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Chapter Eight- In Dreams and Wakefulness

There was a kink forming between his shoulder blades and an insistent, nagging twitch in his eyelids. I'm getting too old for this, Artemus thought, straightening for a moment in his chair, wincing when he felt his spine pop. He had been combing through complicated, lengthy texts since early that morning, and now, many hours later, he was both exhausted and no closer to reaching his goal than he had been when he first started. As far as he could tell, he had picked through every single book on the Enforcers and the Telepathy Glyph in the library. While information on both subjects was scarce, any mention of either usually involved mind-boggling analyzations and descriptions of the glyphs involved. Artemus had examined every passage, every passing mention of the telepathy glyph, yet found almost nothing useful. All he had found out was that the Glyph of Telepathy was an exceptionally complicated and powerful piece of magic and that it came in two forms: the Limited Form and the Master Form. The Limited Form was cast upon all Keeper Masters upon their initiation and could only be used to 'listen' to telepathic 'speech', and even that was only possible if a connection was made by someone bearing the Master Form. The Master Form of the Telepathy Glyph was only cast on Enforcers and the First Keeper. While some, less complex Glyphs did occasionally appear on their own, Artemus could find no mention in any of the books of the Telepathy Glyph occurring naturally. He rubbed his temples out of habit.

When the Third Enforcer had voiced its concerns during the meeting with Xavier, Mayar, Orland, and himself some months earlier, Artemus had been skeptical. Garrett was a very gifted boy and it was not completely illogical to think that he had discovered the injured Seventh Enforcer on his own and had been able to deduce what needed to be done from that. But to be pulled aside by not just one Enforcer, but three, without the knowledge or consent of any of the other Keeper Masters… it had unnerved him and he was seized with the desire to know.

"This is absurd." he muttered to himself. He was, as Keeper Duncan so aptly put it, bone tired. He was already aware of the fact that it was simply not possible for the Telepathy Glyph to just be, and he had just spent nigh on five hours studying what he already knew… and yet…

Garrett was just… different, somehow. It was easy to consider the simple facts laid out in books, but when Artemus inserted his young charge into the equation… suddenly it didn't seem so impossible. He knew Garrett had special abilities. He had known it the very first time he had seen the boy. It had only been a little more than two years… yet somehow it seemed like it had happened so very, very long ago…

Artemus kept close to the shadows as he hurried back to the compound. He had just received a rather delicate piece of information regarding a rising sect in the City's already crowded stable of 'secret' societies; a group of thieves that called themselves the 'downwinders'. They were probably not terribly important to the City's balance, but it never hurt to err on the side of caution. Thus, it had been Artemus, who had always excelled in the art of stealth and reconnaissance, who was selected to intercept a letter that First Keeper Xavier suspected might contain vital information regarding the inner workings of this so-called 'guild'. It was not a difficult mission, and Artemus had successfully plucked the note right out of the purse of the man who carried it. Now the only thing left to do was to deliver the thing to Xavier and wait for further instruction. Artemus checked the pouch on his belt, just to be absolutely sure he was still in possession of the letter, before quickening his pace.

Allowing the old training that had been drilled into him as a student to take over, he darted from shadow to shadow, barely even disturbing the air around him as he moved with a grace and skill born of years of diligent practice. An ordinary citizen passing on the street would not have seen him even if he walked right in front of their very noses. Even a very observant person would only have been able to detect the slightest flicker of movement, one that could easily be mistaken for the shadow of a bird or a simple trick of the light. Artemus allowed himself a tiny smile. He was in his element.

Then he felt it. The lightest of tugs on the strings of the pouch, and he whirled around, catching the wrist of the would-be-pickpocket in the blink of an eye.

"That's not for you." He said in a low voice that was meant to intimidate.

The thief was a young boy; a street urchin, judging by the state of his appearance. He was achingly thin, wearing the shabby hand-me-downs of hand-me-downs that hung off his skinny frame like the tattered rags of a scarecrow. His face was smudged with several varieties of filth, and his dirty, choppy hair stuck out behind his ears. His eyes, though, were a particularly light-catching shade of blue-gray that stared out at Artemus with both paralyzed terror and intense curiosity.

