the sudden violence and considered the head of the solid concrete statue now laying at his feet. He laughed cautiously at Lulu's outburst of energy.

"I guess that you are ready. Glad that wasn't me on the receiving end. Remind me to give you a full body-length of working space later on."

Lulu grinned back. "It's just the talisman, my lover. Your hot hands have got me juiced up and ready to do some damage."

Snow motioned them both forward. "Let's take a look around inside, while we have the chance. Not sure how this will play out, but we want to be certain of our path through the buildings and out again if needed."

They moved together to the front doors and inside. As Snow expected, the layout from the floor plan was fairly simple to translate into a typical interior foyer of a resort building. She knew that it would be over-the-top in oriental bric-a-brac, so that's what appeared for them. They walked through a large lobby and were considering the entrance doors to adjacent rooms, when Philip walked up behind them, wearing a dark tailored business suit, including silk tie and pocket puff. It was obviously his comfort wear.

Fortunately, Will saw Philip before he got too close to Lulu. He quickly said, "Hi Philip...er, behind you Lulu."

Lulu grinned, then spun around in a blur, but with no leg kick.

"I know silly, I can feel my marvelously-handsome Philip from ten feet away. I'd never knock his head off."

Philip was figuratively knocked-over by Lulu's skin-tight gear and intense focus, having left her calm and casual just moments before. He blushed and looked puzzled at the reference to his head. Will just smiled and pulled him in with a sweep of his arm.

"Sorry buddy, just an overly aggressive statue that we had to deal with outside. Nothing to worry about."

This explanation didn't do much to bring Philip in on the joke, but he was now fully engaged in studying the dreamscape layout around him.

"This looks very convincing as the interior of the conference center."

There was a pause, while he continued to look around.

"So, what's up?" Snow knew that he had intelligence for them and was anxious to get it.

Philip finally came back to them. "Oh, yeah. The monitors tell me that the Reds have merged a dreamscape with this one and are waiting for you about 50 meters down the main corridor."

He said it so calmly that the others wondered if they were hearing him correctly.

Philip looked around again, then said, "Yep, I've got the connection now as well. All three: Xana, Lex and Stefan, are apparently having a casual lunch or something, straight down that corridor."

He pointed through an archway immediately in front of them.

"Lunch?" Snow again wasn't sure that she had heard him correctly.

"Can't be sure of that, but they are sitting at a table and eating something. That's all that we can pick-up. There are no other dreamers involved."

Philip now turned serious. "Obviously, it's a trap of some sort. Way too convenient that they would just have you join them for a pleasant meal. But, there they are and we can't see any other cousins or distractions."

He continued, "Based on this layout, you can approach them directly down the corridor or cut around the main auditorium and come up from behind. They know that you're in the area, but I doubt that they have localized intelligence capability to know your every move. You might be able to surprise them."

The three fighters considered the information.

Will piped up. "I say that we go around. There's no sense walking straight into them with no exit except back up the same corridor. Once we have them in sight we can spread out a little and see how they react. As we've said, Stefan probably isn't a direct threat. Lex, any one of us can handle. That leaves two to deal with Xana. Should be good odds."

Snow was still considering how many steps ahead Xana would be. It sounded simple, but if she was now understanding her better, the encounter wouldn't be either straightforward or predictable. She had a thought, "Could be that they want a parley."

She continued, "I could see a talker like Stefan, thinking that maybe he could create some fiction about what they intend to do and have us agree to back off. If that didn't work, Xana might feel that she could threaten us away by reminding us that we've been pretty ineffective against her to-date. I can see the tactic of a peaceful little talk playing into either of those scenarios."

Lulu huffed in response, "If either of those is the case, we should use the opportunity to get in close and then pounce on them. I'd say that we play out our version of the fiction by agreeing to listen, while getting near enough to take them out. The bonus is no dreamers involved, so no collateral damage to worry about."

Will was skeptical of both ideas. "They have come too far to easily open themselves for an attack that could kill the entire plan. Xana must know that we'll never back off. She killed my cousin; I already have blood in this fight."

He continued, "It has to be an attempt to trap us and do enough damage that we can't continue. I'd say that it's dangerous as Hell. We need to be very cautious."

Philip had been listening closely. "Will is probably correct. We know that there has been a significant investment of people, both cousins and agents, in the set-up for this conference. Whatever they are up to, this encounter was either already part of their plan, knowing that we would come after them, or it's something they have come up with in response to our surprise arrival.

He continued, "I'd go with the former. Whatever diversion they are attempting, it needs to happen quickly so they can get on with their other dreamscape activity. The main conference daybreak is only hours away now. They have to finish putting the pieces in place. Disrupting that process is probably our best strategy, rather than a direct battle at this point. You should frustrate any attempt to draw our team into a vulnerable position and keep the pressure on them to act out their plot, maybe before they are ready."

Snow was satisfied. "Good enough. Let's go around and get them in sight. I'll call Xana out and demand her surrender, but we'll stay back and together as a team. If they want to talk, best that it be from a distance. Any time we can waste will be to our advantage."

She finished and put a hand on each of the other fighter's arms. "So, we stay together, back-to-back if need be, right?"

They each nodded.

"Thank-you, Philip. This has been a great help." Snow smiled at him. "Feel free to come back at any time. And dress up a bit next time, eh?"

Philip smiled, straightened his already straight tie and bowed slightly. "Good luck; I think that your plan is the best one possible. I'm sure that it will work well."

He turned and walked out the front door of the building.

As it turned out, the search for the Red Clan trio wasn't that difficult. Almost as soon as the fighters moved through the large auditorium, they could hear their opponents talking and laughing in the distance. As Snow led her team around the last corner, they came upon the three of them seated around a large banquet table in the center of a windowed alcove. Xana, Lex and Stefan were all there, dressed in various red-themed outfits similar to their own. Lex, shirtless under apparent red motorcycle leathers had a booted-leg up on the table and was leaning back, cradling a large mug of frothy liquid that was probably beer. Stefan was more subdued in a modest shirt and pants, which deepened the red theme to dark burgundy. He now wore a priest's high collar in brilliant white. His once flowing white hair was now cut in a tight razor trim.

Xana was dressed all in tight red designer leather, with her jacket buttons open to reveal a good part of her high bosom, seemingly pushed up by nothing more than natural talent above a deeply scooped tee-shirt. He hair was tightly wrapped under a silvery headscarf. She was on the far side of the table and was framed by the bright light of the window. As Snow resolved the scene and looked for anything else threatening, she gave a little mental nod to Xana's choice of setting. The bright windows didn't fit the late evening hour of the awake setting, so provided both a physical distraction and a mental challenge to ignore.

The Reds were engaged in a back and forth conversation, probably in Ukrainian. Whatever they were talking about, interspersed laughing and gesturing made the animated conversation seem like a taunt to the fighters, even if the words couldn't be understood. They were talking loud enough to make it clear that they weren't hiding from anything.

Once their eyes had adjusted somewhat to the bright backdrop, the intervention fighters could also make out more puzzling details of the setting. There were actually six chairs around the table, with three empty ones possibly meant for them. The chairs themselves had high upholstered backs; conveniently, each of the empty chairs was themed around one of White, Black or Green fabric color. The material was visibly tattered and torn in places. The chairs, while sitting upright appeared to have had some rough repairs done by a very untalented carpenter. Wired splints and poorly fitted replacement parts hung off each one.

Will noticed that the Red-backed chairs were in no better shape; the one Lex was precariously leaned back in looked ready to snap under his weight.

The table itself was a parody of the First Circle table in the Halls. In this case, the colors of the Clans were jumbled and intermixed in a riot of jagged and poorly fitted ceramic tiles. The wood of the table appeared to be intentionally old, battered and dried out. As it was all a construct of Xana, or possibly Stefan, the intent of dissing Draumr doctrine was pretty clear.

Will spoke in a whisper to the women. "Appears that they have set the stage for our arrival, with theme of: "We fart in your hallowed Halls."

Lulu had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Snow gave them both a stern look; she put a finger up to her lips to indicate silence and then pointed down while mouthing "stay back." She eased he pack down, rose to full height and stepped out into the open.

Snow spoke in a loud and direct voice. "Xana, how nice of you to crawl out from under your rock. You and your henchmen. Based on the set-up here, I take it that you would like to talk about something."

The three Reds stopped talking among themselves and turned towards Snow, putting on faces of surprise and feigned delight at the arrival of guests.

Snow continued, "We are quite happy to talk, but not like this. Tell us where you are physically and we'll come there immediately. We can talk all you want while we travel back to London together, wide awake. End this foolish intrusion into the politics of the innocents and you can still walk out of this escapade in one piece, possibly with your head held up. But, that's not for me to say."

She paused, then continued, "What I can say is that your nasty scheme here is ended. We're quite prepared to use force to prove this to you. How this goes is your choice."

Xana continued to smile in the face of the insults and unlikely demands. She put her drink down and spread her arms.

"Ve have no scheme to hide, my dear. Ve are just your more distant cousins having a break from our boring duties of providing protection and comfort to the veary delegates of humankind gathered around us."

She laughed at her own joke, then continued, "Ve are no threat to you or your friends back there." She tipped her head as if looking past Snow to the others.

"Please, come join us and talk a vhile. Perhaps ve vill do a better job of this protecting thing all together."

Snow wasn't buying it.

"You can cut out the fake accent and drop the pretense. We know all about your supposed protection scheme. It's not going to happen."

Xana smiled again. "OK sister, at least come over and gab for a bit before we get to it then. Pirate's parley and all that. There will be no hostilities at Stefan's table that he built for us. Sorry, that he's not much with his hands or with a hammer."

Stefan was slightly taken aback at the implied criticism and piped up. "Well, I think that it's pretty good—sort of a commentary on the state of the nations that we live in, I'd say: In need of some renewal. Maybe Ikea carries something nice we can upgrade to."

Lex stated laughing again. He appeared to be quite drunk.

"Ikea, dumb-fuck old man. We don't need Ikea. If you two would let me set these things up once in a while, we'd have a solid mahogany table with ivory inserts. And, maybe solid gold, or platinum trim..." He trailed off when he realized that no-one was paying any attention to him.

Xana spoke up again. "So, how threatening are we: a chick, an old priest and a drunk piano builder? Sounds like the lead-in to a bad joke." She now laughed at herself and the other two.

She continued, "Please, we won't bite. C'mon over and rest for just a bit while we at least set some ground rules."

Snow knew that they had agreed to keep some distance, but the description of the others did appear to be accurate. With the three of them on their toes they might yet be able to follow Lulu's suggestion of doing enough harm to some of them to put them out of action. She remembered Will's talisman, which should result in real injury if they could land some blows quickly. Xana was another matter, but two down of three would certainly make things easier.

She turned back to Will and Lulu and beckoned them forward. When they were out in the open beside her, she whispered to them.

"What do you think?" Is she good for her word or is it a trap? Talking seems like a better idea to start anyway."

Lulu didn't need to think about it. "Just get me close to either of the two idiots and I'll end their day in a second. As far as I'm concerned there are no rules. But, if she thinks there are, let's take advantage of the lapse in judgement."

Will was more cautious. "If nothing else, the table, chairs and folly of friendly talk is all a carefully planned diversion. So, stepping into it would seem to be a really dumb idea. But, the alternative is rushing them, now on their dreamscape. They could just wink out before we get there, while we run headlong into a pit of sharpened sticks. We need to get close to them to ensure a useful engagement under our terms. So, let's see what happens."

Snow thought about both ideas and reluctantly concluded that they did need to be close-up to engage them.

"OK, stay close and be prepared to move quickly. Pull the chairs away from the table and stay on your toes."

She glanced back and then whispered, "Lulu, Stefan is your primary target. Stop at breaking a leg or creating a significant concussion, if you can. As long as he is down and injured, he's out of it. Will, same thing for Lex, following Lulu's lead. I'll engage Xana, but I doubt that it will be that simple with her. We'll probably be off on a chase again. My trigger word will be China. If I say it: strike. OK?

The others nodded ever so slightly. Lulu winked at Will.

Snow motioned them forward. "Let's go."

The fighters spread slightly and moved cautiously forward towards the table.

"Love the look, darlings," Xana gave them each an appreciative up and down assessment. "We should compare designers sometime."

Lex was leering up and down at the women at the women as well. He seemed disappointed that Will moved towards the black upholstered chair closest to him. One thing that they weren't going to do was to sit in assigned seats.

Snow made a point of pulling her war club out before sitting down. She knew that Lex would remember it as it had nearly killed him once before. The club came out with hackles raised and tugged at Snow's hand to be let loose. She casually smoothed the feathers, while never breaking eye contact with Xana. The fighters sat lightly on the chairs, out of planned order, but each with a clear shot at their assigned target.

Xana smiled broadly, "So, this is better. Please, eat, drink. If there's nothing you like, perhaps Stefan can come up with an alternative. What is the favorite with you kids these days? Still Big Macs? I don't get out enough anymore."

Snow was getting impatient with the act. "Cut the crap. You're the same age as me. Give it up or we fight it out. Those are the only choices and we don't need any ground rules."

Snow wasn't looking directly but she could see peripherally that neither Lex or Stefan was paying particularly close attention to Lulu or Will. They would have the advantage of surprise if they moved quickly.

Xana though, was watching her closely. She leaned in towards Snow and started to speak more quietly.

"You will soon find out that it has to be this way. It is all for appearances. We have a common enemy, who hasn't revealed themselves to you as yet."

Snow reacted by pulling back. "It's all B.S., Xana. You killed on the mountain and you killed a Green Clan cousin. Your cousins raped young women. Your father has some twisted scheme in mind that the First Circle has said must stop. He has to release Gloria Black."

Now Xana started to laugh out loud.

"Release her?" She was laughing continuously. Now Stefan and Lex were joining in. They were busting with hilarity.

Still giggling, Xana said, "Fuck, are you guys out of it. He's not going to release her. She should be releasing him, the old whore. They plan to get married once she dumps His Lordship. The little snot over there and I are going to be half-sisters. I can hardly wait to steal her toys."

Lulu had been listening carefully and had heard all she could take. Rather than attack Stefan, she launched herself out of her chair, barely touched the table in the air and dove for Xana's throat with both hands. Surprisingly, she got her hands around it, taking Xana backwards over her chair in the single motion, so that Lulu landed with her full weight square on her chest. She released one hand to deliver a blow, but Xana now had time to react and quickly moved her head out of the way. Lulu's crashing fist went right through the flimsy chair. Xana regained her composure and flung Lulu off of her with an upwards push of both her arms. Lulu flew through the air and landed on her feet outside of striking distance. Xana simply popped to her feet with a supine flex of her body.

Lulu was about to launch herself again, when Snow said "Stop."

At the other end of the table, Lex had pulled out his big silver knife and had it across Will's throat. No-one had seen him move quickly to get behind Will. He said nothing, but made it clear that his next move would be to draw the razor-sharp blade across Will's neck.

Stefan seemed to be ignoring the fight happening around him. He stood up from the table and made to brush imaginary crumbs off his clothes.

He nodded to all of them and said, "My apologies, this is my stop. I'll catch up later." With that, he disappeared.

Snow was trying to keep both Xana and Lex in her view. She backed up to gain some working room. Lulu was tensed and ready for another charge, while Xana just stood and grinned, as if this was all still a game.

The war club was pulsing with kinetic energy and wanted to go. Snow caught Will's eyes and glanced down at it. To her surprise, he shook his head. He winked and turned his palm upward. It was the hand with the talisman under the glove.

Will kept moving his hand upward and simply took the knife between his fingers. Lex, apparently either wasn't aware or couldn't do anything about it. He was frozen in place. When Will had a firm grasp on the knife he brought it and Lex's arm down and around. He turned and removed the knife from Lex entirely, stabbing it into the table.

When Lex finally came out of his frozen state, he looked at his empty hand, looked at Will and then looked over to the others.

"Fuck this. I'm gone."

He also winked out. The knife went with him.

Now Xana had their full attention.

Snow spoke, "I guess that it's your dreamscape after all Xana. You can't duck out so neatly, not if we don't want you too. Are you ready to give it up or do we need to do enough damage that you'll need some hospital time? Just like Tom did, when you were through with him.

Xana now looked completely serious and surprised. "Tom? He ended up in hospital?"

She continued, reflecting real concern, "He was just supposed to wake up with a headache and some explaining to do to the locals. I expected to laugh about it one day with him. Is he alright now?"

Lulu was still fuming about Xana's comments about her mother. "You bitch, you'll try anything won't you. "

With that she came at Xana again. A low kick just missed and follow-on hand strikes met skilled blocks from Xana. As Lulu tried to get in close enough to deliver an injuring blow to the throat or head, Xana got a flat hand on her chest and simply flung her back again with surprising strength. Lulu landed lightly ten feet away and prepared to move in again.

Snow had now worked her way around behind Xana and was ready to pounce whenever Lulu attacked again. Will was also moving in from the other side of the table. Xana was surrounded and would have no place to escape to. Three-on-one seemed good-enough to Snow. She locked eyes with Lulu and nodded.

This time, Xana raised both hands and said: "Stop. I need to say something before this goes any further."

"I don't want to injure any of you; please just bug out and let this process play out. It's too late to stop it anyway. I suggest that you check with headquarters for further instructions. There will be some soon. You'll see."

Unlike the others, she didn't wink out. Instead she turned, ducked neatly between Lulu and Will, and ran with sprinter's speed away from them down the corridor.

Lulu was ready to pursue her, but expected the dreamscape to fade. Certainly, Xana would change it enough to try to throw them off her tail.

Instead, the only thing that changed was the chairs and table turning into a plain plastic and plywood set that you might find in any meeting room. The table was empty. Outside the windows, the daylight faded to full darkness and street lights appeared across the property.

Snow now understood.

"Damn it, she was on our dreamscape. This is just the continuation of our look-around. Probably, like the table decorations, the other two were never actually here. She just subtlety added the things she wanted into our dreamscape, guessing that we would forget that we created it in the first place. We couldn't have really injured them if we had wanted to. We have to catch them on a dreamscape that they create."

She felt stupid for not figuring it out sooner.

"We need to get back to our cots and wake up. This isn't where we need to be."

Lulu and Will looked to each other with puzzled expressions. They had certainly felt something real in their fights.

Lulu was still energized. "But, Xana was solid as a rock and strong as a horse. And she ran away. Why can't we just chase her?"

"Because she won't be there. This isn't the main event. In order to stop their plan, we have to be the intruders on an actual dreamscape. And there must to be dreamers present. We have to catch them in the act when they can't just wink out on us."

Snow continued, "We need to get advice from Jack and Emma and put Philip's team back on full monitoring. The real dreamers will all be asleep by now. There isn't a minute to waste."

Lulu and Will just shrugged.

Snow said, "Wake-up."

And they did.
Divided We Fall

"It won't be easy to pick out just one dream. There are probably hundreds of people all over the resort dreaming at this moment. You are asking us to pick out a snowflake in a snowstorm."

Philip was responding to Snow's urgent demand that they find only the one dream that the Red Clan Draumrs were controlling. The fighters had come out of their first dreamscape, both angry and engaged. Snow had come directly to Philip, with a flurry of questions, that sounded a lot like orders.

He was trying to explain. "Who is having the dream, and where they are, will be difficult to parse out from the noise, unless there is a distinctive push from one of the opponents that can be felt by our attuned senses. We have no problem picking up sudden terror or real injury, as the dreamer's brainwave response goes off the scale. But, there were lots of scary things going on in many dreams, so the task isn't as simple as watching for one head to pop up above the crowd."

"If we don't catch them in the act, it will probably be too late." Snow was disconsolate. "Xana as much as said not to bother as it was already too late."

Lulu was catching up with Snow's thinking quickly. "But, she didn't say that it was over. She just said that we were late. They must need to complete something tonight or why would they still be here?"

Even though the fall season meant a longer night, dawn was now just a few hours away. Early risers might already be stirring. Whatever was going to happen, it would be happening right now.

Jack and Emma had been listening in on the discussion.

Emma asked, "Can't we narrow our monitoring targets to just the most prominent politicians? Most of the staff and helpers aren't likely to be a target for Oksana. Countries with no real foes, like Canada, wouldn't be of much use to them. The list of potential enemies is probably quite short."

Philip turned his hands over in exasperation. "I wish that we could. Unfortunately, short of assigning each potential target an active keeper, we can only locate Draumr activity once it starts. From past experience, this would mean that we would come in later in the dream."

He continued, without much enthusiasm, "This approach would spread us thin, but it may be the best that we can do."

Jack was looking at Will. They both wished that Water were here for advice, as he would probably have a solution involving birds in flight or windless smoke patterns.

Jack quipped, "Too bad that our talisman didn't come with a bad actor detector."

Will smiled at the thought and turned the real talisman around in his hand a few times. So far, he had learned that he at least he could use it to take over control of a dreamscape. It could be their key advantage when push came to shove in the final act. But, it might all be too late to prevent a tragedy.

"Just a minute." Philip caught Jack's thought, but turned it around.

"We don't need the talisman to be the detector. We need it to be detected." He laughed out loud.

No-one else was following his thinking or knew why he was suddenly elated, but they all grinned at the apparent revelation of their team member.

Philip continued, "The talisman is part of an ancient set that was created all together, but pieces were then customized by each of the ancient Clans, back when they were into magic and stuff. We know that the Reds have picked up parts of their set somewhere, but probably not many pieces. Our hope is that the misfit of the pieces and breaks in their hand-to-hand passage will make their artefacts less effective."

"But, any use of any artefact will create a much different pattern of brainwaves from both the Draumr and the sleeper. If we can calibrate for that, we should be able to pick the pattern out the moment something happens."

Snow was now catching his enthusiasm. "Would that work? Could we step in as soon as they tried to use their versions of the talisman?"

Philip grinned, "I can't see why not."

Will asked, "What do we need to do?"

"You, our talisman holder, need to crash again and form a quick dreamscape. Then, heat up the talisman to make pigs fly or Hell freeze over—anything with an improbable outcome."

Snow grinned at Will and said. "I'm coming too. We'll fly frozen pigs to frozen Hell and back. Just give us a minute."

They headed off.

Lulu decided to stay with Philip and watch the process from his end. She was pretty certain that they were going to end up in the sack very soon. Now she was just enjoying watching him give orders to his back-office team, with renewed excitement.

Almost no time had passed when the team members one-after-the-other indicated that they had a lock on the Green Clan talisman's unique pattern. They each confirmed that it had a distinctive enough signature that they would easily recognize again from any similar source.

Under Philip's direction, the team members immediately turned their attention outward to the sleepers at the conference. The trap that they needed was now set.

Philip asked Lulu if she wanted to come with him to sleep, to call Snow and Will back.

"Nope; sleeping with you might take us somewhere that we definitely don't have time for."

She leaned in and gave him a long kiss. "I'll just get something to eat."

Pausing, she then added, "Oh, you might want to make lots of noise when you head into whatever dreamscape room the other two are in. I can only imagine what Snow might have decided to have the talisman do for them."

Philip blushed again, but only slightly. He was starting to understand the way his new peers felt and acted. The prospect of many years with his nose in books had once seemed like the best life possible. Now, he was looking forward to putting the books away for a little while anyway.

After Will, Snow and Philip returned to the dining room, the fighters came back together, with Emma and Jack sitting in as they discussed the first encounter with Xana.

Snow was still puzzled by the riddles in Xana's comments. She asked, "Do we have any idea what she might have meant by "new orders from headquarters?"

Neither Jack nor Emma had any idea what this was referring to.

Jack confirmed, "Our orders, as relayed by Armand through Philip, still stand. Unfortunately, they include doing whatever we need to do to stop her."

Emma was perplexed as well. "I've known Oksana as a wonderful girl, who, while ambitious and competitive, wouldn't actually hurt anyone if she could help it. We have been assuming that her father somehow corrupted her. Certainly, her recent behavior suggests that she has taken a turn to a darker side of Draumr practices. We know that it is possible, even for good people. But, the change happening so quickly is strange for a Draumr as strong as her."

Emma continued, "I'm interested in her comment that she didn't want to hurt any of you. A ploy, perhaps, but maybe in synch with the wishes of a better person, who has been forced to act badly. Who are we to say what pressure she's been under?"

She looked up to the three fighters across the old table. "I would never counsel hesitation. You need to act in the split second that the circumstances give you. But, in the end, if you have the choice, wouldn't it be wonderful if everyone could return uninjured and able to recover from all of this?"

Jack had a problem with the sentiment. "I would say that the other side will determine their own survival by how they act. I didn't live through it, but the oldest of the Elders can tell stories of deadly encounters between Draumrs in the past. The moral of their tales is always to act first and consider later."

Emma nodded. "So be it. Forgive my soft head and too-willing heart. You do what you have to do."

The entire team was considering what was ahead when Philip came through the door.

"Good news; it's working. We have locked onto the artefacts on the other side. Not sure how they are using them, but it's on a dreamscape and other dreamers are present.

The three fighters were already rising out of their chairs, like jet pilots given a scramble order, when Philip spread his hand out to stop them.

"That was the good news. The bad news is that there are three separate dreamscapes active, with completely different dreamers. We have no way of determining which is more important. Given that the Reds are probably just about as clever as we are, I would suggest that two of them are diversions, aimed at forcing us to choose, if we want to attack as a team; or forcing us to split up, if we want to intervene in all of them."

Snow was poised half-way up. She sat back down with a thump. The others paused as well. Lulu was up and bouncing, but stayed in the room. Will got up out of his chair, but hung onto it as an anchor to keep him from sailing around the room with Lulu.

Snow had already reached her conclusion. "Do we know who is controlling each dreamscape?"

Philip responded, "Yes, once we narrow in, we can distinguish Xana from Stefan from Lex. I can point you at whichever one you want.

Snow was rising from her chair. "I want all three. We have to split up."

Now Emma and Jack expressed alarm.

Emma said, "I thought we agreed that you need the strength of all three of you to take on Xana alone. Isn't she your most likely target and the other two just there for distraction."

Snow was still considering, "That is what you might conclude. It's what she would guess that we would conclude. So, in all likelihood, she is the diversion and one of her henchmen: Stefan or Lex, is the main actor."

She continued, "We have to split up. We can join up again once we each deal with our direct opponent. Xana also has to think that we took the bait and are falling for her ruse. She'll expect me to come after her. So, I'll do just that to see if I can create a stand-off with no dreamers at risk."

"Lulu, you take on Stefan. But, be careful. Even though he's not a fighter, he may well be a Zen-master or something with these fucking hunks of rock. Be nimble, but take him out."

They all turned towards Will. Snow continued her directions.

"That leaves you Will. Lex is your target and he's likely the most vulnerable. It should be simple to take him out with the stronger talisman. We know that he's a nasty character around dreamers, so you'll probably need to haul his ass out of a gruesome situation. You should be quick and merciless. He's no loss if he dies."

There was no disagreement among the team members, other than Lulu bitching about wishing she could put the first dents in Xana's gloating face. Snow told her that she would give her that chance if she could.

Will knew that he and Lex had been on a collision course since the first intervention on the beach. Lex was the kind of lout that Will had dealt with plenty of times, long before he had any idea about Draumrs and dreamscapes. The principle was simple: Hit hard first; discuss behavior modification later. He was ready to go.

The three fighters wished each other luck and God-speed. Although no-one said anything, they each knew that this parting might be final for one or more of them. It was the same anguish that soldiers have felt on the eve of battle since time-immemorial. Like the fighters of the legions before them they also knew that there was no turning back.

As they got ready to sleep, Philip gave them each a dreamscape reference to guide their intervention. For the women, the process was as familiar as someone saying: "Meet her at 4th and Main."

For Will, the ancient terminology for navigating to a specific dreamscape was still a little foreign. Most of his shared dreams were initiated with a sleeping partner, who simply took him along. But, he had learned that by repeating the desired destination coordinates as he fell asleep, he could move to the chosen dreamscape all on his own. He hoped that he didn't drop into the middle of a maelstrom of evil, just waiting for him to arrive. He squeezed the talisman tightly and repeated the words that Philip gave him.

Lulu opened her eyes in a long corridor, lined with doorways, as in a hotel. She quickly tucked in against one of the doorways to hide as much of her body as possible, while scanning both directions for any activity. There was none.

With a moment to look more closely at the setting, she could now see that it actually was a hotel corridor. The rooms all had numbers and there were electronic key slots above the ornate door handles. The doors were intricately trimmed in an oriental style. The light fixtures, the wall paper and the rug suggested the Far East as well. She guessed she was somewhere on the actual Mission Hills Resort. She doubted that the actual leaders had rooms in a tight corridor like this, so the hallway setting was just a prop in Stefan's construct. Or maybe, he was after a security guard, as they had speculated, and this was his turf.

