Dreamthief

by Tamara Grantham

Thirteen

  A gray sky replaced the blackness. I stared out the carriage windows frosted with tiny ice crystals. In the false morning light, a barren landscape bleached by snow stared back at me.

  Pulling a cloak from one of the packs, I threaded my arms through and huddled under it. The temperature in the carriage hadn’t changed, but I couldn’t shake the chill from my dream. I tried to make sense of it. The pulsing light. Sissy’s face in Jeremiah’s blocks. The dog. Charon.

  I knew Charon represented the Dreamthief, but why the dog? Did the Dreamthief appear as a dog in Jeremiah’s nightmares, and as Charon in mine? It made sense that he would represent a person’s worst fear, and Jeremiah had been terrified of dogs ever since he’d been bitten. But why would Jeremiah build an image of his sister’s face?

  Maybe Sissy knew more than I realized. I remembered that she hadn’t seemed fazed when I’d shown her Faythander magic. But even if she’d been to Faythander, she wouldn’t remember it. Unless she had a memory charm.

  That thought troubled me. I decided that after we searched the ruins, I needed to have a talk with Sissy.

  First, I had to find Jeremiah’s attacker.

  “You look worried,” Heidel said. She leaned against the wall with her knife in her lap.

  I jumped. I’d thought she was asleep. “I worry about my godson. Jeremiah’s got a kind heart. He’ll turn out to be a decent person if he’s given a chance.”

  “Are you fond of children?”

  “Yes.” I paused. “Most of the time.” Don’t judge me. I babysat some holy terrors during my teenage years.

  “Do you have any of your own?”

  “No.”

  Heidel reached for her knife. From the familiar way she clutched the hilt, I suspected she’d developed a habit of it. “My sister, Eugrid, has three children. Kull adores them.”

  “Don’t you adore them?”

  Her eyes didn’t meet mine. “I haven’t the patience for children.”

  With her warrior’s façade and impatient tendencies, I should have believed her, but I didn’t. Something seemed off with the tone of her voice, the look in her eye. I’d seen that look before. Jeremiahs’ mom, Shawna, had that same look when she swore to me she was leaving her meth-addicted boyfriend before running off with him again.

  If Heidel did indeed have a lover, I couldn’t blame her for keeping him a secret.

  “Have you ever traveled to the Borderlands?” Heidel asked me.

  “A few times, though only to the outskirts. It was a long time ago.”

  “You’re not prepared, then.”

  “Prepared for what?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You fear the Borderlands?” I asked.

  “I fear nothing as long as I have my blade. But many Wults won’t go near the ruins.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of the spirits.”

  “The Regaymor.”

  She nodded.

  “You believe they exist?”

  Her voice grew quiet. “I know they do. I’ve seen one.”

  “When?”

  She looked away without answering. “My people once made pilgrimages to the temple. They considered the portal a sacred place, filled with tremendous power.”

  A portal? “That’s right,” I remembered. “Because that’s where your people originally crossed over from Earth.”

  She nodded. “Great magic exists in those ruins.”

  “Then why are your people afraid to go there?”

  “Years ago, a pilgrimage arrived at the ruins. They found goblins enacting a spell at the foot of the very portal that brought our people to Faythander. It is said that a Regaymor appeared from the portal. The skull spirit killed all of our people, save twelve. Their bodies are buried at the temple as a reminder of what happened. And as a warning.”

  “How long ago did this happen?”

  “More than two decades ago.”

  I tried to imagine how the goblins could have conjured such a thing and came up blank. A portal leading to Earth would have only been able to produce creatures from Earth. But the skull spirit sounded like nothing I’d ever heard of—on Earth or in Faythander.

  I pulled the cloak tighter. Somehow, I knew Jeremiah was in more trouble than I’d first realized. I wondered if he’d come out of this alive… if any of us would.

  “We’re drawing closer,” Heidel said.

  My seat lurched, and I grabbed the cushion so I wouldn’t fall out. Our carriage screeched to a halt.

  “Have we hit something?” I asked.

  Heidel had her knife out before I saw her move, clutching it tightly. “Not possible. The carriages know when to stop if something blocks the rails.”

  “Then perhaps something is blocking the rails?”

  The lights winked out. Dim morning sunlight attempted to illuminate the cabin but failed, shrouding us in darkness.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Perhaps someone else intends to board.”

  “Out here?”

  Kull sat up. “Where are we?” he asked with a hoarse voice. “Where are the lights?”

  “They went out,” I said.

  Kull cursed the elves. Had I been the son of an elven woman, I might have taken offense. “Why’d they go out?”

  Heidel stared out the window. “Listen,” she whispered. I used my elven senses to heighten my hearing. At first, I heard nothing. Then, a scraping sound, as if someone were peeling the metal from our carriage.

  “Maybe we should get out and check—” I started.

  An explosion rocked the carriage. My seat fell away as searing air engulfed me. Ringing filled my ears right before the world went black.