Seeing an imported oak shelving unit, he rushed over and began to push, only to find that it was too heavy for him to move alone. “Help me with this,” he called to Meea, putting all his weight behind his efforts. His sister ran to his side and together they toppled the shelf over in front of the door, blocking the hole and barricading the way.
“Now for a way out,” he said to himself. He saw that the room had a large window that spanned nearly wall-to-wall. Outside, he could see the ruins of Tuthana, once one of his world’s greatest cities, now dominated by fires, smoke, and rubble. The buildings that were still standing were in bad shape, many of them having partially collapsed or missing large sections.
He could also see just how close they were to the ground from this room. It would be easy to jump to the ground without injury, and once down they could make a break for the safety of the streets. He looked for something with which to shatter the glass, spying a metal chair frame. He lifted the twisted steel from the rubble, struggling to pull it free from the debris coating it…
Jenzo suddenly cried out and pointed out the window. Turning and looking where the fox had indicated, Matakh could see a swarm of bombers. There were at least two dozen aircraft flying over the city, ready to drop their payload of explosives. And one was making a dive for the school.
It would be in drop range within seconds. When the bomb hit, the explosion would send glass shards everywhere, slicing whatever wasn’t incinerated in the blast to ribbons.
A sudden surge of adrenaline blasted through Matakh, wiping away any regard for his own safety. He suddenly viewed his surroundings not as a tumble of burnt wood and rusted steel, but as a Jokki player views the playing field. The world faded to a foggy gray, Jenzo and Meea seeming to glow like beacons in the night. Instinctively, he searched for a means to get them out of harm’s way, anything or anywhere he could use. The closet door to his right seemed to light up. He saw the door hanging open, saw the opportunity. He knew he could easily get the two younger ones to the storage space within moments. And with the last spark of true rationality, he put all those things together in his mind to form a rudimentary plan.
He leapt forward, grabbing Meea and Jenzo by the arms, ignoring their protests and cries of pain at the strength of his grip. Better they receive bruises from his grasp than be incinerated in an explosion. With inexorable strength, he dragged them over to the closet and tossed them inside roughly. The loud whine of an approaching bomb filled the air, as well as the smashing of the door. He turned around just in time to see the room door broken down, four soldiers entering, and an explosive capsule passing the window outside.
Then there was a flash of brilliant light, a loud thunderclap, and the world turned upside-down.
Instantly, the window was shattered by the force of the explosion, sending shards of glass flying everywhere, glowing cherry-red from the heat and trailing sparks. Matakh felt dozens of cuts open up on his back from the shrapnel, searing his fur, skin, and flesh as they struck, and he heard the soldiers cry out in surprise as they were struck by the lethal shrapnel. Though their armor protected them from the sharp edges of the glass, the sheer intensity of the heat burned right through their protective suits, searing the flesh beneath. ‘At least they have armor,’ Matakh thought in the very back of his mind as his body was ravaged by the flying shards.
The shock wave from the blast tore through the room. Matakh felt it as a massive impact, like being hit by a freight train, that slammed into his body and lifted him like a rag doll, accompanied by a wall of unbearable heat as the flames flooded into the space. The intensity of the fire’s harsh light knifed into his eyes, and he squeezed them shut as the pain flooded his brain, but unfortunately his nerves remained perfectly active, allowing him to feel all that was happening.
The heated blast half-tore, half-burned Matakh’s shirt from his torso, completely exposing his back to the wall of fire. He cried out in agony as he felt his skin and flesh burning under the intense heat. The soldiers, who had been far closer to the window, had found their armor completely ineffective at protecting them, and were strewn across the floor, reduced to charred heaps. Matakh managed to open his eyes a tiny bit, only to see flaming chunks of rubble flying around the room, though by some miracle they all missed him. The roar of the fire was deafening, and Matakh could feel pain shoot through his ears as they were bombarded by the impossibly-loud noise. He tried to lift his hands to cover his ears, but the pain he was experiencing had rendered his body immobile.
He felt himself hit the wall – no, a door, he could feel it move. He realized that it was the entrance to the closet holding his sister and friend. Fear filled him; fear for Meea and for Jenzo. But looking at the closet, he saw that his body had been thrown against the door, shutting it tight, and the portal had held up. Amidst the incredible pain, he felt at peace knowing they were safe. That was all that mattered
He felt a wooden panel strike his chest, the air knocked from his lungs by the impact, before he crumpled to the floor, his body screaming in agony from his countless injuries. His back felt like it was being carved with hundreds of flaming daggers, his body felt completely broken, and his lungs felt scorched and dry. He gasped, barely able to breathe the hot air as it seared his throat, and his vision was swallowed by black. He knew he was passing out, maybe even dying, the injuries he had sustained being just too great for him to stay conscious through the pain.
As he lay, battered and burned, he was filled with grief as he thought of how his fate was similar to that of his world, engulfed in flames and violence, all in a war that made no sense at all. And as he lost his hold on the present, his mind turned to the past, to when life was peaceful, and before the war began…
Chapter One: Before the Storm
Dreaming is a lot like traveling through an alternate dimension. You’re flying through a world composed of half-forgotten memories, unrealized thoughts and emotions, and desires of the heart and mind. Sometimes the journey is a fun one, one that you never want to leave. But other times, you find yourself trapped in a dungeon made up of fears, anger, and darkness.
Matakh was flying through a rainbow of color, chasing an object that he had never seen, but one he somehow knew was very important. Sometimes it would seem to fly almost out of reach, to the point where he feared losing it. And then, it was like he had put on a great burst of speed and surged forward to catch it, only to fall just short. Over and over again, until anyone should have been panting from exhaustion, the pattern repeated itself, seemingly unending in its continuity. And as time continued, the landscape he was traveling through grew steadily darker, until he was chasing the mysterious object through an obsidian world streaked in blood-red luminescence. The only other light provided was produced by the object, which now glowed a pure white.
Slowly, even the red faded away, until Matakh was traveling through pure blackness that seemed to close in around him. A cold feeling rushed through him, and he tried to go faster to catch up with the glowing object he was following. Gradually, he gained on it, until he could feel the light playing across his face, banishing the darkness.
Then as he gazed at the strange light, he realized he was beginning to see what it was. With every passing second, it grew clearer, until he could make out a humanoid figure in the midst of the glow, feathered wings spread out behind it and what appeared to be a tree branch in its hand. Its eyes flashed like stars, and he felt afraid and overjoyed at the same time.
Suddenly, a slight discordance started up in the back of Matakh’s mind. It was like a faint vibration in the distance, or a fly buzzing softly near his ear. At first it was only small, and barely an annoyance. But as time passed, it grew and grew, louder and louder, until it reached a magnificent crescendo that shattered the fabric of Matakh’s dream world into countless pieces. He fell from his wanderings, leaving the multicolored landscape behind, but not
