15. The Fog

Julio listened to Amancio's story as if he hadn't seen the events unfold only moments ago. It took all of his concentration to play the role of the enthusiastic, proud mentor. Thankfully, there was a hammock he could sink his spine against. His body was growing intolerant of this wild setting. He wondered how Amancio had not gone crazy without the comforts of the palace.

"Master, did you hear what I said?"

Julio fought off his fatigue long enough to comprehend.

"And you won't believe this, but we . . . we kissed."

An uncomfortable smile. "That's great, Amancio."

"I was afraid it was going to be gross, but it felt really, really good –"

Julio closed his eyes. "You can spare me the details."

Still, Amancio rambled on and his mentor was forced to tune him out. Every movement, every decision felt like a chore. Julio's mind was both restless and weak from overuse. His eyeballs chased nothing under his eyelids no matter how much he willed them to relax.

Dreams and memories. They were linked. Amancio's dreams were like stray dogs. Some were passive. Others were likely to bite. All of them were roving.

Dream walking? What Julio did was more like dream wrangling. He was tired of the bucking and biting. Tired of weaving the same illusions with the threads of his student's daydreams and forgotten past. The threads were fraying; any one of them could snap. Amancio could snap.

"Master, did you feel that?"

Julio rolled over in the hammock, as if he could turn his back on this oppressive, unseen fog. "Feel what?"

"Master!"

Julio opened his eyes to both his attacker and his identical copy. He abandoned the hammock, processing the sharp image. Just his reflection in the blade. He recognized the wave-like edge as it reached to land its cut.

Pirates. One for each of them.

Amancio flailed in his periphery. Julio barked an order. Run away or hide. It didn't matter. This damn fog. If his echolocation hadn't been compromised, the cutthroats would have never gotten this close.

They had swords. In a space this tight, up in the trees, lightning was not an option for Julio. So he had to rely on the creepers to hoist him just high enough so that his knees were level with his attacker's head. He kicked and twisted in a way the pirate didn't expect. His heel broke through cartilage at the same time the sword bit into the body of a nearby tree.

There was grunting to his left. Julio stole a glance. Amancio had chosen to stand his ground, defending his space with the aid of a crude staff.

Julio paid for the distraction. His delayed echolocation sensed the punch coming a moment too late. He gasped at the blow, rolled with it backwards into the trees. Another below his navel. The fog thickened and he choked on pain and adrenaline. Refusing to listen to self preservation, he went for the feint.

Amancio let out a cry.

It was just the jolt Julio needed. He moved faster than wind, and again, faster than lightning. He had his attacker on his knees, his neck noosed with the thickest creepers. Julio prayed that the other one cared.

A faceoff. Julio finally breathed. A blessed faceoff. The fog lifted enough for him to scan their tiny warzone. Amancio was lying on his side, clutching his abdomen. Gloves of redness and wetness.

A damn waste.

All this trouble, this moonlighted dream walking for what? Two half baked assassins, a dead student, and no answers?

The pirate on his knees choked out a plea and reached for the other.

"Alonzo, please don't let him –"

Julio locked eyes with the one standing over Amancio. He pulled the noose tight.

"Who sent you?"

Alonzo's eyes widened. His expression seesawed between horror and disbelief. He wasn't one of Valeria's. She taught her people to never show weakness.

"No one told you?" Julio trained his mouth to be cruel. He could feel his captive shaking against the creepers. Gentle sobs.

Alonzo bent his knees and stretched out his arm as if to tame a wild horse.

"Jorge, everything is going to be okay. Stay calm."

Julio made sure Alonzo understood who had the power here. What he was capable of. The pirate begged for the life of his companion.

Julio made it quick.

Alonzo fled. But he would be back.

Julio stood up and walked over to Amancio. He was alive. A little milk on the wound and he would be fine. Julio crouched beside him. Enough was enough. He used Amancio's wounded state to bind him in unconsciousness. He would dream indefinitely until Julio returned. As far as he knew, he was the only one strong enough to break the spell.

Julio staggered when he tried to stand upright. He pushed back against the fog. This wasn't over yet. He needed his adrenaline to carry him through the next task.

Protecting Sofia . . . and Antonio. His mind raced. The muscles that he flexed now were not the same as the ones he used to dream walk. Exhaustion kept him from calling lightning, but there were other forces at his disposal. Wind. Rain. The clashing of clouds.

Julio dug up his flute. He sent out a call to seek out the shadows.

Then he waited for the echo.