The Gods of Dream: An Epic Fantasy

by Daniel Arenson

  Soon the way became narrow, mere burrows through the ground. Cade and Candlelit crawled like worms through the tunnels, coughing as soot covered them. The rough stone pressed against Cade and the air was cold and dank. The crawlways seemed endless, so narrow that at times Cade thought he would get stuck and remain here forever, trapped beneath the surface of Nightmare.

  "You okay back there?" Candlelit asked, crawling ahead of Cade through the tunnels.

  Cade nodded. "I'm fine. I hope you can find our way out, though."

  Candlelit peeked over her shoulder and smiled at him. Cade had never seen her smile before. "If the worms are in a foul mood," she said, "we won't have to find our way back."

  Cade held the gems as they crawled. He felt like a worm himself. Here and there, he found soft white strings littering the tunnels. Bits of silk. The worms had carved these tunnels, he realized, and awe flooded him. The tunnels were three feet wide.

  "Those worms must be huge," he whispered.

  Crawling through these tunnels, holding the gems, Cade tried to imagine himself as a great silkworm, wriggling its way beneath the surface of Nightmare, powering the trains that gave Nightmare life. As horrible as this place was, Cade found himself filled with wonder, for in its own twisted and horrible ways, Nightmare seemed as astounding as Dream.

  Finally Cade felt cold air blast him, and he saw soft blue light ahead. The tunnel opened into a cavern, a great cavern the size of the one where the Sisters dwelt. In this cavern dwelt the silkworms.

  Tasha took a look at the worms, shuddered, and fled into Cade's shirt.

  Huge worms they were, as large as Cade, and their white bodies glowed blue. They clung to the cavern walls, the ceiling, the floor, the stalactites and stalagmites that filled the place. Strings of silk filled the chamber, running between the ceiling, floor, walls, and columns of stone.

  "Oh, look at this, comrades," croaked one worm, voice crinkly like crumpled paper plates. "Another one has come, yes indeedy."

  A fellow silkworm, weaving silk around a stalactite, turned its head to regard Cade. "It has been a while, hasn't it, comrades? Yes, another one has come in search of silk, a Dream-thing by the looks of him, yes, yes indeedy, comrades."

  Some worms peered at him, while others kept weaving their silk. Some of the worms were knitting the silk into balls, which they shot into small tunnels in the ceiling. The balls of silk vanished with a whoosh, like letters up a pneumatic tube. The energy that powers the trains, which in turn power Nightmare. It all comes down to here. Cade wondered how many caverns of worms filled the underground of Nightmare.

  "Yes, I've come in search of silk," Cade said to them. "But not for myself. The Sisters sit on a barbed iron nest, which cuts their talons. Can you show them mercy, and spare some silk for their aching legs?"

  The worms laughed, a laughter as crinkly as their voices. "So the Sisters suffer!" one silkworm said. "That is good, good indeedy, yes comrades, yes. The Sisters deserve to suffer for what they have done." The other silkworms nodded. Their glow became an angry white.

  "What have they done?" Cade asked.

  The worms rustled. "Eaten our young, they have!" said a fat worm who crawled along the floor. "A baby silkworm is their favorite dish, indeedy. Spies they have, yes, and agents all over the underground. Steal our young ones they do, feast upon them." The worm spat. "Let the blades cut their legs. They shall never rest upon a nest of our silk."

  Cade stepped toward the worms. They did not regard him, but returned to their tasks, weaving silk, knitting it into balls, and tossing their work into the pneumatic tubes.

  "Is there anything I can give you in return?" Cade asked. He rummaged through his backpack and produced his gifts from Dream: his gems from the Enchanted Pool, his jeweled axe from Ral Badar, seashells from Seashell Shore, his star from the sea, the warm cape Galgev had given him. "Here are some treasures I will trade you for sheets of silk."

  The worms regarded his treasures, then resumed their work, mumbling to themselves. They hummed a song as they worked, a song of underground in the language of Nightmare.

  "Your treasures do not interest us," one worm said, not sparing him a glance, weaving silk. "Others have come in search of silk--some as a bribe for the Sisters, some for their own vainglory. But none, none, have had anything they could give us in return. Now leave this place." The worms continued to work, singing their song.

