Dreamthief

by Tamara Grantham

Thirty-four

  I sat inside the light carriage, my head nodding as I tried to stay awake. Morning hadn’t come fast enough. My dreams haunted me. When I’d finally woken to a park full of brightly dressed children, I limped away, no longer in the mood for dancing. They’d stared at me as if I were some sort of goblin with my greasy hair, limp, and dark circles under my eyes.

  I’d smiled at them, but I think I only succeeded in scaring them more.

  At first, I’d decided against the light-rails, remembering what had happened last time. But I wouldn’t find a faster way to the pixie kingdom, and time was something that was never in my favor. I decided to risk it.

  A quiet hum filled the carriage. The white-and-gold seat cushions made me feel as if I sat inside a limo instead of an economy carriage.

  My night on the park bench had taken all my energy. I knew it was a bad idea to sleep, but I couldn’t seem to shake it off. I rationalized that I would need the rest and let my eyes close.

  When I awoke, I peered through the windows to discover I’d traded mountains for flatland. I was passing through the grasslands. Tall stalks of green grass stretched as far as I could see. I was closer to my destination, though I still had a few hours yet.

  The coach sped through the grasslands so fast the landscape blurred. Occasionally, I passed a tree or a stone hovel, sometimes a village. As dusk approached, my legs grew tired from sitting, my belly grew empty, and with the quickness of the speed of thought, the coach slowed. We stopped on the outskirts of a village.

  The carriage had read my thoughts. Creepy when I pondered it—what else could it do? Could it store my thoughts? Could it repeat them to someone? Best not to think about it, I decided.

  The carriage door whooshed open, and I stepped out.

  As I walked through the streets, I realized the village was little more than a Wult outpost. These things cropped up everywhere and in every kingdom except the goblin lands. I found an inn, ate a meal of Wult stew, stretched my legs, and then resumed my journey. I couldn’t afford to lose more time.

  Night drew near, and the last slanting rays of sunlight filtered through the window, casting an orange glow over the ivory interior. I pulled Father’s ring box from my pocket and opened it, studying the tiny diamond and metal band, wondering what magic I could discover that would keep the pixies from killing me.

  Discovering a new magic word was difficult, mainly because there was no set way to do it. The word chose when it would come to you, not the other way around. I studied the ring, whispering a few words and hoping to find the right one.

  “Trust,” I said.

  Nothing.

  “Belief.”

  Again, no reaction.

  “Honor, integrity, faith.”

  The magic remained dormant. After trying a few more words, I finally gave up. I wasn’t ready.

  I’d hardly spoken to anyone all day. It should have unnerved me. Instead, I enjoyed the solitude. The conversations I’d had with Kull and my father had been dramatic enough to keep me entertained for a few more weeks at least.

  Night replaced evening. From the windows, I watched tiny orbs of light flit past the carriage. Some were the lights of buildings in the distance. Others were flocks of fairies. The closer we drew near, the more my apprehension increased, and I found that sleep wouldn’t come.

  Better to stay awake, I thought, and not repeat the same mistake I’d made on my last carriage trip into the Borderlands.

  Up ahead, what appeared to be a massive mountain came into view, though I knew it was not a mountain. I’d made it. The trip had gone so smoothly I wondered if my luck was changing for once.

  We approached the lighted hill. The form of an enormous tree stump began to take shape. Lights glowed inside, illuminating the curved root system.

  This was one of the most amazing sights in Faythander. The pixies lived in the Ever Root Tree, a giant tree that had lived thousands of years ago. It must have been as tall as a skyscraper during its lifetime. Now, all that remained was a large stump, plus its entire root system that jutted from the ground. It was the largest specimen of petrified tree I had ever seen and most likely the largest one on either planet. It stood as tall and broad as a mountain.

  The closer we got, the more I realized how unprepared I was. I had a box, my wits, and nothing else.

  When the carriage stopped, I took a deep breath and stepped outside. As soon as I stepped away, the carriage zipped backwards, leaving me alone on a grassy plain that stretched toward the pixie city.

