The Queen of Dreams (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 6)

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  "Forget it," I said.

  Nasrine grimaced and sent another jet of flame backwards. It grazed the Bandersnatch's shoulder. The creature surged forward again, cutting the distance between us in half.

  Its hot breath washed over our backs. I smelled the rotten flesh stuck between its teeth. It roared and I almost fell.

  "How do we forget it?" asked Nasrine, in desperation.

  "Imagine we're just running, not being chased, but running because we can. That we're running through a forest on a lovely road, in a place without fear," I said.

  The Bandersnatch snapped at our heels. I yelped and tried to concentrate on my vision.

  I imagined the feel of cool air on my skin, sweaty from effort. I let the burn in my legs carry me.

  Without turning my head, I could tell the creature had fallen back.

  We ran through the empty space of the grand room. The more we ran, the further the Bandersnatch fell behind. When we could no longer hear its thunderous feet, I motioned Nasrine to stop running, not that we could continue much more.

  I saw hints of fear on her brow and grabbed her by the shoulders.

  "Think about a wall right ahead," I said. "And on that wall is a passage that leads to stairs. Imagine that. Concentrate on that and that alone."

  The faint vibrations in the floor distracted me, but I focused on what I had just told Nasrine. We both closed our eyes, despite the approaching monster.

  I thought hard on that wall, that passageway, and those stairs.

  Then I grabbed Nasrine's hand and marched forward. When the wall appeared out of the gloom, I let out the breath I'd been holding. To our right was a gap in the wall, and after twenty feet, we found a stairway going up.

  "Will this ever end?" gasped Nasrine as we reached the top. "If just one more thing..."

  Visions of the bloody snow returned. I sensed a hastening towards that end, with no way to stop it.

  "We need to find—"

  No sooner had the words left my lips than Benjamin Franklin came rushing around the corner, hair askew, jacket torn and blood running off his chin. He did a double take when he saw Nasrine.

  "How did you—" he said, upon reaching us, and then looked back down the hall. "Forget it. Run!"

  His pursuer appeared a second later. The tall, white-haired Lord of Biscay slapped his hands on either wall, as if he could sunder the hut in two and knock us from our feet. His eyes glowed with crimson, unleashed rage.

  As I turned to run, I realized Nasrine was moving towards Santiago.

  "What are you doing? Run," I said to her.

  Her bronze skin glowed with flame, the simple stole she wore crisping at the edges.

  "I'm sick of running," she said. "You run. I'll deal with him."

  "You don't have to do that," I said as Santiago advanced.

  Her skin erupted in flame. A cloak of black smoke surrounded her. When Nasrine spoke, her voice sounded like the roar of a bonfire. "I didn't like him anyway."

  Ben and I fled the hallway. Shouts of rage and flame echoed after us.

  "How did you get back?" asked Ben, leading me.

  He stopped at a crossway, indecision plain on his face.

  "Too long to explain. Where are we going?" I asked.

  "Back to the music room," he said. "Something attacked Brassy, and I was going for bandages when Santiago caught me."

  I grabbed Ben's hand. "Close your eyes and think about the music room."

  He glanced over his shoulder. The battle raged behind us. "Are you sure that's wise?"

  "Trust me," I said and closed my eyes.

  I pictured the octagonal room filled with instruments. I imagined the sweet sounds bouncing through the air. When I opened my eyes, the hallway had changed. We stood in front of a door.

  Ben stared incredulously. "How did you do that?"

  I went into the room. A pistol fired, the shot whistling right over my head. I threw myself to the ground. Ben landed right beside me.

  "I'm sorry!" exclaimed Brassy from the corner of the room. She'd built up a wall using the larger drums and percussion instruments. "I thought you might have been one of the monsters running around."

  After dusting myself off, I approached Brassy's defenses. She'd placed the jingly instruments in a ring around her drum wall.

  "Something unseen attacked her when we first came in the room," said Ben. "I might have shot it, but we never saw any blood. Are you well, Brassy?"