  Cade stood in the cavern, Candlelit by his side, arms hanging limp. Could this be the end? The end of his quest, the end of Dream, the end of good dreams on Earth? Would he remain here forever, a commuter on these trains, while Nightmare conquered Dream?

  He thought of Dream, the rolling plains of grass, the snow-capped mountains, the beaches, the endless forests, the sunlight and flowers and lightdragons. As dark as Nightmare was, as distant and unreachable as Dream now seemed, those beautiful lands still existed somewhere, so many miles away. Cade could not let that land perish, could not let the world become dark and terrible.

  He whispered in the chamber. "I can tell you stories."

  The worms did not bother to glance at him. "We have no use for stories, commuter, only for silk and toil."

  "Stories can be precious," he said.

  The worms finally turned to face him. Their eyes burned wickedly and they bared sharp teeth. "Leave this place, commuter."

  Candlelit took his hand. "Cade, maybe we should--"

  Cade shook his head. "I haven't come this far to give up." He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. He summoned those images of Dream into his mind, and he began to speak.

  He could not remember all the words from the Dreamsong, but he remembered the story. He spoke of Galgev and his journeys. He spoke of the betrayal of Loor, and the downfall of Phobetor. He spoke of Yor, and the mountaintops of Dream, the sunlight that fell upon the pines, the faeries who danced golden in the forests, and the world of wonder he had seen.

  He noticed that, as he talked, the worms fell silent. He opened his eyes and found them motionless, not working, gazing at him. He fell silent, struck by their gazes.

  "Well," demanded one worm, "go on!"

  Cade shrugged. "I don't know. What's in it for me?"

  The worms hissed. "Keep telling the story, commuter! We want to hear more, yes indeedy, tell us of the mountains, of this thing you call the sky, tell us, commuter, tell us."

  Cade tapped his cheek. "Oh, I suppose I could. I do have many more stories to tell. But how about a ball of silk, just a tiny bundle? Its soft touch will help me remember the soft fields of Dream."

  The worms seethed. "Ah, tricksy he is, yes comrades, yes indeedy, tricksy indeedy. A single string of silk we shall give you, commuter, no more." One of the worms tossed him a thread of silk, no more than a shoelace. "Now keep talking."

  Cade continued his stories as the worms gazed enraptured. He spoke of the Begemmed City, and his battle with the Incubus upon its walls. He spoke of the Wolf of Kar, and the mad race to save Harmony. He told of the eyes in the birch trees, the rolling plains of wheat speckled with boulders, the sunsets and sunrises against the endless sky.

  "Keep going!" the silkworms pleaded when he paused again. "Tell us more of this world beyond our chambers, of the color of clouds, of the leaves on trees, of the flowers of the soil. Tell us stories."

  Cade glanced at the silk strands covering the caverns. "Well, perhaps if you could spare more of your silk...."

  "Fine, fine! Take it! Take as much as you like, yes indeedy, take it all, just tell us the stories. More stories!"

  Cade walked around the chamber, collecting sheets of silk, wrapping them into bundles and placing them into his backpack. He slung more sheets of silk over his shoulders, and covered Candlelit with as much as she could carry. Even Tasha carried a ball of silk in her paws. The silk was light as sunrays, and Cade had no trouble collecting more and more.

  As he worked, bundling the silk, he spoke more of Dream, telling of all its wonders and landscapes. When he was done collec
ting all the silk in the chamber, he sat cross legged on the ground, and kept talking until he had finished all his stories. The worms gazed at him yearningly, and when he was finally done speaking, they sighed deeply.

  "Do come back here some day, Dream-thing, yes indeedy," they said. "Come back when you have more stories, and light our dark cavern with tales of forests and skies."

  Cade smiled and left the chamber, carrying mountains of silk.

  Two days later, he stood in the chamber of the Sisters, watching them build a nest of silk scarves. With more silk, he bandaged their wounds.

  When he was done, the Sisters cawed, a roar that thundered in the chambers, and the subways trembled. Firelight burst into the chamber from a hole in the ceiling. A golden rope fell to the ground, and Cade grabbed it.

  "Now leave!" screeched the Sisters. "Before we change our minds and devour you, leave this place."

  Cade climbed the rope, Tasha on his shoulder. Candlelit climbed behind him. They reached the hole and emerged onto the red plains of Nightmare.