  I grasped the box tight in my fist and thought of Jeremiah. I could do this.

  I had only taken three steps when a pair of pixie guards materialized from the grass and blocked my path.

  Pixies, on Earth, were thought of as fairy-like beings. It was a lie. I didn’t know how Earth dwellers came up with the idea of pixies being cute little woodland sprites, but it couldn’t be more wrong.

  Take these two pixie guards, for example. They each stood about seven feet tall. Their wings reminded me of a dragonfly’s, though curved, black spikes protruded from the ends. When not braided, their cotton-white hair stuck up like a treasure troll’s. Their dark, scaly skin made the perfect camouflage, and they wore minimal clothing, usually just enough to cover the important parts.

  Pixies used primitive weapons, though it didn’t decrease their effectiveness. These guards each carried spears with blackened tips. Poison, I was sure. A pixie’s knowledge of plants and their properties was unsurpassed.

  “Stop now, or risk your death,” the first guard said, speaking with a thick accent.

  I held up my hands. “I come peacefully. I wish to speak with your king.”

  “Not possible,” the second guard said. “He dwells within the inner tree. Outsiders are not allowed.”

  “This is very important. The survival of our entire world is at stake.”

  The spears’ tips loomed in my vision. What would happen if I got pricked by one? I hoped I never found out.

  “You lie,” the first guard said.

  “No.” I stood tall. They wouldn’t intimidate me, although, in all fairness, they could have killed me in three minutes flat. “I speak the truth. I was sent by the king of dragons himself to deliver this warning.”

  I supposed it was pretty close to the truth. If I’d been in better contact with my adoptive father, I’m sure he would have agreed.

  “Sky King?” The first guard narrowed his eyes.

  “Are you his ward?” the second asked.

  Aha! We were getting somewhere. A little name-dropping never hurt.

  “I am.”

  They glanced at the sky as if Fan’twar would drop from the heavens any minute and bite their heads off. Not all races respected my stepfather the way the pixies did, but I felt grateful they had a healthy amount of fear where he was concerned.

  “Take me to your king,” I demanded.

  They glanced at each other, perhaps debating whether I told the truth or not. “How do we know you won’t try to kill us?”

  I held my hands a little higher. “I have no weapons.”

  The first guard grabbed my collar. He searched my clothes. I held my breath. After he’d patted me down, both guards grabbed me under the arms. I’d expected them to put me in restraints, perhaps tie my hands or ankles. Instead, they grabbed me up and held my arms tight.

  “I wouldn’t squirm if I were you,” the first guard said and then smiled. Rows of pointed teeth filled his mouth.

  If I’d been in panic mode, he might have frightened me. A loud, zipping noise filled the air as they flitted their wings. Pixie wings didn’t flap as a bird’s would have, but rather beat like a hummingbird’s. They lifted off the ground with me stuck between them.

  My first thought: squirm. Try to break free. There wasn’t a chance on this planet or the other that I would let them take me this way.

  My second thought: hold on.

  We crossed the grass field and traded it for a clear, dark
sky. Wind rushed past us. The sound of beating wings filled my ears as the lights of the pixie city drew nearer. Thousands of stairways and bridges interconnected the massive root system, reminding me of the tunnel system in an ant bed, all lit with bauble lanterns that glowed in various shades of orange and blue and green. It was an amazing sight. Had I not been pinned between two warriors with Herculean grips, I might have enjoyed it.

  A full moon glowed over the city. The guards dropped, and my stomach dropped with them. They were going to kill me. I was certain of it. They were going to drop me to my death and be rid of me.

  Instead, they lowered me toward a wooden platform. When our feet touched, they released me, though they stayed close enough to grab me if I decided to run. In all honesty, I couldn’t go anywhere. There was only one exit off the platform, a narrow, wooden-planked bridge that was guarded. The edges of the platform dropped off, and we must have been fifty feet up. This was a place created for beings that controlled flight—falling to their deaths wasn’t something they took into consideration. It was evident in the stairways without handrails, the bridges that were little more than a rope strung with wood. I was out of my element here.

