Chapter Ten

It took only a fraction of a second for the genetically enhanced eyes of Dumar to adjust to the brighter conditions inside the large room and he began processing information immediately.

Dim light was provided by a massive fireplace although the firelight was barely bright enough to light half the room poorly. A young boy wearing rags appeared to be asleep on a deep pile of cushions atop an ornately carved couch, a state which Dumar verified by studying the regular rise and fall of his chest and the movement of his eyeballs beneath the closed lids. There was no way this youth could have been the second voice as he was deep in REM sleep.

Allowing all his senses to gather as much information as possible, Dumar settled his gaze upon the only other apparent occupant in the room, the old man, Grethron. As he made his way over, Grethron rose to meet Dumar.

"Dumar!" He exclaimed, his expression one of barely concealed shock. "You are looking much better, how do you feel?" Dumar took a few seconds to allow his gaze to roam around the room before answering.

"Much better," although the far end of the room was in a state of darkness even Dumar's superior vision was unable to pierce, his ears could detect the faintest hiss of someone breathing as quietly as possible.

A faint odour also came to Dumar as he stood before the old man, an unfamiliar smell which reminded Dumar of damp places and slow running water. Although in an unfamiliar environment Dumar knew, without knowing how he knew, that this scent was an unusual one here and could probably be attributed to whoever remained hidden in the shadows. One more scent, much more familiar to Dumar, wafted from the dark end of the room. Oiled metal.

Dumar returned his attention to the old man who almost seemed at a loss as to what to say or do.

"How long I been asleep for?" Dumar asked, deciding to ignore the subject of the hidden person for the moment.

Grethron indicated a chair opposite where he himself had been sitting.

"Approximately eight and a half days," the old man replied after a few moments of thought. "It was mid-afternoon when we spoke before and it is approaching the middle of the night now," he added in explanation.

Dumar was shocked although he did not allow it to show. Over a week had passed while he slumbered in bed yet Dumar had assumed it to be no more than a day at most. As if realising the amount of time that had passed, Dumar's stomach gave a deep growling sound which made Grethron smile.

"Hungry?" He asked indicating a selection of simple plates upon which various unfamiliar fruits, bread, meats and pastries sat.

Dumar took note of the place settings, one for the old man and a second plate, cutlery set and glass that had been set where Dumar now sat.

Tentatively sampling a section of one of the fruits, he found it was tart and sweet with a pleasant crunch similar to an apple.

"Expecting someone?" Dumar asked.

The old man raised one eyebrow in question.

"Two place settings," Dumar added in explanation.

Grethron nodded.

"The extra food is for you, in case you awoke hungry," Grethron replied.

Although he spoke in a matter of fact tone, Dumar detected the slightest stress on one or two words, indicating this was not the entire truth.

Combined with Dumar's certainty someone was hidden in the darkness at the end of the room, this deception fired an anger within him which he held in check for a few moments as he regained some strength through the food he was now stuffing into his mouth. Dumar chewed mechanically as he locked a dead eyed gaze on the face of the old man.

He finished, washing the food down with gulps of surprisingly cold water and wiped his mouth on a napkin

"Do you reckon it's a good idea to lie to me?" Dumar fired the question across the table like a weapon.

Grethron hesitated momentarily, his face betraying his nerves before replying.

"What do you mean?" he asked in his deep voice.

Dumar drew a deep breath in and stood, pushing the chair away from him, he let his voice increase in volume as he explained.

"Why don't you let your friend come out of the shadows and finish his meal?" Dumar took two steps across the floor towards the old man, reached out and grabbed his beard with his own left hand.

Shocked surprise flashed across the old man's face at the sudden attack, to be replaced by an anger which he quickly managed to quell. Grethron tried to see the situation from Dumar's perspective, the stranger had no idea what was going on and for all Grethron knew, Dumar believed himself gone mad. Although the pain which screamed through his chin was severe, Grethron tried to keep his voice calm,

"It was not my intent to mislead you," he grunted. "But the appearance of my guest is sometimes distressing for people who do not know him," Grethron hoped his tone and words would help diffuse the situation before M'thar became involved.

Dumar replied in an icy tone.

"Then why didn't you just say that? Why pretend he's not even here?"

Without waiting for an answer, Dumar brought his left hand closer to his own face, dragging the old man along and growled in his face.

"I've been lied to my whole life, by people much more accomplished at it than you," without any warning, Dumar released his grip on the old man's chin and watched him sprawl backwards on the floor.

That was when the thing from a nightmare emerged from the shadows.

Although Dumar had led a life which had been restricted in many ways, he had been allowed to watch as many films and television programmes as he wished, among which had been some from the horror genre. The thing that stepped towards him was easily as gruesome as anything the special effects people could come up with. What made the being that now stood before Dumar more frightening was the actuality of it.

This was no latex skin fitted to a metal skeleton, no actor in an impressively realistic suit and no painstakingly created feat of CGI wizardry. No, this was a living, breathing being.

Dumar could feel the heat of life it gave off as it approached him, smell the natural odour of dampness and mushrooms which came from it and hear its slow, rhythmic breathing.

It spoke in rasping tones which, Dumar thought, suited its appearance perfectly.

"Never lay a hand on my father again," it said, the words difficult for its many toothed mouth to form. "Or I will intervene."

In a testament to Dumar's impressive self-control, he did not flinch when M'thar flicked his tongue across his black pearl eyes.

"Dumar," Grethron spoke in an attempt to diffuse the tense situation. "I would like you to meet M'thar, my son," Dumar allowed his eyes to flick over to the old man before returning to the Pat'nathoor again.

M'thar remained immobile as the other scrutinised him. Numerous thoughts coursed through Dumar's consciousness as he stood there. As usual, these thoughts generated more questions the longer he spent on them.

How was it possible these two were father and son? What manner of beast was this? How should he proceed? Just what the fuck was going on?

Eventually the big manwas able to speak again and in a lighter tone quipped.

"It looks like I've eaten your supper as well as assaulted your dad."

A rumbling noise came from the creature's chest which Dumar thought may be laughter.

"Now that is a crime I cannot forgive," M'thar stated with a hint of amusement.

A slight pause followed during which the large creature stepped back towards the shadows. Dumar raised one hand.

"No, you should stay. I'm feeling more than a little tired now I've eaten, I'm going to go back to bed," he paused for a second. "If no one's bothered?"

Neither M'thar nor Grethron said anything, the old man just nodded. Dumar turned, strode quietly across the hall to the wooden door and disappeared through.

"It would appear, father, that you have some explaining to do," M'thar said dryly.

Grethron motioned to a chair.

"You might as well have a seat, my boy, it will be a long night."