  They stood upon red clay, columns of fire rising in the distance, clouds of ash coiling above. The hole shut beneath them, sealing the Sisters underground.

  Cade sighed. He gazed at the endless black and red plains. Dragons flew above and monsters roamed in the distant plains, howling among the fires and razor-sharp boulders. Nightmare.

  Candlelit began to weep, and Cade held her. She shed tears onto his shoulder. Finally her flesh was warm, and the breath of life flowed from her mouth. "Thank you," she wept. "Thank you."

  Cade checked his compass. It pointed toward distant black mountains. Cade pointed the other way.

  "Dream lies that way," he said to Candlelit. "It's many miles away, and perhaps death lies on the way, and I don't know if you can make it by foot."

  Candlelit clutched his hand. "Won't you come with me?"

  Cade lowered his head and shook it. "Tasha and I... our path leads into the heart of Nightmare, to greater danger, and I can't ask you to come with us. Most likely we're walking to our deaths."

  Candlelit gazed into the east, toward Dream. "You spoke to the worms of battles at the Begemmed City." She took a deep breath. "My home is in danger, so my path leads there. I will return to fight for my home."

  She embraced him again, and kissed his lips, and kissed his cheek. "Goodbye, my friend," she whispered. "Though it is likely that we both journey to our deaths, I pray we meet again, if not in this life, than in the gray endlessness of the Afterworld."

  Cade stood for a long time, watching her walk into the distance. Finally he heaved a sigh.

  "Looks like it's just us again," he said to Tasha.

  Tasha held up a tiny ball of silk. "At least now I have a pillow."

  Cade began to walk westward, toward Phobetor, deeper into the flames and horrors of Nightmare.

  * * * * *

  Candlelit walked across the ashy plain, moving away from Cade and his mouse. Dream, she thought. I'm going back home. It had been years since she had fled Dream, angry and young and confused, traveling into Nightmare and captivity. Tears filled Candlelit's eyes at the memory. Finally I'm going home--to Dream, to the Begemmed City, to my family.

  The ash swirled around her boots as the skies grumbled. She looked over her shoulder, back to Cade. He was just a small speck in the distance now, growing smaller as he walked into the west.

  "Be careful, Cade," she whispered. She liked him. She would miss him. Maybe some day, when the war ended, he would visit her in the Begemmed City. I've never had a boyfriend, but if Cade asks me to be his, I will say yes.

  As she turned back to face Dream in the east, she froze.

  Before her stood three glistening demons.

  "CADE!" she tried to scream, but their leathery palms covered her mouth, and they held her as she struggled. Their drool covered her, and their eyes burned, and as they shoved Candlelit into a heavy sack, she screamed, but there were none to hear.

  * * * * *

  Through the flames and howling wind, her feathers and clothes flapping, Moonmist climbed onto the roof of the steeple. She stood atop the world, on the tallest tower in Dream, the shadowed landscapes of her world spreading into the horizons around her. Under a sky of whirling reds and black, she turned to stand before Eliven, the Queen of Nightmare.

  Beautiful was the queen and terrible to behold, her flesh molded by Phobetor from the red clay of Nightmare, her hair woven of flame. Claws grew from her fingers and toes, and her wings stretched wide, leathery and black. Her raiment was made of chains, and she held her hands aloft, spewing diablerie from her fingertips.

  "Welcome, princess," the Queen of Nightmare said with a small smile, her voice like endless echoes. "I've been waiting for you."

  "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," Moonmist said.

  A black Dreamblade, its pommel shaped as a skull, hung over Eliven's back. The Bonerazor, Moonmist thought, staring at the blade. So it's real. She had heard of this terror, the first Dreamblade Phobetor had carved, the first Dreamblade ever made.

  "You should have chosen the death Loor offered you," Eliven said, drawing that blade. It sucked in all light, forming a shard of pure darkness, shrieking. "The fate I offer is far less merciful."

  Moonmist raised her own Dreamblade, the Dawnstone. It glowed dimly under the storm, and the firelight seemed almost to overpower it, but Moonmist held it firmly. Dream still fights.

  "Do you see this blade?" the princess said. "It severed Loor's head. Our Dreamblades were made for one purpose--to kill gods."

