Dreamwalker

by C. S. Friedman

  A tremor of foreboding ran through him. “I … I don’t know anything about that… .”

  “Well, you are only thirteen, so even if you had this Gift, it wouldn’t be apparent for a few more years. We call it ‘manifesting,’ when a Gift first appears. Most people can’t tell whether someone has a particular Gift until that happens. But a Seer can detect it much earlier. For instance, I can tell right now if you have the dreamer’s Gift.”

  But I don’t, he thought desperately. Jesse’s the one who has the special dreams. If anyone has this Gift it’s her, not me.

  “There’s no reason to be afraid, Tommy. You won’t feel a thing. It’ll be just like when someone looks at you from across the street. That doesn’t hurt at all, does it? Except that I’ll be looking at the inside of you, instead of the outside.” She paused. “It will be much easier if you cooperate with me. That’s why I’ve told you all this, you see. In the hopes that you’ll understand the value of this examination, and cooperate.”

  He tried to swallow the lump that was in his throat. “What … what do you want me to do?”

  She smiled. “Just relax. Think about dreams you’ve had in the past. Think about how much you’d like to understand them better. How much you’d like me to help you with that.”

  But I don’t want you to help me, he thought. And for one crazy moment he thought about trying to fight her off. But he had no clue how to do that, and he was pretty sure that even if he tried, she’d blow away his best effort in a heartbeat.

  He was doomed. Totally, painfully, irrevocably doomed.

  Maybe if I cooperate, they’ll be less angry at me when they find out the truth.

  Biting his lip so hard he nearly drew blood, he nodded.

  She told him to lie down, but he was way too nervous for that, so they settled for him leaning against the wall. Shut your eyes, now. Take deep breaths. Imagine a pleasant dream you once had … Her voice was hypnotic, compelling. He couldn’t have resisted her if he’d wanted to.

  It seemed to him that he fell asleep for a moment. When he opened his eyes again it took effort to focus them; everything was blurry.

  And then her eyes came into focus, and he saw what was in them: She knew.

  She knew.

  So much for his secret. So much for his kidnappers’ thinking he was useful. So much for them having any further reason to keep him alive.

  “Well?” said the grey man, somewhat impatiently. “What’s the verdict? Is he a dreamwalker?”

  Tommy shut his eyes, bracing himself for the storm that was about to break over him.

  “It appears so,” the Seer said.

  His eyes shot open. What the hell—?

  “Which means he has the potential, nothing more. Whether that Gift will ever fully manifest is something no Seer can tell you. We can only read the potential of a soul; its true destiny is always in flux.”

  She stood up and smoothed the creases out of her white pants. “Keep him under observation for now. Have him record all his dreams. We still have much to learn about how this Gift works. He can help us.”

  Her grey eyes fixed on Tommy. “You’ll cooperate with Master Wells, won’t you? In whatever he asks you to do?”

  Dazed, he nodded.

  Without further word the two visitors turned and exited the room. The steel door closed behind them, and Tommy heard the heavy lock slide into place. He was alone once more.

  He didn’t move. He just sat there, stunned. Something subtle and complicated had just happened, but he lacked the mental resources—or perhaps the experience—to interpret it.

  At least I’m safe for now, he comforted himself. They would have to keep him alive if they wanted a record of his dreams, right? By giving that order, the woman in white had probably saved his life.

  But then he remembered how she had looked at him, right after her examination. The clear and certain knowledge in her eyes. He wasn’t the dreamer they’d been searching for, and she knew it.

  Why did you lie for me? he wondered.

  • • •

  “Tea, your Grace?”

  “Please.”

  Wells waved to his menial, who went to the sideboard and filled two cups, straining out the tea leaves as she poured. As she stirred sugar into one of the cups, she looked at the Seer and made a hand signal: Instructions?

  “Just one, please.”

  A minute later Alia Morgana was handed a cup of tea with a biscuit neatly tucked beside it. She lifted the porcelain cup from the saucer and sipped from it delicately as the servant withdrew. “How delicious, Master Wells! Some sort of Darjeeling?”

  Wells nodded. “From Terra Marcella. Spring rains are unusually constant there; it makes for a unique bouquet.”

  “You will have to let me know next time a shipment comes in.” She smiled pleasantly. “Provided your Guild doesn’t keep it all for themselves.”

  Wells chuckled softly. “There’s a limit to how much tea one Guild can drink, your Grace. I’m sure we can set aside a few leaves for you.”

  They drank their tea in companionable silence for a few moments. Finally the Seer put her cup aside and said, “The boy needs to die, you know that.”

  The grey man sipped from his own teacup without responding.

  “I realize there are things we could learn from him, but his Gift is too dangerous to have around. Whole cities have been destroyed by it in the past. That’s why we kill all potential dreamers as soon as they’re born, rather than waiting to see if the Gift will manifest. The risk is just too high.”

  “I’m aware of the culling,” Wells said, “but aren’t you exaggerating the risk just a tad?”