The boy babbled wildly out of fear. He was begging Artemus not to turn him into the fanatic Hammerites, but Artemus wasn't fully listening. Not only has this… this child been able to see him while he was at his most stealthy, he had actually been able to sneak up on him. It was simply incredible. It was tantamount to a first-time player beating the most skillful gambler at his own game.

"What is your name, boy?" He interrupted the boy mid-plea.

"Garrett." An old name, meaning 'The Watchful One'. How fitting, thought Artemus. It was an opportunity to valuable to pass up.

"You have talent, lad." But the boy, Garrett, was too frightened by the cloaked stranger and tried to jerk his wrist out of Artemus's grip.

"Let go of me, old man!" he snarled, clawing at the hand the held him in place.

"To see a Keeper is not an easy thing, especially one who does not wish to be seen. We have a need for those as gifted as yourself. If you've grown tired of how you live, then follow me." Artemus released the boy's wrist and turned to go, hoping that he would follow. He had purposefully made the offer promising enough to entice, but vague enough to keep his own tracks covered in case the boy should, but not following, refuse. Deep down, Artemus held his breath, hoping against hope that the boy would follow. Whether the child knew it or not, he was a rare and precious find for the Keepers. One who was not just intelligent and able to learn quickly, but one who was innately adept. A child of the shadows.

Artemus could not resist a grin when he heard the swift, but quiet, patter of footsteps behind him.

With a small jerk Artemus awoke and realized that he had been dozing, lost in his own memories. Remembering Garrett the Street Urchin, he frowned. In many ways, Garrett was still that wild boy. Perhaps part of him always would be… or maybe not. Artemus, too, had once been brash and impatient; a stubborn, often hot-tempered young man that had caused his own mentor, a man by the name of Quinn, a lot of grief. But Quinn was a good teacher and, with his characteristic perseverance, had managed to pull the young Artemus down from the clouds and onto the solid ground of adulthood. Artemus knew very well that he was not supposed to favor one student over all others, even if that one student was his mentee, but he had very high hopes for Garrett. In a way, he also had high hopes for himself. He hoped that he could live up to the example set by the late, honored Quinn and be a good teacher to Garrett. Artemus was nearing forty. Even with plenty of people living to see sixty, he knew that there was only so much he could accomplish in the remainder of his lifetime. He wanted one of his accomplishments to be to see Garrett succeed. But succeed at what? As hard as he tried, Artemus could not envision Garrett as a full fledged Keeper. Not that Artemus's passing imaginings had anything to do with his student's future, but that didn't keep him from wondering…

Don't even think about it, old man. He though sternly. Always looking into the future kept one from living in the moment, which was necessary to maintain the balance. What would be would be. Artemus firmly instructed himself to remain in his own time and accomplish the task at hand, which, at the moment, was to go find Garrett and ask the boy himself about what exactly happened that day when he found the doomed Seventh Enforcer…

…The Night Previous…

The sky was a bloody red that seemed to glow, but illuminated nothing. The buildings, suddenly grown to monolithic heights, were black and silhouetted against the molten sky. Garrett was running through the streets. He was running from… something. Or was he looking for something? He couldn't remember. All he knew is that he should keep running no matter what. He rounded a corner and crashed into Iysst the Beggar. Iysst fell to the black, cobbled street, cursing. When Garrett offered him a hand, Iysst merely cackled and slapped the proffered hand away.

"Don't you worry about me, boy. You have bigger problems."

"What do you mean? What do you know?" demanded Garrett. Whatever he was running from was getting closer, he could feel it.

The old man only laughed and then sprung to his feet and was gone in a flash.

"Wait! Wait just a damn minute!" Garrett ran after him, but Iysst had disappeared. Tearing through the streets, he heard voices, familiar voices, calling out to him, laughing at him. He could feel bitter panic clawing its way up his throat. To his right, there was a brief flash of white light. He whipped around and saw an Enforcer standing there, but this Enforcer was unlike any he'd ever seen. It had to be at least ten feet tall, and seemed to exist within its own corona of reddish light. It was laughing at him; a laugh that made Garrett's insides turn to ice. Initially, it was booming and deep, but at times it rose to a high pitch that sounded more like a wildcat's scream than a human voice. Garrett clapped his hands over his ears and watched in frozen terror as it monstrous Enforcer raised its claw-like hands to its mask. Garrett screamed…

"Garrett! Garrett, wake up!"

