To Fight the Black Wind

Chapter 7

One of the hardest parts about being in the Dreamlands with Josephine was remembering that I was in a session with her and keeping that in the forefront of my mind. I was so very curious about where we were. I could not resist asking questions. The more I understood about the Dreamlands, the better I believed I would understand Josephine’s control over it and herself.

With the dirt crunching beneath our feet and a breeze chilling the air, I began with something trivial. “Is it safe to eat and drink in the Dreamlands? I noticed you didn’t drink what we were served.”

Josephine shrugged, her breath coming in soft pants. “It depends. Ulthar is a safe place.”

Her response sounded like a ritual phrase. I slowed my pace. I was used to fast walking between patients and buildings and errands. Josephine was not. When she caught her breath, I glanced behind to make sure we weren’t followed. “You were saying something about a place you loved as a child?”

She nodded, walking with slower steps. “I mentioned that I have always been a vivid dreamer. Almost everyone in my family is. We are taught at a young age how to shape our dreams. To combat the nightmares.”

This was not what I expected from such a genteel and well-regarded family. It seemed they did more than encourage the fantasy. “You, your brother, your parents, all learned to lucid dream?”

Josephine considered this. “Lucid dream. That is an appropriate term.”

“Frederik van Eeden, a Dutch psychiatrist, created the phrase in 1913. I read it in one of his papers. I attempt to practice this from time to time.” I glanced at her. “I’ve been successful here, in this session with you.”

“We are in the Dreamlands.” Josephine spoke with the air of someone stating something obvious. “When I dream I almost always come here. But not lately. Not since I began having the nightmares. Not that I remember. Perhaps that is my problem. I have forgotten so much about dreaming and the Dreamlands. I don’t understand how that could happen.”

There was something I was missing. Something important. We were not truly dreaming. Were we? We were in a hypnotic session in my office. This, all this, around us was not real. The fact that Josephine accepted it without question was disturbing. What if I couldn’t pull her from her fantasy? “Where do you believe you’ve been going if not here?”

“My mind. Only within my mind.”

“What’s within your mind that frightens you?” I wanted to pull the conversation toward the concept of grief and the dead Thomas Ruggles, but Josephine ignored my question to continue her narrative.

“From a young age, I always had friends here within the Dreamlands. Your patient, Malachi, he was one of them. We would meet at the Red House. He felt safest there.” Josephine lowered her voice. “He was afraid of the Darkness that Watches.” She raised her voice again to a normal level. “It couldn’t see him in the Red House.”

As before, my tongue was struck dumb. Those were the words Malachi had used to express his fear before he was murdered. She had known him. There was no other explanation. How an itinerant man knew—was friends with—a young woman like Josephine Ruggles could only happen in dreams. I did not want to consider the implications.

Yet, I had to. Josephine knew Malachi. Malachi suffered from nightmares and delusions—delusions that had somehow murdered him with a physical knife. How could dreams manifest in the real world? The answer was before me in the form of my patient. Through the mind. Her dreams were made manifest in her flesh in the form of glyph-like wounds.

Yet the mind couldn’t bring a rune-covered knife from dreams into reality. Nor leave it behind in a cooling body. That was impossible.

“This is the place I believe we need to go. It was where I remember being when I was last in the Dreamlands. It is a hidden place. A safe haven. Many of my friends from here meet there.”

Josephine had her back to me now. She’d pulled ahead, unaware of my distracted state. I forced myself to focus on her. “How far away is it?”

She paused and looked around. We were high in the mountains now. “I…I don’t know. Only some of this is familiar to me.”

Josephine stood there, her head turning to and fro as if to get her bearings. I didn’t understand. There was only one path. As I watched her, something bulged out of her back. It looked like a book pressed against the fabric of her shirt. I stumbled and went to one knee. The pain of striking the hard rock surprised me. When I looked up again, Josephine waited, her head tilted at a quizzical angle. “Your back.” It was all I could say.

I pulled myself to my feet as she craned around, trying to see what I saw. I hadn’t torn my pant or broken the skin. My knee ached. That, in and of itself, upset me. But the blood on Josephine’s back, upset me more.

“What is it? What’s happened?” Her voice was high with panic and fear. She turned around and around, trying to see what I saw.

I grasped her by the shoulders. “Wait,” I commanded as I shifted to look at the blood. It was on the lower left side of her back where the corner of the book had pressed out of her flesh. I touched it. Dried blood on the fabric scraped against my fingertip. “Does this hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. What’s wrong?”

I pushed harder. “Now?”

“No. Please, Doctor, is there something wrong?”

“You have a bit of blood on your shirt where my fingers are.” I hesitated. Should I tell her the rest? Yes. I needed to. “There was the impression of something rectangular pushing out of your back against your shirt. It startled me. Did you feel anything?” I shifted to watch her face even as she turned to hide it from me. “Josephine?”

“There is no pain.”

“But?” There was more. So much more. I needed her to tell me.

“I felt something within. It wants out.”

I squeezed her hand, trying to encourage her. “Do you know what it is?”

She shook her head. “No. But I know who would know.”

“Who is that?”

Josephine gazed ahead. “We need to go. I think I hear the Black Wind.” She headed up the stone path.