As she pressed herself back to consider her next move, she heard a door open far down the hall. Glancing quickly in that direction, she saw a hotel bell-hop, judging by his bright red outfit and pill-box hat, letting himself into a room. He was calling out to the occupant. He was over fifty meters and many rooms away. But, it was the only activity, so that was where she had to go.

Lulu broke down the hall at a full run. She moved without noise on the carpet. She guessed that the employee in red wasn't a key character, so intended to knock him down, sit on his chest and beat some answers out of him.

As she closed on the character, he raised his head in her direction. It was Stefan. He smiled as he saw her, making no attempt to stop her. Lulu now knew that she would take him right off his feet without hesitation when she got there. She pressed for more speed. Stefan simply stepped back inside the room.

She realized, as hard as she pressed forward, she wasn't closing the final twenty meters of distance. The rug had turned into some kind of treadmill. She was running, but getting nowhere. It was an old-school dream trick. She shook her head at the weary attempt at diversion by the old man.

With a quick leap off the ground she caught a light fixture and swung her legs forward. Pivoting to land in a doorway, she loaded and sprang again at another fixture. Repeating the moves brought her face-to-face with Stefan as he re-emerged from the room.

"I'm not some ten-year old having a nightmare, old man." She was a little irritated by the disrespect of the trick. She spun and kicked at his head, only to have her foot sail through empty space and penetrate the corridor wall, which was now made out of sticky goo. Her foot was embedded above her head, leaving her off-balance and vulnerable.

Stefan was standing on her other side. The move had been so quick that she missed it entirely.

"I'm not that old, you know." He was jovial, almost as if he was pleased to see her. "And, as you can see, I'm still quick enough. I've just had a rough life, without the benefit of moisturizers." He laughed at his own joke.

Lulu meanwhile found some leverage against the doorway and was able to slowly extract her goo-coved foot from the wall. The hole neatly closed-up without damage once her foot was out. Looking down, she now saw that the goo had disappeared from her foot as well.

Stefan was heading back into the room. As he went in, he beckoned with his fingers for her to follow. He made a "shush" sound and brought one finger to his lips. He then pointed to the bed.

Lulu had cautiously followed. It took her a moment to recognize the German chancellor asleep in the bed. She was immediately filled with questions. Is this it? Is Germany the target? Is lame old Stefan the actual assassin?

Without hesitation, she turned and grabbed him by the collar of his coat. She was about to drive a fist into his face when her hand started to burn. Too slowly, she realized that the coat collar was on fire and red-hot. She pulled her hand away, but not before getting a serious burn across her palm and fingers. She screamed out in pain.

Stefan recovered his balance and smoothed his lapels. There was no fire or any sign of burned material on his uniform coat.

He looked at her hand, which was already red and blistering, with concern. "You should come in the bathroom and run cold water on that." He stepped in ahead of her and turned on the light.

"Come, come, quickly if you want to prevent permanent damage."

Lulu followed him and ran the tap. The cold water soothed some of the agony, but her hand was pulsing with pain and obviously severely burned.

Stefan stood beside her with a look of concern.

Lulu was fuming. "Asshole. That was a nasty trick."

Stefan just shrugged. "I'm so sorry, but I couldn't let you punch my lights out. I hate fighting and, to be honest, I'm not very good at it. But, I'm great at making hot things—dancing lobsters, sizzling pistols and flaming jackets—that sort of stuff, as you've seen. Lots of practice showing pedophile priests a fairly realistic, at least to my mind, experience of burning in Hell; so, I've developed a real technique with the hot stuff."

He seemed a little lost in recollection for a second.

He snapped back to the room. "Oh, as I was saying, I usually don't appear in these silly dreams, but tonight, it's all hands on deck, as they say. We have a lot of work to do to get these politicians down to the party. I hope that you can help me with them. Some need a little encouragement."

He looked back into the bedroom. "Maybe once you've wrapped up your hand, you can get the chancellor up and dressed. I'm not much with underthings for old ladies."

Stefan spun on his heel and was out the room door before Lulu could stop him. She heard him sing-songing: "Time to get up...", as he knocked on the next room door.

She looked down and now saw materials for a burn dressing lying on the bathroom counter. He had thought of everything. She dried her hand, applied an anesthetic cream, ripped open a gauze pack and found wrapping tape to cover the whole hand. She knew that the burn would put a dent in her striking capability.

"Fuck-it. It's just a dream."

As she re-entered the bedroom, the chancellor was already up and dressed in a slinky, shimmering too-short dress. Her hair was pinned up and she had full make-up on, including cherry red lipstick. It was an odd look for the no-nonsense politician. She was standing beside the bed in an apparent trance, as if waiting for something to happen.

Stefan appeared at the doorway.

"Oh, good she's ready. And, isn't she a sex-pot now? That was quick work, Lulu."

Lulu calculated that she could aim a solid kick to his head with very little effort and enough speed that, this time, it should land. She checked her balance and rocked onto the balls of her feet.

Stefan held up and waggled one finger. "Stop, please."

She hesitated.

"You'll never actually hit me and I'll just have to punish you some more. A broken foot maybe? I don't want to do that."

He leaned in with a conspiratory whisper, "You should ask what I have in my hand."

Lulu was pissed. "What?"

"Just this." Stefan opened his hand to reveal a talisman, very similar to the one Will carried. This one had a red leather wrap and Cyrillic writing around its edges.

"I might have been in trouble if young Will had shown up, as he has possession of quite a formidable stone. But, I see that you have none. Too bad."

He fake-pouted and shook his head in sympathy.

"But, it's alright. I don't intend you any harm. Except the unfortunate burn, I guess. I am really sorry about that."

"As you are here, I'm afraid that I must compel you to help me move these dreamers downstairs."

He headed out the door again.

Lulu was taken aback by the inequity of the dreamscape. She would have taken him apart in seconds, were it not for another talisman, and a red one at that.

"Shit, shit, shit." She knew that she had fallen into a skillfully-placed trap. She doubted very much that Stefan's pleasant words had an ounce of truth in them.

As she looked up, she saw a procession of world leaders starting to meander down the hallway, with about as much focus as high-schoolers heading to a pep rally. The happy gang was engrossed in joking, juvenile pushing and shoving and noisy laughter.

Stefan was herding them along using nicknames and admonitions to stay in line and to keep it moving. Donny, Maury and Frankie were told to get back in line. Matty was told to stop bugging Theresa.

The politicians were dressed in various versions of party clothes. Some in way-out-of-date styles and some just outrageous in color and flamboyance. As the back end of the line passed the door, the German chancellor came to life and bee-bopped out of the room to join the procession.

"You too, dear," said Stefan, as he got to the open door. "You don't want to miss the saloon at the end of the world, do you? Drinks on the house and the entertainment will be great." He was pointing at the boisterous politicians as he rolled his eyes.

Lulu found her feet moving her out of the room and down the hall, as they all headed for the elevators. She was disgusted to find herself in a frilly black party dress and platform shoes. Anyone grabbing her ass in the packed elevators would get a fat lip.

Snow hadn't expected to just find Xana sitting in front of her when she opened her eyes, but that's exactly what happened.

"Oh, good, you're finally here." Xana was up off her chair and moving around the room. Snow took a few seconds to place the setting of the dreamscape as a luxury, multi-room executive suite. She was sitting on a side chair in the dining area.

Xana was now touching up her make-up in the entrance hall mirror. She was dressed to kill in a blue mid-length satin and brocade designer dress that dipped down her back but, in uncharacteristic modesty, covered her front. Amazingly, there were only the odd hints of red in the embroidery. With her hair now down and fully blown-out, Xana looked ready to head out to a Manhattan over-the-top lunch date.

Snow realized that she was stuck in the chair. Not adhered to it, but unable to make any movement that would lift her out. She could move all of her limbs, but couldn't use either arms or legs to get up.

Xana said, "You should touch-up anything that's needed."

Then she laughed and said, "Who am I kidding? I have to work hours to get this look, but you just sort of fall out of bed perfect. Beautiful blond hair, the all-year face tan, muscles to kill for, or with, I guess." She laughed again.

"Anyway, in that dress, you look good enough to eat."

Snow realized that she was dressed very much like Xana, but in shimmering silver, with brilliant jewelry and very high heels. It was probably good that she arrived sitting, as she most certainly would have fallen off them. Her too-short skirt was only covering an inch or two of her thighs. She could feel that her hair was done in some sort of clipped-up style. There seemed to be a lot more of it than normal.

Xana continued, "Our lunch guest will be here shortly. Are you sure that you're all set? Last minute pee, maybe?"

Xana now came over and offered her a hand to get up on her heels. Snow had the impulse to grab it and pull her down, so that she could choke her out. The thought must have hung between them for a moment, as Xana pulled her hand back and stopped smiling. Slowly, she brought her other hand forward, opening it to reveal a red leather-covered talisman.

"No aggression, I'm afraid. You'll just get all steamed-up and maybe bust out a seam in that little number you're wearing. My show, I'm afraid, but maybe open to a clever interpretation, if you have the patience and cunning. Let's see, shall we?" The smile came back.

She continued as if the warning had never happened. "Now, let's try those heels out. Can't have you stumbling into the First Lady when she arrives."

Begrudgingly taking Xana's hand, Snow managed to get up on the heels and to totter around a bit until the old skills came back. She felt like she was presenting her ass to any passing buck interested in rutting. But, try as she might, she couldn't kick them off or do anything to disrupt the setting or the clothes she was wearing. She was still cursing the dreamscape, and Xana, under her breath, when the suite entrance doorbell rang.

"Don't worry dear, no command performance yet. That's just our lunch arriving."

A small troop of bellmen and waiters came in and quickly set up a sparkling lunch service on the dining table. Complete with linen tablecloth and fine china, the table now had formal place-settings for three people. The waiters disappeared through a swinging door into the ensuite kitchen, while a butler took up a position in the entrance hall.

Snow finally had a voice when she tried to speak out loud. She had tried yelling and cursing from the moment she arrived, but suffered the same localized paralysis in her voice as in her legs. Only now that she had calmed down did her full voice come back.

"What is this Xana? I'm very impressed by your attention to detail. The fantasy of living the high life is very realistic. But, what's the point?"

With no answer, she continued, "I know that you intend to kill someone. Is it the U.S. president's wife? What purpose would that serve?"

Xana laughed at the suggestion. "No, no. Nothing of the sort. The First Lady is a dear friend, or at least that's what she'll be dreaming when she joins us. We're going to have a wonderful lunch to talk about kids and dogs and third world missions. You know, all the stuff these broads must fill their time with, while the boys do the real work."

There was an edge to Xana's pleasantry. Snow sensed a barely-contained hostility. It might be the weakness that she could use. She challenged, "For what, bitch. What's the point?"

Xana now gave her a startled look. Her voice rose in response.

"You're in a rush for answers. You have always been the one in a fucking rush. Rush to get away. Rush to fuck-off on your own all over the world. Now, in a rush to know what the point is."

She put her face right up to Snow's face. "Has your mother ever asked you to do anything? Much less your "who-the-fuck-is-he?" father. Probably not, cuz they don't actually give a shit about real things."

Xana was now shouting, oblivious to the staff in the suite.

"Well, my father kept me close by his side. He does give a shit. He asked me to help him fix this fucked-up world. He said that we might need to kill people to do that. And guess what?"

She was screaming. "That's exactly what we're going to do."

Xana spun away, in perfect mastery of her heels, and returned to the mirror. After a moment of fussing, her pleasant demeanor returned. She came over to Snow with a tissue and dabbed at a few spots on her face.

"Sorry, got a little carried away there. Can't have you meeting Herself with spit all over your face."

She disposed of the tissue and then turned back to Snow. "Say, maybe I can tell you what the point is." She giggled again and asked, "Do you know who the most dangerous assassins of the middle ages were?"

Snow didn't know if Xana wanted an answer or was just being rhetorical.

Snow spoke up anyway, testing her returned voice, "I don't know...black knights? I think that they had those right? Or maybe that's just in the story books. I give up, who?"

"Wives." Xana beamed as she gave the answer. "Wives with poison potions and access to their drunk husband's cup. Before the days of speedy divorces that was pretty much the only option to get rid of hubby-the-fuckhead."

She continued, "Some did it slowly with a little arsenic each day; others just got rid of the old bastard with a single dose of nightshade. There was no CSI in those days; who could prove anything? It was usually the solution to a lot of other problems that the dumb shit was causing; so, if anyone suspected, they didn't say so."

"Actually, maybe Henry the eighth did figure it out. That's why he got to them first, ha-ha."

She continued to giggle with pleasure. "So now you know the point, my dear. Our guest will be our vessel. With the right suggestions and help of a local chemist, who asks no questions, our First Lady will simply follow through on our suggestion to do-in the son-of-a-bitch that has been holding her back all these years."

She continued, "We'll take the quick route, of course. Face down in today's soup. Blame the Chinese. A perfect little international crisis."

Xana was apparently pleased with her plan and with her nice discussion with Snow.

Snow wondered if she was hearing a delusion. Xana couldn't possibly be planning on murdering the American president, in hope that it would embarrass the hosts.

Snow challenged her, wondering again if she could get her off her game. "You dumb shit; aren't you forgetting? We do have CSI today. They'll figure it out in a second and they'll finger her in two. This crazy scheme can't possibly work."

If she was rattled, Xana didn't show it. "Well, that's all the time we have for chit-chat; our guest has arrived.

The doorbell rang again.

This time, the butler greeted the arrivals. Snow tugged her dress down as much as she could and steadied herself on her heels. Then, she remembered that it was a dream. Who gives a crap if my panties want to play peek-a-boo? That was assuming that Xana would think to include them. It did seem breezy down there. She tugged a little more.

Xana moved into the front hallway and offered pleasant greetings. Snow heard a slightly-accented female voice respond. Then, the same voice directed someone to wait in the outside hallway. Snow guessed that the First Lady had come with a security detail. Then, they came into the room.

Snow was perplexed. She didn't recognize the woman with Xana.

Xana brought her guest further into the dining area and stopped in front of Snow. She winked.

"Your Excellency, may I present my dear friend Miss Sasha White of the United States. Sasha, this is her excellency, Madame Elena Mourinho, First Lady of the Republic of Indonesia."

A limp hand was extended, which Snow took and lightly shook. She hoped that she wasn't supposed to kiss it.

Xana pointed to the table. "I'm famished, shall we eat.?"

Apparently feeling comfortable in the company of women, and ignoring the staff, Elena removed her head covering scarf and shook out her hair. When a drink order was requested, she nodded, with some guilty nervousness.

Xana reached over and patted her hand. "It's a dream dear. No sins in a dream."

The First Lady nodded and smiled. When the drinks arrived, she took no time at all downing the hard liquor on ice. Her empty class begged a refill, which arrived without her asking. Pretty soon it was gone too. Another quickly replaced it.

Xana and Snow meanwhile were only sipping on a weak champagne and juice mix. Xana handled all the conversation with Elena, occasionally compelling grunts of agreement from Snow.

The now-tipsy First Lady was laughing at all of Xana's small jokes and thoroughly enjoying herself. There was no sign of food, even though the kitchen staff could be heard noisily clanking dishes and pans in the kitchen.

After a feigned glance around for non-existent observers, Xana leaned in, as if in confidence, and produced a small metal case about two inches by four inches in size. It looked a lot like a case for glasses. It was made of red leather with an intricate pattern and polished gold latch. She set it in front of the guest.

"Now, Elena, this is what the hidden treasure that you'll find in your room later will look like. When you find it, take out the packet of pills, then replace the case where you found it."

Xana flipped the latch and opened the box. It held a small plastic pouch containing about twenty tiny blue pills.

"If, by chance, your husband discovers you, say that you are excited to be here with him and wanted to ensure that you can have a wild night together later."

The First Lady almost spit out her mouthful of liquor. She obviously wasn't planning on any wild nights with her husband. They all made eye contact and laughed at the prospect.

"But, don't wait until later to give them to him, because they are actually poison. Crush the pills and put the powder in his breakfast coffee and in his food. Just mix it in everywhere that you can think of. It's tasteless. He won't know a thing."

Elena blinked and fully considered the box. "You are certain that he will just drop dead?"

"One hour later, after he has left the room. You can't be blamed. We guarantee it, right Sasha?"

Snow couldn't help herself, she was nodding rapidly and grinning along with the other two.

Elena only said, "Oh, happy day."

Xana seemed satisfied. Now, she stood and dropped her napkin on her empty plate.

"I hate to rush you dear, but it's time to go."

The First Lady stood and smiled at both of them, saying, "What a wonderful lunch. And thank-you so much for helping with my problem."

Xana now took her hand.

"Bye-bye then. Go ahead and wake up for that pee that you need to take. All these drinks can certainly catch up with you. Then, look for the case."

The First Lady blinked once and then winked out of sight.

Snow was incredulous. "I can't believe that you set the poor woman up like that. If she does manage to poison her husband, she'll spend the rest of her life in jail, or maybe lose her head, considering where she comes from."

Xana laughed loudly and poked Snow in the shoulder.

"Oh, please. She's not killing anyone with poison, but maybe the prez will injure someone with his all-day hard-on at the conference session. The pills that she will find are actually her husband's boner pills that he sneaks around with at these events, in case he gets lucky with some unlucky lady."

She continued, "The wife would like him gone so that she can take up with her imam boyfriend, who she screws discreetly by pretending to visit the mosque in private women-only sessions. Let's just say that she's hardly innocent and already has many accomplices."

"The old man can't easily explain away the pills and his painful boner, because he's not screwing her anymore. She'll have grounds to toss him out. So, it should be fun, no matter how it works out. Sad to say, but they're pretty typical of this two-faced crowd."

Xana looked Snow up and down, then smiled with a lot less joviality.

"Well, this was sort of fun and I believe that we wasted enough time for others to get done what they needed to get done. We should put these outfits to real use and go pick-up some handsome politicos. Everyone will be there. How about, you can have Justin; I'm going for Emmanuel. What do you say?"

Snow snarled at her.

Xana laughed, "Great, I'm excited to meet up with the rest of the gang too."

She snapped her fingers and the room dissolved away.
Unfaithful Ends

Mert Yilmaz was pleased with himself after an evening of productive small meetings. The president of Turkey loved being on a world stage. He loved the elevation of his smallish country to the position of a key player in important world events. He had been doing this for many years and knew just how to draw the greatest pleasure out of being fluffed up for the cameras and the ceremony. Tomorrow, he would have his fifteen minutes at center stage. It was just what was needed to raise his sagging popularity at home. He loved it that none of his enemies could come along. They could eat dirt and be ignored for a few days anyway. He could take his well-deserved place again among the world's most important leaders.

Mert also loved bringing Ece along on these trips as she was the best possible companion in the spotlight that he so deserved. She looked ten years younger than her mid-50's. She had learned to lighten up her head covering for these events and always let a little of her gorgeous dark hair frame her face.

Her look was both classically beautiful and erotically alluring. Her long private moments of careful preparation before the mirror yielded a stunning result that always turned men's heads.

Mert loved showing Ece off in front of the assembled leaders, particularly in contrast to their endlessly boring wives. He imagined each of the older men desiring her and each of the craggy older women cursing her. As he traded barely-veiled barbs with these, mostly slimy, politicians, he could count on Ece charming them off their game without saying a word. Ugly wives were usually pushed away to the corners of the room. None of the returning leaders wanted to look at them again each year. But, he made sure that Ece was always at his side, as he imagined that they all wanted to look at her for as long as they could.

With her there to demonstrate his fidelity, he could also get away with walking his eyes up and down some of the newer wives. The fresh crop of Western wives was almost always worth looking at as they felt no shame in showing long legs and a little tit. It was something he never got outside of his home back in Turkey, unless he paid for it. He appreciated it on-offer freely here.

Now, as they retired in the comfort of the mid-sized luxury suite, he was happy to tell her again what a great support she was. They had both peeled off the public facades. He had donned woven cotton pajamas and a wonderful embroidered silk robe that he had found waiting in the room, courtesy of their host country.

Ece had thoroughly removed her face make-up and had scrubbed her skin to a pink glow. Her hair was up and her still-enticing body was now lost in layered sets of baggy work-out gear. She had plunked herself on the floor and spent twenty quiet minutes stretching and meditating before bed. They had missed prayers several times that day, but he didn't care much. They were as devote as the circumstances dictated. And right now, circumstance dictated that they try to catch up on sleep missed in three days of travel and adjustment to the Far-East time zone.

They laughed to each other as they climbed up onto the high bed, which put them almost two meters apart on the giant king-sized-plus mattress. Ece commented that even though they were actually sleeping together, they would be in different rooms of their tiny childhood homes.

Mert liked the somewhat novel experience of having his wife in the same bed, even if she was well beyond arm's reach. At home, they normally lurked in opposite ends of their government mansion. He smiled and turned out the light. Blackness filled in the room.

Sleep never came quickly when the body clock and the actual clock are out of synch. But, exhaustion helped, and the quiet, dark room set the stage for some much-needed deep sleep. As Mert eventually began to doze off, he thought again about how lucky his country was to have him. He felt that he worked extra hard on its behalf even if the peasants never fully appreciated the sacrifices a leader must make. He must write a book about himself one day. He was thinking of mentally reviewing his speech for the next day, when the pleasant smell of the lightly perfumed fine cotton under his cheek interrupted. He wondered how he might take sheets like these home with him. Perhaps, if he complimented the inn-keeper. Then, he was asleep.

Later, Mert sat up in the giant bed, disturbed by a weak light showing under the door of the attached dressing room. He had seen it deep in his sleep through hazy eyes and had needed several minutes to struggle up out of his stupor just to figure out where he was. Had he also heard a sound?

He turned to look over his shoulder. Ece wasn't in the bed. Had minutes or hours passed? He sat staring at the faint line of light for many moments, trying, with some effort, to make his brain work properly to answer all of his questions.

They had intentionally drawn the heavy curtains tight so the room was in near-complete darkness, even though outside night at the resort was as bright as daylight with blazing property lighting in all directions. The faint edges of light at the curtain seams told him nothing of the time of night. There was no clock. Mert actually didn't care about local time. His staff would get him up when he was needed. But, now he wondered how much of the night had passed and what Ece was doing out of bed. Was their day starting and he had been left sleeping?

He quietly got down from the bed, pawed about for his gown and stumbled over to the door of the dressing room. The door wasn't latched and he quietly pushed it open an inch with his fingers. Through the narrow opening, he was surprised to see Ece wearing only a very revealing negligee and putting the final touches on her make-up. He didn't even know that she owned such a garment. For an instant, he wondered if she was preparing to wake him for sex—even though they weren't very active and he needed his rest. He was about to say something like: "Thanks, but not tonight, my love," but then he stopped as he studied her back and her angled image in the boudoir mirror.

She had only a small set of lights on, but he still noticed that some things had changed about her. Her normally black hair had taken on a red tint. How could she have done this? She looked younger. Her breasts, under the thin sleepwear, appeared to be standing higher. Her waist was definitely thinner. Her hips and ass perched on the small stool, were tighter and more pronounced. The more he looked, the more he could feel his juices stirring. Except for her familiar face reflected in the mirror, this was a much sexier woman than his remembered wife. He felt his cock swelling; perhaps sex wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

Apparently finished with her preparations, Ece suddenly turned to face him directly. She was looking right at him through the partly opened door, but didn't acknowledge his presence. Mert pushed the door fully open and attempted to ask what was going on. He moved his lips, but nothing came out. Ece didn't acknowledge him and he couldn't talk to her. He felt a shudder of anxiety course through his heart and stomach. His now disinterested cock was rapidly deflating in his pajama pants.

In his mind, he was now yelling, "Ece, my wife, what is going on?" Nothing came out of his mouth.

"What has happened to you? Why can't you hear me?"

The questions formed in his mind and rushed up to his lips, but no sound came with them. He was frozen in the doorway, one hand still locked onto the door edge and his feet anchored, as if in concrete.

As Mert watched in further astonishment, Ece rose, slipped on a thin silk night gown and stepped into her embroidered slippers. She dimmed the lights and tip-toed right past him in the near dark, on route to the entry door of the suite. He attempted to reach out to her as she slid through the dressing room door, passing within inches, but his other arm was locked at his side. He smelled the scent of her expensive toilet water and felt a breath of air flowing over her uncovered hair. He was now very aware that something was wrong, but was powerless to do anything about it.

Mert knew that there was a guard outside the door, so if she went out the suite entry door she would be seen. He again tried to go after her or to shout, but was still frozen in place and mute. He could only turn his head and watch in growing horror.

Now his questions included, "How can you embarrass me this way?" But, the complaint was never voiced. In the dim light, Ece worked at the door lock and handle, eventually figuring out how to unlock it. She stared for a long time in the direction of the empty bed, then apparently satisfied that she was undiscovered, swiftly opened the door only a few inches and slipped out, closing it quietly behind her.

As suddenly as he had been frozen, Mert was now released. He shook off a lingering stiffness and started to move toward the suite entrance door as well. His first steps were staggering, but he eventually found his legs and his balance.

He almost sprained his wrist attempting to wrench the thick door open; it was locked again with the security bolt, that could only be engaged from the inside. He was very confused how that could be. He fumbled to open it, just as Ece had. Finally, flinging the door open, he expected to confront the guard who had hopefully detained his wife, but there was no one in sight. Astonished again, Mert attempted to come up with some logical explanation. Maybe Ece has some medical emergency and the guard has taken her to the on-site medical staff. This must be it.

He wanted to follow them, to help his wife and to commend the guard, but didn't know where they went. Puzzled, he felt frozen again, this time by indecision on what he should do. Should I raise an alarm? Call out my staff?

But, how would he explain his wife's near-naked state to them. Any word of this getting out would be a disastrous embarrassment at home, where he must appear to be both devote and totally in control. He was stuck in possibilities when he heard a door close far down the hallway.

In their home language, he shouted: "Ece, come back, come back."

No longer frozen, he stumbled in the direction of the door slam, again surprised to see no one in halls that should have been brimming with security staff.

At the larger door that separated their group of rooms from others he again found no evidence of guards or other security. This door should have been protected with a metal scanner and blocking guard desk.

Breaking into English, he exclaimed, "What the hell? Who is here? Who is in charge?"

But, there was only silence echoing down vacated hallways. He shook his head at the security breach, but didn't slow down as he heaved the heavy door open. Now he was in public space. A main lobby was just ahead. This could be very bad.

Again, he called for her, shouting "Ece, where are you?" as loudly as he could. His voice worked fine now as he heard the echo of his words reverberating back off the vacated hallways.

Just as he was starting to give up hope and give in to the reality that he must get some help, Mert saw Ece across the wide main lobby, climbing the curving stairs to the wing of rooms assigned to Russia. He knew this because he had a useless meeting up there earlier in the day with the Russian foreign minister. The prick Prime Minister stand-in Ilya Kutnetzov was supposed to meet him, but begged off. Even though that meeting would have only been for show, the snub was a mark against his former ally. Pulisin would never have insulted him so. But wasn't Pulisin still in charge of everything, even if he wasn't here? Mert was still pissed at the slight and would be looking to pay it back when he had the opportunity.

The sight of her exposed body under the flimsy cover, out in public space was a shock once again. Bare leg and peek-a-boo breast flashed at him. She was showing no concern for covering herself as the open robe now flowed behind her while she moved steadily up the stairs.

Mert now broke into a run, feeling the strain on his heart, down the stairs from their rooms across a deserted main lobby and up the stairs to the Russian wing. As he arrived at the top step, he saw Ece far down a corridor, about to open a main door that should definitely have been guarded, inside and out. Mert was panting; he was amazed how light on her feet and how graceful Ece now was. She covered ground by barely touching it. Even from a distance she was very desirable. He would be deeply embarrassed if she was discovered half-naked by a Russian guard or staff member, who would certainly have lecherous thoughts.

Ece turned once back in his direction, before she opened the door a crack and slipped through. Had she heard him? He thought that she was smiling. His cry of "Ece, please..." was lost against the closing door behind her.

Mert covered the distance to the door as quickly as he was able. These distances seemed immense and he felt as if he had been running for hours. He was definitely wearing out.

To his surprise, the door was unguarded. He looked in all directions for any sign of guards or staff. He could be shot for barging into private Russian space announced. But, damn it, I have the right to pursue my wife.

Cautiously he pulled the big door open, feeling a little foolish in announcing, in English: "It is I, President Yilmaz. I am coming in only to retrieve my wife."

