The Queen of Dreams (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 6)

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  I scanned the way ahead, hoping for a cave or rocky embankment I might scramble up. It wasn't until I looked behind me to see how close the Brutho was that I realized Morwen was no longer by my side.

  I reached the cliff. It was at least eight meters high and nearly perpendicular with the slope. The stone was sheer, with few greens growing on it.

  There were no caves, no boulders to climb on, and no way to escape. The Brutho had circled the obstacles and was headed directly at me, its black eyes reflecting my inevitable death.

  With a glance to my left and right, I knew I had no chance to escape by foot. Turning my back on the charging Brutho, I looked up the cliff. I found what I was looking for right away, a small ledge over four meters up.

  I don't know why I thought I could make it. Maybe that's what prompted me to try, that I didn't know it wasn't possible. The training in the Sky Lands, chasing the firebird, had helped. I'd gotten used to the idea of flinging myself into the air. I'd have given anything to have those silvery rings that Neva had given me.

  The Brutho, sensing it had caught its prey, bellowed with such sonic force, I nearly forgot what I was trying to do. As the steely maw snapped down upon me, I opened my mind and leapt upward, yanked in that direction with my magic.

  I flew into the air, right as the Brutho impacted with the cliff, shaking the ground and breaking stones loose.

  I flung myself a good ways up, but not far enough. When I reached the apex, I grabbed for the cliff side. My fingers caught a small jagged outthrust of rock. I was dangling over the Brutho, about three meters up.

  The creature snorted and shook its head, trying to figure out where I'd gone. If it looked up, it would only have to lift its head a little to have a snack.

  I needed to get to the ledge.

  Trying to ignore the Brutho, I pulled myself up and reached for another handhold, thankful that I'd kept up with my twice daily regimen of swordplay; otherwise my forearms would never have been able to handle my weight.

  My boot kicked a rock onto the creature's head. It snorted. I felt hot breath wash over me. I didn't bother looking down. I knew it had found me.

  I flung myself upward again, solely on the strength of my magic, liberally spiced with primal fear, right as the jaws of the Brutho snapped where I'd just been hanging.

  My fingertips grazed the ledge.

  I missed.

  I was falling. If the fall didn't kill me, the Brutho would.

  But I hit the back of the Brutho first. It had jumped up and leaned against the cliff with its front feet.

  I hit the creature with my face, landing on the spongy dirt and molds that covered its back. I jammed my hand into a warm, moist hole to keep from falling off.

  The Brutho pushed off the cliff and I clung to its back.

  Merde. What do I do now?

  The creature, sensing I was on its back, spun around, banging against the cliff and tramping the soil beneath its feet. Rocks and dirt fell on me from the cliff, pinging painfully across my unprotected back.

  I slipped my other hand into a second hole beneath the overlapping scales. They were breathing holes for when it swam through the soft soil.

  If it decided to dive into the ground, I'd be ripped apart or suffocated. I hoped it wasn't smart enough.

  But that wasn't my biggest worry. The Brutho kept spinning around, trying to dislodge me. When it realized I wasn't coming off, it turned and ran down the slope towards the jungle.

  Green branches slapped at my body, hitting me across the crown of my head and my back. I knew I wasn't going to last long on its back, but if I got off, it'd snap me in half with its powerful jaws.

  It paused, and I looked up. The Brutho was facing a huge boulder about ten meters away. I knew it was going to smash into the rock and crush me.

  As it started running, I drew on my magic and funneled it through my hands, directly into its breathing holes.

  The beast's scream nearly burst my eardrums. Then it started running again.

  I pulled the oestium rapier from my hip and jammed it into the hole, pouring every bit of my magic through the bone-metal weapon. The Brutho made a distressed gronk, shuddered, and collapsed forward. Its front legs buckled until its snout was pushed into the ground.

  I yanked the rapier out of the hole, rolled off the creature, and scrambled away. The Brutho wasn't moving, but I wasn't going to stay around and check.