  "The bleeding's stopped, but I feel a little sick. I'm not poisoned, am I?" she asked with trepidation.

  Ben gave her a cheerful wink. "We'll get you through this. Don't worry."

  Brassy returned a cautious smile and settled down behind the drums. She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

  When Ben turned towards me, the concern on his brow was as heavy as a hundred stones.

  "What happened at the time pools?" I asked.

  "We watched your progress from the viewscreens until they went blank. When Morwen turned to us, her eyes were yellow brown. At that moment, Santiago came rushing into the room. Brassy and I only escaped because he attacked Morwen first. What happened to you?" he asked.

  I gave a brief description of the events, including our encounter with Siobhan in the depths of the hut. It took Ben a minute to absorb it all, but eventually he came around to the idea.

  "So while only a day has passed for us, you and Nasrine experienced a couple of months in that place," he said.

  I nodded.

  "And you say she's a Jinn?" he asked.

  Another nod.

  He shook his head. "Everything's gone to hell, and I'm not even sure where Morwen's taking us. Could it get any worse?"

  He caught my grimace.

  Under my breath, I said, "Before this trip, I had a prophecy. One that I thought we could avoid."

  "But it's coming true," he said. "How much worse is it going to get?"

  "In my vision, everyone was dead in the snow," I said.

  A smile tugged on the corner of his lips. "I don't see any snow, so we should be safe."

  I shook my head and sat down on a bench. "I thought we'd avoid the prophecy as long as everyone wasn't in the hut at the same time. But we decided to take Nasrine and William to the shield, and then Brassy stowed away."

  "You'll figure out a way to turn it to our advantage like you did with the plague of monsters," he said.

  "With everyone dead?"

  His shrug said that he had little optimism left and that I wasn't helping.

  "Divide the problem into many parts," he said.

  I held up my fingers and ticked them off as I noted each item. "Morwen's going mad and there's no way to fix it, Santiago's out of his cage and enraged, Nasrine has turned into a Jinn, Brassy's sick, and we're stuck here. There's also a Bandersnatch loose in the lower levels and something invisible up here."

  "What's the problem that we must deal with?" he asked.

  "Morwen's madness," I said. "Siobhan said that we should flee."

  "Flee where?" Ben asked.

  "Right," I said with a sigh. "Which is why we have to deal with her first."

  "Did Siobhan say we could do anything to fix her?" he asked.

  "Cut her away like moldy bread," I said. "Which is impossible."

  Ben paced back and forth with his hands clasped behind his back. "Isn't that what Neva wanted to do to Rowan and Morwen with the Blade of Time? Tis a shame that the blade went missing along with Neva."

  The reason for the familiar vibration came to me. "The blade's in the hut."

  "It is? Where?" he asked.

  "Down below. I passed a room and felt its touch. Even Siobhan mentioned something about it when she talked about the weight of time. There could be no other explanation," I said.

  "Maybe it fell back into the hut when Neva disappeared, and Morwen put it behind a locked door for our protection," he said.

  "Either way," I said, "I need to retrieve it."

  "Do you wa
nt me to go with you?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "Stay with Brassy. Keep her safe. If you can, find Nasrine. She can help us when we need to confront Morwen, but don't put yourself in danger with Santiago."

  He winked at me, pulling a hint of a smile onto my lips. "Don't get yourself killed."

  "You too," I said, trying to match his buoyancy, but the visions of the bloody snow were right on the surface.

  "We'll survive this, Katerina Dashkova. I promise you. I have faith you'll figure out a way," he said.

  "I hope so," I said.

  The door closed behind me with a satisfying click, but I wished that I was on the other side of it. The hallways were quiet, except for the drumming of my heartbeat.

  I went in search of the Blade of Time.

  Chapter Thirty

  Shadows danced across the walls as I descended into the lower levels, my hand outstretched and lit with sorcerous flame. A chill wind teased my hair.

  At the bottom, the air absorbed my footfalls as if I shouldn't exist. But I placed the featureless door into my mind, concentrating so that I might find it, or it find me.

