Dashyl's Quest

Dashyl sat straight up in bed. He had fallen asleep reading his father’s journal, the book thumped on the floor as it fell off the bed. What had woken him? Suddenly, Fretly cried out in his sleep.

“Faaarleeeey!” Fretly threw up his arms in front of his face as he screamed and then bolted up. He sat there, breathing heavy, looking around the room, dazed. With his mouth open and fear in his eyes, he slowly turned toward Dashyl.

“We have to leave right now,” he yelled at Dashyl. “I had a dream, a…a nightmare! Dashyl, I remember everything! We have to get out of here!”

Dashyl jumped out of his bed and ran to cover Fretly’s mouth with his hand. “Shut up, Fretly, shhhh. They will hear you.”

Fretly’s eyes looked at Dashyl, wide and white. He nodded to Dashyl and he took his hand off Fretly’s mouth.

“Ok, Dash, but we have to leave. Tonight,” Fretly would not back down, but he didn't seem panicked anymore.

“But, where are we even? How do we get out? Where would we go? Fretly, why? Why do we need to go? These curics are taking care of us, strengthening us, teaching us how to defend ourselves,” Dashyl argued.

“It’s not what it seems,” Fretly explained. “They are only healing us to make us fight for entertainment. They want us to fight and kill others for sport. For a tournament. They use nysik toxin to erase memories of the losing survivors, heal them and then make them fight again.”

“But I have my memory. I didn’t fight in any tournament and I wouldn’t even if they forced me. You’re crazy,” Dashyl protested.

“I don’t know why…I don’t understand why you are here and why they haven’t dosed you again with nysik to erase the memories of your father and the rest of your past. They must want information related to your father’s research for some reason,” Fretly said, breathless.

“What makes you so sure you’re right,” Dashyl asked.

“My dreams have been about my experience in the tournament, I know that now. When I remembered this last one, it must have trigged my old memories. My friend Farley and I were promised riches beyond our wildest dreams if we participated in this tournament. They said it was safe, that we would only fake our death to entertain the audience. But my friend Farley did die. I nearly died.”

Fretly choked back a sob, but continued, “I remember being carried off the battlefield, barely conscious. They put me down and a curic came to me. She didn’t tell me her name and I couldn’t see her face. She said that she would not give me a full dose of nysik. She told me that my friend was truly dead, there was no saving him, but that I could saved. This was how they operated, she explained. They would wipe my memory with nysik, heal me and then make me fight again. They would repeat this as many times as possible until I finally died or my mind was fried from repeated nysik doses. 'Remember this and escape with your life,' she said. 'I will give you enough nysik so you won’t remember your injuries or feel pain, but you must remember me and escape.'”

Fretly was shaking, his eyes glazed over, not seeing Dashyl. The young man’s eyes focused after a few seconds and then teared up. “I didn’t get a chance to ask her why, why she wanted to save me. For her actions not to be in vain, we have to get out of here.”