He put first his hand, then his arm, and ever so slowly his head through the opened door. No challenge and thankfully, no gun shot. He realized that he has been holding his breath and now let out a deep exhale in relief.

Curiously, Mert saw Ece stopped before the entry door to a bedroom suite at the end of the hall. She would have had lots of time to keep moving, but apparently, had reached her destination. Now, she was in no hurry. She was smoothing her hair and arranging her scant clothing. Satisfied, she knocked, waited and was let in through the door opened by the room's occupant.

Mert knew that it was the Prime Minister's suite. Already irritated with him, Mert was now furious. He charged toward the suite, ready to break down the door if need be, even though this was an impossibility for a weak and overweight middle-aged politician. He would have to hope that pounding and yelling would produce the same result: the return of his apparently philandering wife, unviolated.

To his surprise, when he finally got to the door, it was standing partly open. As he reached the threshold he felt his muscles freeze-up again, locking him in an open-mouthed stare at the scene before him.

Inside the suite, he saw Ilya Kutnetzov, in satin pajamas, greeting his wife with a long kiss. He had his arm around her waist and was now showing her to a sofa where a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice waited. In a slowly unfolding diorama, Ece sat, smiled and then laughed; she accepted a poured glass with a mischievous grin. With practiced ease, she downed the contents and tipped the glass for a refill.

Mert was stunned once again. Ece didn't drink, privately with Mert or with anyone else; it was against her deepest beliefs. Yet here she was, lounging in nakedness with a near-stranger and pouring back alcohol. The scene before him defied explanation.

After refilling glasses, Kutnetzov joined her on the couch and they proceeded to start necking. There was no hesitation or any evidence of unfamiliarity. Ece broke off a long kiss, but allowed Ilya to begin exploring her body, while she looked over his shoulder directly at Mert. To Mert's growing horror, one of Ilya's hands was moving up her leg, pushing the nightgown apart and the negligee ever higher. As his hand reached the dark between her thighs, Ece let out a groan and threw her head back. Ilya continued to explore, as Ece's entire ass became visible on the couch.

Mert was beside himself with rage, but couldn't move or intervene.

Eventually, Ilya stood and scooped Ece up in his arms to carry her to the bed. He laid her with her legs off the bed. Now he pushed her nightclothes high on her chest. Falling to his knees, he spread her legs and proceeded to follow the path that his hands had taken upward with his mouth and tongue. As he hit home in her deep reddish bush, Ece leapt and bucked in pleasure.

After a few minutes of licking and nuzzling, Ilya stood up and began to remove his pajama pants. As he did, an enormous erection flopped out. Now Ilya turned his gaze towards Mert, still frozen in the doorway. He smiled and then obviously laughed a great belly-roll laugh, although he made no sound either.

As Kutnetzov prepared to enter Ece, her demeanor suddenly changed. She appeared to wake up out of the temptress persona; she shook her head to clear her senses and reacted with surprise and shock at her location and nakedness. She appeared to shout a curse as she attempted to push Ilya out from between her legs.

Mert now observed that Ece's hair had returned to its normal color and that middle age stockiness had returned to her body. Sound rushed back into the scene, finally bringing Ece's protests and Ilya's continued laughing to his ears.

Ece now screamed as she brought Ilya fully into focus in front of her, just as he was leaning in to plunge his enormous cock into her. She attempted to sit up, but he pushed her back down and thrust forward to force his hips between her thighs. She resisted more violently now, attempting first to roll away and then to fight back with closed fists. Ilya swung a hairy arm and closed fist, catching her on the side of the head. She was brutally knocked back, losing all ability to resist.

Suddenly freed from his invisible shackles, Mert could finally move into the suite. He rushed towards the bedside and reached out to pull Kutnetzov back. Just as Mert grasped his shoulder to pull him away, Ilya's arm came up violently and a backhand fist slammed Mert square on the mouth, knocking him to the floor and stunning him.

"Hah," said Ilya in fluent Turkish. "You are no hero, who could you rescue?" He laughed loudly again as he held Ece on the bed with splayed hand and locked arm, while stroking his erection with the other hand.

He continued mocking, "I doubt that you are even a man anymore. Maybe your little pecker has shriveled completely away?"

Another grunting laugh. "How could you hope to satisfy a woman?"

Ilya clearly enjoyed being the bully and leaned further into his verbal attack.

"Look at your wife loving this; she can hardly wait for my big sausage to pry open her dusty hole."

He returned his gaze to Mert. "You would be too chicken to act, even if you could. If I gave you a gun now, could you even shoot me? Nyet. You are a timid man, not fit for leadership or for this fine woman, who I will now possess."

He ended the tirade with a long laugh, then turned his attention back to the rape of Ece, who had lost her strength and now could only feebly moan, "No, no, no," amongst mumbled appeals to Allah for a savior or for death, if the assault was to be consummated.

Mert couldn't get himself off the floor. Not just stunned and bleeding from the blow, he was again stuck in a thick paste of invisible adhesive, holding him down, but also holding him up just enough that he would have to helplessly watch the brutal attack reach its conclusion. He was filled with hate and fear, but as Kutnetzov had so accurately described, he was a limp shadow of the man he once was. He could only watch in horror.

Just as the attack should have be proceeding to a violent and noisy conclusion, the room itself seemed to shiver and freeze in time. All three participants were locked in place as the color drained from the setting for a moment.

Shaking free of the momentary bond, Kutnetzov now screamed in rage and turned away from Ece, suddenly cringing backwards as if about to be attacked by some unseen enemy rushing towards him. He threw his hands up and in doing so, released both Ece and Mert from the invisible bonds that held them. He fell back against the far wall, cursing in Russian and snarling like a chained dog trying to lunge at rival that is just out of reach.

As color fully returned to the room, the entry door burst fully open and Will Green charged in. He had no context for the scene he had arrived in and had to pause to make sense of who was the villain and who was a victim. He didn't know the politician's faces well enough to immediately assign names, but he could see that the raging Ilya recognized him, while Mert cringed in fear and scrambled backwards for a hiding place.

Then he heard Lex curse through the character in front of him. For a brief second, he was looking at Lex. It was all the information he needed. He charged and tackled him, with both of them crashing onto the elaborate furniture and finishings of the luxury suite. In a furious back and forth, the persona of Kutnetzov and he exchanged blows as they tumbled around the room As Will landed many more effective blows, the image of the Russian prime minister shimmered and distorted on the body of the combatant, leaving Will uncertain who his was fighting.

As they rolled on the floor of the suite, Will kept his eyes moving to be sure that there was no deadly weapon present. He remembered the silver knife of the earlier encounters. For the moment, he couldn't see anything more dangerous than a table lamp, which had already come flying in his direction. As he had with so many dirt clods before it, he simply stepped aside to let it fly past and crash into the wall.

As Will steadily gained an advantage on the tiring Kutnetzov through his much younger and stronger body, Lex turned him into different characters, as if desperately trying to find a weakness in Will's attack.

First, dead Bobby appeared, then downcast Roger, then the horny midget. Will finally jumped back when a fully-grown bear appeared across from him. He barely escaped being crushed between massive fore-paws of the standing bear. Three-inch-long claws raked the air in front of him as he quickly backtracked out of reach.

Will had succeeded in punching each apparition hard enough to put the various characters out of commission. He now leapt forward to the bear's side and swung again with all his might, crunching a gloved fist into the bear's nose. The bear growled, but then appeared to laugh at the love-tap to its nose.

A quick backhand swipe of its paw knocked Will across the room. He landed hard against the far wall, but moved quickly to regain his feet, expecting a following attack. As he pushed himself up from the floor, he found his hand on Snow's war club. The hackles were up, but not for him. Smiling at the evident rapprochement, he picked it up with his talisman hand and felt it take control.

Hanging on, he was pulled to his feet. Together, they charged back into the fray, leaping high and landing a crushing blow on the bear's flat skull.

The bear shook and moaned, as its eyes rolled back into unconsciousness. The character returned to a damaged Lex briefly and then to a bleeding Kutnetzov, with a significant gash above his hairline. He slumped unconscious beside the overturned bed.

Will now had complete control of the dreamscape and turned to help Mert up and to pull Ece off the bed, where she had been curled in a ball. After struggling to get them to their feet, he told them to run, which they finally did, out the open door. They were alive and mostly unharmed—he guessed that had been his assignment. But, was there more he could achieve?

Will hesitated, not knowing what to do. With the talisman in his glove, one more savage blow from the war club would certainly kill Lex, if that was Lex, and maybe significantly improve the odds in their favor. But, he was no killer. He thought back to Emma's wish for the well-being of all of them.

The man he would be killing looked like he was an innocent dreamer. Was it possible that this was his dream? Killing him might be killing a world leader. He might be the final instrument in Cherry's plot. Confused and afraid of making a terrible mistake, he backed out of the room and sprinted off find the other fighters.

Mert and Ece found themselves outside the door of the Russian suite in the deserted corridor. They were both hurting and, having no idea what else to do, begin to limp their way back to their end of the hotel. There was still no one in sight: no local staff, no security, no aides. The beaten couple staggered back through the lobby and the abandoned corridors, now desperately aware of their vulnerability without protection and of Ece's near-naked exposure.

When they finally reached their room, Mert was totally exhausted. Ece was still terrified and weeping. He had been dragging her along with a strong arm wrapped around her waist. His strength now ran out. Inside the door, they collapsed in sweat, tears and blood. After many minutes, Ece finally groaned to her feet and staggered into the bathroom to shed the bloody negligee.

Mert couldn't summon the energy to change. He found himself sitting alone against the edge of the bed. Eventually, Ece hobbled back to him, dressed in her own night clothes. She helped to haul him up with huge effort, and finally, they sagged against each other sitting on the side of the bed.

"What is happening?" Ece appealed to him with tear-filled eyes, that had only now started to lose the terror of the deadly attack.

"How did we get there? What was wrong with Kutnetzov? Was that a bear? Who was the man that freed us?" Her questions poured out and confirmed to Mert that the incredible chain of events had been the same for both of them.

He felt some small relief that Ece had been taken to the Russian suite by forces beyond her awareness. She was no longer the bitch temptress that he had mistaken her for and her fidelity was restored. She was just a victim of someone's cruel scheme, that thankfully, had not come to fruition. But, he could not easily release Kutnetzov to the same consideration.

Still Mert began to realize how disconnected and surreal all of the events had been. There was a fuzzy edge in the perception of everything they had experienced that now provided the only possible explanation.

"It's just a dream, dearest. Allah will release us. Go to sleep now."

Rubbing his bruised and still bleeding mouth. Mert wasn't sure that was all it was. He continued to feel the deep burning desire to get revenge. But, in his exhaustion he couldn't help falling back on the pillow. He sank back into the grey wool of sleep with the single image of a laughing Ilya Kutnetzov locked in his head.

Yes, he can answer the question now: I will certainly kill the bastard Kutnetzov, given the chance. He must kill him to avenge his wife and to regain his honor. He repeated this mantra as he drifted deeper down into his now dreamless sleep.

Butter Knife to a Bun Fight

Will silently followed his dreamers through the corridors until they appeared to be safely back in their suite. Soon enough after that, the dreamscape of the hotel main corridor faded as Mert and Ece slid exhausted from the dream state down to deep, dreamless sleep.

Will found himself in a blank space, wearing tattered battle dress and with Snow's club in his hand. He could feel swelling from bruises forming around bleeding cuts on his face. With some concentration, he dried up the wounds and was able to wipe his face clean on the arm of his clothing. His shoulder hurt and a few broken ribs from the bear swipe seemed likely. He thanked his lucky duck, wherever it was, that Lex had left the knife behind. Then the thought occurred, Maybe, he didn't have a choice, if that was what I wished?

He knew that he had to try to get to one of Snow or Lulu, to add the strength of the talisman to their efforts against the Reds. As Xana was the most formidable target, he decided that his priority had to be Snow. He had joined in dreams before, but usually by being drawn in. He wasn't sure that he could make the jump on his own. Should I wake up and get a new pointer from Philip? It would waste of time that might be critical, or, if the ferocity of the fight with Lex was an indicator, deadly.

He looked down at the war club and had an idea. Taking the shaft in both hands he wished that it might be able to take him to its owner. He felt a little like Timmy's dad talking to Lassie when Timmy fell down the well, but he thought he'd give it a try.

Hanging on tight, he spoke out loud to the club. "Where's Snow?" Nothing.

"Can you take me to Snow?" Still no response.

He shouted, "Snow needs you, now.'" The hackle feathers rose in response to this one.

"Go to Snow, now."

With that, the hackles came fully up and Will could feel the club start to vibrate. The pull, that he had felt only in his arms, now radiated through his entire body. The dreamscape setting went dark and then came up in half-light as a service hallway in another part of the hotel. They had moved. He could hear raucous music and loud conversation through broad steel doors closed directly in front of him. The war club was now buzzing with barely-contained energy and was dragging him towards the doors.

So, you respond to commands, not questions, eh? I'll remember that for next time.

The frenetic pull towards the doors wasn't going to work though. Not knowing what was on the other side, he didn't want either the club or him flying into the room.

"Stop." He tried the command approach, but with an explanation. "We need to know what we're walking into."

The club stopped pulling and seemed to relax a little. He patted it a couple times and lowered it beside his leg. He planned to hide it until he had a target for it clearly in sight.

"OK, let's take this a small step at a time." Now, he was treating the club as an ally. The partnership felt a little like having the right gun in the woods when he came upon fresh tracks. He hoped that the club would wait for his aim before it started shooting.

Pulling the door open a crack, Will was immediately assaulted by a raucous and sweaty party going on in a large underground rave bar. Techno music blared from a stage at the far end, where a barely-clothed, red-haired female DJ was whipping up a gyrating crowd on a tiny dance floor. He squeezed through the opening and ducked down into the darkness next to the door.

A backlit service bar, staffed by red-haired young men in body shirts, completely filled a far wall. In between, several dozen patrons were drinking and jostling in a fairly drunken state. In the scattered illumination of dim pot lights Will could see that many in the standing crowd were having trouble staying upright and in one place. Men and women in apparent party dress were mixed in with a more laid-back crowd of younger partiers in tee-shirts and jeans. The majority of casual crowd also appeared to be red-haired. Many in the partiers appeared to be smoking foul-smelling cigarettes or possibly horseshit saturated joints. Will couldn't tell which, but was repulsed by the acrid odor. The entire room was shrouded in a stinking smoky haze.

If Xana was hiding in here, Will knew he would have a real challenge picking her out from the crowd. He could feel the war club pulsing and pushing against his thigh. Somewhere beyond the crowd, Snow was in some trouble. Getting her club to her might be the thing that would save her life. But, with a large, potentially hostile crowd, any premature moves could also be deadly for all of them.

As the door clanked closed beside Will, the small sliver of light from the hallway went out. He was now crouching in a lightless corner of the room, with no-one really paying any attention to him. He slowly stood and crept stealthily further into the room; he began quietly to work his way around the crowd, hoping to stay unnoticed.

Once his eyes fully adapted to the dark, he could start to make out some faces. He had studied the leaders' profiles in preparation and already figured out that he had met the leaders of Turkey and Russia, or at least their imitators. Now, he was surprised to see the prime minister of Italy, dressed in a lime-green bicycle shorts, in a heated argument with the young president of France, who was wearing little more than red white and blue britches. The argument seemed to be about the size of something and each man was using his hands to alternately show a growing length of 8 to 10 inches and tubular thickness of several inches around. Whatever they were arguing about seemed to be growing in size as they cursed each other out.

The crowd around them was forming a circle, with the very-drunk prime minister of the Japan in a torn lavender football jersey egging on his champion in Italy, while the equally drunk chancellor of Germany in a hiked-up cocktail dress was pushing the French president forward. Both men were stripping down to bare essentials, apparently getting ready for a fist-fight.

Will slipped around the noisy crowd of onlookers that also contained many red-haired enthusiasts, who were alternately cheering one or the other of the potential combatants.

Crossing the sticky open floor space littered with drink glasses and empty bottles, he came upon a second group that was similarly egging on the prime minister of Canada, who appeared to be getting ready to take on the president of the United States in a bare-knuckle fight. The PM already had his shirt off and was displaying an impressive series of boxing moves, jabbing and hooking at an imaginary opponent. He also had an impressively large doobie clamped between his lips. He periodically took deep tokes before continuing his warm-up.

The blustering and decrepit-looking US president was swinging a mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels and leaning into a group of supporters, who were holding him back temporarily, while red-haired seconds for each side argued over fight rules. The president was having trouble keeping a mop of beer-soaked blond hair out of his face. Based on his curses, the original argument seemed to be about "roving hands on my wife" offenses from both sides.

The seconds in the crowd appeared to be trying to establish rules for the brawl. Will heard "no biting and no eye-gouging" accepted as fitting limitations, while 'kicking in the balls" was apparently just fine. Will couldn't believe that there was this much violence hidden beneath the normally pleasant demeanors of the leaders.

Other red-haired enthusiasts were taking bets from the surrounding crowd, which included many other country leaders, some of whom seemed on the verge of joining the fisticuffs. The British 'commonwealth' countries were solidly behind Canada, while most of Asia and South America apparently liked the president's chances. As Will cautiously rounded the group, he tripped over a prone prime minister of India, passed out on the floor. One less supporter was available for Canada.

With a better view of the dance floor, Will could now see the prime minister of Britain riding on the humping and bumping shoulders of the new president of Brazil, while, on her head, she wore the red and white kaffiyah of the mostly-disrobed Saudi king doing breakdance spins on the floor.

On the edge of the dance floor, several other leaders were already engaged in a barely-controlled pushing and bumping match, that apparently had started as a mosh-pit crash dance. Red-haired headbangers were encouraging the confrontations by violently throwing leaders back into the mosh whenever they staggered away or appeared likely to go face-down in a drunken stupor.

The entire room seemed on the verge of a brawl of epic proportions. Will had a chilling thought. With artefacts controlling the dreamscape, these fighting dreamers would be doing real harm to each other. Hopefully, they were too drunk to inflict much damage, but it was an uncontrollable threat to anyone who caught a punch wrong or fell unconscious into the furniture. The party needed to be stopped before a fist was thrown. That time was right now. He was left wondering. Can I do this on my own?

As Will was considering his next move, he came fully around the Canada—US grudge match and got a clear view of the long service bar. Partiers in a double deep row of drinkers were either leaning in for refills or just hanging on to each other to stay upright. Dead center, he finally resolved the image that he was looking for: the three women perched facing outwards on bar stools were apparently the only mostly-sober people in the place. Xana held center court, laughing and shouting out to others across the room. Snow and Lulu sat silently on either side with very pissed-off expressions. The virtual funk around them confirmed that they were there against their wishes and against their ability to do anything about it.

The three women were all clad in party outfits, that were stunning, but highly out-of-place with the boozy dance club motif. None of the drunk men were bothering them, probably in fear of their lives as the trio gave of a sizzling aura of 'don't even think about it'. Will was trying to make sense of the scene. He briefly thought about just letting the pulsing club loose to see what it would do. As that thought was forming, he became aware that Xana had turned her head to face him and had stopped smiling. Snow and Lulu also turned in his direction.

Now, there was no need to be stealthy. He allowed the war club to move slightly away from his body as a warning and strode directly towards Xana. The club wanted to go hard, and it surely would have tried to brain her, but he held it back. Xana wasn't Lex. This encounter would need all his skill and ability, in addition to the willing club.

"So, little Villy, you are finally joining us." As Xana spoke, she nodded to the other women as the 'us'.

She continued, "It is nice to see you looking so, vell..., beat-up, to be honest." She put on a look of fake sympathy, as she tipped her head to get a better look at Will's scratches and bruises.

"You alvays vere a pretty good scrapper, for a little kid." She smiled, but then snapped her expression to a look of embarrassment. "Oh, so sorry, you don't remember any of this, right? My bad. Unfortunate for you; might be some useful stuff somewhere back there for a situation like this."

Will felt like he was looking into the fangs of a red viper, coiled to strike. He had no idea how Xana would attack, but he was certain that she would, given the chance. As distance wasn't likely to be a factor, he pulled out a tactic that had worked on the real playgrounds of his youth. He quickly moved aggressively inside her comfort zone, so that he was talking directly to her face.

He breathed out his challenge just a few centimeters from her face. "You look a little drunk to me Xana. I've never had much problem with drunks and braggarts."

Will tried to maintain a cold-as-steel expression. He knew that he might be inviting disaster, but also wanted Xana's full attention on his face. The war club hung at his side within a few inches of Snow's hand. His other hand held the talisman. When the time was right he intended to use both weapons in an all-out attack.

Xana apparently liked the close quarters. She actually leaned closer to him. If Will didn't know better, he might have thought that she was going to plant a kiss on him. Instead, she brought her hand up and ran her fingers around his jaw.

"My, my; I guess that you are no little kid anymore. Maybe ve should split out of here and see vhat other skills these two have taught you."

Xana kept her face close and turned to Snow. "Vhat do you think Sash; can you handle things here vhile Villy and me sneak off?"

The room had now gotten noisier if anything, with driving music combining with cheers and whistles from all sides as actual fights broke out. In short order, all the leaders would be sucked into fist fights, with Reds throwing the first couple punches, then neatly stepping out of the way to let the leaders have at each other.

Snow and Lulu were trying to follow his conversation with Xana. They showed the same sullen faces that Will had first seen. Something was holding them in place and preventing any reaction. Xana on her own couldn't do this. Will guessed that this was the extent of Xana's artefact's reach. He hoped that any break in her concentration might give the two of them a window to break out and give him the opportunity to take charge. But, it was just a hunch. Or, it was his talisman helping him out with a suggestion. He decided to trust his instinct.

Seeing the opening he needed, Will leaned even closer to Xana, so that their lips were almost touching. He said, "Oh, we don't need to go anywhere Oksana; I like all of my women together, all at once."

Taking his chance, he quickly leaned in and kissed Xana, while he brought his free hand up behind her neck. Gently forcing her lips and teeth apart, he drove his tongue deep into her mouth while drawing air from her throat. In a moment, he had her tongue locked in a deep lover's kiss.

Trusting the war club to find its own way, he let it go and wrapped his other hand around Xana's ass, pulling her whole body off the stool and tightly into his groin. At first, all he could feel was the muscular snake about to strike back, but then he felt her give in to the sudden passion, ever so slightly.

In that moment, he concentrated as hard as he could on his talisman, now in the hand directly behind her head. As he released the kiss, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was the instant that he needed.

Will gave the command. "Be free."

Snow and Lulu both fell free from their bonds and slid off the bar stools. They landed in fighting stance on either side of the still-embracing couple. Snow had her war club back in her hand and stood ready to take over from Will. She had finally kicked off her high heels.

Will could feel his talisman taking control of the entire dreamscape.

He released Xana, put up his hands and shouted, "Stop."

The entire room came to a sudden stop. Combatants froze in mid-punch. Falling drinks and furniture stopped in flight. The music was cut-off mid-beat. The entire dreamscape was frozen in complete silence. Only Xana and he were free to move.

Will now stepped back from Xana, who was making a show of straightening her clothing and fanning her face.

She blinked and smiled, "Oh, lover, could we do some more of that later?"

She didn't seem at all concerned that she was no longer in complete control of the dreamscape.

Will commanded, "Send them back, Xana. The dream is over."

"Yes, I guess it's time that they were fully in their beds anyvay. Very busy day ahead for them. Vell, for some of them, anyvay."

Will wondered if she hadn't heard from Lex.

He said, "I foiled your plan with the Russian and the Turk, whatever it was. Neither is dead and both are safely back in their rooms."

Xana responded, "Yes, vell Lex was never that reliable. I trust that he looks worse than you?"

"You could say that." He wasn't going to be distracted.

"I'm getting impatient here. Send them back now or deal with all three of us. Trust me, Lex's small headache is nothing compared to what we'll do to stop this charade."

Xana replied, "OK, OK. Keep your shirt on, for now anyvay. But, let me do just one little thing to see vhat shape these folks are in first."

Xana winked at him and turned up her hands, to show Red Clan artefacts in both of her palms. "You won't believe me either Villy, but nothing that you believe is true here, actually is."

Will was left trying to parse what she had said and wondering whether he could wait any longer before releasing Snow and Lulu. They would certainly attack Xana immediately. He could still taste a little of the sexual heat of their kiss and the sensation was clouding his judgement. Did I kiss her or did she kiss me? Now, he wasn't certain. He was even less certain of his next move.

Xana laughed again and now shouted out to the room, "Thanks cousins, OK to move now."

All of the red-haired party-goers stepped out of their frozen positions. Some, who had been holding a difficult pose, let out a groan and rubbed aching muscles. The brawling leaders and the suspended furnishings stayed frozen in place.

Xana waved to the cousins, "Diachou. (thank-you) For everything. See you soon."

She brought her hands together and the room dissolved.

Will couldn't understand how she was over-riding his wishes so effortlessly. He turned to Snow and Lulu, who each met his eyes with a silent plea to be released. Before Will could do anything, the dreamscape setting had been reconstituted to a large hotel ballroom, with a wide circle of white desks around an elaborate centerpiece of red and blue flowers. Each of the connected desks had a gold-lettered nameplate for one the 20 participating countries, plus Europe.

Will, Snow and Lulu were standing inside the circle of desks on the opposite side of the thirty-foot-wide centerpiece from Xana. They were free of any bonds and felt like they had complete control of themselves back. They were back in their fighting gear.

Xana, now in red leather again, was joined by Stefan on her side of the floral center piece. He just walked into the scene next to her.

Will looked at the women and whispered an apology.

"I thought that I had it completely in control, but she seems to be better at this than me. Are you free to move now?"

Snow and Lulu were also rubbing aching muscles.

"Son of a bitch." Lulu was furious. She spit under her breath, "This is the worst fucking dream I have ever been in."

Snow was also angry, but touched Will's arm in relief. "Don't feel bad Will, at least you accomplished something with Lex. It's more than we can say."

Will blinked at her. "So, you got all of that, er, conversation, then?"

Snow continued, "Yes, and I'm a little jealous. All of your women together, huh? Didn't look like you were lacking too much pleasure with just the one back there."

Will fought back a smirk. "Had to think quick and use what I had at hand. At least you have your club back. It pretty much dealt with Lex, not me."

Lulu was anxious to do something. "So, can we rush her? If we go both ways, we can catch them in the middle."

Snow was more cautious. "She's gotten pretty good with her talisman things there. Seems like we've at least disrupted the larger plan; let's see where this is going."

Xana had been discussing something with Stefan, who had been pointing at things, but now looked up and across to the fighters.

Xana yelled across the gap, "Apologies. Neither of us have really been in the actual G20 conference room, so you'll have to forgive us for this pretty-lame imitation. Not important anyway.

With the other cousins now gone, Xana's accent and diction were back to prep school perfect.

Xana continued, "We've only put you over there to keep you from trying to split our skulls." She looked at Stefan and back to the fighters.

"It would appear that our plan is a bust. Too bad. But, you know that we'll try again." She laughed. "Maybe you can relax now, as we have something important to show you."

Lulu wasn't buying it. She yelled back, "Bullshit. Whatever your plans are, they certainly aren't going to end that quickly. Putting you in the hospital will pretty much guarantee they'll end, though. I like that option better."

Snow wasn't ready to accept what she was hearing or to attack full-out.

She spoke to Xana. "You can't just walk away. You need to come out of your hiding hole and physically turn yourself in. This is over when the First Circle says it is and not before."

Xana laughed again. "Yes, I guess the old farts need to demand some penance and pronounce some penalty. That's all fine; we'll get there eventually. I'm certain that it is exactly what my father has in mind too. But, first, let's wrap it up here, shall we?"

She lifted her arm and slowly made a broad circle around the room. As her arm swept each of the desks, a weary and beaten country leader appeared in the seat behind the nameplate. Several sported significant bruises and puffy, blackening eyes. Some had cut lips. Each was in some stage of undress, with just sufficient torn clothing to provide a slight bit of modesty. As they were mostly older and in terrible shape, it was a pretty sad statement on the leaders of the world. While they made no sounds, a few were in obvious discomfort and holding their head. Several pitched over face-down on the desk.

The contradiction of the formal setting, where these dreamers would be center stage, with the rag-tag appearance of the current participants, was startling. The fighters remembered that the injuries would likely stick when the dreamers woke up.