Someone was shaking him. He lashed out a hand and made contact with something warm.

"OW! Goddammit, Garrett!"

Garrett opened his eyes and realized with extreme relief that he had been dreaming. He sat up in his bunk as far as he could without bumping his head on the ceiling.

"What the hell did you hit me for, you little taffer?!"

Still dazed from his sudden awakening, Garrett turned and looked down at Aloysius, who was rubbing his shoulder and eyeing him with a bizarre expression that was a mixture of both concern and annoyance. His other two roommates were wide awake and staring at him. One of them was obviously fighting back laughter. Garrett's cheeks flushed.

"Sorry Aloysius…" he mumbled.

"You'd better be sorry! That hurt!" his friend snapped.

Garrett rubbed his eyes. "What the hell happened?"

"You were thrashing around and muttering about something." Aloysius said, still holding his shoulder. "You were making the whole bed shake."

"Oh." One of the other boys started to chuckle, but was silenced by a fierce look from Aloysius.

"I'm gonna go get a drink." Garrett muttered, not meeting anyone's eyes. He slid out from under his covers and climbed down from his top bunk. He threw open the door and started down the hall towards the washroom. It wasn't often that he was genuinely embarrassed, and the unfamiliar feeling of wanting to curl up in a corner and be invisible made his skin crawl.

"Garrett, wait a minute." Aloysius had followed him.

"What?" Garrett snapped. He was sure he was bright red, and all he wanted to do was hide out in the washroom until he had regained his composure.

"I just wanted to know if you're alright. You… you don't look so good." Aloysius said, peering at Garrett through the bluish shadows.

"I'm fine, alright? Just leave me alone, I'll be fine." Garrett snarled. Aloysius raised his eyebrows and frowned.

"I was just asking." He muttered, and disappeared back into their room.

Garrett rubbed his eyes again, and padded down the hallway. He slipped into the washroom and got a drink from the basin in the corner. Moving as though in a daze, he cupped some of the frigid water in his hands and splashed his face, not noticing or caring that he was getting the collar of his loose, linen nightshirt wet. He waited until all the ripples had gone and then dared a look at his reflection. Aloysius was right. Even in the dim light of a single, flickering candle someone had left, Garrett could see that he was very pale, and there were purple crescent shadows under his eyes. He groaned and sat down on the ground with his back against the wall, rubbing his temples, which were beginning to ache. It took him a moment to realize that this was an action he has seen Artemus perform many, many times.

"Great" he muttered "I'm turning into my mentor…"

Garrett was no stranger to nightmares. When he was young and still living on the streets, he had them so often that they had become a simple part of daily life. Still, those nightmares were never like the one he had just experienced. The nightmares he had as a child usually featured some kind of monster or occasionally a very surly night-watchman with a large club that was trying to get him and eat him. Garrett could easily cope with those nightmares. But this one had been different. There was something about it that left him feeling as if his brains were vibrating inside his skull. Most of his dreams faded from his memory very soon after he woke up, but every detail of this most recent dream was branded in his mind. He sighed, realizing how tired he was. Far away, the clock tower chimed the hour in melancholy bass notes. Forcing the memory of the nightmare out of his thoughts, Garrett got up and got another drink before leaving the washroom.

Once he was out in the hallway, his skin began to prickle with the sensation that he was being watched. Tendrils of blind, animal fear crept up his spine and the backs of his legs. Not even trying to stay calm and rational, Garrett sprinted down the hallway and practically dove for the door to his room. Ignoring the strange, surruptitious look from Aloysious, he climbed as quickly as he could into his bunk. For the first time in who knew how many years, Garrett didn't sleep a wink that night.

A floor above Garrett's dorm, hidden away in a secret room, the Third Enforcer snapped into consiousness. It could sense that its fellow Enforcers, ensconced in their own rooms, were wide awake, startled out of the meditative state that replaced sleep for them. Ninth and Fourteenth were annoyed. Fifth was slightly frantic. Second, that thrill seeker, was excited. The others were groggy and confused.

I'm not the only one who sensed that, right? Asked Fifth.

No… No, I sensed it too. Said Fifteenth.

Quite a vivid dreamer, that boy is. Said First, already settling back into its meditation.

Behind its mask, Third's long-since-stationary lips twisted into a smile. Yes. Yes he is…..

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