  I ran down the slope into the jungle, putting distance between me and the Brutho. A good five minutes later, I stopped and took a sip from my water pouch. My hands were shaking. My right hand, in particular, burned as if it'd been seared with flame, though when I examined it, the flesh was whole. I did find a few barbs of some plant imbedded in my palm, so I removed them. The burning sensation lessened, but did not go away.

  "Well, this is not going as planned," I muttered.

  The surrounding jungle seemed to close around me. The earlier silence when all I could hear was my heartbeat in my ears had been banished by the insects and other creatures of the trees. It was as if the battle with the Brutho had never happened.

  With no way to find the hut or Morwen, I knew moving from my location would be a mistake. I would only get myself more lost.

  On the other hand, I'd brought water but no food, and I had no idea if anything from this place was edible.

  Searching around my immediate area, I found a suitable tree for climbing. It appeared sturdy enough for my weight, high enough that I would get a good view of the area, and had no visible dangers within its canopy.

  One handhold at a time, I climbed up through the branches, grimacing each time I had to put weight on my right hand. After twenty minutes, I was standing in a "V" between boughs, my head poking through the upper leaves. The tree swayed gently, but generally felt safe.

  The surrounding blanket of green was imposing. There were slight hills and valleys, but otherwise, it was a continuous expanse of green in every direction.

  I was able to find the cliff where I'd fallen onto the Brutho, but in our scramble to escape, we'd made so many turns that I had no idea where the hut lay in relation. But if I followed the destruction from the Brutho back, it would get me nearer to the hut. The only issue was avoiding the Brutho, who had probably recovered.

  It was the most sensible plan I could come up with, and it would have been the right thing to do, except I caught a gout of flame ripping through the trees in the other direction. A rising black cloud of smoke signaled the area.

  There was only one explanation. Morwen was battling some creature using her contraption.

  A second burst of flame reflected against the trees. I watched for a third, but nothing more came. I hoped she'd been successful in her defense.

  I cursed my luck. Morwen had ventured in the opposite direction of the cliff, and if I went that way, it would be harder to find my way back.

  I shook my head. I had no choice but to go after Morwen. Despite our disagreements, she was on our side, and more significantly, she was in danger.

  The sun, a dull ball of orange that seemed bigger in this sky than on Earth, neared the horizon. It would be dark in a few hours.

  To mark the direction I would have to travel, I dropped my rapier through the branches onto the ground. It fell straight through without bouncing and stuck into the soil. I made sure it was on the correct side of the trunk before I started climbing back down.

  After reclaiming my rapier, I headed in Morwen's direction. Or what I hoped was her direction.

  Being careful to use my gloved hand, I pushed through the undergrowth, keeping alert to danger. The well of magic in my head frothed with anticipation.

  Only a couple of hundred meters from the tree, I saw a Yolgothi. I almost looked in its direction, mostly in surprise that it existed.

  But I kept my neck rigid, using my peripherals to locate the brownish-yellow creature standing between a pair of trees to my right. The Yolgothi wasn't moving.

  A second one appeared on my le
ft a few seconds later, though I hadn't seen it move. The creature was far enough away that I could keep both of them in my peripherals while I moved forward.

  But that dream of escape quickly disappeared when I realized that, far ahead, I could see glimpses of brownish-yellow through the overlapping leaves, blocking the way.

  Keeping my gaze focused on the undergrowth at my feet, I took a few steps backwards and turned around.

  A third Yolgothi haunted a clearing between the trees. It was only thirty paces away.

  Then, as my heartbeat doubled in time, I saw movement further back.

  I was surrounded.

  At least six, maybe more like ten, Yolgothi had encircled me.

  I hadn't looked at any of them. Yet.

  But it was only a matter of time.

  So I did the only thing I could think of that would save me. At least for a little bit longer.

  I closed my eyes.