I had no choice but to follow. Every conversation with my patient brought more questions. For now, I would ignore the mention of this “Black Wind.” It was a delaying tactic. I had to know what she was hiding within. Literally and figuratively, it seemed. I walked alongside her, our pace matching step for step. I was stronger than she was. I could outlast her. I had to. “You know two things you haven’t told me. If you want my help, you must trust me to help you.”

We walked on in silence for a good minute. It seemed much longer than that. The more we walked, the higher and colder it became. No longer in rocky hills, we were in the mountains. Though, the path was still clear.

“I was given something to keep safe. I remember that much. I cannot remember exactly what it was. I do know it is important to my friend. She gave it to me and made me promise to keep it safe.” Josephine paused on the path, her brow furrowed in concentration. “I was not supposed to look at it. I think…I believe I did.”

“Was it a book?”

Josephine blinked her dark eyes, peering into my face. “There are some things man is not meant to know. There are other things that man must be prepared for before they witness it. When your life is as mine is, you need all the protection you can get.”

Josephine’s true malady took shape. “You learned something you shouldn’t have.”

She nodded. “I believe I must return what my friend gave me.”

“Return to her or give to another?”

“To her. It is my duty to protect it as it protects me.” Josephine hugged herself, shivering because of something other than the cold.

“Protect you from what?”

Josephine shook her head. “I dare not say the name again.”

Was it this Black Wind she’d mentioned before? Was it more than a distraction? I turned her toward the path again, trying to focus on what was important. “Tell me about your friend? The one who gave you the book?” It was a book. That much was certain. What knowledge it represented was still unknown.

“I…” Josephine’s shuddering interrupted her words. With a visible effort, she regained some composure. “She is a child. She is a wise woman.”

“I don’t understand. She’s a child and a wise woman? What’s her name?”

“I don’t remember. Why can’t I remember?” Josephine stopped where she was and hunkered down, burying her face in her hands. Soft sobs escaped her attempt to hide them from me.

I hunkered next to her, going to one knee, rubbing her back. “There, there. It’s fine. It’s fine. You’ll remember soon enough.” That was when I realized her clothing had shifted from the adventure wear back into the blue linen dress and heavy silken dressing gown. Her admirable control had slipped away. This was the time to push, to get deep into her psyche. “You’ll remember. You’re afraid of remembering. Why are you afraid?”

Josephine shook her head, still covering her face.

“It’s time to stop being a child, Josephine. You need to help me if I am to help you. Tell me what happened. Why are you afraid?”

“The book. I read from the book. I wasn’t supposed to. It whispered to me in dreams. I wasn’t supposed to read from it. I was supposed to protect it as it protected me!”

She gasped in pain and twisted. Under my hand, the form of a thick book pushed against the fabric of her clothing. I felt the edge of the book dig into my palm. Something whispered to me. I yanked my hand back as if scalded. Josephine surged to her feet and stumbled to the side of the mountain. She leaned against the rough rock, panting. “The book was not meant to be read. Not by me.” She gave me a piercing glance. “Not by you.”

I stood, uncurling slowly, at a loss for words. The book tried to force itself out of her. I felt it. I could not deny it. But what did that mean? Did it represent something that Josephine knew, something dangerous? Or was my mind playing tricks on me in this strange place?

Something hovered on the edge of my awareness. Something I did not want to examine. This world. The Dreamlands. They were a figment of Josephine’s considerable imagination. Yet, I experienced it too.

Above us came an unearthly cry. I froze. A nightmarish creature assaulted my mind with its alien wrongness. Bulbous eyes protruded from its horse-shaped head and its cry revealed sharpened teeth. The sound of its leathery wings beat the air. It was huge. So huge; the largest creature I’d ever seen. Watching it come with its scales and serpentine tail, I could not look away. Even as I wanted to flee, I did not—could not—move. I watched it come at me with talons outstretched, yet I was rooted to the spot. How could such a monstrosity exist? It was like nothing I’d ever imagined, or even dreamed of in my worst nightmare. Part of me screamed to move. The other part stared at my oncoming death like a deer in a bright light. I closed my eyes.

Something slammed into me. A moment later, I opened my eyes and found myself on the ground, looking at Josephine. She’d pushed me out of the path of the creature’s claws.

“Shantak! We must flee. They’ll dash us against the rocks.” She took my hand and pulled me up behind her.

We ran.

There was still only one path; a winding rocky road butted against the mountain on one side and a sheer drop off on the other. Behind us the shantak screamed and gave chase. Just as we were hemmed in by the mountain, they were thwarted by it as well.

There were two of them. They darted in from the left side and from behind. They couldn’t get close enough to grab either of us. We had rocks to throw and the mountain to keep them at bay, but I didn’t know how much longer these would ward them off.

I kept Josephine ahead of me. The danger had paradoxically given her the focus she needed to regain her composure. She was the expert in this realm—whether she remembered everything or not—and she was our best hope for escaping the monsters that pursued us.

In the distance, I could see a stone bridge spanning the chasm. Even though there was plenty of room to flee to the other side, I couldn’t see how we’d get across harried by monsters that should not exist. Still, we fled. We had no other choice.

We rounded a sharp bend and hesitated. Not more than one hundred yards before us was the end of our path. Our choice was a rock wall to put our backs to, or the bridge that crossed the chasm. There were no other ways to flee.

Behind us, the shantak screamed again.