  The distant sound of beating wings drifted toward us. One of my guards barked something at the pixie by the bridge. He gave me a curious stare, said something back, and then took off. The guards marched me to the bridge.

  At least they held my arms as we crossed. I wasn’t sure my balance was good enough to keep me from plummeting to the bottom. As we crossed, the pixie kingdom sprawled before me. My mouth gaped.

  I could describe it in one word: huge.

  From the outside, I’d expected it to be large, but this was mammoth. I felt like an insect. Bridges and staircases wove around the petrified root system. Pixies darted from one branch to the next, their wings glossy under the colorful baubles.

  We stepped off the bridge and onto a narrow stairway that wound up a branching root. As we climbed, I wondered why the pixies had bothered with stairs or bridges, but then I realized they probably weren’t the only species living down here, and after a long day, I’m sure they grew weary of flying.

  Amber light glowed from the baubles along the stairway. I wondered where they were taking me. To their leader as I’d asked?

  We reached the top. Instead of finding the pixie king, I found a walled-in room with a row of prison cells.

  Really? They’re treating me as a prisoner? Even after I’d asked nicely?

  Fine. If that’s how it would be, then I could play this game.

  “You shouldn’t lock me up,” I said to the guards.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” the one on my right replied.

  “You’re making a mistake.”

  He ignored me as he marched me to one of the cells. The roots had been artfully crafted to make prison bars. The door flowed so seamlessly with the bars that I didn’t even notice it until my captor opened it up.

  I stared inside the dark room, barely larger than my bathroom back home, and I lived in an economy apartment. I hadn’t expected a warm reception, but this was harsh.

  They shoved me in and clicked the door shut behind me. An acrid scent of feces came from the room and threatened to make me gag. I wondered who the previous occupants had been, and if they’d been lucky enough to be set free.

  My pixie captor stared at me through the bars, the orange lights making his face look more threatening. “You are fortunate we haven’t killed you. Most outsiders don’t make it this far.”

  He pointed down. The platform we stood on stretched high into the air. From my vantage point in my cell, I could only get a partial view, yet I was able to follow his gaze to the very bottom.

  It was so dark I might have missed it, though a few lights reached the bottom and illuminated a tiny space of the great tree’s sprawling floor. White dots peeked from the darkness. Large mushrooms of some sort or…

  “Skulls,” the guard explained. “Bones. The remains of those who did not prove their worth.”

  My eyes grew wide. I peered more closely. Though it was too high for me to tell exactly, the white objects could have easily been human remains.

  My stomach sank.

  I should have listened to Kull. When he’d warned me about the pixies, I’d honestly thought he had said it just to make me not go. Looked like he was right. Ugh.

  “Those who do not prove their loyalty are executed. Their remains serve as reminders to those who are not worthy.” He leaned closer. “Like you.”

  Both guards laughed, an arrogant sound that was devoid of real emotion. I’d only met a few pixies in my lifetime, but they hadn’t acted like this. I supposed, being in their territory, they viewed me as a threat.

  Albert provided me with a mental note—never deal with pixies again.

  Thanks, Al. He could have spoken up sooner.

  “Soon, you will prove your intentions to us,” the guard said. “Whether they be loyal or false. And then you shall become another decoration under our feet,” one of the guards said before they both fluttered their wings and flew off, leaving me alone in my cell.

  I sat on the floor, as there was nowhere else to sit. No furniture, no food, nowhere to use the bathroom. These pixies had some nerve. I swore I would tell my stepfather about this. He’d raze this place in a heartbeat.

  But I’d have to be alive to do that, wouldn’t I?

  Perhaps I could escape and look for the pure magic on my own. I realized I needed their permission, but what were the odds of getting it? They’d locked me up just for being here; what would they do if I tried to take their precious tree?

  I inspected the bars more closely, detecting a faint enchantment. The pink-tinted, pixie magic felt unfamiliar to me. I debated on spellcasting the cell bars to break them down, but that could be risky. I didn’t know pixie magic as well as I should have, and I could end up blowing the place to bits—and me along with it.

  Magic was out. What else could I do to get free?