Xana completed her 360˚ sweep, but several desks remained empty. She then proceeded to walk around the front of the desks. At the empty Russia chair, she stopped and said, "Poor Prime Minister Kutnetzov is suffering from being beaten with someone's club." She glowered at Will. "You'll be pleased to know that he is resting and recovering."

At the empty Turkey desk, she turned towards Will and said, "President Yilmaz is catching up on his dreamless sleep, following a thrilling rescue by our Duck hero over here." She applauded in Will's direction.

Stefan immediately joined in the applause, saying, "Well done!"

The women looked at Will, who just shrugged.

As Xana kept coming around the room, the three fighters backed up, moving away from her, but towards Stefan, who was intently watching Xana and not moving at all.

Xana had now come to the South Korea desk.

"You'll note that this chair is empty. And, if you look," she pointed past them, "the People's Republic of China chair is also empty."

She continued, "One other, very small country, run by the jackass son of the jackass son of the original jackass, would also not be here, were they ever invited. Maybe you can guess who that is."

She muttered, "Fucking Blues," without elaborating

She kept moving around the desks and the fighters kept moving around the centerpiece. Lulu was now within a few feet of Stefan. Xana stopped approaching and now opened her arms to the whole room.

"So, we beat the crap out of these characters. Admittedly, some will have a little patching-up to do. But, you know, when the lights come up later, they'll all be here smiling and spouting meaningless crap. They no longer matter much anyway." She shrugged, then continued, "But, what is important here, and what I'm revealing to you, is that the ones who are missing aren't here for a reason."

She was still closing on the threesome, who were now pressed between her and Stefan.

Snow finally said, "Stop. Enough theatrics; like I've said before tonight, what is the point? Another nasty little joke on someone?"

Xana didn't stop, but walked right up to them. Snow stood defiantly in her path, with Will inches behind her. Lulu was half-turned and eyeing Stefan behind them.

Xana finally stopped and answered the question.

"The point, is that they're not here, because we can't bring them here."

She paused, hopefully to let the information sink in.

"The leaders of these three countries know all about the Draumr Clans, including exactly what we can do and, in particular, what we can do for a leader looking for an edge."

Xana was no longer smiling and seemed to be having trouble getting the words out. Snow and Will were having trouble understanding her.

Snow asked, "What are you talking about? How would they know that?"

"They would know if they each have their own small army of Draumrs; which they do: split factions of the Blues serve each. A bigger war is coming, because as much as the countries might hate each other, the Blue Clan factions hate each other even more." She lowered her voice to a bare whisper. "You'll have to trust me; we are on the same side, the good side, you'll see."

Snow and Will were both confused by the disconnected statements that didn't make any sense to them whatsoever. Snow remembered her mother's caution that Oksana was acting out of character. Was this finally an explanation or was it another trap? Too much of the night had passed with Xana acting like anything but an ally.

Xana apparently had said all that she wanted to. With a wave, the political leaders disappeared. The five Draumrs were left standing in the empty conference room.

Lulu had heard it all as just more deception. "Screw this fantasy."

She leapt from the floor, sprang off the corner of the nearest desk and delivered the long-wished-for wheel kick to Stefan's head. He went down in a lump. Snow took only a second to follow her lead, as she sprang directly at Xana. Surprisingly, she connected to Xana's face with a solid punch, knocking her backwards onto the floor. Landing lightly, she pounced on top of her and managed to land another hard punch before being thrown off.

Xana cursed and rolled out of the way just as Snow would have delivered a downward heel kick to her head. She kept moving and regained her feet as Snow moved in to attack again. On this attack, Xana was ready and neatly deflected the head blow, while delivering her own devastating elbow smash to the side of Snow's head. Snow was temporarily thrown over the desk beside her, with Xana in a position behind her to attack again.

Now Lulu came running along the desktop and delivered a flying kick to Xana's shoulder. The kick came close to connecting with her head, but Xana was able to deflect it downward with her arm. The force of the blow knocked her backwards and probably broke her arm. She staggered back with her head down and collapsed to a knee, giving Lulu the target she needed for a killing blow. With no hesitation, she leapt to deliver it.

Xana looked up and simply said, "Enough."

With both of her hands open and displaying the talisman artefacts, she made a quick upward motion with her good arm.

Lulu went from moving forward in the air to moving straight up at tremendous speed. Five meters above the floor, she crashed into the overhead chandelier, sending glass crystals in all directions. She fell like a rag doll, landing unconscious in the centerpiece flowers. A shower of glass chunks rained down on top of her. Xana fell back on her heels, clutching a limp arm and bleeding from her torn lip.

Will knew that he should continue the attack. He could see that Stefan was down and out. As with Lex earlier, a devastating blow from him now would put Xana out of commission and possibly kill her. These were his orders; but he couldn't do it.

Looking to Snow, he realized that the outcome would be up to her anyway. She had drawn her club into the fight and it was prepared to strike all on its own. She stood and took a step towards Xana, who was still down and apparently now defenseless. If Snow had any second thoughts, they didn't show. Will could see only determination, driven not just by orders, but by vengeance for Xana's past murders and now, the likely killing of Lulu.

But, in the moment that she could have struck the blow, Snow did hesitate. She looked at Will and they both looked over at the unmoving body of Lulu.

"Another death doesn't do us any good." Snow pulled the club back and smoothed its hackle feathers. She whispered "thanks again" to it, before lowering it.

They stepped together and hung on tightly for a moment, each supporting the other. They knew that allowing Xana and Stefan to recover might mean the end of them. In a battle twisted by the artefacts, nothing was clear or predictable. But, perhaps, they were all beat up enough.

Then, Philip Grey resolved into view beyond Xana. With both hands up in a 'stop' motion, he called for Will and Snow to hold off, as he frantically looked for Lulu. He had seen her injuries manifest themselves on her sleeping body back at the mansion. With a look of grave concern, he located her body and immediately moved beside her. He checked her vitals and leaned it to examine her injuries. After a moment, he looked up and smiled weakly. She was alive.

"Time for everyone to wake," Philip said. "Your jobs here are done. The medics need to get to work."

There was no argument from the Reds. It was over.
Muddy Palate

Jake, Armand, Gloria and Mikilo looked one to the other after hanging up from speakerphone in the middle of the dining table at the dacha. It was the just after midnight on the shore of the Black Sea, but on the other end of the line, the night of battles was ending with breaking dawn.

On separate calls, they had heard updates from the intervention team in Shenzhen and from the Red Clan family members at a nearby mountain village. The news was both good and bad. The engagement and fight at the resort was more than convincing. They had come as close as possible to killing each other, without actually doing it. The larger plan, now in motion, could proceed with credibility.

Unfortunately, each team had more severe injuries than any wished for; but they were not sufficient to delay a rapid evacuation via waiting medically-equipped jets at the airport. Both camps had been told to be airborne and out of the country in 90 minutes.

Jake asked, "So, you are confident that Pulisin will act, or react, to the events of today by following your series of commands? He looks like a beaten man; are you sure that he will be the leader that you want?"

Cherry steepled his hands and nodded, but not without some side-to-side head movement as well. It was a considered response, without complete certainty.

"Who can say exactly what any person will do?" He let the rhetorical question hang for a few seconds, before continuing. "But, we feel that he is bracketed from any move that we haven't anticipated. He will have a crisis in his own government that he must respond to. A strong response will be expected by his people. The rationale for this response will be obvious to all."

Cherry continued, "At the front line, he will see the events that we have set in his head unfolding as predicted; he should respond compulsively. Again, it is what most observers would expect and cannot be strongly argued against. He must protect his borders and his willingness to decisively attack the source of the problem must be accepted by any that could intervene. Given that the Americans have stepped back from any strategic role in this fight, who else is there to take it up? He will be applauded, which will be all the encouragement he needs to continue unabated."

Gloria added her thoughts. "I've watched the man turn from an arrogant despot into a shivering mouse." She smiled. "Admittedly, it is only in his dreams, but he is now so driven by his superstitions and beliefs that even the smallest confirmation of cause and effect while he is awake will trigger the compulsive behavior that we're after."

After a pause, she added, "Plus, he's a work in progress. We need definitive action now. If this starts to go too far, we can modify his beliefs by having his ghostly mother set him straight." Now, she laughed outright.

Gloria now looked around at the sober-faced men. "Oh, let's lighten up. This is great fun, just like the old days. The kids will recover. We know how strong they are. Their confusion may take a little longer to clear up."

She let out a big sigh. "How about a drink. I, for one, am going to catch a couple hours of dreamless sleep, before the fireworks start. Wish that I could just connect with the kids to tell them everything is all right, but until they are out of the Far East, we are wise to keep our noses out of the fine and phony stage play they have created for the misdirection of our new enemies."'

As in the Far East, there was no disagreement that it was time to rest and recharge before the next round in the fight.
Next Act

To say that Turkey was on edge would be an understatement. Under attack by lone-wolf terrorists and small groups of radicals for years, the country and the people had moved from expectations of peaceful progress as a developed country to premonitions of doom as a declining regional player. The streets remained reasonably safe, however each shooter attacking a symbolic soft target and each suicide bomber driving a carload of explosives into a public market reinforced the belief that security everywhere was going to Hell.

The government used the opportunity of a perceived threat of widespread terrorism to bolster security measures and to clamp down on its internal enemies. Thousands of citizens, who wanted nothing more than better leadership, were jailed on suspicion, had their families persecuted and faced seizure of their property. Any vocal non-native, legal Turkish resident or not, was likely to be deported without explanation. Organized opposition parties were handicapped by constant investigation, asset seizures and intrusive harassment.

The majority of the populace, who were not insiders of the current government, felt the leadership of Mert Yilmaz was the primary cause of both the country's decline and the public unrest. At every turn, Yilmaz had frustrated useful solutions and made enemies of countries like Russia and Iran, who should have been helpful allies. NATO membership, once the holy grail of acceptance in Western Europe, had proved increasingly tenuous as Turkey often agitated in opposition to majority NATO interests in the Middle-East.

Separatist issues in the west regions and sectarian battles across the country were becoming a constant challenge to the government's ability to rule. Long-serving politicians had managed to alienate both military and business leaders. People in the streets were anxious for change, but a rigid political regime didn't offer any, even when supposedly open elections were held.

It was rumored that even within the ruling party, there was a secret contra team of newcomers ready to take over, should they have the opportunity. Risking their necks, the upstarts had cultivated friendships with influential partners, both inside the country and outside of its borders.

Burak Tekin stopped in mid-step as he approached his new Egea sedan. Getting a company car was a nice perk of his new job, even if the car was just the base model with few upgrades. At least it had air-conditioning, which was a rare luxury for a personal car.

He had been hurrying through his normal early morning routine of coffee, coffee, coffee and maybe some sourdough toast with tahini spread; the toast added only if he was feeling expansive. He was carrying the last coffee in an insulated mug as he left his recently purchased row house in a 'better' neighborhood, much to his wife's satisfaction, and headed up the side street to the private lot where residents' cars were parked.

Normally, his first real food of the day came as part of his mid-morning review of overnight operations at his natural gas compressor plant in Sivas, on Turkey's main east-west pipeline. Today, he had skipped the hurried toast at home, certain that a quiet morning would allow lots of time for cooking up something in the small kitchen he shared with the engineer and operations supervisors at the plant. As the newly-appointed facility manager, he mostly sat with his chair tipped back and listened, first to complaints of problems, of which there was always a long list, and then to proposed solutions: always a much shorter list. He often thought that, without problems to bitch about, no-one in Turkey would have much to do. The bitching session was a good time to eat something, as a full mouth gave him additional thinking time, when an answer was expected.

He loved getting his hands dirty looking into things, but after his last promotion he was now expected to wear a white shirt and western-style tie, on the off-chance that someone important might show up. Except by advance announcement from one of the many junior bureaucrats responsible for showing off energy plants like his, no-one important ever showed up. He usually risked it by ditching the tie on the hook behind the door, where it could be retrieved if a call came or even if he just saw a cloud of dust on the long entrance road in. His gatekeeper knew enough to always call back to the office, even for standard deliveries, so nothing was ever much of a surprise.

This morning did bring a surprise before he even left for work. He stopped dead in the middle of the parking lot. There was a dark-red gym bag sitting on the ground beside his car. Given the abundance of local punks and out-of-work layabouts, it couldn't have been there long. Regardless of its value, anything left unsecured had about a ten-minute life expectancy out in the open. Unless, of course, it was filled with someone's stinking garbage, in which case no-one would ever voluntarily carry it the fifty feet to the nearest garbage bin.

But, this bag didn't look like garbage. It looked new and clean with a visible Nike swoosh. It was tucked neatly in beside his car, where perhaps the riffraff hadn't yet seen it. As he resumed his approach, he realized that he would have to deal with the bag if he wanted to get into his car and leave.

For a few seconds, he considered whether the bag could contain a bomb. He had no enemies that he knew of, but his was one of the newer cars in the lot and some attacks were entirely symbolic. But, the thought was a passing one. Sivas was too far from any big cities or the borders. Planting a fucking-bomb beside his car way out here was a poor terror investment. Who would care if he blew up? His death probably wouldn't even make the news.

Setting his coffee mug on the roof, so that he didn't need to set his small briefcase down in the dirt, he reached for the handle straps of the bag to toss it out of the way. On touching the handles, his entire perception of the bag changed. He now remembered that, in fact, it was his bag. He understood that he must have dropped it here last night. How stupid of me; how fortunate that it wasn't stolen. He knew that he really needed the bag at his facility.

Compulsively and without hesitation, he opened the rear door of the car and placed the heavy bag carefully in his back seat. It is my bag and I need to take it with me to the gas compressor plant. He then got into the car and drove off, knowing that he must proceed directly to the plant without delay. The coffee container tumbled off the car roof, but was unnoticed.

One of the local layabouts casually observed Burak's coming and going, without obvious interest, from his perch on a nearby concrete parking barrier. He was interested in the absence of any other observers. His timing had been precise, thanks to Burak's tracked and predictable routine. Tucking his unusual red hair up under a filthy ball cap, he now collected himself and shuffled over to pick up the dented and empty coffee container, smiling stupidly. Examining it, he turned it upside down and shrugged. Completely out of local character, he then carried it over to the rubbish bin and disposed of it. Once the sun dried up the darkness of the spilled coffee in the dirt, everything would be back to normal, as it should be.

The Red Clan cousin, who today was just a local nobody, had spent considerable time in Turkey, specifically to ensure that today's operation went off without a hitch. He was confident that the long night hours he had spent in dreamscapes coaching Burak would ensure successful completion of the task at hand. He had considered tagging along to observe the entire operation, but that would mean being stuck in Turkey for a while. Once the gym bag was on its way to the gas plant, he was certain that nothing would dissuade Burak from his mission. Better to get out before the 'shit hit the fan'; this was a particularly apt metaphor that he borrowed from his western friends. He still had a couple hours to pack up and catch his flight to Tbilisi, but he wouldn't waste any time getting back to the regional airport. He would get on an earlier flight if there was one. In about four or so hours, there wouldn't be flights going anywhere through the flying shit.

At the entrance to his plant, Burak stopped for the gatekeeper. Normally, he would initiate a little chit-chat to acknowledge a close relationship with his old friend. An aging army vet, with the prized civil service job awarded to such characters of distinction, the gatekeeper reflected the right mix of left-over wariness and who-gives-a-fuck casualness needed for the vocation. Be nice and have your documents in order and you were welcomed without undue delay. Attempt bossy and impatient, or be ill-prepared, and you could spend a long time sitting in the sun looking at the heavy gates closed in front of you. Push a little harder and you were looking down the barrel of an AK, while you waited for the next level of authority to really ruin your day. That the gun hadn't been fired in a couple years, since the plant had that dog problem inside the fence, was of little consequence when the barrel was up your nose.

This morning, Barak couldn't think of a damn thing to say to Aydogan, even though by protocol he should start the conversation. The gatekeeper was very attuned to normal vs. not normal, so waited a little while before saying anything himself.

"Uh, good morning...sir. Is there anything wrong?"

Now Barak snapped back to the realization that he had arrived at the gate on the way to the important task of taking the gym bag with him to his plant. Recovering his composure, he replied, "Oh...no Aydogan. Sorry, I was just daydreaming, I guess? Must be the heat and maybe my need for a vacation soon." He laughed, a little nervously. "Good day, then."

Aydogan noted the absence of the boss's customary inquiry to him on the status of things. He liked to report daily that everything was ship-shape and maybe sneak in one or two complaints about his wobbly chair or his fuzzy radio or his troublesome small fridge, none of which were ever fixed, but which constituted the perks of his job, so warranted the effort. With no inquiry, he couldn't very well just come out with a complaint though. And bosses never explained themselves.

Shrugging, Aydogan gave his habitual casual salute, turned and walked the ten steps back to his little office to push the button that would open the motorized gate. He frowned the entire way. He was concerned about anything that distracted the boss. He had seen it many times in the army. A distracted commander meant fucked-up supplies and poorly conceived assignments. A distracted field lieutenant meant someone was going to die.

Proceeding through the gate, Barak realized that the encounter could have been very troublesome to his important task. By rights, an observant Aydogan could have asked what the bag was for and demanded to search it. Barak had no idea what was in it. Manager or not, security trumped all considerations and gave immediate authority to assigned staff.

He shook his head to clear the worry. He would need to be more diligent in following the instructions running through his head: Don't be stopped. Don't be searched. Don't be observed.

After parking his car in his designated spot, Barak carefully considered his more detailed mental instructions. The hour was early enough that there was no-one around. It was unusual for him not to go straight to his office, but today he needed to go to the far end of the yard to inspect the main coupling to the primary gas line. As he had done a thousand times while just a supervisor, he would take a dusty ATV utility vehicle from the operations shed and proceed directly out into the maze of tanks, pipes and small building that made up the functional structure of the plant. Unlike other trips in the past, he would take the gym bag along.

Without delay and with obvious authority, he proceeded directly to the utility vehicle, set the gym bag in the back and drove out of the shed. He knew that the old surveillance system rarely worked properly, but on the off-chance that it was recording, he quickly ducked behind the first rows of feeder pipes and drove down the narrow interior service corridor. Once beyond the first sets of massive storage spheres, he would not be observed by anyone.

At the main gas line junction, he stopped and removed the bag, placing it inside a control box, out of sight to anyone who might pass. He felt that he had rehearsed the steps to placing the bag many times, even though he had not been this far out in the plant compound in many months. When everything was as it should be, he quickly got back in the vehicle and reversed his path back to the operations building. As luck would have it, no one observed him parking the vehicle back in the shed or heading into the office through the back door. He wouldn't require the rehearsed explanation of needing to borrow a wrench to fix a leaky AC line in his car. He looked down and realized that he had a wrench in his hand.

Finally, sitting at his desk, he had time to consider the successful completion of his task. With only the cellphone call to the memorized number at exactly 1:00 p.m., when the plant workers were all in for the lunch break, he was quite relieved to be almost done. Patting his pants pocket for his cellphone, he realized that it was in his briefcase, which was still in his car. Fighting back momentary panic, he again recovered, snapping back to his normal logical self. The wrench would come in handy after all. He held it prominently out in front of him as he headed back to his car. If anyone actually saw him, they didn't care what he was doing.

At the car, he retrieved his briefcase and fell into his normal casual walk to the office. It was a lovely day and still cool, so he could smile and enjoy the predictable routine of his job. He intended to keep this job for twenty years, through many children and possibly several new cars. He now thought: Yes, everything is normal, as it should be. With this trigger, the first steps of his task faded from his current thoughts and from his memory. Like most people, Barak could never remember his dreams.

As he headed to the office, his only question was: Why do I have this wrench? He would have to see if anyone was missing one.

Saboteurs were at work across Turkey on this day. None would ever be suspects, nor would they ever be able to tell anyone what they had done. With no connection to the events to follow, other than being employees at the facilities, and no connection to each other or to any terrorist group, they formed an invisible, but highly effective cadre of agents. Best of all, as insiders to the target facilities, they themselves had helped to lay out the means and route needed to attack the location without intentionally harming personnel.

At the Batmaan refinery, a night security guard had placed his gym bag of plastic explosives below the farthest storage tank of petroleum distillate on his last round before going off shift. He will call his memorized number later, after a nap. At the Ardahan compressor plant, a technician brought his gym bag into the compound tucked inside new equipment for an upcoming retrofit of a storage tank. As with the other gym bags, this one has several kilos of plastic explosive rigged to a cellphone detonator, characteristic of the most sophisticated of foreign terror groups. The bag will be left behind in his travels around the plant. At the Kirikkale refinery, the red gym bag was still in the back of a contractor's service vehicle, but the vehicle itself was parked just beside the oldest and most vulnerable of the refining towers. Just before leaving, the contractor will place the gym bag out of sight, deep within the maze of rusty piping that appears to be holding the old tower up.

In each case, a Red Clan cousin had been tasked with the development of the contact and with the dreamscape creation of the drop-off event. Before that, at a distant military compound, the necessary explosives and detonators had been neatly disaccounted-for during routine inventory review and been smuggled out by another operative dreamer, who now had no recollection of his role. None of the dreamers were given any foreshadowing of what was in the gym bag or of the calamity to follow; they will be as surprised as everyone else when a significant part of their facility goes up in flames.

All that was left to do was completion of various exit strategies for the cousins. Some were staying in-country to help with the next phase of the uprising. They would be there to welcome Russian troops, also coming, in much larger numbers, to help out with the transition to a different form of government in Turkey.
Fulfillment

Cousin Korichenko has worked hard to establish himself as the head of security in the Russian G20 delegation. Others should have had the job as they were longer-serving and loyal. Too bad for them and very good for him that they couldn't make the trip. But there is also good reason that he is here; he has worked hard to inspire confidence, focusing on becoming indispensable to the brute of a prime minister, who was also not the first choice to look out for Russian interests.

The prime minister's last-minute substitution for injured president Pulisin caused an outcry in Cabinet, as the PM is widely viewed as both socially inept and congenitally narrow-minded. A good mix of characteristics when carrying out the boss's orders in a precise manner; not so good in creative negotiation with the best minds other countries can put forward. But, here he is. Of course, his most-trusted security head came along.

"Not to matter much," the Red Clan cousin chuckled to himself, speaking quietly to no-one. "The image of Kutnetzov's dick has done all the work that the rest of him needs to do at this conference anyway."

Korichenko scanned the main conference room with its massive donut of a meeting table. It smelled like a funeral home. The open center space was so jammed with flowers that one side would barely be able to see the other, and God help anyone with allergies. Twenty-plus delegate countries, with a leader and a staffer for each, makes for more than 50 seats around the ring. Several additional rows of chairs made up concentric rings behind the front desks.

The curved front row desks were equipped with display screens and microphones at each position. A small nameplate in English and Mandarin identified each country. The Mandarin translation, which determined the seating position, wasn't quite alphabetic; this arrangement put his two countries of interest two desk positions apart. This was anticipated. More distance than that might have been a problem.

"Very good planning and a great set-up. This will be fine." This comment he said out loud, assuming that somewhere, someone was watching and monitoring him. I may as well compliment them. What he actually meant was: "This is a great set up for the mayhem to come".

Cousin Korichenko moved lightly through his apparent final security check. Anyone watching might think of a dancer completing an on-stage routine, if he or she were searching for a metaphor. What they are actually seeing was a routine rehearsed so thoroughly, he could complete it with his eyes closed. The cousin paused to check his digital watch, which was synched to the second with the main security station display at the back of the room and with the watches of several other people active in the area. He casually observed the seconds tick down and at the exact time selected, he nodded apparent satisfaction with his check and started out, going around the ring of the table, rather than directly away from it.

Korichenko knew that, at that exact time, for just a few moments, various distractions were happening away from center stage. A monitor was unplugged by accident, a security gate stuck closed, and the body scanner sensitivity setting went off and needed immediate attention. Elsewhere, a group of guards was called together for a last-minute briefing.

There were no 'VIPs' in the conference main room, so the atmosphere was still somewhat relaxed. For these few moments, everyone would have some small task to attend to and no-one would be observing the floor. Some distractions were created by cousins. Some were created by others due to a planted compulsive thought. No-one is suspicious; these things happen. Later, any unexpected recording of the next few moments would also be mysteriously erased.

Apparently done with his assigned tasks, Cousin Korichenko began to work his way around the ring of tables towards the exit. He was carrying a small attaché with the Russian seal on it and bold Cyrillic lettering saying PRIVATE in Russian. It appeared to be a simple file case. It was equipped with a false bottom, concealing a small compartment, just the size of a compact pistol.

As he is passed the desk designated for Turkey, Korichenko dropped a sheaf of papers from his file. Feigning a slight stumble, he cursed in Russian and casually leaned down to retrieve the papers. Needing the desk for support to reach all the papers, he was able to quickly extend a hand under the president's position and press a compact .22 caliber automatic pistol to the bottom of the desk. Lightly-applied plastic wrap came away and was balled up in his hand. Strong two-sided tape now held the pristine weapon in place. It was a much-practiced move and was completed in only seconds. With the papers all retrieved, he stood and tucked everything in his case, collapsing the temporary compartment. He continued around the tables and then outwards to the exit. At about that time, lots of eyes turned back to their job of observing the conference hall. Nothing was amiss.

Korichenko will rejoin the Russian delegation in a few minutes. He reflexively patted the 0.9 mm automatic pistol under his arm that he is authorized to carry. It has been cleaned and checked several times today.

"Have a wonderful day," he said in Mandarin, to no-one in particular, as he left the room. Of course, he knows that someone is always listening. Perhaps, they, like him, will have a wonderful day, but he doubts it.

Getting prepared for the main conference, Mert Yilmaz can barely restrain himself from charging out to confront Ilya Kutnetzov. His aides and assistant can't understand the agitation in him.

"Why has he got such a compulsion to know where the idiot Kutnetzov is?" The aide, attempting to keep Mert focused on the key conference issues for Turkey, is perplexed. They can expect no help from Russia, but would also prefer not to aggravate already poor relations.

A whispered comment referred to the bruise on his cheek and his fat lip, only partly obscured by make-up applied by Ece.

"The two of them must have had a real knock-down fight last night. She at least got one good shot in. They both look like shit this morning."

The aides finally convinced Mert to keep his cool, for now, and not let some perceived slight, that they don't understand, get in the way of the country's interests at this conference. Turkey needed to keep its friends and make some new ones quickly, with encroaching skirmishes, hordes of refugees and a nearly-bankrupt economy hanging over it.

Mert finally agreed, but ended his rant against Kutnetzov with an ominous threat: "He can't be allowed to get away with it. You don't know; you weren't there. For what he did, I will kill him. If not today, he will die someday soon. I curse him by my mother's grave."

It was a curse that could not easily be undone. Eyebrows are raised. Everyone had hoped that some grain of common sense would return him to being the experienced president of Turkey once he got down to business. His continuing rant, suggested something impossible had happened in the night. What could Kutnetzov have done or said from the other side of the resort?

The delegation director leaned in to the rest of the staff, whispering, "Who knows what he dreamed up while jet-lagged?" He made sure that he couldn't be heard by the president. "He seems a little cuckoo right now, but he has been at this a long time. We have to have some faith that he will focus on the country's needs, at least for the next 24 hours. Let's get him in there."

Once in the main conference room, the phalanx of aides kept Mert well away from Kutnetzov. Two staff members physically clutched him by the arms and steered him into other conversations. Perceiving that he was quite agitated, a friendly EU bureaucrat asked, "what's up?" A staff member muttered excuses: "Little under the weather—you know: Asian cooking."

The bureaucrat nodded in sympathy. "Must be going around. They all seem to look like shit this morning. Nothing worse than the runs at one of these things."

Mert finally seemed to realize that his anger must be held back. He said to his aides, "Okay, okay, I'm fine now. Leave me be."

He tried to put on the pleasant face of an important leader. The fixed smile did little to express any pleasure. Most other attendees left-off talking to him with a wrinkled brow, not fully understanding his icy demeanor; but they were also willing to come up with their own muttered excuses related to the sketchy location, to the weather or just to the goddamn time zone. It seemed that everyone had a bad night.

As all participants finally moved to sit in their designated seats, Mert couldn't help but look sideways at Kutnetzov and observe the freshly bandaged cut on his forehead. Bastard! He couldn't believe that the Russian Prime Minister intended to proceed today as if nothing had happened. He should be on his knees pleading for forgiveness.

Reluctantly sitting down, Mert nervously settled, trying to bring his thoughts back to the work of the conference, with little success. His knee bumped something on the underside of his desk. Curious, he reached under to see what the obstruction was and closed his hand on the gun.

His mind locked in on the single-purpose mission he committed in the night. He nearly jumped up shooting immediately, but held back. There were people still standing. Someone might get in the way or try to stop him.