  Eliven laughed. "Loor was a god of Dream, the son of Galgev and Maninav. Phobetor is a Dreamgod too." The Queen of Nightmare snarled, her hair wild and crackling, her wings unfurling. "But I am no goddess of Dream!"

  The Queen of Nightmare slammed down her Dreamblade. Moonmist raised the Dawnstone, and the two blades clanged so loudly, Moonmist thought all of Dream and Nightmare could hear. Black sparks flew from the Bonerazor, and a fountain of white light sprayed from the Dawnstone.

  "You will not rule here!" Moonmist screamed and swung the Dawnstone, and Eliven parried. Again the Dreamblades clanged, in great sound and light and fury. Moonmist was pushed back on the roof, her feet slipping, the Dreamblade held above her. The blades drew apart, then clashed again, and light exploded. It felt like fighting inside the sun.

  Moonmist grabbed the roof with one hand. She raised the Dawnstone above her, checking another blow. Sparks covered her, burning her skin, and she screamed. Above her, Eliven screeched inhumanly, encased in flame. The black wings flapped, churning the clouds, sending waves of wind and bass.

  Bonerazor descended again, and Moonmist fell, caught the roof for support, and just barely parried. She lay across the roof, holding on with one hand. Her head tilted backwards, and she overlooked Dream, now burning with the light of the battle. She glimpsed a red patch shooting across the land, heading into the horizon. Redfur.

  A clawed hand cupped the back of her neck, pulling her up. Moonmist found herself face to face with Eliven. The Nightmare Queen held her an inch away, her hot fingers against Moonmist's nape.

  "Such a beautiful girl," Eliven whispered, flames in her eyes, and traced her fingers across Moonmist's cheek. "Phobetor will enjoy you."

  Moonmist screamed, pulled herself free, and swung the Dawnstone. Her Dreamblade sliced into Eliven's neck and emerged, smoking, from the other side.

  Moonmist stood, panting, staring. Queen Eliven raised her fingers to her neck, touched the cut, and smiled softly. Before Moonmist's eyes, the cut closed.

  "I told you," Eliven said. "Dreamblades can only harm the gods of Dream. I am made of Nightmare itself."

  The demon's full lips smiled wickedly, and she flapped her wings, and the Dawnstone burst into flame in Moonmist's hand. Moonmist cried and dropped the Dreamblade, her hand charred, and raised her eyes in horror. Still smiling, Eliven grabbed her--one hand around Moonmist's neck, the other at the small of her back. As Moonmist screamed and struggled, the
black wings encased her.

  I cannot fall captive. I must die here!

  The wings closed around her, and darkness fell. The wings pushed her against Eliven, and the hot clay burned her, muffling her screaming into silence.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The Temptress

  Through the swirling plains of Nightmare Cade marched, the sky burning, raining ash. The wind plastered his hair against his forehead, and the grumbling air, thick as soup, placed deep weariness in him. His lungs hurt, his eyes burned, and everywhere he looked he saw only red sand rising in the wind, jagged boulders, and forever the swirling sky. It's like walking in the belly of a new beast, with no hope of emerging.

  What time was it? He could not tell night from day. All he could do was trudge forward, following the compass, and think of nothing but the next step. He could not wait to meet Phobetor, to confront his destiny... yet at the same time, that thought filled him with dread, and he wished nothing more than to keep trudging forever, to never find the God of Nightmare.

  "Cade," Tasha whispered hoarsely, "do you think the wineskin would have something to drink now?"

  Cade glanced at the mouse, who rode on his shoulder. Tasha seemed thinner and weaker than ever. His sister looked famished, so thin that her ribs showed, and deep inside, Cade worried that Tasha would not survive this quest. Many times, he doubted that he himself would survive.

  "I'll try," Cade whispered. His throat was too dry to speak much louder. He uncorked the wineskin and shook it over his palm. Only several droplets fell out. Cade let Tasha drink first. She sipped one drop of water, then wrinkled her nose.

  "Blech!" she said. "Tastes worse than a troll's backside."

  "Drink the rest," Cade said. "You need to drink."

  "So do you. And I couldn't drink another drop if my life depended on it."

  Cade decided not to argue and licked up the remaining drops. They were salty and felt more dry than wet. The farther they journeyed from Dream, the weaker the magic became. He reached into his backpack, pulled out the breadbox, and opened it. It yielded only moldy bread crust.