  “Rotten luck, isn’t it?”

  I heard a female voice and jumped to my feet. In the cell next to mine, a pixie woman stirred. She lay on the floor with a tatty gray blanket covering everything but her head and neck. I wondered why I hadn’t seen her sooner and realized her blanket made excellent camouflage.

  Her soft, cottony hair stuck up in every direction. She had full, round lips and dark eyes. She might have been beautiful if it weren’t for her sunken cheeks, protruding collarbones, and the look of madness glinting in her eyes.

  “Who are you?” I asked and took a step away from her.

  Her smile only increased my suspicions of her insanity. “I am called Uli. Are you elven?”

  “Half,” I told her.

  “Half?” She cocked an eyebrow.

  “Half-human,” I clarified.

  Her eyes widened. “Human! Very good. I adore humans.” She said the word “human” the way a food critic would say “fresh Maine lobster.” She stuck her hands through the bars and extended one to me, palm up. “This is how humans greet, is it not?”

  I inspected her hand, wrapped in rags, the untrimmed fingernails filled with dirt. I’m not a germaphobe, but this was pushing it. She held it a few seconds, and finally I gave it a tiny shake. I decided that any alliance I could make in this place, even with a half-crazed pixie, would be in my favor.

  “My name is Olive,” I told her.

  “Yes. You’ve told me already.”

  “I have?”

  “Of course!”

  “When?”

  She winked and offered no other explanation.

  It wasn’t possible that she knew me. I hadn’t told the guards my name in front of her. Weird. I filed it away for later review. The most likely scenario was that she was insane and had imagined it.

  “Do you know of any way to escape this place?” she asked me.

  “I was about to ask you the same thing. Have you been here long?”

  “Only one night.”r />
  “Really?” Given the state of her filth, I found that unlikely.

  “I have a nasty bad temper. I spend the night here every moon cycle or so, until I can regain my composure. I am so very fortunate to have lost my temper last night; if not, I’m sure we’d never have met.”

  “Yes. Fortunate.”

  She got thrown in jail for losing her temper? What kind of temper did she have?

  “Uli,” I asked her, “do the pixies really kill outsiders like they say? Do you think they’ll execute me?”

  She sucked on her lip, which made her look a little like a deranged dog. “Hard to say. They haven’t killed you yet, which is fortunate. Your chances for living another day are quite good.”

  “Wow, thanks. I feel so much better.”

  “Yes! I am so glad you do.”

  The queen of discerning sarcasm, this one. I rested on the ground once again, watching the lights twinkle from the baubles attached to the winding tree limbs. This wasn’t going at all how I’d expected.

  Uli wasn’t much help, but she knew more about the pixie ways than I did. Surely I could learn something from her, right?

  The pixie girl clenched the bars between us, her knuckles white. “Shall I tell you a story?” she asked.

  “No, sorry. I’m not really in the mood for stories.”

  “Oh, that is too bad.”

  “Yes, it’s too bad.”

  The whirr of fluttering wings came to us from the sprawling city, like the hum of a well-tuned engine. I rested my chin on my knees. Surely I could reason with the pixie king and make him understand how dire my situation was, if I ever got the chance to see him.

  “Have you met the pixie king?” I asked Uli.

  “Ha! Everyone has. He is our king, yes?”

  “Is he a fair king?”

  “He is our supreme judge. He is strong. His might will conquer all enemies who come into our lands. His sword will crush those who wish to conquer, bleed the lifeblood from intruders, grind the bones of our attackers, mutilate—”

  “Uli,” I cut her off. “Thanks, I actually wanted to know if he’s willing to let outsiders pay a visit to the tree containing pure magic?”

  “The sprout of the Ever Root?”

  “Is that what your people call it?” I’d never heard it called a sprout before. Interesting name, as it was supposed to be the oldest tree in Faythander.

  “It has many names,” Uli explained. “Some call it the Eternal Tree, others call it the Everblossom. But, to give answer to your question, none are allowed to view it, not even me.”

  “Have you tried?”

  She laughed. “I am still alive, aren’t I?”