  She leaned forward in her chair; her gaze was intense. “When this particular Gift manifests, the first thing it does is drive its host mad. Then it spreads that madness to everyone in the surrounding area, through their dreams. And yes, we have records of whole populations succumbing. Prosperous cities falling to chaos, all because of one so-called dreamwalker in their midst.” She leaned back in her chair again. Her expression was as controlled as ever, but something hard and cold flashed in her eyes. “That’s the reason we eradicated them centuries ago. That’s the reason that now, any time we find a child with the potential for that Gift, we remove him from the gene pool. Immediately. No matter what world he was born on, or who his parents were. There are no exceptions.”

  “Except that this one got past you,” he pointed out.

  “Since we can’t stand guard over every birth on every human world,” she said irritably, “there’s always the chance that will happen. We deal with such children when we find them.”

  “But this one’s only thirteen. You said yourself it would be a few years before his Gift matured. The matter hardly seems urgent.”

  “That’s what I said to him, Master Wells. In truth, we know very little about how this Gift manifests—only that once it does the madness comes on quickly and consumes every mind in its vicinity.” A delicately painted eyebrow arched upward. “So what is it you want this boy for, that’s worth risking a whole city?”

  “Not me. The Shadows want him. I’m to send him to the Crest tomorrow.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “That is … very foolish of them.”

  “Take it up with Guildmaster Virilian, then. It’s his call.” A faint smile twitched across his thin lips. “I hear he welcomes constructive criticism.”

  She snorted delicately. “He might well do so, once his precious Shadows start going mad.”

  “As opposed to their normal state?” He chuckled softly. “Remember, we’re talking about certifiably insane people here. If you can even call them people. One wonders if a dreamwalker’s influence would even be noticed in such crowd.”

  “Madmen in charge of all the human worlds,” she mused. “Or at least the passage between them. How did we allow ourselves to be brought to such a pass?”

  Wells shrugged. “No one but a madman would be willing to do what they do. And our own Guilds pro
fit handsomely enough from the arrangement, so we’re hardly ones to complain.” He gazed at her in silence for a moment, as the fleeting spark of humor faded from his eyes. “Rumor has it—rumor, mind you—that the Shadows suspect the boy isn’t from Terra Colonna at all. They think someone from our world may have planted him there. Now that you’ve confirmed their suspicions about his Gift, they’ll want to get enough information out of him to identify the guilty party.”

  The startled look on the Seer’s face morphed quickly into one of suspicion. “Why in all the worlds would anyone do that? There’d be no mercy shown if such treachery were ever discovered. The fury of all the Guilds would come down on their heads.”

  “That’s the big question, isn’t it? Unfortunately I’m not on His Lordship’s need-to-know list, so I can’t help you answer it. All I know is, tomorrow I’m supposed to deliver the boy to the Shadows, then he’s their problem, not mine.” He nodded. “I will deliver your warning to His Lordship, though … for what little good it will do.”

  Getting up from his chair, he headed over to the sidebar. “This kind of talk calls for a drink. Can I get you something, Your Grace? Scotch, perhaps?” He lifted up a bottle to show her the label. “I’ve got some thirty-year-old from Terra Nkosi.”

  “Please.” She smiled. “I remember that world fondly. They did produce good scotch. And very fine cocoa.” She sighed as he handed her a glass. “Too bad about the asteroid, though.”

  “Indeed. That one was a little too close for comfort.” He raised his own glass in a toast. “Death to all dreamwalkers?”

  “Death to all dreamwalkers,” she agreed.

  It was indeed very good scotch.

  14

  BLUE RIDGE MOUNTAINS

  VIRGINIA PRIME

  I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG we walked that night. Blindly we staggered through the darkness, fleeing enemies whose powers and motives we could not begin to guess. We didn’t even know where we were, in the larger sense. Parallel universe? Alternate timestream? Somewhere in the Twilight Zone? It’s not like there were maps for this kind of thing.

  All we knew for sure was that we couldn’t head back to where we’d left the car, because that would require passing by the entrance to the caverns again. Way too risky. Not that we expected the car to actually be there, mind you, but when you’re cast adrift in a strange universe, you grasp at any straw.

  Since all the known dangers were north of us, we headed south. Once we found a safe place to rest we could discuss more concrete plans. But the terrain was rough and it took us a while to locate a promising campsite. By the time we found a flat bit of ground comfortably far from the vulture citadel, even Devon seemed to have exhausted his final reserves of energy.

  It had been a long night.

  We made our camp there, heedless of any lesser dangers nature might throw at us. Which, when you didn’t have tents, blankets, or any other camping supplies, pretty much meant pushing together a pile of vegetation—living and dead—and going to sleep on it. Fortunately it was summer, which meant that no blankets were needed. We were so exhausted that we probably could have slept on naked rock.

  As to the details of our sleeping arrangements, that was another matter. I don’t think I was imagining the looks that were going back and forth between Devon and Rita as we picked out our spots, or the sense of unresolved tension in the air. For a while it looked like Devon would settle down very close to me, and I found myself hoping for that. (Because his stable presence was so comforting, I told myself.) But after a glance at Rita, he wound up making his bed on the opposite side of the campsite, as far away from me as a person could possibly get. Which was, in its own way, a pretty powerful statement of interest.