  Chapter Three

  The darkness was a canvas for my imagination. Morwen had never explained how the Yolgothi consumed their prey, but I thought about a half-dozen scenarios in a few seconds time once I could no longer see them. Jagged teeth were involved in the least terrifying option.

  While I strained to hear over my heartbeat, I kept my head moving, to simulate the act of seeing, hoping desperately that Morwen had been right about the masks. My skin crawled, dreading the feel of their slimy touch, their waxy flesh enveloping mine. Even the pain in my right hand seemed remote, almost pleasurable compared to the dread of waiting.

  A bird twilled a merry song somewhere above my head. Another chirped incessantly, like a shrill woman nagging at her beaten-down husband. An insect—or group of insects, I wasn't sure—to my right hummed like an oscillating engine. The leaves rustled with the wind. Other, smaller noises filled in the spaces between, creating a blanket of sound, hiding everything, except what I wanted to hear.

  Not that I even knew what to listen for.

  Was it the crackle of breaking leaves to my left? Or maybe the soft moaning at the highest ranges of my hearing coming from behind me?

  Which sound, which noise was the Yolgothi closing in on me?

  Or were they in their original locations, waiting for me to succumb to madness and walk into their deadly embrace?

  I wanted to scream.

  I wanted to run away at a full sprint and hope I didn't hit a tree.

  I wanted to lash out with my rapier, or my magic.

  But none of these were going to help me. I had to think, and quickly, in case they were closing in.

  With logic as my shield, I drove the fear back down into the black sucking hole in my mind.

  I hadn't heard them, yet one had snuck up behind me to within thirty paces. It was hard not to imagine it right up on me, surging forward on a legless body. Did it kill slowly with acid or poison? My arms shrunk against my side. I couldn't pull them any closer.

  How had it gotten so close if the masks worked? Or had it materialized in place? Or risen up from the ground?

  If I was going to get out of this, I was going to have to walk. Anything faster would only get me killed, and if the Yolgothi thought I was looking at them, I should be able to walk past them.

  In theory.

  With a trembling hand, I pulled my rapier out. A few explorative swishes later, I confirmed nothing was directly in my path.

  Not caring which direction I was headed, as long as it was away from the Yolgothi, I lifted my foot to move forward.

  It was a difficult thing convincing that leg to actually extend. It was much more comfortable staying in place, despite the danger. Now I knew why deer or frogs froze when a lantern was shone on them. Pure unadulterated fear.

  But I was able to extend the knee and lean forward, resting my weight on the right boot. The second movement was almost as hard as the first.

  The whole time, I was waving the rapier in front of me like an energetic blind woman, hoping the Yolgothi weren't smart enough to realize what I was doing.

  A few steps later the rapier hit something, and a little cry exited my lips.

  It was only a tree.

  I sidestepped and continued forward, one painful step at a time.

  After another twenty or so steps, I was getting the hang of it. Not even crying out when my weapon hit a solid surface.

  That's when the rapier hit something wet.

  I strangled my surprise and took a step back. My skin itched with expectation.

  I sensed something reaching towards me, sending exploratory pseudopods.

  A volley of fear-induced sorcery from my fingertips cleared it away like a leaf before a flood.

  I allowed myself a brief peek and found a slumped yellowish-brown mound with black scars within reach.

  I lost my restraint and tore from my spot, eyes wide with fear, sprinting forward. I caught glimpses of Yolgothi to my left and veered away. Then I saw one more.

  Then nothing for a while.

  But I didn't stop running.

  If I hadn't realized I had reached the forest, I might have gone running forever.

  When I was able to stop, and after a good five minutes of heaving to catch my breath, I examined the end of my rapier, which had touched the Yolgothi. A mustard-yellow slime coated the end. I wiped it off on a couple of leaves and returned the weapon to its sheath.

  "That wasn't so bad," I said, trying to convince myself.

  The forest's voice rose in volume as if to remind me that I hadn't yet escaped. Sure, I'd survived the Brutho and the Yolgothi, but now night was coming. I sensed the restless nocturnal creatures stirring and knew I could not travel safely.