  After a few turns, I entered a great room. A low growl reached me from across the emptiness, but I pushed away my fear and focused on the task, using the right wall as my guide.

  I'd hoped my destination would reveal itself, as it had before, but the hut seemed to resist my efforts to suss out its secrets. I came to the tall archway of glistening ebony stone. As I passed by it, I heard a steady heartbeat emanating from the barrier.

  A little bit curious, I reached out and touched the stone. A tendril of prophecy uncoiled, flashing a vision through my head. A woman draped in shadow. A broken promise. A sky filled with ravens.

  I knew not what they meant, so I pressed forward. The barrier should have been clue enough for me not to interfere. If the sisters of the hut had deemed to sequester it behind such a formidable barrier, I should leave it alone.

  As I made my way around the room, a powerful dread seized me with impunity, shaking my limbs until my teeth were chattering. The flame on my hand went out, plunging me into darkness.

  I cried out, but no sound came.

  Like a candle through the fog, a presence surged forward.

  "Catherine," I said.

  "Kat," she whispered. "Go back. You're nearing the queen's realm. Go back before it's too late."

  "I can't stop it," I said, reaching out to her.

  The vision of Catherine stayed out of reach.

  "Then refuse her, no matter the pain. No matter the price," she said.

  The spirit of Catherine faded once more, leaving me alone. The flame on my hand burst into existence.

  "Was that real?" I asked myself.

  Shaken by the appearance of Catherine, I pressed on.

  My fingernails caught the edge of the featureless door a few minutes later. The previous encounter had been in a hallway. This time, the door was off the grand room.

  The vibration made my teeth hurt, even without putting my hand on the door.

  "How do I get in?" I asked. "There are no locks to pick, no handles to tug."

  I pounded on the surface with the meat of my fist. It echoed into the darkness, and I heard another low growl.

  "Maybe the Bandersnatch would like to help me. Wouldn't that be nice. How else am I supposed to get through here? If only Siobhan hadn't left so suddenly. I could use her now," I said.

  Someone cleared her throat behind me.

  "I came back as fast as I could," said Siobhan.

  The former sister of the hut was standing a few feet away. She looked different from last time. She wore a pale sleeveless robe. The carved beetle necklace hung around her neck and her cheeks weren't as emaciated.

  "How did you get here?" I asked, wondering if I was dreaming.

  The first time we'd met, she'd been surprised by my presence. This time she stared at me in a familiar way, though her gaze was sober, almost grim.

  "Another version of Franklin told me about what you're trying to do. I came to help," she said.

  "Another version...? Nevermind." I shook my head. "You can get through the door?"

  "I can. I even know what you're trying to do. You're going to try and kill Morwen with the Blade of Time," she said.

  "But if you already know this, does that mean you've already seen it happen?" I asked.

  "No. This is the point in time I'm stuck. I can get back into the hut, back to this time, right at the cusp of victory, but it never works. I hate to say this, but I've been through here a dozen times. It doesn't work out, no matter what we try," she said.

  "You've been here before?" I asked.

  "Other universes, just like this one, but made slightly different. Not enough to notice. The further out you go, the less the similarities, and things break down. But this is the last one. If it doesn't work here, then I'm stuck in that place for all eternity," she said.

  "Stuck? I don't understand," I said.

  "The time pools. That's where Morwen tricked me. Where she stole my place in the hut. I had to bind myself there to survive. I've been there ever since, going through portals, trying to find a way out, to find a way back into the hut. But this is my last chance," she said.

  "What happens if we fail?" I asked.

  She looked away as if it hurt too much. "I've seen it afterwards. I find you on the tundra of a place called Siberia. Dead. Bodies frozen. Too hard even for the scavengers of that place to eat."

  She moved to the door and placed her hand against it. The black surface disappeared as if it'd never been there. The vibration increased in frequency.

  In a small room beyond sat a familiar wooden case. It was about five feet long and a foot wide.