I must succeed. The compulsion to attack was overwhelming. He could think of nothing else, and his vision narrowed to a red-tinged singular focus driven by rage.

As the conference president called the room to order with everyone finally seated, Mert couldn't resist the compulsion any longer. He thrust the gun upward and leapt out of his seat, covering the five paces to the Russian desk in brief seconds and before anyone could act to stop him.

"You are a coward and a rapist. For my wife and for my country, I claim vengeance." His screams in Turkish weren't understood by most in the room. Somewhere, a startled translator wondered if she was supposed to translate and repeat what she had just heard. There was no time.

Mert leveled the gun and started firing haphazardly at the Russian prime minister. He wasn't aiming, but was so close that most shots found the target.

After about eight shots of the ten-shot clip were fired, Mert was shot dead on the spot by one, more-precise, shot from another gun; one bullet went directly through his heart. This gun was in the hand of the Russian security chief standing bravely beside his prime minister. He had been counting Mert's shots, judging enough to achieve the purpose, but still showing excellent reaction time on his part to the surprise attack.

Ilya Kutnetzov was a pin-cushion of bullet holes, but only one or two could prove fatal, if he didn't bleed to death. The surprised look on his face never changed as he pitched face forward onto the desk.

After a second of ominous silence, all hell broke loose in the room. There was nothing like an assassination in your midst to liven up a meeting. The delegations, having dived for cover during the shooting, now all tried to get their leaders out of the room at the same time and ended up jamming up the exits. Everyone was yelling. Various security teams, crouching behind tables and chairs bristled with weapons and damn-near started shooting at each other. It was the kind of pandemonium that would keep the cable news guys joyous for days, if not weeks.

Cousin Korichenko dropped his weapon immediately and surrendered hands-up to the first uniformed guard to reach him. He didn't want to get shot by some other hero.

"Please help, please help. Doctor, doctor." He screamed appropriate appeals in Russian and Mandarin for medical aid for his boss. Whether or not it arrived quickly and was effective in saving his life was inconsequential. Most likely, it would be better if he just died, so a better looking and less troublesome replacement could be brought forward. But, as the Red Clan cousin had anticipated, the Turkish patsy was a lousy shot and each light round that actually hit the prime minister didn't do a whole lot of damage. Attempted murder was just as good as completing the job.

Fortunately, the assassin's gun, purchased in the Turkish capitol and loaded with ammunition manufactured in Turkey, would provide clear evidence of a planned attack. The President of Turkey had assassinated the Prime Minister of Russia in front of millions of people watching around the world. It was definitely a good day.

Cousin Korichenko had acted as he was trained and paid to do. While the circumstances needed investigating, he could not be blamed. He would resign in some disgrace though, to save face for the government. He hoped that he could soon head home to his hobby farm after the many months that this operation had taken to plan and execute. Cherry had promised him some new peach trees from his estate when he returned. He loved peaches.

In Moscow, at 4:00 a.m., Boris Pulisin received the news that his prime minister had been shot, via an emergency wake-up by his senior aide. As he listened to the astounding details, he shook his head, not in surprise at the Turkish prime minister apparently going into a lunatic rage that ended in his death as well, but at the amazing accuracy of his dream creations in predicting a crisis for Turkey that Russia would solve.

He knew that he wasn't actually meeting with Mikilo Chernoyiv in his dreams. He assumed that he was just putting this face on the character that his mind was conjuring up. Somehow, he had developed the ability to return to the same setting each night and to use his dreams to plan highly-specific political and military strategies. He didn't understand how he could suddenly do this, but he was quite prepared to take his own advice.

Only the recent presence of his mother in the dreams was truly upsetting when he woke. In death, she seemed to have retained her bitterness and maintained her stony criticism of him, regardless of the successes he brought to show her. Now, she had returned from Hell to sit in judgement of him once again. The anticipation of an encounter with the old witch, more even than the fucking metaphorical bear, frightened him as he closed his eyes each night.

Boris sat quietly contemplating his next moves. His aide interpreted the silence as deep grief over the loss of his close political ally. Boris had already forgotten that he had been woken for this as the news. He was actually trying to remember as much as possible of what Mikilo had told him to do next.

As Mikilo had predicted, he was alone at the top. He never much liked Kutnetzov anyway. His departure was no great loss and could actually be quite useful. There could be quite a patriotic show. As his nighttime specters had predicted, Russia was now justified in retaliating against the incompetent Turkish government, in support of the people of Turkey, of course. It was nearly time to be on the move, but first it was time to get some more sleep.

"Let all members of cabinet and the army chief of staff know that we will be meeting later today, in the Kremlin war room. We will discuss a full military response to the threat."

The aide was confused. "Your Excellency, did I hear your correctly, that we will take military action in response to the apparent insanity of one man?"

Boris looked at the aide and blinked. He was definitely having trouble separating dream events from waking events. Probably still due to the lingering effects of the concussion from hitting his head on the table or whatever happened when he first dreamed the fucking bear. He now realized that the terrorist attacks in Turkey hadn't happened yet, but he was fairly certain that his prime minister was dead.

"No, No. Stupid. I meant a military parade, of course. For the assassination. We will have ten days of mourning and all the usual ceremonial crap. We'll need to bury him with a big show of force. Have some other staff get started on planning all that stuff. Statement of sorrow. Full investigation. All that bullshit."

The aide hesitated. "But, sir, he is not dead. Ilya Kutnetzov is shot many times, but may yet live. The doctors are striving to save him as we speak."

"Oh." Boris was a little disappointed. "But, there is still some chance he might die?"

"Why, yes, sir. He fights valiantly for his life, but he is badly wounded."

Boris was still considering. "More useful if he dies. Tell them not to work too hard at saving him and let's get ready for the funeral anyway."

He paused again, still considering what he knew and what he had only dreamed. "You say that the President of Turkey is definitely dead though."

"Yes, your Excellency, by the hand of our brave security leader who apparently stepped into the line-of-fire to defend our cherished Prime Minister."

This information brightened Boris's demeanor. "Well, that may be enough then, even if Kutnetzov manages to live and screw up the plans."

"Anyway, I'm going back to sleep. Just make sure that the general staff chief and defense minister are in the room by 3:00 p.m. Maybe, nobody else for now."

Boris turned and walked back into his bedroom. He wondered if he might get some additional advice, now that the awake world was catching up to his dreams.

His aide wasn't sure what he had been told to do, but he headed off with appropriate haste to do it.
Cold Turkey

In Turkey, the time was just coming up to 1:00 p.m. More or less at the stroke of the hour, simultaneous explosions rocked the country's oil and gas infrastructure. Two refineries were set on fire by a series of explosions and the main gas lines were interrupted at two compression plants.

At the gas compression plant at Sivas, the initial explosion, five hundred meters from the main offices, shook the ground like a 500lb. bomb falling right outside the door. Everyone not sitting down was knocked off their feet by the initial thud, ground upheaval and following blast wave. Thinking that there had been a technical fault, most of the employees and managers scrambled to their feet and ran out of buildings to get as far as possible from the massive compressed gas storage spheres. As they dispersed in the direction of the parking lot, they turned to see the 100-meter-high column of flame at the far end of the compound. The heat from the flame was rapidly melting any soft metal or plastic within a hundred feet in all directions. The same heat began to ignite in-line reservoir tanks and the subsidiary gas lines in the area. The continuing series of thuds and visible smaller blooms of flame climbing into the sky, was quickly interpreted as a terrorist attack still in progress.

Barak couldn't believe what was happening. He had been about to start an important call with someone, but had dropped his cellphone in the panic to clear the buildings. Now, he knew that he needed to act not just for the safety of the employees, but also for the security of the facility and its strategic gas supply. But, with no telephone, he felt helpless in summoning any help.

Many of the employees were still tearing around in complete confusion. No more than 30 seconds had passed before someone shouted: "There are gangs of terrorists inside the fences." Barak's only thought was the AK47 at the front gate. If he could get it, he might hold off the attackers long enough for the army to get here. He joined the others in scrambling for his car.

After the shouts announcing armed and deadly attackers, employees were not only running in fear of the continuing secondary explosions, they were also running in fear of being shot by the invisible enemies over-running the facility. As men were running for their cars, some were already on their cellphones. Calls to home spread the panic to the town, where stunned citizens had already stopped everything to look at the huge fireball on the horizon. At least one employee had thought to call the front gate to alert Aydogan to the horde of terrorists overrunning the facility from all sides.

Aydogan had been watching the progression of the fire since the first explosion. That this day was fucked-up met an expectation he had formed early this morning. He was surprised that it had taken so long.

With his military background helping him to remain calm, he had initially called for local emergency response, telling the fire captain to bring every man and piece of equipment they had available. Now, he called the local army base to advise them that the facility was under attack by armed terrorists, who obviously possessed multiple rocket launchers that had been deployed during the attack.

The local army brigade commander called his superiors and asked for immediate air support, including bombing and air-to-ground missile destruction of the fleeing terrorists, who must be using the main road into town to make their escape. Obviously, any car or truck moving erratically on the road towards town should be a target to ensure that none of the terrorists could threaten the town. Jets and attack helicopters were scrambled with an ETA of only a few minutes.

Upstream of Sivas on the gas pipeline, an automated leak detection system had already noticed the pressure drop at sensors closest to the plant. A computer, just doing its job, tripped an automatic cut-off valve at the nearest monitoring station. Within a few minutes there would be no fresh gas entering the line. The awesome pillar of flame in the desert, while spectacular, would be brief.

Still reeling from losing their prime minister in the early morning, the remaining Turkish government cabinet ministers were attempting to sort out what was happening in the terrorist attack and what their response should be. The military was called out in full deployment and told to seal all borders to the west as it was first assumed that separatists were responsible. Senior military leaders were called into emergency meetings in Ankara, while younger officers took charge of the field deployment of troops.

Based on rumors and hazy reports, the country was either under a full-on terrorist attack or there had simply been a few bombs go off with almost no significant loss of life. The cable news channels determined that the full-scale attack scenario made for better news, so they showed the fires and secondary explosions from as many angles as possible, while reporting every rumor and erroneous conclusion as updates to the breaking story. Each network wanted to "up-terror" the other, so field reporters filed shaky video of every whizzing truckload of soldiers, reported as a "massive engagement" of the military. Soon, second-hand rumors of roaming terrorist bands were prompting evacuation of shopping malls and lock-downs of schools and public buildings across the country.

Various actual terrorist organizations were having trouble deciding who should be taking credit. Telephone calls more or less confirmed that none of them had a hand in anything, but it was such good publicity that at least one of them should be taking credit. Finally, a virtual round of 'rock-paper-scissors' was held on a conference call, resulting in the Syria-based caliphate getting this one. Pakistan and Afghanistan-based terrorist organizations were promised the next one. A YouTube video was quickly created condemning Turkish imperialists and their stinking tobacco.

The networks reported that martial law was to be declared and that all citizens with military backgrounds were being called up. Fathers and husbands kissed loved-ones goodbye, knowing that they were heading into full-scale battle, as soon as the phone actually rang for them.

While the mass confusion over the terrorists was a useful means of deflecting uncomfortable questions about Mert Yilmaz going insane and getting himself shot to death, it was becoming a little over the top. Following a quick PR assessment of how the public might view some calming words, the prime minister was on his way to the television station to make a nationwide broadcast asking everyone to chill out a bit.

He had to admit mixed feelings on the day. Certainly, the sudden loss of Yilmaz was tragic and a great blow to the country. But, on the other hand, his turn as president was long overdue and the old-fart Yilmaz had shown no indication of planning to leave any time soon. His nationwide speech would be both consoling for a country in mourning and bravely upbeat about a future that would be brighter, with him in charge, at least temporarily. Of course, he mustn't forget to curse out the lower-than-dogs Syrian terrorists.

He had already started to make calls to consolidate his position. No reason why it shouldn't be permanent. He was lost in thought when his driver took an unexpected left turn at high speed. He tipped over in the seat and took a few moments to regain an upright position. They were moving very quickly.

"What's happening, where are we going?" The prime minister had ordered a military escort along with several carloads of plains clothes security agents. He looked back and noticed that none of the other cars had turned. Only his car was careening down the side street away from the convoy.

"Emergency situation, sir," the driver said. "I've been told to take a different route. Terrorists in the area."

"Oh, OK then. But, why did no one else come with us?"

"Not needed, sir. You are in no danger."

"Then why the fuck is you driving so fast?"

At that point, the car slammed left again, turning into a seedy-looking parking lot. It headed towards a set-back warehouse, where a curtain steel door rolled up just as they arrived. Once inside the dusty building, the PM's car was greeted by several younger members of parliament, who were backed up by armed junior military officers.

One member opened his car door.

"Welcome sir, please join us. We have been expecting you. This is your retirement party, after all.
March of Fools

Now that they could turn on the BBC, CNN and other television feeds and actually see video of multiple points of terrorist attack on Turkey's oil refineries and gas lines, the gathered leaders in the Kremlin war room were starting to rationalize why they had been called in. That the call came before the attacks was still confusing to some.

Television coverage showed a massive Turkish military response, with low-flying attack aircraft apparently heading to engage hostile forces all across the country. Russian surveillance via satellite and drone aircraft showed plumes of smoke rising from burning facilities and from military engagement around the facilities. The news commentators were confirming rumors that hundreds of terrorists were involved.

Boris Pulisin final limped into the war room at 5:00 p.m. after keeping the heads of his government and military waiting for several hours. He spent only a minute looking at the video feeds, all the while carrying on a mumbled conversation with an unseen companion.

"Son-of-a-bitch, just as you said. The whole fucking country is burning." He paused to watch until a car commercial came on, then continued. "So, now is the time that we must act."

The president then turned to the leaders in the room. He addressed the chief of staff. "General, you have massed several of your armored divisions north of the Georgia border as ordered?"

Most of the people in the room had known nothing of the troop movements, but the general was prepared for the question.

"Yes, Mr. President. More than 40,000 troops with sufficient trucks, light armored vehicles, rolling artillery and full supply-line capability. They have been quietly moved forward as part of a preparedness exercise, that has been announced as routine to neighboring countries."

Boris smiled and continued, "If these troops were to cross the border into Georgia, how much time would they need to arrive in significant numbers at the border to Turkey?"

The general wished that he had some support staff with him.

"Well, it is approximately 300 kilometers of winding highways and secondary roads over mountains, with several options around Tbilisi. Were we moving on empty road, perhaps eight to ten hours for trucks, maybe slightly longer for the LAVs and supply vehicles."

"Excellent." Boris now seemed to finish his conversation with the unseen third party. He sat down and began making a list of things on paper in front of him. Then he raised his head and slowly smiled again. He seemed more like the icy warrior that they all knew, once again.

"Here are your orders." He paused while the ministers and generals took up their own pens and paper.

"Tonight, I will address the nation, expressing my shock at the unfortunate event in Shenzhen and offering condolences for all parties. That will be the end of that until Kutnetzov finally dies."

"I will then announce the interim government of Turkey has asked for Russia's help in responding to the terrorist challenge that has engulfed the country following today's attacks on strategic energy resources. In consideration of goodwill needed on the part of both countries, Russia will agree to immediately help with security, emergency supplies and with restoration of services."

He paused, to ensure that the politicians and military leaders were getting it all.

"Then, I will announce that Russian troops and equipment have been requested to enter the country at midnight tonight, with the goal of proceeding through Turkey to the borders with Syria, where we will form a joint response force to push the terrorist threat back and eventually defeat it with massive ground forces."

Satisfied with the decisiveness of his commands, Boris sat back and smiled broadly. The grin was a little crooked, as the healing injury to the side of his head was still the most prominent of his features.
Traitors

Armand and Jake had flown immediately to London after both sides gave orders to disperse the teams in Shenzhen. Reluctantly, Gloria also left the dacha, as concern for her daughter now outweighed continuing her close relationship with Cherry, for the time being. Her partner, Lord Black, had pledged complete support and the best of medical care in London to help Lulu through an expected lengthy recovery. Water was invited over, but he now deferred to Jack, who would become the Green Clan Elder at the next convening of the First Circle in the dreamscape Halls.

Although not all attenders understood the reasons for co-location, a physical meeting of the Elders and able fighters was quickly scheduled at Lord Black's bank headquarters in Canary Wharf. The executive board room was secure from any sort of electronic monitoring. Participants arrived via different entry points to the building and at different times. To the young Draumrs, who had been provided with business attire for the meeting, it all seemed like needless cloak and dagger, given that they knew their enemy and he knew all about them.

The boardroom eventually filled with Armand, Jake, Gloria, Emma and designate Jack Green, making up the majority of the First Circle of Elders. Philip Grey was back to his more formal role of supporting Armand, while Sasha White and Will Green were welcomed and consoled by all on Lulu's absence. Sasha was still sporting a swollen jaw from Xana's blow, but otherwise looked fine. Will, bruised and patched, visibly showed the lasting effects of his fight like a next-day boxer after a 15-round decision.

Tom Brown was a surprise addition and brought some cheer to the group as he was entirely recovered from his near-death attack in Hong Kong days before the others arrived. Each person had the opportunity to personally thank or be thanked by their family members and sponsors. The entire visible greeting process was appropriately open and considerate to all.

Armand waited until the serving staff had left and the doors were securely closed before asking everyone to be seated for what was previewed as the formal debriefing of the G20 encounter. As they had not prevented the confirmed death of the first and likely death of a second world leader, Will and Snow were expecting a highly-critical post-mortem.

No-one had voiced: "How could this have happened?" The fighters had asked the question of themselves all the way back to London as they had taken turns with Philip at Lulu's side. Now, she was getting 24-hour care in a private hospital, alive but badly injured. No-one knew how her dreamscape injuries would heal and if she would ever recover her full capabilities. So, in addition to the task failures, they had probably lost a member of their team in the fiasco.

Once all were seated, Armand took the lead in summing up the events of the last 72 hours.

"As you all will know by now, the G20 conference has been cancelled and the world leaders have fled home after the untimely death of the president of Turkey and near-mortal wounding of the prime minister of Russia, as viewed on live television around the world."

He paused as heads nodded in the room. "You will also know that Turkey itself is in a state of turmoil following a series of bomb attacks linked by the press to Syria-based fundamentalists. The death of the president and the attacks have led to the fall of the government. An interim government has declared martial law, but left most Turkish troops on their bases for now. The new government has invited Russia to bring as many as 50,000 troops into Turkey, supposedly to aid with recovery, but also to travel across the country to form an invasion force into Syria. Most of these troops entered the country last night. Suffice to say, they also now provide the new government with the means to sweep out any resistance to the change."

He continued, "These developments and the movement of non-aligned country troops into a NATO country have put that entire organization on high alert, but, for some reason, not prompted any response. As I indicated, Russia has been officially 'invited' into Turkey and is now expected to provide the majority of forces in the ground war to dispatch the remaining caliphate forces from Syria. When all this is completed, Russia will be the dominant world power presence across the northern Persian Gulf territory. We expect a rapid new alliance with Iran to consolidate this control."

All of these outcomes sounded like a complete disaster to Will and Snow. They had no idea that they had been assigned to prevent this snowball of global disorder from starting to roll. Will was puzzled that Jack had never spelled out all of these potential consequences. Maybe the fight should have been resourced better, started earlier, fought harder? How could just the three of us have prevented this outcome?

Armand had paused in his narrative and raised his view from his papers to specifically lock eyes with the fighters.

Snow whispered, "Here it comes." She took Will's hand under the table.

Armand slowly smiled. "I have called you all in today to say that..." he paused for slightly more drama, "we could not be more pleased with these outcomes. Each stage of these events was carefully crafted and controlled by Draumrs. The follow-on events speak to a job well-done by everyone engaged on the dreamscape frontiers in Shenzhen and in Turkey."

There was complete silence in the room as each of the fighters had a look of astonishment on their face.

Armand continued, "By all, I mean White, Black, Green, Brown and Red Clans. Oh, and Greys too. You didn't know it, but you were all fighting on the same side."

Will and Snow said in unison: "What-the-fuck?" It wasn't whispered.

Jack and Emma had been given a preliminary briefing on route to London, covering the highest level of detail of the newly discovered Red Clan agenda. As explained to them by telephone, Mikilo and his Clan had at first intended to simply redirect the Russian president away from further aggression towards Ukraine, with the dreamscape suggestion that his time would be better spent elsewhere.

A couple strategic murders by suggestion had always been part of that plan, hence the need for practice with the artefacts, both in application to dreamers and in defense against other Draumrs. Many apologies offered, the kids, including Oksana, had gotten a little carried away and boastful in their preparations. Jake specifically passed on Mikilo's apologies for Bobby and Lex, who were unprofessional, but had been included for specific, fairly distasteful reasons.

They were told that the plan had expanded when the crisis in the Middle-East reached a boiling point that could have led to a much larger military confrontation. Cherry had simply acted from long experience and taken charge to prevent this from happening. Again, many apologies were offered by him for not being more forthright with the First Circle.

When Emma asked why the confrontation in Shenzhen had been allowed to run its course, with severe injuries to young people on both sides, the answer had been: "There is a reason; wait until we are together in London."

Jake now took over the debrief from Armand. Gloria, although obviously an insider to the entire Red Clan plan and activities, wasn't called on. The fighters assumed that this was due to her distracting concern for Lulu.

"As Armand has indicated, there was much more Draumr activity than just our encounters and the staged assassination in Shenzhen. Although reported with great drama and much inaccuracy as a 'mass terrorist attack' in the press, the entire series of events in Turkey was manipulated by Draumr suggestion. It was planned for no loss of life, although one or two people were simply in the wrong place, so became unavoidable casualties. All of the subsequent casualties are due to the overreaction of local military commanders. This has now been contained. The influential and controlling leaders of the new government all have Draumr monitors assigned."

There was no reaction in the room, so Jake continued. "I have witnessed Cherry's complete control over the Russian president at every stage of these actions. Although the Russian troops moving through Turkey appear to be a major problem, they are, in fact, part of the required permanent solution in the Persian Gulf. No world power would commit a significant-enough intervention to stop the conflict, so each small engagement simply emboldened the radicals."

He continued, "Under Cherry's direction and through the efforts of Red Clan cousins on the ground, there will be an alignment of the new government in Turkey, its former separatist faction, who will be offered some of the autonomy they want, and the moderated Syrian government, which will stop destroying its own citizens. In time, abrasive personalities will also change. Other parties may or may not participate, but this thrust will be sufficient to overrun any caliphate strongholds."

He smiled. "Then Russia will mostly go home. But, of course, its influence in the region will be much greater. This influence will mostly be for peace and prosperity—a nice new focus for them."

Sasha has been listening carefully with increasing incredulity. The story was all too neat. They were to believe that the Red Clan had planned this all out and carried it off, not only on its own, but in defiance of the First Circle and in the face of capable push-back from the other Clans. She had to speak up if no-one else was going to.

"So, we were simply pawns in this elaborate game?" She was doubly pissed, first for being duped and second for the harm that had come to Lulu and Will and, very nearly, to her.

"I can't believe that we are just accepting that all of the nasty behavior, harm to innocents and threats to us by the Reds is just being accepted on the basis of this outcome, which to me sounds more coincidental than anything else."

She continued, "If Cherry is so good at controlling these leaders, why not just tell the First Circle that is what he is doing and cut out all of the other bullshit?"

She was growing more pissed as she spoke. "I think that you are idiots and you are being duped by the Reds all over again. I looked directly into Oksana's eyes and didn't see any moral compassion, or whatever motive you're assigning to her. She is evil and is driven only by evil thoughts. Letting down our guard will get many dreamers and probably some of us killed."

Gloria now raised her hand ever so slightly indicating that she wanted to speak. While Snow's outburst could have prompted an angry response from the Elders and a stern warning, no-one else appeared to want to say anything.

Gloria cleared her throat and began to speak. "Possibly more than anyone else in the room, I too have reason to voice a significant complaint about how this has all been handled." She paused to choose her words carefully. "Luise is the most precious being in my life and I know that I almost lost her. The fight was certainly real and only your bravery and the swift response of the entire team saved us from this tragedy."

She continued, "You may also wonder why I couldn't have prevented it, with direct access to Cherry every day. This is a good question, that isn't being asked, I guess out of good manners, but should be."

She paused to contain her emotions, then continued, "I stood over Mikilo in his sleep and could easily have simply dragged a blade across his throat."

The room was silent as she spoke. "Black's aren't quite as nasty as Reds or Browns, but I guess as Luise has demonstrated, we are fierce up close. I had the razor-sharp knife and I knew what to do with it. After a day or two, with Cherry showing no signs of coming down off his horse, I fully expected that I would have no other choice but to murder him."

Now, she paused again, looking from Emma and Jack to Sasha and Will. She shrugged and smiled. "But, on the third day, Mikilo took me into the dreamscape to observe his interaction with Boris Pulisin. I learned much more about where his plan was headed. At that stage, I believe that he would have gladly brought us in and acted to prevent any harm to others. I encouraged him to do this and we were headed in that direction."

"However, it was on the fourth night that things changed." Gloria now paused to ensure that everyone was listening carefully.

"That night, Mikilo and I were both drawn into a dreamscape not of our own creation. Believe me, we were ready to trash the place if it was an attack, but the setting was in a simple hut, with only one old man sitting at a table. He wanted to talk to us. Guess we figured that if we expected Boris to listen to us at our table, we could at least give the old man a listen at his.

She paused, then finished, "Just as Mikilo had done with Boris, he showed us our future."

She was close to tears now. "From that moment on, The First Circle became and will stay the mortal enemies of the Red Clan. Cherry and his gang will turn against us with everything that they can muster. The current peace is, as you have suggested Sacha, just a ruse to have us drop our guard."

Gloria sagged as if exhausted. "Armand and Jake rescued me the next day. I was putting on a good show while in desperate fear for my life. I cannot be more grateful." She nodded to the two Elders.

The room was now hushed as everyone tried to make sense of the apparent contradiction. Gloria finished by looking directly to Snow.

"Yes, child, some will most certainly die and the fight is just starting. You have ascribed the true nature of the Red Clan correctly. We are not fooled, nor I hope, idiots. The lives of millions will depend on us winning this war. I encourage you, the next time that you have the opportunity, to attack Xana with all of your might."

Now Tom Brown leapt to his feet. He had received the same briefing as Emma and Jack and was quietly pleased with the possibility of a restoration of relations with the Red Clan. He knew that his love for Xana was dangerous, but had hoped that they might just find a way to stop being killers after this adventure was over.

"You can't be serious." He was speaking only to Gloria, with a lot of impertinence. But, the suggestion that Xana be attacked and possibly killed was contrary to the deep belief, formed since their last dreamscape encounter, that she was fundamentally good in her heart. Even though she had nearly killed him, she hadn't. If she was that evil, she certainly would have dispatched him without hesitation or regret. It was his only sign, but he trusted his own heart to lead him.

"Oksana is just acting on her father's command, as we all do." He looked around the room. "From what I have heard, Cherry has a commendable purpose in his actions. Look at our history. Members of all of our families have done worse in the past, and they are now honored as our heroes. How can we declare that we are mortal enemies of a Clan that is only trying to set things right?"

Tom knew that he was out of line, but remained standing, defying the Elders to tell him to shut up. Only after he was finished ranting did he realize that Sasha was also standing, to his left. He turned to look at her.

Sasha wished that she was next to him to give him a hug. But she could only offer words.

"Tom, we won't kill her, if we can avoid it. Maybe, we can find a way to bring her in next time. Maybe, you're right that there is something better deep in her heart. But, you need to accept that we are enemies. It is just the way things are."

Now the room was filled with an uneasy tension. There were obviously very different beliefs among Elders and among fighters, who must absolutely be aligned and committed to the same actions. The lack of agreement was a recipe for disaster. That the disagreement was being hashed out in 'public' was also completely contrary to the quiet backroom way of Draumrs. Everyone was uncomfortable.

Armand had kept his head down as he had made some notes in his fine hand in a small diary. Whether the notes were important to the outcome of the meeting or whether they were his grocery list, the act of finishing his writing filled some time and allowed him to consider where to take the discussion.

He spoke quietly and calmly, clearly hoping that the example would be followed by all.

"Elder Black, you had made me aware of your contrary opinion on the veracity of the Red Clan declaration of peaceful intent. You previously said it was because of something that you learned while with Elder Chernoyiv. Now, for the first time, I am hearing that there was someone else involved. Who was this person and what could he or she have said to make you so certain that the members of the Red Clan are now and forever will be our enemies?"