  With the remaining light, I found a thick tree with long fleshy pods hanging liberally from its many branches. The pods' similarities to green bananas made my stomach grumble. After circling a half dozen times to make sure nothing lurked, I climbed a few meters until the canopy hid me from the ground. A wide bough provided a place to rest, though I knew sleep would not come easy in the strange forest.

  About half my water pouch remained, so I took a few sips, lifting my mask so I didn't spill any, and saved the rest for my journey tomorrow. If I couldn't find Morwen or water, I would return to the hut—assuming I could find it.

  No moon climbed into the night sky, making the darkness absolute. A creature with wide phosphorescent, forward facing eyes passed beneath my hiding spot. Its confident saunter was warning enough.

  I thought about taking off my masks; the binding bit into the crown of my head and the left one squashed my ear, but I decided they were protection against the predators of the night. My hand throbbed as well, leaving me wondering if I'd be able to sleep.

  During the day, the jungle had been a noisy cathedral. The night made the day seem like a Sunday church in comparison. Death stalked the jungle floor. A couple of minutes after the bright-eyed creature passed beneath me, I heard a frenzied tussle and then a bloodcurdling scream as something met its toothy end.

  To my surprise, the night wasn't as pitch-black as I expected. Phosphorescence made its appearance on other creatures. A lazy, bobbing insect with glowing wings fluttered past me. I watched as something long and shimmering, like a glowing snake, dangled from a nearby tree. When a curious four-legged creature that looked like a cross between a crocodile and a deer tested the glow-snake with outstretched teeth, the rest of the predator hidden in the trees collapsed around the croco-deer. The part that had been hanging from the tree had been a slender tail compared to the rest of the thick body. The croco-deer wheezed out death cries while its ribs were slowly broken beneath the writhing mass.

  During the night, I witnessed other grisly deaths. Eventually, my exhaustion forced me to close my eyes, though each time I did, they sprung back open at the next wail.

  Then the frenzy of activity passed, and the jungle quieted. Maybe it was resting, or digesting. Either way, the silence was unnerving.

  As I let my eyes slip closed, a faint vibration alerted me to something clim
bing into the tree. It moved slowly up the other side. I prepared my magic, readying to blast whatever creature thought to assault my perch.

  But it did not attempt to reach my location, instead taking a lower branch and settling there. I could see it faintly, reflected in the occasional passing glowfly, but nothing to give me any ideas to its capabilities.

  Rather than test my new companion, I decided that its presence meant this was a good spot for resting and promptly fell asleep.

  Dreams crashed like waves through the night, some more violent than others. Catherine met me in one dream. We stood in Kikin Hall, beneath the gilded arches and bright frescos, in the place her husband, Peter, had once had a servant whipped for leaving a clod of dirt on the marble floor. She kept trying to tell me something, but I couldn't hear it above the screams of slaughter. When I looked out the window, I saw men with sharp knives cutting the throats of lambs.

  In another dream, I traversed the many hallways of the hut, opening strange doors at random. I was looking for something, or something was looking for me. I couldn't be sure, but I knew that when it found me, all things would end.

  But these dreams were a mere sideshow to the main event. I experienced them like a passenger on a train observing the countryside.

  When I saw crimson blots in the pristine snow at my feet, I realized I was awake in my dream. The bitterly cold landscape swirled with frigid winds. I pulled the fur-edged cloak around my shoulders, cursing its thinness.

  Ahead, the hut was crouched over the snow, its yellow claws digging into the hardpack. The light was dim, and I sensed something on the other side, something I had no desire to see, but as it was with dreams, you couldn't really control them once you were inside.

  My footsteps crunched as I followed the beads of blood. The snow was a ready canvas, absorbing the vital fluid with frightening ease.

  When the blotches grew bigger, my insides screamed not to continue, but my feet refused to listen. Rounding the hut, I found the source of the blood. Bodies were strewn about, snow drifting against them, turning their wounds pink.