  Be careful, I cautioned myself. This three-way partnership is fragile. Don’t do anything that might upset it.

  We arranged for a watch schedule. I don’t remember who was supposed to go first, but whoever it was failed to stay awake, and no one else took over.

  A small and furry creature sniffed my nose just as I drifted off. I muttered something incoherent along the lines of Please don’t eat my face, and then I was gone.

  • • •

  The morning sun was comfortingly yellow, and there was only one of it, so that much was good.

  As we slowly got up from our leafy beds, I took mental stock of the situation. I couldn’t speak for the others, but the previous night was mostly a blur to me at that point. I tried to sort out the details in my mind as best I could, but some of them defied rational analysis.

  At one point I asked, “You don’t think that guy in the cave was really undead, do you?”

  Rita shrugged. “He looked undead. And someone called him undead. Who really knows?”

  Devon winced as he rubbed a knotted muscle in his neck. “I was hoping someone would tell me I’d dreamed that part.”

  We shared a meager breakfast of bottled water and breakfast bars, and then Rita and I went off into the woods to find a private spot where we could fertilize the trees. Yeah, I know, it’s when the girls go off alone to pee that the serial killer always attacks … but it wasn’t like there was any real alternative. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

  On the way back I added clean underwear to the list of things to pack next time I went rushing off into an alien world.

  “So what’s the goal here?” Devon asked. “Do we have a more concrete objective than just ‘running away’? Not that I have an issue with that as a general guideline, mind you.”

  “Find out where we are,” Rita said. “Figure out exactly what that gate is, and how it works, so we can get back home when we want to. Figure out why people from this world are coming across to ours and killing our friends and family. Because until we find a way to stop that, there’s no point in going home.”

  “Find my brother,” I reminded them.

  Devon nodded. “It sounded like the Shadows are the ones who took him. Any idea why they would do that?”

  That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? “Maybe he heard something he shouldn’t have. I can see that if stories from this place ever made it into his gaming circuit they’d spread like wildfire. Maybe they want to use him to track down the source of a leak.”

  “Well,” Rita said, “if the Shadows want information from him, they’ll keep him alive until they get it.”

  Yeah, I thought darkly, but what are the odds they’re just going to ask for it nicely? History was full of tales of the kinds of horrific tortures that people used to get information or to enforce obedience. Or sometimes just because they thought a display of ruthless ferocity would make them look good. And that was human society—now we had inhuman motives to consider.

  But with all that said, there was a spark of hope within me that refused to die. Because my little brother wasn’t stupid. Crazy, yes, and game-obsessed, and half a dozen other adjectives that might be delivered with disdain, but never stupid. And twisted stories in which supernatural creatures with unknown powers were threatening to kill him, and he had to solve convoluted mental puzzles in order to stay alive, were second nature to him. If any kid could stay afloat in this crazy situation, it was Tommy.

  “What we need right now,” Devon said, “is information. Which we’re not going to get by hanging out here in the woods. As I see it, we have a choice between going back the way we came—not my personal preference—or finding some locals to talk to. Since it’s unlikely we can gather information without that.”

  I shuddered at the suggestion we talk to anyone. I didn’t want to interact with this world any more than I had to. But in my gut I knew he was right. We couldn’t just run around blindly, hoping to trip over Tommy.

  He pulled out his iPhone and turned it on. I gaped in astonishment as one of his maps appeared on the screen. “You have reception here?”

  “No,” he said calmly. “I have maps that I cached when there was reception. Since I figured once we entered the caverns there wouldn’t be.” He thumbed through sever
al screens’ worth of data. “Looks like Luray is only a few miles south of us. Assuming it even exists in this world. That seems the most likely place to find people.” He hesitated. “Not to mention the best chance to lose ourselves in a crowd.”

  Just in case someone comes looking for us, I thought darkly. None of us really had a clue what would happen when the Shadows figured out that we’d snuck into their world, or how much they would care about coming after us, but we needed to prepare for the worst.

  We packed up our half empty water bottles and extra energy bars, took one last look at the vulture citadel as we left the shelter of the trees—it was marginally less ominous by daylight—and then shouldered our packs and headed resolutely south.

  15

  SHADOWCREST

  THE SKINNY MAN walked through the halls of the Shadows’ citadel with a catlike tread, toe-balanced and silent. His features were lean and angular, and his eyes were focused straight ahead with predatory intensity, unblinking. The scents of the forest clung to his skin and trailed in his wake down the hallway: pine trees, musk, and decay. They seemed to be natural scents, rather than something acquired.

  A person who crossed his path at that moment might have jumped back in fright, sensing the animal essence in him before the human essence was apparent. Such a reaction would not be wholly inappropriate or unwise.

  At the man’s side walked a wolf. It was taller by half than the normal specimen, and as lean and angular as the man was. It didn’t look at all pleased to be in such an enclosed space, and now and then it growled softly in the back of its throat, but when that happened the man would reach out and stroke its hackles, causing it to subside into a sullen but wary silence.

  A casual observer might have said that the two of them were walking in lockstep. A more savvy observer might note that there was no way a man and a wolf really could do that, given their anatomy, but the impression of it was strong.