Gloria seemed reluctant to reveal her source of information or to discuss anything further in the open meeting.

She replied, "I'm not sure how to speak to these questions as the answer is complicated and will certainly cause further discomfort in this room."

Armand persisted, "Well, what is already confusing to me is how a three-person meeting on a dreamscape, where two of the people were Elder Chernoyiv and yourself, could result in so firm a condemnation of the Red Clan. What did Mikilo say or do that caused this hatred on your part?"

"He didn't say anything."

"Well what did he do?"

"He didn't do anything. I believe that he was having as hard a time believing the other person as I was."

"Well, then, what exactly did this person tell you?"

Now Gloria hesitated again before answering. "He said that peace between our Clans was a deadly mistake. He said that only if we are sworn enemies, who are prepared kill the other without hesitation or justification, would the world survive. Then, he showed us a devastated planet just a few years from now, caught in the grip of all-out war."

The room was now absolutely silent.

Gloria continued, "He showed us this as the inevitable outcome, if the Clans make peace and become complacent. Then, he showed us a much different outcome if we are enemies. Suffice to say, the world isn't perfect sometimes, but the birds singing and the children playing in the second picture looked pretty good to me by comparison."

Armand was still confused. "Did he explain how inter-Clan acrimony would lead to this 'preserved' world?"

"Yes, he said that the Red Clan had to go over to another side; they had to join the side of an invincible enemy and defeat them from within. This strategy, apparently, is the only means to defeat the force that will otherwise destroy humanity."

"So, they must be traitors?"

"Yes, but first they must be proven to be our enemy or they will never get inside the metaphysical 'gates' protecting this real enemy. In our every breath and our every action, we must show that we hate the Red Clan."

Armand was starting to understand the logic of the argument, if not its merits.

"But, surely the Red Clan can create its own deception. They have actually shown themselves to be quite good at fooling human beings."

Gloria shook her head. "It's not human beings who must be fooled. It's Draumrs."

Now the room erupted in questions from more than Armand. "Who else has to be involved? Are you saying one of our families will be deceived?"

Gloria put her hands up for quiet. When they had all quieted, she simply said: "It's the Blue Clan, or at least a good part of it."

Although the Blue's had come up in discussion during the briefing for the mission, no one in the room, except Armand, had ever had any dealings with them. He now held up his hands for silence.

"Who was the person speaking to you on the dreamscape?"

Gloria looked straight at Armand as she prepared to answer.

"It was Lapis Lazuli himself."

Armand now blinked, considered her answer and questioned, "But, he would be more than 130 years old. As far as we know, he is long dead. Are you sure that it was him?"

"Mikilo was certain. He knew him well from many years ago. He apparently sat on Lazuli's knee as a child. They shared reminiscences. The person on the dreamscape was no ghost; somewhere, very much alive, he slept and used powerful skills to draw the two of us to his dream."

Armand couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Is he still the leader of the Blue Clan?"

Gloria knew that the story was stretching her believability; but, she had some proof. "He is, sort of."

She paused again, then continued, "This is the problem; the Blue Clan has split into several factions. Some of those factions are at war with others within the Clan. As he described it to us, it has been a bloody struggle for power and almost all sacred Draumr rules have been broken."

She continued, "He said he was aware through his spies that the worst of the factions has been impressed by the Red Clan 'revolt' against the First Circle. Through an existing connection, they are approaching Mikilo, through Oksana, to join them and to foster an eventual insurrection in Europe that will be allied to the upheaval in the Far East. If I got it correct, in their heads, this is some kind of new order to be built on the ashes of today's societies."

"Elder Lazuli is hoping that the Red Clan is up to the challenge of surviving an alliance with them, but then, is prepared to sabotage the radical Blue's plans from within. This strategy, he said, may be the only opportunity to 'poison the well from which they drink'. These were his exact words."

Jake now jumped in. "But, why must we be mortal enemies? Couldn't this plan be run on a covert basis with us fully aware of what was happening?"

Gloria had reached the end of what she knew. "No, apparently, we can have no secrets. The Blues who are the most dangerous are also the masters of ancient artefacts that have never been retired. This magic gives them a tremendous advantage. They can monitor any dreamscape at any time. They have been monitoring us. They will be watching us in the Halls of the Circles. This risk is the reason why we are all in the same physical room today. If there is any hint that we are not at war with the Red Clan; Mikilo, Oksana and many cousins will die, while the threat to the world will increase unabated."

She continued, "Unless we can find some way to shut down the power of the artefacts, we must commit to act with our every breath and thought as if the Red Clan is our mortal enemy. It is why the charade in Shenzhen had to continue. Our apparent defeat was the Red Clan's bona fides for the full invitation to come."

The room was still largely stuck in disbelief. No one could accept the notion that anyone could monitor the First Circle without a presence in the room and the permission of the Circle. Finding out that none of their dreams were assured of privacy left many of the participants in the room both perplexed and a little embarrassed.

Emma could see that Gloria was struggling to finish her story in the face of so much doubt from the others. She knew that the story could be a delusion brought on from one too many nights soaked in Russian vodka. But the narrative was so sincere and Gloria was so disconsolate in telling it, that she could find no fabrication in her account. She rose and walked over to Gloria, sat with her and took her hand in hers.

The room was quiet once again. Emma asked, "What else do you have to tell us?"

"Not tell—show." With that, Gloria turned her other hand over to reveal a dazzling blue topaz artefact that was settled into her palm.

"It is our only private conduit to Elder Lazuli. I dug it up in the yard of the dacha exactly where he said it would be. There were two. Cherry has one as well. With Lapis Lazuli in control and the presence of the stones in our hands, the three of us can meet in a private dreamscape. It is the only way."

With Emma's help, her burden was now lifted. Gloria sagged as the tension left her and smiled at the relief.

She sat up and completed her narrative. "Lapis Lazuli finished by saying: when we are ready, to convene the First Circle in the Halls. He will openly attend."

She paused to ensure that everyone heard her, "And he warned: everything he tells us will be complete fiction."
Dream of Me

Will and Snow sat beside each other on the Challenger jet as it took the Green Clan and White Clan teams back to North America. They were dead-tired and would soon be asleep.

Will asked quietly, "Can we risk dreaming as one?"

It was such a strange question given all that they had experienced together; the very notion of not simply slipping away hand-in-hand seemed ridiculous. Yet, Gloria's words rang in their ears: Every dream can be joined; joined by enemies who would destroy not only their world, but the world of millions of innocent people. If they slipped up, even while only dreaming of a safe retreat in the high forest, they could be the cause of that destruction.

But, they wouldn't slip up. Snow's willing answer was: "Yes."

Then they were in that high forest. Will might have picked Northern Ontario, but Snow had taken them to the slopes of the BC Rockies. Just above them, snow was starting to frost the mountain tops. Below their feet, green-tinted glacier run-off cascaded down a steep gorge on the way to a wide river far off in a marsh-filled valley. Late Fall sun barely warmed the air, while the orange highlights in the conifers spoke to a changing season. They were walking hand-in-hand along a beaten earth path that led somewhere.

Snow pointed up to the mountains. "I'll be working soon. First runs in deep powder. I left Spring down south; I have to catch the early snows way up there, before the crowds get here."

Will was thinking ahead too. "Guess, I should get my butt to Boston, before they give my place away." He laughed. "Not that Jack couldn't get it right back. But, I'd rather leave all other Greens and their favors-owed at home for a while."

Snow intended to keep talking only while they were walking. Later, they wouldn't need any words. Lulu wasn't with them, making them both a little sad. But, before they flew out, Gloria had passed on a message: "Lulu wishes you both pleasant dreams, while she enjoys a drug-addled stupor, without any dreams at all, thank you very much." The comment had made them laugh and breath a big sigh of relief. She'd be back soon, with a few new scars to show off. The better to fill out her preferred grunge persona.

Will now said, "I think that we can just keep on talking about life and our plans and all that stuff. Can't see the harm. I'm happy to just be a half-assed pilot and full-time student for as long as possible. One thing that a pilot can do is fly out to see his girlfriend once in a while. That is, if he has a girlfriend."

Snow laughed, "Well, that's nice for him. But, did you know that snowboard guides can work just about anywhere, even on the little bumps they call ski hills in Vermont. If she really wants to slum-it that is, so that she can be close to her boyfriend."

They stopped on the path and enjoyed a long deep kiss. With a simple thought they could have just fallen over into a bed, but the walk down the path without the overhang of bad guys was proving to be just the recovery therapy that they needed. Snow broke off the kiss when it was obvious that Will needed some more air in the altitude. As he was catching his breath, she laughed and took off at a full run down the path.

"Ah, no fair!" Will was still heaving at the thin air. But, he had to give chase, so took off after her at the best clip he could manage. Snow was easily outdistancing him and disappeared around a tight bend.

Her sudden absence from his view caused a small spike of worry in Will's gut. He tried to pick up his pace. There was no reason to worry about any threat in this pristine forest dreamscape, but the nagging recall that Xana was also an outdoors woman was pushing him to catch up. Heaving for air and feeling his legs starting to fight him, he finally rounded the bend, not to find Snow, but to come upon a tiny chalet made of dark wood, with green trim. The mossy cedar-shake roof was partly covered in deep snow, even though there was none in sight anywhere else. There was a curl of smoke coming from a black stone chimney.

Will laughed to himself as he bent over searching for missing oxygen.

"White snow on a green roof. A little nod to black on the side. No red anywhere in sight. I guess this is probably the place."

After he recovered some of his wind, he took one last look around and headed up to the chalet. As he pushed the thick wooden door inward, he was enveloped by the rich mixture of smells: cedar walls, hardwood burning, bread baking and, the hint of musky lavender threaded ever so delicately through it all. Aside from some odd chairs and a table along a kitchen wall, the only furnishing was a big, rough-hewn bed, covered haphazardly in patchwork quilts and furs. The only light came from the windows and a crackling open fire in a stone hearth.

Snow was just turning away from the kitchen counter with two steaming mugs of something dark, swirled with cream. A loaf of bread, sliced on a cutting board was also giving off a little steam, fresh from the oven, even though there was no oven in sight.

"Hope that you don't mind that I added a little schnapps. Take the chill off and maybe help put your lungs back in place. Forgot that this cabin is at 2700 meters. Sorry. But, isn't the air nice and clear up here?" She laughed at Will, who was desperately trying to breath normally again.

They drank and ate a little. Like the preamble of the dinner date, every moment of hesitation prior to jumping into the bed helped to ease away their worries and to increase the anticipation of just sinking into much-needed bliss together. They didn't need to say anything about what was on their minds as they already knew it was the same thing.

Snow had changed clothes before Will got there, into some very traditional flannel pajamas, with kid-like monkeys and magpies all over them. They were an obvious throwback to real comfort clothes from a long time ago. Will hadn't thought about changing until he got inside, when, looking down, he realized that he was already wearing something similar with rabbits and ducks. They laughed at each other's choice, but both felt left-over tension from the battles finally slipping away.

Snow got up to look out the window. "Hmm, really starting to come down out there."

Will came over to look out and was taken aback by a full-scale blizzard raging on the other side of the glass. As he was seeing the distant trees disappear, he could start to feel the icy wind penetrating the walls of the cabin. Looking up, he could now see wisps of snow blowing in through gaps in the peaked roof. Suddenly, it was getting very chilly.

Snow grinned. "Think that we'd better get under the covers. This looks like it could be a cold one."

Laughing, they climbed in together and pulled the pile of comforters and skins up over them. Plump goose down pillows above rich flannel sheets completed the bedclothes. Snuggling down, until just there just their faces were out in the sudden cold, they wrapped arms and legs together and enjoyed their second deep kiss of the dream. Will briefly noticed that he now wasn't winded at all and giggled.

"What?" Snow was looking into his eyes from two inches away.

"Oh, nothing. I just seem to have adapted to the thin air pretty quickly."

"Hmmm. Guess so." Snow was grinning. Her hands had found their way inside Will's pajama top. "Do you know what we have to do to warm up rescue victims in the cold?"

"Maybe. Make them tea and toast?"

"No, silly boy. We have to wrap up skin-to-skin. Body heat is the only way to warm them up out in the bush. Happens all the time."

Now Will grinned. "Hmm, that must get a little intimate sometimes."

"Well, maybe. Let's see."

Their pajamas disappeared. Will was flooded with the sudden pleasure of warm skin contact from head to foot."

"I can see how that works," he said, "I'm reviving already."

"Yes, you do appear to be coming back to life. Now, in some cases, we need to go a little further. You know, really heat up the chilled inner core."

"Oh, and how is that done?"

"Sort of by combining mouth-to-mouth and hand-to-cock. Let me demonstrate that as well."

It was the end of talking, as their mouths locked together and all hands found warm places. Moments later, Snow guided Will into the warmest spot he could think of.

The thick covers disappeared as the rough flannel sheet could now provide all the insulation needed in the heat of long-overdue passion. Good thing it was a long flight home.

When they were lying back, actually recovering some needed breath. Will casually glanced to his side and was surprised to see a small side table that he hadn't noticed before. It was just large enough to hold a telephone. And there was a desk telephone on it. The heavy instrument looked appropriately rustic, in dark green with a fabric covered cord and a huge handset sitting across the top of it. It looked like a Bell phone from the 60's or before, or maybe more like the worst of the Soviet system attempts to imitate a Bell phone.

"Why do you have a telephone?"

Snow was confused, "I don't. There's no phone here. Who would you call?

"So, what's that then?"

Snow lifted up on one elbow to look over Will's chest. It took her a few seconds to put the pale green blob into context as an old desk telephone.

"Shit."

Just as they were starting to scuttle backwards off the far side of bed away from the phone, a single bright red lamp on the top of the base began flashing slowly.

Wishing that she had brought her club, Snow now asked, "What is it doing?"

Will hesitated in his retreat. "I think that's a message waiting lamp. You know, like in an old hotel. They used to turn on the little lamp to get you to call down for your messages."

He continued, "Maybe somebody on the plane wants us to wake up and they didn't want to just poke us, mid-dream, you know. Don't think that we're fooling anybody."

He grinned and shrugged. "It is just a phone."

Snow wasn't impressed. "Who the hell could reach in here and just plunk a phone down? I control this place edge-to-edge. Not even Emma or Jack could or would do that. Tiptoe in while we're fucking like bunnies and just leave a telephone behind. I don't think so."

They were left sitting up half-naked staring at the blinking phone.

Will had a thought. "Maybe I should check the message. The phone is green after all."

"Yah, and the fucking light is red."

After considering other alternatives, like just ending the dreamscape or inviting someone else in to take a look, they finally decided to go with the obvious and check the message.

Wearing pajamas again, as sitting completely naked checking the message seemed too ridiculous, Will sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the heavy handset. Almost immediately, a nasally operator's voice asked him to hold for a message.

"So?" Snow as standing a couple feet away, ready to pounce on something, but without any obvious target.

"It's Lilly Tomlin, apparently." Will had to laugh at someone's small joke. Then, a distant and crackling recorded voice came on.

"Vill, Vill. Xana here. Hope that you get this before is too late. I didn't vant to disturb you guys, but you know, I had to get the message to you. Old phone is funny, no? Please listen carefully, but don't let Sasha hear...just you."

There was a break in the message and a lot of fuzz. After a moment, the background noise died down.

"Shitty connection here. Hope that you can hear clearly enough."

The voice was fading in and out. Will had to press the handset to his ear to hear the faint words.

Snow was beside herself. "So, what is it?"

Will mouthed "Xana." Then, realizing that it was only a message, he said it out loud. "Says it's Xana. It's a terrible recording. I'll let you listen after me."

The message continued, "Vill, trust none of the Blues. There is no safe alliance. They know that ve have our stones and they need all of them to complete the ancient mosaic. Don't let them get yours."

The message faded again, then picked up. "Vhen you can, meet me in the south. Have you got that: In the south; only in the south..."

The fuzz on the line returned, then ended abruptly with a loud click. The message was over; he was listening to dead air.

Will reached to the table. "It's over. Let me play it again for you."

But, as Will went to hit the normal replay keypad button of 1 or 2, he realized that there were no buttons. The red light had gone out.

"Shit, no replay."

Snow had her hands on her hips and was obviously still fairly irritated at the intrusion. "Fuck that. So, what did she say?"

Will was still trying to figure that out.

"She was far away somewhere or at least that's the impression that she wanted to give. Assuming that it even was her. Who the fuck knows where it could have come from?"

"Anyway, she apologized and said that she didn't want to disturb us, but only had a moment to leave the telephone, er, the message. Then, she said: "Trust no Blues: don't make any alliances."

"I guess, if it was her, she has found something out. But, here we are on a dreamscape, with proof in my hand that it can be compromised and we're talking about stuff that we've been warned not to talk about by an old guy who says that he is lying anyway. This is too fucked-up."

Snow was still trying to make some sense of the entire intrusion. She was pissed that the damn war was following them, already. She was also pissed that the interruption had taken the fun out of the dream.

She shrugged, "Guess, we'd better wake up and tell the folks."

"OK, but where are we going to go, we're over the middle of the ocean? Maybe, we can just hang on here for a while and ignore the telephone."

As Will pointed in the direction of the little table, they both looked over and realized that it was gone. Maybe they were alone again. It was worth a try.

As Will settled back in Snow's arms and tried to push Xana's scratchy voice from his head, he realized that he hadn't said anything to Snow about meeting Xana in the "south". What was that all about?
Blue Horizon

The small clearing on the invisible point of land had been the point of departure for Will's lifetime worth of spiritual growth that had been squeezed into only a few weeks. He had arrived here naïve and self-centered, a pretentious keener full of his too-easy accomplishments and his too-simple life plans. He could remember how much he had wished that he was just flying somewhere instead of humping out here with the old men.

Now, the little fire that they had built for tonight's tea pot seemed to him a lot like his once-fulfilling life. Made up of small sticks, with just enough flame to heat the pot, the cooking fire wasn't intended to heat cold steel into glowing red metal or to destroy ancient forests for man's stupid use of the land underneath. It was a fire with limited intent that provided exactly the needed amount of heat energy and a flickering dull light. Certainly, the purpose of heating water was noble, but deciding that this was all the fire you needed in your life meant that you were as insignificant as the battered pot now steaming prior to a boil.

To Will, the metaphor neatly summed up his life before the first dreamscape he had joined in this clearing. He had been happy enough simmering away on his little fire, but he always knew then that he was more than a teapot. He expected to go places, in a few years. Now, the challenge of a lifetime was thrust upon him with no time at all to prepare for it. The fire that they had stepped into was certainly hot enough to test his steel. He still wasn't sure that he knew the full strength of his mettle or if he could ever know, without going past the point of failure.

Water, Jack and Will squatted around the little fire for a while, perhaps pretending to be somewhere else: maybe mid-hunt or mid-portage, where you never actual set camp, just grabbed some tea and kept your ass off the wet ground. Complaining knees quickly caused them to break out the nylon camp chairs. Hunger had also been addressed by hauling out the Coleman stove a little earlier and putting on a pan-load of pea meal bacon and another pan of bannock. The tea, should the damn pot ever boil, was their agreed nod to different times gone by.

Both Will and Jack needed the wisdom Water could offer. The retiring Elder had fought in these battles before. He had fought as an ally alongside the Clan that they now faced as an enemy. He, unlike almost all others, had seen a war unfold before him with an artefact in-hand. That he would not travel with them into future battles made them both nervous and uncertain.

After a long period of silence, Water spoke quietly. "Seems like we should be somewhere a lot warmer and more comfortable at this time of year." He grimaced. "But, a little discomfort is worth gaining the protection of this land."

Jack had wondered about the merits of traveling three hours by truck and boat from the very-comfortable Beaucage compound, just to sit around in the dirt and in the dark. He and Will were only back a couple days and were still trying to sort out what they knew and what their next steps were. Will had indicated that he was leaving for school, unless there was some immediate reason not to. Water wanted to move on. This was their version of a Green Clan summit prior to the summons to the Halls that they knew was coming any day.

Jack was curious. "From all that we have heard about the Blues, do you think that they cannot penetrate this place?"

Water was never very definite with his answers. "Maybe, maybe not. We don't know what they have learned in the decades since they were among us. But, we would know if anyone else was here—awake or asleep. The trees are older than these upstarts and they will never quietly accept any but the Green Clan on this ground."

He looked from Jack to Will. "So, listen carefully for some pissed-off leaf shaking or maybe a dead branch landing beside your head." He now laughed out loud.

"Those would be good signs telling you to shut-up and bug out."

Jack and Will joined in the laugh at the thought of a tree beaning one of them with a branch to get attention, but it was slightly nervous laughing this time.

Will finally had the opening he wanted. They were wide awake and miles from any other human. He and Jack had provided as much detail as they could on the battles in Shenzhen and on the meeting in London, without attempting to draw any conclusions. They both had their opinions, but needed to hear Water's views without prejudice.

"Grandfather, do you think that this supposed plan makes any sense? I'm not afraid of anything or anyone, but I do fear being made a fool once again by deception and misdirection."

Water groaned a bit as he hauled himself up from the camp chair. He poked the fire a little. With his bare hand, he calmly lifted the lid on the pot to check the boil. "Tea time." He was considering his answer.

When they were finally all sitting again with plates of food and battered mugs of deep black tea, Water carefully gave the little advice that he would. Retired meant retired for him; he didn't plan to be a consulting partner.

"Normally, I would simply say that you should judge any man by his actions not by his words. When I am talking to you, I am thinking about what you are thinking and how my next words can make you think differently. You are thinking that this old guy is so full of crap. Words can be a trap for both the speaker and the listener. Actions, however are just what they are. If I steal your car, it doesn't matter if I have either words of explanation or apology; I am a thief. Our justice system, I think Jack, is based on this principle."

Jack nodded.

"So, we have seen Mikilo's actions. You have seen Oksana's actions. Gloria, who is a wise friend, who should be believed, saw their actions and said that they were well-intentioned. She then foretold of a confusing situation where an enemy is not an enemy but must be treated like one. Not unheard of in war. But, her story is only words. You can hear them and roll them around a bit, but, you must not believe anything fully until you have seen the outcomes for yourself."

He continued, turning to face Will, "You also have words from Oksana directed only to you. Again, just words. But, you have many other actions of hers to judge. Unfortunately, we now must wait for the next actions of a few that will prove the words before you can judge anyone much further."

"I'm sorry that this dance is so complicated. Life is never simple when half of it is lived on a dreamscape that is only accessible in your mind. Sorry, Duck. Maybe we made a mistake in drawing you into this mess. But, these were our considered actions, wide awake. You are needed. You do have the right to judge us for them."

Now Water paused for a long time. The sons knew that he wasn't finished, so they waited.

Finally, Water spoke again. "Now, we come to the expected appearance of the Blue Clan Elder—a Lapis, apparently, a foot shy of the grave, once again in the Halls that have not seen him in 30 years."

Here, he was more certain. "Regardless of his magic, the Halls will not present an imposter as the real thing. If he shows, you can receive him with the respect that he deserves. The Halls will tell you all you need to know. If he has a seat, he is well-received through a doorway that is a thousand-years old."

Now he looked up and turned up his hands, with a big grin forming.

"I have no idea what to tell you to do with the words of the world's oldest Draumr when he says that each one will be a lie. Perhaps, only his first words were the lie and the rest are true? It's a great trick. I wish that I had thought of it."

They finished their meal. Water had said that he wanted to take Will and Jack on a walk with their forefathers as his reverse retirement gift. Feeling safe and comfortable, the men closed their eyes and walked off together. A small group of craggy spirits joined them at the tree line.

Will had never experienced a direct summons to appear in the Halls before. Or at least he didn't think that he had. Maybe, as a kid, he had been summoned for play days or to answer for punching some other Draumr kid in the nose. Those events, if they happened, had all been wiped out of his memory. While he felt that he now had the complete story, he wouldn't put it past Water and Jack to have conveniently deleted some events, in the interest of improving their parenting score, at which they pretty much sucked, now that the truth was all out there.

A few times over the past weeks Will had wondered, if he had been connected all along, might he have been better at the dreamscape stuff and maybe, been in a place to head-off Xana before she got as good as she is. It was a useless thought, as he had experienced lots of real-life challenges that had toughened him up and smartened him up. Who knows, he might have been a conceited wimp if he had known that he was special. Now, he recalled more than one coach telling the team that 'coulda, woulda, shoulda' had no place in a winning strategy. "Just win with what you've got."

The summons to the Halls came in a dream the night after he returned from the family lands. Jack would have received it too. Will assumed that Water would now be excused.

He just received a compelling direction giving a countdown time: "24 hours exactly". The next night he would simply close his eyes prior to the time and be walking through the big doors again. Of course, now he had to figure out what to wear as a full-patch Leutnant. Businesslike seemed appropriate, but if they were planning another fight, maybe quasi-military was more appropriate.

Will thought about texting Snow to get some advice and to suggest that they meet early, but then set the idea aside. He would be on his own now more often, without Water to guide every step. He needed to make his own decisions and keep his head in the game. But, if she poked him, well, he'd have to work with what he had.

Armand invoked the construct of the Halls of the Circles and set the stage for the only dreamscape that was beyond the control of individual Draumrs. The Halls worked the other way around, having been anchored in the same recurring dream for so many centuries, their primary form and appearance were dictated to the attending Draumrs. As the senior Elder of the First Circle, Armand's recall of the setting was assumed to be the closest to the actual form engraved in the memory of all Draumrs who had ever attended. His recall opened the box, so to speak. Each arriving Draumr reinforced the image with his or her own minor interpretations.

Armand Grau was at the Halls well before others would join. Philip Grey joined him minutes later. Together, they walked the outer hallways, beyond which individual rooms were open to Draumr interpretation. As they circled the perimeter, each was satisfied that all of the expected structures and fittings were in place as they should be. The outer halls and rooms were always a work-in-progress as Draumrs arrived and decamped to prepare for meetings or for other pass times.

Through open doors, the Central Hall was cloaked in darkness, with an ominous feel of impending drama. To Armand, the nervous readiness felt like a theater with house lights down, just before the stage lights and curtain came up. The actors were near again now. Soon, they would arrive on the main stage and the next act could officially begin. He didn't attempt to inspect the conference table with its colored segments and upholstered chairs of the Clans. He would only be seeing what he expected to see, not what was really coming. He and Philip closed the massive doors, to be reopened only when all were present.

Soon, other First Circle Elders and their Clan Leutnants began to arrive. Jake Brun and Tom Brown were early, having booked time with Philip to review new field intelligence. Gloria Black arrived with her partner Lord Black, a formerly active Leutnant, who still held the rank and would fill the second-tier seat normally provided for Lulu. They headed into Gloria's 'office' to spruce up for the meeting.

Emma and Sasha White arrived with the expected sparkle of light, both dressed appropriately in tailored suits. Moments later, the Greens were the last to arrive, of the expected attenders, with both Jack and Will looking professional in suit jackets. By agreement, the entire cadre was then called together and entered the Central Hall in a lazy procession.

The Elders and Leutnants were surprised by a couple exceptions as they came through the entrance doors. The Central Hall was clearly still in battle mode, with banners hung and ancient armaments on the walls. But the room was bright and fairly calm, as it would normally be in a time of peace. Each person looked around, perhaps pleasantly surprised that others were more optimistic that they were.

In spite of not having Red Clan representation, the multi-sided oak table continued to display a richly-tiled, pie-shaped Red segment; Mikilo's favorite deep-red leather chair sat ready, as if expecting an occupant. Beyond that, a second-tier chair that could have been Oksana's, also sat empty. Someone, probably Emma, shared a thought with all of them: It's probably our shared wish that they were here, hence we set the place for them

The more significant surprise was that the grand table had already adapted to their expected guest; it now had seven sides, including a deep blue segment filled with sparking jewels and ornate tiles, with a definite oriental flavor. The reason for the modification, which none of them could have created, was also evident, as the Blue Clan Leutnant chair in the second tier already had an occupant.

Will thought: As Water predicted, the Halls are welcoming back a bona-fide Blue Clan presence.

The Central Hall was compact in form compared to its possible expanded configuration with many tiers of seats. Just the multi-colored conference table and one additional tier of seats appeared. The participants made their way to their places.

Jack took his time behind the big Green suede chair. He hadn't wished for anything special other than Water's worn-in chair, which was what he got. He would sit for the first time as the appointed Green Clan Elder of the First Circle, but he could still feel Water's presence all around him.

Will was less tentative in moving to his seat as he had already been accepted as a Leutnant in battlefield promotion. But, the actual chair, his chair, felt good under his hands as he stood behind it.

