The Haunting

Exotica:

Safe, many miles away, I use the feedback I am getting from the emitter to guide it and thus the hologram which it is producing. I send it along a passageway at the end of which is a locked heavy wooden door. Behind that door is the room in which my mother is being held. At least, when I left Caemlyn that was where she was being held, and I hope that she will not have been moved.

In front of the door stand two men-at-arms, swords in their hands. No doubt they have spent long boring hours on guard, for they are propped against the wall and look as though they have dozed off. I approach till I am only a few yards away and then groan loudly. The men's eyes flutter open, and as they take in the sight in front of them their faces contort in terror. I remember to stand a little to one side, to allow the men to flee without having to come too close to me. One does flee, but the other faints and falls to the floor.

That was almost disappointingly easy, I feel. I'd hoped to have to tell them a chilling tale of my capture and subsequent demise at the hands - or claws - of the dragon. I start to bend to pick up the unconscious man's sword from where's he has dropped it, before I remember that my presence here is incorporeal and I can't actually hold anything.

I decide I had better carry out a quick sweep to make sure there aren't any other guards in the neighbourhood, and then I'll go and fetch the others. This wing of the castle is little used - Emry wisely didn't want to be too blatant about holding Mother a prisoner - and the five minutes I spend searching don't reveal any more guards - or anybody else for that matter. I'm on my way back to rendezvous with the others, when I'm pleased to see a rather dusty full-length mirror leaning against the wall of the passage just ahead. Naturally I can't resist looking at "myself" in it.

Though the video feed (as I've heard the others call it) that I'm getting is of low quality, I must still admit to feeling rather queasy for a moment. There are a number of tears in the leather outfit I am wearing, through which blood from my wounds has run and then congealed into red stains on the black leather. The most severe wound runs diagonally across my chest for some nine inches, and parts of several ribs are exposed. That was probably the "fatal" wound. My left arm is missing from the elbow. My head is tilted to one side, as if my neck has been broken. One eye is missing, the socket a bloody mess. All the visible flesh is deathly pale, except of course where it is bloodstained, and I am slightly transparent.

The sight of my "dead" body has a ghastly fascination for me, but eventually I manage to tear myself away and go to meet the others. Then, coming the other way along the corridor, I see a man approaching.

1. As he gets closer, I'm able to recognise him as my father!

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