The Hall of Heroes

13. - Other people's dreams

It was night and no lights were lit in Alois' house. The rooms and corridors were dim with moonlight and the smell of boiled hops that usually permeated the air was gone. There was no one there to make it anymore.

And that was not the only thing that changed. An aura of invasion was felt throughout the house. It was as if there were fresh footprints of a stranger's shoes visible on the floors. One could sense that the chair that stood pushed a little out from below the table spoke of an unwelcome visitor using it.

Signs of intrusion could be read all around the house. Some of the decorative objects standing on display in the living room were new. There was a wooden carved horse with wings that had stood on display in Standa's woodwork shop for years, because it was too expensive. There was a decorated gingerbread house, that must have also cost a fortune. Alois bought none of these stupid things.

There was a stag's head mounted on the wall just below the hallway up to the second floor. It was quite improper for it to be there, since Alois could remember no one from his or his wife's family who ever collected game trophies, or who ever even participated in a hunt.

And there was a noise coming from the second floor. It was deep and repetitive, like someone ramming a door. And since it was coming from the hallway where the bedroom was, it didn't take much to know what it could mean.

And then in a flash, the viewpoint shifted to the bedroom. There was not much seen in the midst of the strewn about sheets and blankets on the bed, but two things that protruded up from under them were an unmistakable proof of what was going on - Marie's velvet-skinned lifted legs.

There was also a man's heavy breathing heard amidst Marie's moans. And then suddenly nothing else was heard in the room, only that man's heavy breathing. As if that was the center of the world, the only ever important thing. It resounded all around and echoed - though there was no reason for it to echo. And just as the realization came who's breathing this was, the man lifted his head. It was Karel, the mayor of the village.

In the dark of the same night, only an earshot away, the herbs shop that had been in Tereza's family for years stood now empty and abandoned. There were indiscernible faces seen in some windows of other houses staring at the shop as if their greedy eyes shining in the dark had already rested upon it. Spectral sticky fingers of the darkness around were reaching out for the shop and hushed voices hidden from view were scheming and plotting how to lay their greedy hands on it. But as of yet, it seemed to be simply abandoned.

The flowers in the windows, once proudly announcing that the proprietor of this shop knew very well how to take care of plants, were now shriveled and turned their withered blossoms sadly to the ground. Inside the shop, everything seemed decrepit and forgotten. Dust had settled in a thick layer on the counter, the leaky part of the roof in the corner had its way with the wooden floor underneath and created a large circle of stinky dampness. Not to mention the unventilated smell of the herbs that had grown close to suffocating.

All of a sudden, a painful exhalation was heard on the air, coming from almost the other end of the village. There was no doubt of the source of the sound. The viewpoint shifted and there was Jarka, the herbalist's old friend, leaning heavy in her rocking chair. Her head was tilted back and her face seemed full of pain. There was no motion about her. And no breath.

Duzz and Crefar, their souls hidden in the bodies of Tereza and Alois, jolted up almost at the same time, woken by their dreams.

Breathing heavily, Crefar turned his eyes to Duzz.

"You as well?" he asked.

"Y-y-yeah. B-b-but it was not my d-d-dream. I-i-it was that woman's." she answered. "H-h-her plants were w-w-withering and her f-f-friend was dying. B-b-but why should I care? Why do-do-does he-he-her dream distress m-m-me so much?"

"Yeah, same with me. What's it to me who his wife sleeps with?"

"I t-t-told you! I-i-it's those bodies! They're giving us f-f-feelings that w-w-we have n-n-no reason t-t-to have! S-s-so long as w-w-we stay like this, w-w-we're double vulnerable!"

"I know! I know, alright?" Crefar shouted. The tree that they were camping under rustled a bit as some small creature got startled by the noise and scattered away. "I don't like it any more than you. We're going to find a solution, okay? If there's magic that can call us back from the dead like this, there must also be magic to bring back our bodies!"

Duzz laid back on the ground, agitated and grumbling, "N-n-now my s-s-sleep is ruined!"

The squirrel that Duzz had befriended sat in the tree above her, watching the two with insecurity. It might have been contemplating whether its decision to join Duzz in her travels was right, or it might have been just grouchy for being woken up so suddenly.

Crefar took a piece of dried jerky that they bought from a traveling merchant along the road and started crunching it. That earned him another angry look from Duzz over her shoulder.

"What?" he asked. "I'm hungry."

Duzz narrowed her eyes wide and turned back, mumbling as if to herself, "H-h-hungry, he is! Folks a-a-are sleeping here, but h-h-he's hungry! M-m-must have his meal or he w-w-withers and p-p-perishes, of course! M-m-monsters roam about in th-th-the wild, but still h-h-he munches and cr-cr-crunches, 'cause h-h-he must have his m-m-meal!"

Crefar curled his lips, put the jerky back into his satchel and leaned back against the tree, his palms behind his head.

It had been more than two weeks since they left the village. Their direction was north, away from the southern peaks of the high Mayestice range. They crossed the hills of the Upper Zvlčice highland and now the sprawling rural fields of Saint Vinoblechta divided them from the central region, where the big cities of the Baronies were supposed to lie. There Crefar hoped they could find more literate people who could get them on the track towards finding out more about the magic of the dead and also about Crefar's god.

It took a week to get from Jalka to the next civilized settlement, and it was not only (as Duzz made it sound) because of Crefar's whining and delaying, but also because this part of the country was so remote that settlements were very widely dispersed. And even when they had reached the next civilized outpost, it was no more than a lonely mill with one farm attached to it, so all that they got there was barely enough food to fill their bellies for the day.

Fourteen days had been enough for them to get on each other's nerves. Crefar was a jovial extravagant reveler, while Duzz was as he would put it an "embarrassingly coy mouse" and she was anything but fond of traveling with Crefar as a companion. If she'd had her way, they would have traveled only through forests and on remote roads, carefully avoiding the slightest signs of civilisation. And Crefar's desire to talk to everyone they saw far on the horizon got on her nerves more than a little.

And in this uncomfortable way they traveled together. Two souls lost in time bound together by destiny, yet sharing very little in common.