  Siobhan motioned for me to retrieve it, a wry smile on her lips.

  "In one version, I killed you and took the blade, thinking I could eliminate Morwen myself, but as soon as I touched the hilt, I was sent back to my time," she said. "Take it and go forth. I can do nothing to help you."

  The wooden box opened to my touch, revealing a ghostly web of light holding the Blade of Time.

  As soon as my fingers touched the hilt, the vibration went away.

  The blade strained my arm as I marched through the grand hall, through the passages, up the stairs, and back to the upper levels of the hut.

  Morwen Hightower faced away, staring at the blank wall. She wore glass bottles on her back. The bottles swirled with faint gasses. Her head tilted—maybe she'd heard the vibration from the sword.

  "You're here to kill me, aren't you?" asked Morwen. "I knew I should have thrown that thing away. A nearby sun might have worked."

  I took a step forward, expecting Morwen to spin around and blast me with a magical mist that would harden me into stone.

  "You killed the original Morwen and took her place," I said.

  "What did you think of her? I'm sure you don't feel the same way about her that I did, still do, in fact. I was her guardian for a long time, and she did not treat me kindly," she said.

  My gut twisted for a second. Morwen seemed unsurprised by my appearance, or my task.

  She turned around slowly. When I saw her eyes, I gasped. They were sickly yellow brown. Her smile was rotten. The stench of decay was thick in the room.

  "Did you really think you could come upon me unaware in my own hut? And after I take that from you, I will banish her from this existence once and for all. No more peering over my shoulder, wondering if she'll figure out a way back into the hut," she said.

  I took a step forward.

  "You're sick, Morwen. The Yolgothi madness has you. You're a danger to us all. I'm sorry," I said, thinking of the bloody snow.

  She crooked her arm and adjusted knobs along the brass tube. When I took another step, she pointed the end at me.

  "I'll take you to Russia," she said. "After I kill her."

  I lifted the blade higher.

  Morwen shot a white mist at me. It surrounded me and I felt my skin
harden. The fog was condensing around me. I was trapped.

  Then the vibration in the sword increased and the dust cracked and fell to the floor as a white powder.

  Morwen frowned and adjusted the knobs some more. She sprayed me again, but this time, the Blade of Time absorbed it before it reached me.

  "I'm sorry, Morwen."

  I backed her against the wall. I lifted the blade.

  A sense of disorientation hit me. My knees weakened.

  From beyond the hut, I felt a powerful presence take hold.

  I blinked and was somewhere else.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I stood in St. George's Hall in the Winter Palace. The white Carrara marble pillars glistened in the light of a dozen chandeliers. The throne sat on a dais covered in crimson. Upon the back wall, the double eagle spread its wings. Russia triumphant. Russia reborn.

  Footsteps on the marble spun me around. Catherine approached.

  Not the old Catherine that I'd argued with, or the young Catherine I fell in love with, but Catherine a few years after she seized power. She wore a cream dress with a rose-red overcoat and a royal blue sash across her chest.

  "Greetings, Katerina Dashkova," said a voice that was not Catherine's.

  When I gave a second look, I noticed the eyes were different. They were cloudy, almost translucent. The voice had been ethereal.

  "Who are you?" I asked.

  The not-Catherine raised her eyebrow.

  "The Queen of Dreams?" I asked.

  "That wasn't so hard, was it? You were warned that I was coming," she said.

  "How do you wear her appearance? Or is this merely a dream?" I asked.

  The Queen of Dreams spun around with her arms up, letting the silken dress whisk around her body until she faced me again. "Is this not your Catherine?" She laughed. "That was the price of immortality. To lend me her form."

  "What are you?"

  The queen smirked. "Some might call me a lich, though that word would not properly do me justice. I am as I am called: The Queen of Dreams. I own the In-Between lands, the forgotten places, the stillborns, the places that never were. You see, when you dream, sometimes your mind visits these places. That's why they seem so real, because they are. They're the universe next door, the one so close to yours that sometimes when you sleep, it overlaps."