Snow, also in smart business attire, was looking over to Will with a mischievous grin. They had exchanged compliments in the foyer on their get-ups for the day: "Cleans up pretty good"; "Oh, you're actually a girl," and such. Wise advice from parents had put them into the appropriate clothes. The advice had also been to shut-up and observe, as the gathering was likely to be confusing at best and bewildering at worst.

Before anyone sat down, Armand called on the Blue Clan Leutnant to stand and introduce himself.

"Your Eminence, I am Lapis Bahuun, aide and protector to Elder of the First Circle, Lapis Lazuli. My humble apologies for entering the Central Hall before your invitation. As my Master is frail and cannot maintain his dreams for extended periods, I am here to await his summons by you. I will then assist him in attending."

He continued, "My apologies also for apparently affecting the appearance of the Central Hall. I have never been here, but heard such vivid stories of its majesty that I must have brought some expectation with me. I will now step out to the entranceway to await your call." With that he turned and made his way towards the back exit of the Central Hall.

Lapis Bahuun was obviously of South-East Asian heritage. But, he was dressed in a western-style business suit and spoke perfect English. If he was not the only aide to Lazuli, he was obviously hand-picked for this role. Armand considered his presence and story. Amazing control and prescience for a Leutnant who has not attended before. An artefact-enhanced performance perhaps? He kept the thought to himself while Bahuun exited.

Through multiple telephone conference calls, the Elders had agreed to a script for the meeting. Each had expressed doubt that the dreamscape could be monitored without their awareness, yet now, after only a minute together they had discovered that the Blue Clan was quite capable of exerting control over the Halls' appearances and probably their functions. Out of due caution, they had agreed to play out the expected fiction of division in their ranks. This approach now seemed like wise plan.

Once all were seated, Armand opened, "Thank-you all for prompt attendance. Welcome Elder Jack Green to the First Circle. He nodded to Jack, as did the other Elders. That was it, Jack was appointed.

Armand continued, "We have very little to cover, except to hear from the respected and, until now, absent Blue Clan Elder."

"Before we do that, I would like recognize, for the record, the returning fighters in the room and to congratulate them on the successful defense of dreamers in the Shenzhen encounters. While we are sad that the engagement could not prevent the death of one innocent dreamer, we acknowledge that it was a great success, with, as I am told, the lives of most of the world's political leaders in the balance, prior to your aggressive intervention to prevent grievous harm."

"Of course, we all wish Leutnant Luise Black a continued speedy recovery from injuries received in the final struggle to end the Red Clan's destructive scheme."

All of the leaders knocked the conference table repeatedly with their knuckles in agreement and recognition. As they did, a new banner unfurled high above them, celebrating the battle of Shenzhen in ancient script with the colors White, Green, Black and Grey highlighted. Will and Snow were suitably impressed and nodded to the First Circle.

Armand continued, "Now, I would be interested in opinions on how we can purge the damned Red Clan trappings from this Hall. With their dishonorable behavior and failure to follow Draumr principles, I don't see why they should be represented here, even if it is only the furniture."

Philip rose from his chair behind Armand and came down to speak quietly to him, Armand listened for a few seconds, then nodded.

"Philip advises that we would need unanimous agreement to expel the Red Clan, then would have to exit the room and re-enter in order for the Central Hall to reconfigure. Think that we'll just leave it open for a motion at the end of the meeting, rather than wasting time now."

Armand looked around. "Any other discussion?" There was none.

"Then, without delay, let us welcome back our esteemed Draumr family member from the Blue Clan, who has been so long absent for these Halls. Please ask Elder Lapis Lazuli to join the dreamscape."

Philip had already made his way to the rear doors. He now opened them fully and bowed slightly to Lapis Bahuun, saying, "Whenever he is ready."

The seated Elders looked one to the other and some turned for whispered words to their Leutnants. They expected that Bahuun would need to step out of the dreamscape and wake to let Lazuli know that it was time to join. Then both would need to go to sleep for the connection to be made.

Jack whispered to Will, "Not sure how long a 130-year-old takes to get to sleep. Hopefully, he has been saving it up for us."

Within a few minutes, Lapis Bahuun entered the room and announced his master. "Elder Lapis Lazuli now joins you with great admiration and respect."

The Blue Clan Elder entered the room under his own power, bearing some of his weight on a walking stick. He was stooped and obviously thin as a rail under his garments. He was dressed informally, in a deep blue brocade jacket over a silvery raw silk shirt and dark cotton pants. His flowing white hair was tied back in a neat braid. He had a sun-darkened face, without facial hair, that offset bright blue eyes. Each of the other Elders, in one way or another, thought: Is this what 130 looks like?

Lazuli took his time lowering himself into his chair. As the chair was the creation of Bahuun's imagination, it may have felt a lot like some other chair that they both knew. After a few moments of settling in, he looked up to the Elders and around to the Leutnants, taking in the rest of the Central Hall as he did. He stopped when his gaze fell directly on Armand.

Realizing that the most senior of all Elder's was waiting for permission to speak, Armand finally said, "Welcome back, Elder Lapis. It is our great honor to have you join us and to have the Blue Clan rejoin the First Circle." Both men nodded. Lazuli nodded to all of the other Elders.

Armand continued, "We are told by Elder Black that you have an important message for us. Elder Black has told us everything that you told her in your brief dreamscape visit."

Armand intended Lazuli to understand that the others had been advised of his caution: "that everything he says will be a fiction."

Lazuli cleared his throat and after a second or two of hesitation, finally spoke in a scratchy voice. "Yes, yes. Thank-you for inviting me today. I do have some interesting information, perhaps the most interesting of my never-ending life."

There were some small grins around the table. None were too sure if this comment was meant to be a joke.

"If you could see the wretch who is dreaming with you, you might think that I have already moved on to the next realm, but I am still pretty good at dreaming a better me, so here I am, mostly upright and not drooling, I hope."

Now, they all knew that he was having them on a bit.

Armand had been uncertain about the context and veracity, or lack of it, in the surprise First Circle return, so wanted to stay very focused.

"Please, sir, let us know your wishes immediately, so that we can make the best use of your dreaming time. We realize that this entire process is a challenge for you."

Lazuli nodded, understanding that he was really only being listened to out of curiosity. He brought no expectations for belief.

"Well, then, let me tell you a small story that makes my point quite adequately." He saw some wrinkled brows. "Trust me, it is an interesting and, short, story."

Placing his hands on the table, Lazuli concentrated while looking down for a few moments and then looked up. In their focus of attention on him, none of the Hall's other occupants noticed the change in the conference table. Now, following Lazuli's open-handed direction, they saw that the points of the colored Clan sections had pulled back from the center point of the table and now ended about a foot short of center. Filling in the opening was a seven-pointed star-shaped insert that was covered in a loose mosaic of palm-sized flat stones, each tinted more or less consistently with the colored segment closest to it.

Lazuli smiled, apparently satisfied with the effect he had created. "This feature, my brothers and sisters, is the source of the artefacts that are giving us all so much trouble these days: Stones that were acquired for their powers over several thousand years and placed carefully in the original table."

Will stood slightly to look down on the table. With concentration, he could make out several greenish stones, any one of which could have be the talisman he now slept with. But, he was seeing a dream representation. How could this dreamscape decoration be the source of real rocks?

Others were rising slightly as well, trying to take in both the full mosaic and their Clan's stones in the design.

Lazuli finally spoke again, "I'm not sure how far back in Draumr lore any of you have studied, but I can tell you that what you see around you today in this dreamscape is only so because once, more than 900 years ago, it was a real place called, in the Persian language, the Saln. The original great hall was built by Draumrs in Constantinople as a place of study and protection during very turbulent times. The hazy image of the original building has been locked in our dreaming minds ever since."

He was speaking very quietly, but each person could hear every word as if it was spoken in his or her head. "The mosaic, created as the centerpiece of the first Table of the Powers, as it was then called, was the focus of the Draumrs' mystical, for the time, ability to move between waking and dreaming states. They were not a secret sect. Their ability was quite widely known. Pilgrims came to the Halls, bearing gifts of great value, with the wish for just one dream with their lost love or with their dead child. When it was granted, Draumr reputation for compassionate miracles became the hallmark of a peaceful mission. The gifts were redistributed to many in need."

"Unfortunately, and inevitably, there were those who found ways to misuse the abilities. The complete mosaic, when employed by a skilled Draumr, gave him the ability to move effortlessly in and out of the consciousness of any person chosen, near or far, and to inflict serious harm as a motivator for compelling cooperation. As you might imagine, in greed or in stupidity, misdirected Draumrs found targets for this interference in influential politicians and wealthy aristocrats. Corruption, sadly is an always close companion of compassion."

Lazuli, obviously getting winded, paused for long moments. Bahuun came forward and whispered to him, but was waved off.

"Apologies, it would appear that my sleeping self is unlikely to leave me here for much longer. You will find that catnaps are mostly the rule on the other side of 100, and when your life is threatened."

He closed his eyes for a few moments, which seemed to charge up his energy again.

"To finish the story quickly: Fortunately, wiser heads prevailed and, after a bloody internal struggle, the First Circle decided that the mosaic could not be allowed to exist intact, as the temptation for evil was too great. The centerpiece was pried out of the table and broken up. The stones, depending on their tint, were distributed to each Elder, with agreement that they would be carried to the ends of the earth and thrown into the sea."

Now he smiled and laughed, shaking his head a little.

"Well, as you might guess, most did not throw them all away. Or if they did, they remembered exactly where. Within months, the siege of Constantinople by the Latin Christians destroyed the Halls. The fleeing Elders, who were now viewed as heretics, themselves dispersed to many lands. Some hid their remaining stones, but most Clans just became more adept at using them."

"Over the centuries, the origin and hideous power of the original mosaic faded from recall by selective editing of the record. I believed that I was the only living soul who knew of the mosaic's power. The use of individual Clan stones for both good and evil prevailed right up until the middle of last century, when this First Circle finally decided that all artefacts should be banned, except in dire emergency."

"All of this would simply be interesting history and the current use of individual artefacts little more than a nuisance, were it not for a troubling development, that I must acknowledge, is the fault of the Blue Clan."

Armand had heard much of the background of the artefacts before. In fact, he had been aware of an intensive effort after World War II to track down the locations of any remaining artefacts. Regardless of the success of recovering the stones, they remained only a possible threat, requiring manipulation by skilled Draumrs for the wrong purposes. The search effort had eventually just petered out.

Aware that they might lose Lazuli shortly, Armand now asked, "Elder Lapis, what is the conclusion of the story. Why should we care about artefacts hidden away in the Far East?"

Lazuli now answered slowly. "Unfortunately, my youngest son proved quite adept at pulling together small threads in the ancient records and eventually learned the truth of the mosaic. When he confronted me, many decades ago, I told him that he must purge this knowledge or leave the family. Sadly, he chose the latter and took many cousins with him in a direct challenge to the Clan."

After another pause to regain his breath, he continued, "Kunchen Lapis is now determined to recreate the mosaic in its entirety. Where he to succeed, he would wield enormous power that would pretty much render the First Circle meaningless. He has many of the Blue stones and fights to gain them all. With the collaboration of the Red Clan, he will soon have access to most of the Red stones and an entry to Europe. If he is successful in acquiring other Clans' stones, none will be able to stand against him. Or against the regimes that he props up."

Now Emma leaned forward and asked, "But, we know of no White artefacts. Perhaps they were actually thrown into the sea. The mosaic cannot be recreated with just a few remnants from two Clans."

Lazuli nodded, "So, you would think. But, the faction of the Blue Clan that he leads is confident that they can find all the stones, wherever hidden or submerged. They have used their original artefacts to find others, as apparently, whatever their origin in the tens of millennia before us, the stones want to be together. One will provide an image of another and where it lies, to the skilled Draumr."

Bahuun, behind the Elder, now stood suddenly and cried, "Master, we are found..." He disappeared in an instant.

Lazuli turned and looked upward behind him, clearly disconnecting from the Hall for a moment. He returned, only to say: "She is here, I must leave now or die in my sleep."

As if in afterthought, he turned back to the table. "They will come to you with an ultimatum: Give up your stones or face a murderous attack. I urge you to negotiate lasting peace as the only price for giving over the stones. There are two futures; you must decide."

Then he disappeared.

End of Book Two
About the Author

Ross Peacock is a resident of Haliburton, Ontario, Canada. Draumrs is his first multiple volume series, published in two books: Red and Blue. A third book: Black, is due for publishing in 2020.

Thank-you for reading. Please leave a review at your favorite retailer.

Also by Ross: Crimes at the Moment of Death (pending publication 2019)

More on Ross at: www.rosspeacock.com

_Continue reading a preview chapter of book three:_ _Black_
Preview: BLACK

Book 3 in the Draumrs series...

Black on Grey

Philip Grey's first tattoo was a big event, made more-so by Lulu Black's promise that she would nurse him through the lingering sting of the needle by giving him many other parts of his body to focus on. He could wear any persona he wished in the dreamscape, but had always felt a little foolish stepping out of his waking conservative—no, wimpish, character into a made-up tough guy character in the dream. He was the very best at the intelligence systems needed to win the fight, but felt completely out of place carrying a sword or gun into a combative dream. The pair always went cautiously into their dreams now that they carried an artefact. He was having to get over his qualms very quickly.

Intensive dreamscape training was helping him gain confidence. The tattoo was to bridge some of that confidence to his waking posture. New muscles under the brand new 'tat' were working to raise his attitude level a little bit anyway. Of course, next to Lulu he still had a long way go. Most people started giving her a wide berth at about 20 meters out, with good reason. Now that was attitude.

She had kept her promise. Philip now also wore the tattoo as his symbolic celebration of losing his virginity, over and over again for the better part of their first week together. The Doors provided the logic for the choice in their Peace Frog lyric 'the rose of mysterious union'. He obviously hadn't bled, but certainly bought into the mysterious part.

The rose tattoo on his left forearm had also helped with their disguises as a young British couple on a working geological holiday north of the Norwegian city of Tromso. They really hadn't needed any explicit cover just to be passing through, but their mission required a fair amount of exploring in an obscure coastal area that no one else really paid much attention to. They were foreigners lodged in a guest house in a small town. They needed a back story, as certainly some locals would be asking some other locals and the story needed to produce only mild head-shaking at the wasted efforts of youth these days.

They also needed those same locals to alert them if any other strangers had been poking around or were suddenly residing in the area, with no apparent reason to be there. The game of 'find the artefact' they were playing definitely had an opposing side. As the opponents were most likely to be Ukrainian or Russian, they might also have some local advantage in prowling about the Scandinavian territory for the two Black Clan artefact stones that were intentionally discarded there in 1764. Russia was just the other side of Finland and Russian dialects weren't that uncommon in the region. Well-disguised Red Clan cousins might well go mostly unnoticed if they kept their heads down.

The only other Black Clan artefact known to exist had been found in a precisely recorded location. Lulu pried the stone out of the masonry wall adjacent to the Second Duke of Blackwater's tomb at Saint Stephen's cemetery in Norwich only months before this trip. It had remained on his person for life and, on his orders, had been cemented into the wall on his death by locals who knew nothing of its power. Philip had only to chip away the covering layer of mortar. Once visible, the artefact shone like a beacon to them when they dreamed together at the tomb. While rough and weathered, it had snuggled into Lulu's hand like a returned kitten the next day when they retrieved it. The stones didn't like being alone or being beyond a Draumr's grasp. Philip and Lulu could only imagine how much the Black Clan stones would like to all come together again. What a force they would be when re-joined. The young Draumrs knew that the artefacts could not be allowed to slip out of the Black Clan's hands. Except over their dead bodies, as the affirmation went.

Research also told the Elders directing their mission that the artefacts were never intended to be split up and used as singleton tools by one Draumr or another. Following leads in Lapis Lazuli's brief historical references, the ancient records provided more information on the committed wide dispersal of the stones two millennia before.

In the mystical early Byzantine practices, the powerful stones of the seven colors were sought out and excavated from the earth, as they were discovered. The stones were grouped together for a reason, which was now understood to be a massive multiplication of their individual power. The ancients had felt that the stones were all part of a single mysterious 'meteor' that probably streaked across the Mediterranean sky during the time of the Egyptian 4th Dynasty.

The story told was that it came as a gift from the gods, which was ancient code for 'from some other world'. As told then, wherever an individual shard had fallen and was found, local peace and prosperity followed. The distinctive color of each stone was taken on as both a tribal name and banner color by the wise men brave enough to handle them and who eventually learned to control what the stones could do to their dreams. Whether created by the stones or created for the stones, the ancients became the first Draumrs and were compelled on pilgrimage to seek each other out.

Millennia later, when their physical halls of the Draumrs were falling to the crusading Catholics, the council of ancients had wisely dispersed the stones to ensure they would never be captured together. The cluster of colored stones at the center of the original Table of the First Circle had not been together since 1203. In fact, few Draumrs other than the 131-year-old mystic head of the ancient Blue Clan ever knew of the stones origins as a cluster. Unfortunately, the lore was also now known to others in his Clan. In direct opposition to the failing Elder who feared any return to the ancient practice, the rebellious faction of the Blue Clan was actively trying to recreate the cluster, or at least as much as could be acquired.

A close encounter with observers who also sought the stone in Norwich, meant that the Black and Grey Leutnants needed to expect deadly company now. They had been attacked the next time they dreamed with the newly-found stone by nasty Blue Clan cousins, whose only goal was to physically locate them and the stone. Fortunately, they were already on the move away from the region. Lulu, even with only the slightest artefact enhancement, had left both of the Blues injured and retreating on the dreamscape. But, it could have gone much differently against someone like Xana, who now had more than a year of practice as the wielder of the Red Clan's most powerful artefact. The Red Clan was acting to save itself, with assurances of protection in Europe. This put them offside with the other Clans. The Reds and most of the Blues were officially the enemy now.

The single Oxford Black stone was now leading the two-person team to its only known mates, carried across the sea a century and a half earlier and thrown into a coastal marsh just shy of the then permanent ice cover north of the Arctic Circle. Dreaming with it brought forth a recurring view of a coastal setting that could only be the location of the missing stones.

Fortunately, even under personal threat and reeling from the resistance of the stones to being separated, the young Duke of Blackwater had made a note of three things as he bravely tossed two of the stones away. He had stood at the edge of the salt marsh on a flat granite outcropping on which he had struck an 'X' with his broadsword, he had looked directly into the setting sun and had noted a distant village church peeling the 6:00 p.m. call to evening devotions.

Knowing the exact date and time of the Duke's partial promise fulfillment gave Philip ample data to triangulate the location of the other Black stones to within a few kilometers. Now, they just had to find the granite launch pad and guess how far a three-centuries-ago lad of 24 could throw a stone. He was a Black Clan cousin and ancestor who rose to the First Circle in his day, without ever divulging the exact location of the two discarded stones. At least, not until his diary was opened and read page-for-page this year by the Grey Clan researchers.

Had he known that someday the stones would have to be retrieved? Certainly, he left the clues for some reason. Perhaps it had been fear in his own time. Wars within the Clans were more frequent then. Without modern technology, the advantage of an artefact in the hand of a skilled Draumr probably made the difference in many battles, both among Draumrs and among the armies of men that they controlled. He kept one stone and wanted to deprive his enemies of the others. Had he only ever intended that they be temporarily hidden? His direct descendent: Luise (Lulu) Black, would never know. Unless the good Duke joined her in a dream that is.

When the time came to actually wade into that marsh or bog or farmer's field now, Lulu and Philip wanted both a credible story and lots of eyes watching their backs. They could only identify the correct stones in a dream setting, which left them completely vulnerable to physical attack as they slept. Once they were close enough to start digging, they could call in more security, but for the time-being they were wandering about in open country with no protection whatsoever.

"This is harder than picking out a spot in a stone wall." Lulu was impatient to just get the stones and get the fuck out of Norway. "I keep expecting to see an exact replication of the dream landscape, boulders, brush and all."

They were trudging along a piled stone wall that the locals had told them was at least 300 years old. Logic said that the Duke might also have followed it to the shoreline. It was just a guess, but they had little else to go on in the final few kilometers.

Philip wasn't sure what to make of the dream vision that the stone offered them. "We can't be sure if the stone is giving us today's setting or if we're recalling the last images of the Duke as he tossed the stones. Coast lines move, vegetation comes and goes. If it is the centuries-old image, we can probably only go with the direction of the ocean and maybe the rock outcropping. Even that could now be buried in topsoil or dead vegetation."

"I'm hoping that the damn stone will literally try to jump out of my pocket when we get close." Lulu patted her pocket.

As a direct descendent in the line of owners, Lulu had felt the power and desire of the stone immediately. She now slept with it in her hand every night and was quickly gaining a feel for its potential in shaping dreams. With no tutor or notes to help her, she had no idea what to expect of it while wide-awake.

When Philip hefted the stone, he could tell that there was something there, but he felt little more than a warm rock in his hand.

It was nearing a midnight sundown as they trekked along the diminishing wall and approached the final rough pastures before the remnants of the salt marshes that went for kilometers both north and south along this part of the North Sea coast. A nearby town with a deep enough harbor for a 18th century ship gave them some feel that the parts might be falling in place. The town no longer had a working bell tower, but in 1764 it had a small parsonage that did have evening vespers and did ring a bell to call the faithful.

They had come across a few rock outcroppings that might have provided a launch platform for the Duke, but none had any marks so far; that they could find anyway. Exposed to the constant winds, ice and salt of the Norwegian Sea, the Duke's mark could be long gone. They didn't trust their navigation after dark, so were quickly approaching the end of another day of searching.

"I need to sit down for a minute. I got a soaker back there in that little creek and my foot and my brain are now complaining about the squelching." Lulu hadn't wanted anything to do with welly's or any other fully-waterproof footwear. Her street boots were good enough for walking, but not for wading.

Philip turned back and joined her on yet another rock outcropping. It was a little sloped so only one end was clear of dirt.

"Jeezuz!" Lulu jumped as if she had sat on a snake. "Fucking stone now weighs ten pounds." She had been taking it out of her pocket when she sat down to set it on the rock. Now, she was having trouble picking up the palm-sized stone with both hands.

"Try picking that up." She pointed at the black stone as Philip leaned over.

He plucked it off the granite with three fingers. "Weighs maybe five or six ounces." He flipped it to Lulu.

"Careful; Shit." The stone went right through her fingers and clanked off the granite, with a definite spin towards the sea. Both Leutnants stared at the stone resting uneasily, now close to a meter away from them. It might have still been quivering, but the twilight and bright backdrop of the ocean could also have been fooling their eyes.

"How did it do that?" Philip knew that he hadn't put any 'English' on the toss; the stone should have had little kinetic energy and certainly no ability to move away from them on its own.

Lulu and Philip locked eyes and grinned. Together they said: "Think we may have found the spot."

While Lulu carefully repocketed the energetic artefact, Philip flipped out his camp knife and started exploring the lichen and moss covering on the three-meter-wide granite outcropping. Considering several angles, he tried to imagine where he would strike the stone if he wanted to leave a permanent mark. With a little imagination, he picked out a flat spot where he would stand if he had to heft an imaginary 20 lb. broadsword and, looking forward, guessed where it would strike the rock when he brought it down with both arms. Moving to that spot, he began removing two or three inches of dead vegetation and dirt. Within a few moments, he uncovered a set of marks making a rough 'X'. Now worn down and barely visible, the original strikes would have left a distinctive mark several inches across. There was no force in nature that would produce such a mark.

"Look at this." Philip got about as excited as he every got, with a big grin, as brushed the rest of the dirt away. "It has to be the place."

Lulu jumped back up and pushed him out of the way to get a close look.

"X marks the spot. We're there!" She spun around and launched herself at Philip, wrapping arms and legs around him and knocking him right off the outcropping onto the soft peaty earth beyond.

As they rolled on the ground laughing, they let any concerns slip away for just a few moments.

"Let's fuck on it." Lulu was giddy. "No, lets cover it again and go throw up our tent about 200 meters that way, then we'll fuck near it." She laughed, pointing toward a small copse of trees. "No sense leaving bodily fluids all over the place for the damn blood hounds that are surely on our tail."

Philip grinned again, still amazed that Lulu's sex drive was more frenetic than the one she had awakened in him. After years of wondering and maybe occasionally wishing, he was now learning what the other young Draumrs had giggled about over all those years. An hour of lovemaking before they opened up the Black stone's assisted dreamscape sounded just right. Tomorrow, they would call in the troops and go get Lulu's stone's long-lost mates. Then, they would get the Hell out of Norway.

As expected, the image of the dreamscape was nearly identical to the landscape that they were actually camped out in. It was the last image that the Duke and the stones had seen 300 years before. Where the Duke had seen a half-frozen marsh in front of him, there was now a pasture thanks to the man-made embankment about 100 meters out towards the ocean. The stream that had soaked Lulu's boots was also man-made, as a drainage ditch for the rich land once used for meagre crops of potatoes and beets, but now left to pasture for the herds of cattle that produced either milk and meat for the cooperative that actually owned the land. But, there was no mistaking the longer view of the ocean at sunset. They had watched the sun finally set before rolling back naked into their little nylon tent. Now, exhausted from the rush of first penetration through to the long, purposeful grind of their later orgasms, they slept and saw the sun risen again, hovering near sunset just above the horizon across a dreamscape vista offered by Lulu's stone, in its longing gaze to where its brethren slept.

In the dream, the young Leutnants simply rose and walked naked out onto the marsh land before them. They slipped and slid, sometimes sinking up to their asses in the briny marsh. Laughing at the absurdity of following a stone, they were nevertheless led by the pull of the stone, lurching across the marsh to a spot about forty meters in front of the now bare and obvious granite outcropping. In front of them, the water boiled and swirled, producing a black whirlpool before their feet.

"Think that they're down there?" Lulu pointed into the black vortex.

"Can't think of any other reason for the ruckus. I'd say that your rock is telling you that this is the spot."

"I'm going to reach in." Lulu grinned at Philip initially, but then grimaced and tipped her head.

"If it just sucks all of me in, try to grab a foot going by, will you? Or maybe, you would like to give it a shot?"

"Nope, your stones—your honor. Liable to be some yucky marsh creature guarding them down there. Don't want anything to do with sticking my hand into that."

Lulu frowned at him. "Maybe, we'll limit where you can stick your hands or dick anytime, if you're so squeamish. After all, there might be something slimy lurking up my snatch as well. After this fucking slog, I'm pretty certain that there is at least a salamander or two tucked up there."

Lulu's grin snuck out from under her attempt at a serious face. It was an entirely baseless threat.

She handed the original stone to Philip and bent to reach into the spinning water. She knew that it should only be a foot or two-deep, as the water around them in the marsh was only up to their knees.

With gritted teeth and a small groan of disgust, Lulu reached as far as possible into the bottom of the whirlpool. As soon as her hand touched the bottom, the water went calm. She could feel a small pile of pebbles mounded around two larger stones. She closed her hand around one of the stones and immediately felt the pull of the ancient power. But, rather than pull her in, the stone lifted free from the gravel and rose to the surface, bringing her hand back with it.

To Philip, it looked like Lulu had simply found and picked up a rock. As the stone broke the surface he could feel the immediate tug of the other stone towards it. He brought the stone close and their dream images touched for the first time in two centuries. To this point, Lulu had done nothing to raise the stone; she simply held on. Philip now carefully took the second stone from her, wrapping both his hands around the two happy stones.

Lulu remembered the other stone down there. She reached down again, found it with her fingers and felt the same experience as the stone rose to the surface. Only then did she have a chance to look at it and see the glistening black color through the dripping swamp water. She moved the stone towards Philip's hands and they both wrapped their hands around all three of them. Having three was an unexpected bonus.

In their shared dream, the Leutnants felt their legs go weak as they sank together to their knees. In their grasp, the stones began to pulse with an energy that quickly moved up their arms and into their bodies. Rising like the beginning rush of a long worked-for orgasm, the heat and vibration caused their skin to tingle and glow along with the stones. The rush moved up their arms and down their spines until it filled every part of their bodies. Pulling themselves together in the darkness of the black water, they found each other's mouth and, through their deep kiss, created a path for the energy to cycle between them. In seconds, the climax came, buzzing and thrilling every part of their bodies. They broke the kiss to scream together in joy at the explosive release or every nerve and muscle at exactly the same time. Falling into each other, they barely stayed on their knees as they rocked back and forth in pure joy.

After long moments of catching breath and slowing of pounding hearts, Lulu and Philip could finally speak.