  Great. So even the pixies were murdered for trying to find the tree. This was quickly becoming an impossible task. Darn it all—Kull had been right. I should’ve tried to find pure magic somewhere else, at least then I wouldn’t be stuck in this cage awaiting my own death.

  “Do you at least know where the tree is?” I asked Uli.

  She cocked her head sideways. I wasn’t sure if she meant to tell me, or if she thought I was mad for asking her. “I do,” she whispered. “Though I am not supposed to know.”

  Finally, some good news. Now all I had to do was get us free, avoid execution, and allow a questionably sane pixie girl to guide me to the tree. Piece of cake.

  “I found it once,” she explained. “When I was younger. I was a very curious child. My mother called me her nosy one. Always into something. I’d heard stories of the tree and its great powers. I determined that I could not rest until I had found it. After I felt as though I’d searched everywhere, I found it in a very unlikely place. It wasn’t even guarded! So I went to it, and that’s when I saw the vision that got me into trouble, that made me…” She tugged on her tatty clothes.

  “Made you what?”

  “Made me a simpleton.”

  “The tree made you go mad?”

  “Not mad,” she snapped. “I have not gone mad.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. The tree showed you a vision?”

  Her gaze left mine. She stared out through the bars. Slanted pools of light rested on the floor and shone over the sunken features of her face. She seemed older somehow, and sad. “I do not speak of it,” she whispered.

  The tree had shown her a vision, and it had only cost her sanity. If I found the tree, would it do the same thing to me?

  Best not to worry about it now, Bill Clinton offered.

  “Uli, if we escape from here, could you take me to the tree?”

  “Why do you wish to see it?”

  “I need its magic.”

  She drew back as if I’d thrown a snake in her face. “You cannot! It is forbidden. You will be killed for sure.”

  That was nothing new. I had to get through to Uli. How could I make her understand how important this was? “I really don’t have a choice. There’s a little boy that I care for. His name is Jeremiah. He’s very sick and close to death. I need the pure magic so I can break through a wall and get to him. It’s so important that if I don’t rescue him, he’ll die. The rest of our world may die with him.”

  “You speak the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  She sucked on her lip again as she mulled it over. “I will think on it.”

  Her answer wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it was a step in the right direction. I knew time worked against me. The longer I sat here, the longer Jeremiah had to wait. “Uli, Jeremiah is like a son to me. Do you have any children? Or brothers or sisters?”

  “Ha!” She looked at me as if I were the mad one.

  “Don’t you have a family?” I asked her.

  “I have my mother and father. My brothers are dead. My parents found a husband for me once. He lived very far away and did not know of my condition.”

  She spotted a bug on the floor. With dexterous fingers, she grabbed it and then stuffed it in her mouth. My stomach turned as she ground the bug between her teeth.

  “A friend told me of this man who was to be my husband.”

  She couldn’t keep her mouth shut while she chewed. I looked away.

  “I learned that he’d had three wives, and all three were dead.”

  “How did they die?

  “He’d beaten them. I told my parents what I’d learned. They didn’t believe me. I was to marry this man who killed his wives, but—”

  The blaring of a horn came in the distance. Under the tangle of stone roots, a flock of pixies darted through, flying so fast they became a blur. Uli sat up, staring through the bars with apprehension.

  Another blast from the horn came, shaking the ground under our feet.

  “No,” Uli said in a hushed voice.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked. The blaring from the horn became insistent, so loud I had to cover my ears. A few pixies carrying spears flew past. A moment later, a beast emerged.

  I’d never seen one except in books. They were called vexons. They were nasty creatures with long, serpentine heads, wings like a bat’s, and a forked, poison-tipped tail, yet it was their hides that made them so dangerous. I knew of no weapon that had pierced through vexon hide. Killing one of the creatures was nearly impossible.

  Another beast emerged behind the first. My stomach dropped. The second beast was triple the size of the first. Thick, callused hide covered its body. Horns rimmed its head and tail. My mouth grew dry as it hovered above us, leering with yellow, hungry eyes.

  “Yes,” Uli answered. “Something is very wrong.”