"I guess that was 'thank-you'..." Philip had not experienced the full power of an artefact until that moment.

"Holy shit, I guess they are welcome." Lulu had some idea of what a stone could do. This was her first experience with multiple stones. And, this was just a dream connection. The missing pair were actually still hundreds of meters away, buried under several feet of dirt.

"These boys really want to come out and play. I think that we had better have a solid bed and medical back-up if we start fucking in the vicinity of all three of these guys. They are certainly Black and they are horny little fuckers."

Lulu was now gazing at the dream images of the stones.

"So how do we find them tomorrow or the next day, assuming that we need to wait for some security to get here while we do it?"

Philip now gazed around in the near-dark. "There's no way that today's pasture looks anything like this historical marsh. So, we can't just retrace our steps. We have to find two things that couldn't have moved in 200 years to mark the spot.

He had a clear view of the rock outcropping, but needed a point behind it to establish a vector. As he looked in, he saw another rock bluff several hundred meters up the beach beyond the outcropping. It was positively glowing against the dark landscape.

"That's one line; look at the far rock. I think that the stones are helping again, or maybe the Duke figured this out too."

Lulu raised her arm as if shooting a pistol and sighted along the top of her hand. "That's pretty clear. Even if there's something in front of it now, we should be able to cut a couple poles and line them up."

"So, what would give us the distance out?" Philip was still looking around for another marker.

"How about my thumb?" Lulu was still sighted on the far rock and had now raised her thumb above her closed hand.

"The two rocks are separated by exactly the height of my thumb, which thanks to this god-forsaken place, no longer has a perfectly shaped fingernail."

She tipped her head a bit to Philip. "If were standing on the same spot tomorrow, my thumb should exactly fit between the outcrop and the boulder up the hill behind it."

Philip considered. "It probably wasn't the Duke's planned method, but it should work. It will definitely put us in the area and your lonely stone should help with the rest. It's a plan."

Lulu now looked down to the three stones perched lightly in her hands. "Guess it's bye-bye for now boys, but we will do this again, real soon. Mark your calendar." She let all three stones tumble into the water. Her stone, clasped in her sleeping hand back at the tent was likely heading out for a dream visit anyway.

With success around the corner, the Leutnants turned to head back to shore. There was no need to slog back in, so they simple stepped up onto the water and strolled back. Still naked and possible a lot smelly, they decided to head for a rocky point where they would create a small beach and some deep cold water.

Xana could never resist getting her clothes off in dreams; she was sprawled out naked on a big towel, apparently sunbathing in the dark when Lulu and Philip arrived at the beach. Philip saw her first and reacted both in fear and in some embarrassment to have walked right up to her, naked himself. The surrounding light quickly came up to near mid-day level, but there was no visible sun.

Lulu wasn't at all embarrassed. She stopped five meters short and moved into a solid ready stance, while flexing one fist then the other at her sides.

"Well, look who the fuck it is? Red cunt traitor. Come for a little beating Xana, or did you just wash up here with the other dead fish?"

Their last encounter had put Lulu in hospital for weeks and it had taken months of painful rehab and brutal workouts to regain her strength. She named her scars after Xana and her fucking cousins, swearing revenge for each one of them.

Xana sat up, with no attempt to hide her luscious tits. She grinned at Philip, who was unconsciously sheltering behind Lulu.

"Well, that's no way to greet a comrade, is it Philip? It's so nice to see, well, all of you. Maybe if you'd come a little closer, you could show me some of those new muscles you've gained. Guess, in the company of the Black seductress here, any man would pop up just a bit. But, it's still a little cold out here, so probably no popping right now. Unless, you'd like me to take us away to the Mediterranean, where I actually am. Nice and warm and soft and cozy in my little beach cabana. We could forget this cold place."

She paused and rolled her eyes. "But then you probably have all the wrong impressions of me thanks to Ms Black here?" She pouted a bit and laid back down.

Philip couldn't help but take in her perfect body with wonderful patterns of light freckles over her shoulders and down her torso, ending at a neatly trimmed triangle of pubic hair. He was glad that it was a little cool.

Xana continued speaking to the air above her. "But, if she would listen, I'd tell her that I'm not here to fuck off with her boyfriend. I just wanted you two to know that there is still time to head home, this time with no damage." She rolled her head and raised her eyebrows to Lulu.

"Relax please Lulu; we're both artefact-equipped, so let's not risk any more damage tonight, when talking is all that's needed. Took me a few months to heal a broken arm thanks to you and the damn Green stone. So, don't feel too put out that you limped away too. You should have known what our bosses were up to. It was unavoidable."

Lulu wasn't backing down so easily. Truce offer or not, Xana was dangerous. Lulu knew what she could do to men in her company as well. Thankfully, Philip's dick wasn't showing much interest. But, he clearly was taking in everything that Xana was offering.

Lulu wanted to hear what she had to say, but with no intention of going along.

"So, talk. You're losing the war Xana, if not the battles. Your evil Blue Clan associates will just burn you up one day, if it gets them closer to what they want. But, they're screwed too. We know all about these stones now and we're putting them all back in the hands of the Clans that own them. We will drive the rancid Blues back up their frigging mountains or wherever they came from. The grand plan is defunct."

Oksana sat up and pulled her towel around her. This gave Philip and Lulu the chance to spin and come back around in sweats and tops. It looked like mid-day, but the setting was still on the Norwegian Sea coast. Even in late summer, it was cold enough to need clothes. Besides, naked negotiations, between Xana and any man probably wouldn't be all that productive and Lulu needed Philip's brain fully engaged in the conversation.

Xana smiled and pointed back over to where they had come from. "The cousins are telling me that you have found something of interest in your travels today. I assume that you're close to another black stone. Why else would you be in this nasty place than if your current stone told you to come here. These artefacts are very needy, don't you find?"

She continued without waiting for an answer. "You don't have it in your hands yet or you would be halfway back across the sea by now. So, you face an interesting dilemma. Try to dig it out and risk a full-fledged attack by the real Blues. Not by those idiots that stumbled in on you the last time. These guys will get here in a day or two and they will be taking no prisoners. Believe me, they treat anyone getting in their way as refuse to be swept aside. You two will just be straw in their wind. You'll lose not only the new stone, but the one that you're carrying too."

She had been showing real concern with a frown, but now smiled again. "Or, fuck off out of here right now with your powerful-enough stone in your pocket and get back to safety across the water. The Blues have no idea what information brought you here or where to actually look for the other stone. If they come looking, their stones will certainly get all buzzed about a distant relative in the area, but it's imprecise. Without a map, it can take months or years to narrow in on a stone of another color."

They'll ask me what I know, of course, and I did watch you two dry-humping out in the swamp in this dreamscape. But I'm a pretty good liar and I can tell them that you gave up looking, muttering that the information you had must have been wrong."

Xana shrugged and smiled again. "The stone stays buried, if that's where it is. Maybe the Clans defeat the Blues and the hunt for stones never comes back here. No harm to anyone that way."

She stopped talking with her hands open to them. This was her pitch.

Philip finally found a voice to speak up, still feeling like he was about to become a casualty in the middle, if these two actually went at it. Dream or no, the risk of a dreamscape fight with the stones in play was incredibly high and the lasting consequences still not fully known. Injuries were certain. But, could one Draumr ever prevail against the other? The only evidence to-date had been the fights between the relatively-novice enhanced Leutnants in Shenzhen. Many months had passed since and, presumably, many more skills had been gained all around.

"It's not so much that we wish you any harm, Xana." He glanced at Lulu as if encouraging her to hold fire for a moment. "It's just that we can't trust you. Advice from your enemy is usually not the best. What's your motive in telling us all of this?"

Xana managed a slight blush and sheepish look towards Philip. She also let her towel slip from her shoulder to give him one last full view of her tits. His glance down, although barely perceptible, told her that she still had his imagination in her hands, even if the ever-cautious, conservative Philip was running the real-time show.

"It's simple. I grew up with you guys, or your older siblings. Love probably isn't the right word, but I care about each person in every Clan. I'm trying to find a way out of this war, as you call it, with minimum casualties. I don't get the missing stones. I don't want them. I guess that I avoid causing either of your deaths and maybe the deaths of a lot of Clan cousins on my side. Either way, the stupid stones aren't worth anyone dying for."

She was standing now, and it was pretty clear that the towel was going to be left behind.

"I'm going for a swim. You should come for a quick one too. She winked at Philip, the double meaning obvious. I'll probably come up in the warm blue Mediterranean, so maybe we won't talk again. Just be warned. It will be bad. Get out of here now while you can."

With that, she dropped the towel and sprinted towards the surf. Philip could only watch her perfect round ass moving away from him, until she hit the shoreline and dove long and deep in to the gray, tormented water of the northern sea. She was gone.

Philip snapped back to Lulu, who was still standing ready with fire in her eyes. She shook her head and stepped out of the combat stance, then collapsed on the sand.

Lulu was perplexed. "Well, she tells a good story. Maybe she's right. Leaving the stones buried is one way to keep them out of the Blue Clan's hands. I've never bought the line about a stone of another color finding our stones. They would be hunting for a needle in a big, cold and muddy haystack that's frozen solid half the year."

"She's lying." Philip said it with absolute certainty. "Not sure why, but probably to put us off our guard."

He continued, "So let's reverse everything she said—the Blues aren't coming, they are already here; they do know exactly where the stones are; getting us out of the way is easier than trying to fight our gang against their gang awake and visible to the authorities in a land friendlier to us than them."

Philip the analyst was in charge again. "Xana has an assignment, and that's getting us to bug out so they can grab the rocks with minimal fuss. We need to do just the opposite."

Lulu liked the idea of a fight better than any retreat, so this was exactly what she wanted to hear.

"Suits me fine. Just wish that she had stuck around for a one-on-one. Never a better chance, I should have just jumped her."

Philip didn't want to diminish Lulu's enthusiasm, but had thought more about both Xana's sudden appearance and her actual appearance. You didn't go to a fight naked. She could have come armed to the teeth and solved her problems with them pretty quickly. No, there was another layer to her message. She had shown vulnerability. She had intentionally talked to him, under the guise of flattery. There was something else here. I really need to figure her out. Maybe I'll need to pretend to be more interested next time. Just pretend.

He scrunched up next to Lulu and hugged her. "Next time. I don't doubt that the opportunity will be there. Right now, we need to wake up and get some stuff done. I don't trust this dreamscape at all. If Xana was here, others could be as well."

Philip was up and moving in the dark of the tent, getting the back-up they needed. His call was to Thomas Brown. Tom was heading up the expanded direct engagement team, with an expectation that Leutnants from the combined Brown, Black, Grey and White Clans would inevitably come into a direct territorial confrontation with the Blue Clan faction and its Red Clan allies. The expected first new targets for the Blues were, so-far, uncontaminated countries in the Far East, including Japan, Indonesia, India and, possibly Australia. Grey Clan analysis had already found that China, and both South and North Korea were contaminated with Blue Clan factions already in a position to control key individuals, if they chose. There was no indication as yet that there was any interference with political or military leaders, but the Blues had thrown up an impenetrable curtain around the dreams of these individuals. There was really no way to tell what was going on behind the drapes.

Tom was very interested in the search for known artefacts, as recent activity had confirmed that the Blues were reaching out to all Clan home territories in their own hunt for the stones. While no-one in the West really knew what a significant collection of stones could do, the good guys assumed that it was bad, given that the bad guys wanted them so much. Any action that would deprive the Blues access to an artefact, while adding strength to the artefact defense of Draumr principles, was considered strategic.

Cellphone conversations were still determined to be secure. The Leutnant teams had equipped all of their communication gear with military grade encryption. More and more, their preparations seemed akin to a military force preparing to enter the theater of war. It was fortunate then, that the Brown Clan cousins were already positioned in significant leadership roles in various NATO alliance country armed forces.

Philip provided Tom with the background and detailed both Xana's entrance to their dreamscape and the message that she had given.

After a detailed account, Philip wrapped up, "I may be right off base, but I almost thought that she was warning us to move quickly if we were going to retrieve the stones. She wasn't complimentary to the Blues, but if she was being monitored, she probably pulled off what was expected by threatening us and telling us to get lost."

Tom was grinning on the other end of the line. "I think that you're are absolutely correct. Xana will never just tell you a single truth. There is always another message." Tom was applying his intimate knowledge of Xana to the question.

"And, she was completely naked through the whole thing? Sorry I missed that."

Philip glanced over his shoulder at Lulu, who was keeping a wary eye on the surroundings for any movement.

"Yes, it is fucking cold here. Even my nips are popping.

"Nice." Tom laughed out loud now. "Leave it to Xana to make an entrance."

He continued, "If we step back a bit and consider, there is no reason why the Red Clan would want to be a protected churl operating under Blue Clan control. In fact, just saying it points out how ludicrous this would be. Cherry is inside the tent for a reason and may just be biding his time before he pushes them out of what he considers his territory. If they are fucking around in Europe, even if it's just collecting rocks, then the Reds likely wouldn't mind seeing them fail. Doesn't make Cherry and his puppeting of Pulisin any less threatening to the established order, but it might suggest that he would prefer to have us at his Western door rather than the Blues."

It was a complex thesis, but one that held up, given the background to the Blue Clan split. No-one liked the new Blue Clan faction, particularly as they might already be able to direct the actions of several key Asian leaders. Cherry was an old dog, but a smart tactician, very capable of learning new tricks. He knew that he needed to be close to stick a knife in, when the time came.

Philip moved on. "We're ready to pull these stones up at dawn. We don't want to do that unless we can be sure of no immediate attack and have an assured means of getting out of here quickly and safely."

Tom agreed, "Leave that to me. I've got your GPS coordinates. I'll arrive with protection and a taxi home in a few hours. Don't do anything until we get there." Philip closed the connection and a squeezed Lulu's hand.

"Should be OK in the morning. We can get out of here."

"We've got visitors." Lulu said it so matter-of-factly that Philip actually looked up expecting friends or neighbors to be standing there. Then, he remembered that they were hunkered down in a small nylon tent, miles from nowhere on a remote Norwegian coast. There were no neighbors and certainly no friends around here.

"I'm guessing that they don't know exactly where we are, but maybe got some general info from Xana, or more likely, from observing Xana's entry to our dreamscape." Lulu was still pretty calm, considering that this was a wide-awake incursion, where the bad guys likely had guns and they had one camp knife between them.

"Where are they? Any idea how many?" Philip had closed down his cellphone and crept out beside Lulu.

"Can't be sure. I saw some car headlights far back before they killed them. Then. I picked up the flash of a hand light just beyond the tree line. The wind carried some brief conversation this way, but I couldn't get it. Likely a foreign language. Now, all I hear is the odd branch cracking."

They had no lights on and the tent was dark green, so unless they had an exact overhead view, anyone looking for them right now would need to do some noisy searching in the dark.

Lulu whispered, "My guess is that it's a small team and they're setting up a perimeter for a move at dawn. Obviously, they'd like us to give them info and to hand over whatever stones we have. So, an open attack with casualties should be unlikely. They also don't know for sure that we're not carrying a couple hand-grenades." She grinned in the dark. "You aren't, are you?"

Philip whispered, "Meant to pack them, but went for a couple Snickers instead."

"Guess we could try tossing those. Russians, maybe, would go for it. Can you buy Snickers in Russia?"

Philip recalled his conversation on the cellphone. "I'd bet these are Blues or their mercenaries. Tom agreed that the Reds don't gain anything by helping the Blues in Europe, for now anyway. This may be a crew that thinks it can find the new Black stone, so will be artefact equipped as well. Let's stay out of any dreams until Tom gets here.

"When is that?" Lulu perked up with the news that reinforcements were on they're way.

"He said in a few hours, but not sure how he will get up here from London that fast. Never doubt the Browns though. If he says it, he always means it."

Lulu was tempted to go take out a couple bad guys. "So, we should just stay low and ride this out?"

"I'd say, yes."

"Nuts."

Lulu and Philip took turns getting a couple hours of dreamless sleep. By 3:00 a.m. the first fingers of dawn's light were starting to bring the area up through the colors of black to grey and then to pale blue under a clear sky. A lingering ground fog provided just enough cover to keep their tent hidden in the small stand of trees and brush. They were no longer in it though. Late in the night they had moved deliberately and silently behind a small ridge line to tuck into another cluster of small trees and fairly dense willow bushes. From this vantage, they could see the tent and much of the open ground inland to the tree line. They weren't surprised when they saw movement in the trees.

Not attempting any concealment, one man now walked out of the trees towards their tent. His hands were empty, but it was obvious that he had either a sidearm or other belt-attached weapons under a dark ¾ length coat. He was apparently either a decoy or a spokesperson as he moved forward until he was 50 meters from the tent, then raised one arm and signaled others forward with flicked fingers.

Philip and Lulu now saw movement all along the tree line. A half-dozen men, each carrying an assault rifle, now emerged from the trees flanking the leader. One man was only 30 meters away from them, but had his focus on the tent. Unless they made a sound or he suddenly changed course, he would walk right by them.

Once the surrounding team had advanced to match the leader's position on all sides of the tent, he gave a stop signal. The men took a knee and raised their weapons.

Philip whispered to Lulu, "What the fuck are all the guns about? One good-sized pea-shooter would be enough to overwhelm two unarmed campers. These guys must have been told that we were dangerous in daylight."

He paused, then continued, "I bet that they have had some monsters to deal with in their dreams, who they now believe are in that tent."

Lulu shrugged. "Monsters or not, we can't dodge bullets. Can we get out of here?"

"Nope, too close, they would see or hear us. We just have to stay down as long as we can. If they get to the tent, they will know that we're gone, so then we'll probably have no choice but to run for it."

The leader now moved the agenda ahead for them.

Shouting, he said: "You two in the tent. Get the fuck out now. No guns, we have you surrounded. No funny magic stuff either, just come out with your hands up. You know what we want, you can walk away once we have it."

Nothing.

He repeated, "Come on out now. Last warning."

Nothing.

He was no Russian or Asian Draumr. He just sounded like a thug, who had been told to retrieve the stones.

Philip expected the worst. "His offer to let us walk away is probably bogus. Whether he's been told to eliminate us or not, a couple bodies to dispose of is a simple problem compared to enabling magicians who can fuck you up in your dreams. They look like they are scared shitless."

With no activity and a seeming stand-off, the leader now confirmed Philip fears. He pointed to the first gunman on his right.

With no further warning, the shooter opened up on the tent with a long round of automatic fire. The noise in the still dawn air was deafening. Both Philip and Lulu jumped at the continuous retort of the weapon. They were also shocked by the realization that their move in the night was the only reason that they were still alive.

The riddled tent had been blown right over by the high-velocity bullets tearing through the flimsy fabric. It now lay in a heap. The smell of cordite drifted across to the dazed Leutnants in the still morning air.

The shooter looked to the leader for more instructions. Both shrugged. They had expected to hear the screams of two mortally injured people, who would have been sitting up inside the tent. Silence possibly meant that they had been shot dead with the first rounds. It might also signal a change of plans needed.

The leader now signaled all of the men to advance on the tent. As they got closer, it was obvious to all that they had just put a full clip of bullets into empty air. The tent fabric lay flat on the ground. There hadn't been anyone inside.

The leader now looked up and away from the tent for the first time. He swung his arm around the nearby field and began directing the men to spread out and search. This was the cue for Philip and Lulu to break for it.

"We're fucked." Lulu was stating the obvious. "Even at full run, we'll never escape with six guys tracking automatic fire up our asses." She grabbed Philip and kissed him. They both knew that it was probably good-bye.

Just as they were about to make their break, a new sound came in from the ocean. Moving at the speed of sound, just about a couple hundred kph faster that the plane that made it, the unmistakable sound of jet engines came in low across the water. Everyone, including the Leutnants, looked out towards the ocean. In a few seconds, growing sound was matched by the image of a military jet coming in low and fast across the water.

The plane burst across the shore and overhead, flying so low that the jet wash parted the trees and laid a swath of kerosene laden hot air right across the band of startled thugs still clustered around the tent. The jet slammed up over the trees and could be heard powering through a wide arc to come back around, presumably this time on a strafing run. The bad guys all had their weapons pointed up to the sky, but probably already knew they'd never hit, much less do any damage to a jet fighter. Plus, the fighter could just mow them down with guns that could fire hundreds of rounds per minute.

But the jet didn't come back across the field. Instead, as it came back into view, it appeared to put on the brakes in mid-air and, facing guns forward, began to settle straight downward directly over the shoreline. The menacing rail guns and underwing air-to-ground missiles were pointed directly at the gang.

Coming out of their frozen surprise, none of the men waited to be told what to do. They all broke in panic and began running hard back to the woods that they had come from. In a few moments, they were gone from sight.

The jet continued to sink downward and now settled on extended landing gear. The incredible whine of the full power jets was quickly wound back as the pilot brought the plane to an idle state on the ground. A few seconds later the canopy lifted to let the co-pilot scramble out down a set of steps built into the fuselage. It was Thomas Brown. The US Marine Corp Harrier jump jet was his way of getting to them in only a few hours. Once a staple of the Royal Navy, the successor was now on NATO duty.

Tom jumped down to the ground and sprinted away from the plane. Lulu and Philip now stood and waved as he made his way over. He had a radio in his hand.

"American pilot was in town with a two-seater on a joint training mission. He wants to know if those guys qualify as terrorists? Apparently, he has permission to turn them into hamburger if they do." Tom grinned. "What do you think, make their morning really special with a few hundred 25 mil rounds?"

Philip had finally taken it all in. Moments from fairly certain death, they now had the means to turn the tables.

He managed a weak laugh. "Probably just mean a whole lot of paperwork. I'd say we let them go change their underwear and get the hell out of here. They're just contractors anyway."

"Good by me." Tom keyed the radio and talked briefly. He then waved to the pilot with a thumbs-up sign.

"Get down again. This will probably throw up a few sticks and stones."

The jet engines came back up to sufficient thrust and the plane lifted vertically away from the ground. Tom had been right; a shower of vegetation and dirt was blown out on all sides. Once the plane had a hundred meters of altitude, the pilot swung the engine deflectors partly to horizontal and wound up his revs. In a few seconds, he was just a spec heading out over the sea.

"Uh, maybe he should have stuck around a bit?" Lulu was happy to see Tom, but wasn't certain that the bad guys had really run much beyond the trees. "What if they just come back in."

"Thought of that. That's where your taxi driver comes in."

As he said this, they could now hear the heavy thump-thump of a military helicopter coming up the coast. In a few moments, an NH 90 troop carrier of the Norwegian Special Forces appeared from the south. It circled around to confirm the landing zone.

Tom spoke on the radio again and stood to give another thumbs-up, before crouching to stay out of the rotor wash as the big craft came in fast.

Moments after it touched down, a half-dozen marines piled out and immediately spread to take up offensive positions on either side of the craft. Ducking under the still spinning rotor, they moved forward along the forest line. The STOL pilot had given them the description and direction of the enemy in retreat. The team split, with half heading off in pursuit and the other half settling back to a defensive perimeter around both the chopper and the Draumr team.

"They even brought shovels. Useful guys and girls to have around." Tom laughed and finally gathered in Lulu and Philip for hugs.

After a few minutes, the pursuit team returned, indicating that the bad guys had taken off in their vehicle. They wondered if they should call in another chopper to intercept, but Tom talked to the officer in command and no chase was ordered.

Tom brought the commander over. "Luise Black and Philip Grey, I'd like you to meet Major Sander Brun, a cousin of mine." They all shook hands.

"Sander has a full understanding of the current struggle with the Blues and Reds. He has been most helpful, both here in Norway and as part of our 'connected' contingent of Brown Clan and some Grey Clan cousins in NATO and the domestic forces in various countries."

Tom continued, leaning in a bit. "The soldiers here today aren't cousins, in case you were wondering, but they are aware that this mission is to protect individuals critical to European peace and to recover some very unusual materials. These Special Forces folks have seen everything, so this much effort, a deadly ambush in the Norwegian countryside and the possibility of lighting up the bad guys with a NATO jet is probably just a shrug for them."

The group laughed together. Considering only minutes had passed since the threat was neutralized, it was a huge swing in emotions for Lulu and Philip.

Lulu thanked the major and through him all the squad. "I think I now know why soldiers tend to drink a little; 6:00 a.m. and I could use one.

Once they had a chance to catch their breath and grab some offered food, Philip went over the location of the sought-after Black stones. With some military gear for laying down the vector they needed, he was able to indicate the exact line that the first stone had given them. A spotter trained a laser sighting scope on the line. Philip led Lulu straight out, keeping the bright green spot in the middle of his shovel. She had the stone in her hand and expected to know immediately when she was in range of the others.

Sure enough, at about forty paces out, over the backfilled meadow, the stone vibrated fiercely and took Lulu to the ground as if she had been handed a 30-kilo weight. She looked back at the gallery of troops watching her try to get her hand and the stone off the ground. Any pretense of a stumble or other cause for her sudden intersection with the ground was lost. It was obvious that she was being pulled straight down. She had to rapidly get another hand under the stone. She could only keep the stone under control by leaning back and applying all her strength.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Lulu was hanging on for dear life. "If these guys weren't wondering already, they must think that we're either nuts or possessed now."

Philip laughed. "Nope. They aren't thinking anything except how much they appreciate your fine ass suddenly up in the air all by itself. I'm talking the men and women here. Hang-on to that bugger, else it may start tunneling all on its own."

Philip waved to the major and Tom, then pointed to the ground. With a few words, several soldiers headed out with shovels.

Lulu still wasn't comfortable fully showing the stone at its worst, so leaned over to talk with it.

"Cut it out. We get it. Dig right here. If you don't behave, I'll box you up and let someone else carry you home in the back of a truck."

The stone seemed to be considering for a moment and then the pull into the ground let up. Lulu still needed two hands to control it, but she was able to pull it away and hold it more or less concealed in front of her. She took a couple steps back.

Philip directed the diggers. "Should be a small cluster of stones about two feet down directly under that spot. We only want the two black ones. I suspect that we'll know which ones they are when we get there. Be prepared to get out of the way. This stuff is fairly kinetic.

While the soldiers officially didn't need to know what they were doing and didn't care to know mostly, the discussion among them had pretty much settled on the possibility that they were recovering relics of some ancient alien space craft. Philip's comment that the 'stones' might well propel themselves out of the hole was all the reinforcement they needed.

They put their backs to the task, but each kept one foot well back from the widening hole. Fortunately, training in unearthing landmines had provided all the skill needed to move downward in a steady but cautious manner.

When a shovel hit stone, Philip waved them back a bit and leaned into the hole. Ever so cautiously, he pushed back the dirt and pebbles until he had two flat black palm-sized rocks exposed. He glanced up at Lulu with a questioning look. There was no other way to verify them while awake then to let the stones find each other.

"Sorry guys, this is the part where you need to forget everything that you're about to see."

Tom and Major Brun had joined the group ringing the hole. The major said, "Not a problem. You wouldn't believe how much we forget every day." There was laughter all round.

Lulu came forward and leaned over, setting her stone on the level ground at the edge of the hole. She patted it, whispered a few words and stood up.

The stone began to vibrate on the spot, then stood on edge and rolled down into the hole all by itself. It circled the half-buried stones cautiously and stopped.

Now the two stones in the dirt at the bottom of the hole began to vibrate violently. When they had shaken off all the dirt, they also flipped on edge and proceeded to roll up and out of their resting place. The original stone now moved into the formation and all three stones gained speed and momentum as they circled in the bottom of the hole. Everyone except Lulu took a step back.

Lulu opened her hands like a goal keeper, pointing them down into the hole.

"These stones likely landed on the earth 5000 years ago. No one has seen any of them for close to three hundred years. They also haven't seen each other in that long. They get a little excited when they get back together. Apologies, they are showing off a bit."

"Come home to mama, boys."

The stones rolled together and launched themselves as one towards her hands. The startled soldiers jumped back a little more, but the stones had no momentum when they hit Lulu's hands. She simply caught them and turned her hands up. The stones repeated the cuddling behavior of the first one, settling one beside the other in her hands via imperceptible movements. They weighed next to nothing and were warm as if they had been held there all day.

The soldiers exchanged glances. One said, "I'm glad that they're on our side."

Another one, with a shovel replied, "No shit. Should we keep digging?" The soldiers had been transfixed open-mouthed for a minute, but now snapped back to form.

Philip replied, "No, that's it. We already knew there were only two and they're safely out. I'd say that it's almost time for a real breakfast, somewhere slightly less hostile. I'm buying. Let's get out of here.

_Stay tuned for more_ _Black_ _in 2020..._
