all on impact. A feeling of fresh dread swept over him.
What if I hit the bottom? he thought.
He spread his arms and legs as wide as he could, and with relief he felt the drag of the water slowing him down. Beneath him yawned an immeasurable blackness, waiting to swallow him up in its vast, gaping maw. What lay beyond, he dared not imagine. He kicked out with his legs, which were finally in their rightful place beneath him, and at last managed to arrest his descent. But he was still moving.
Currents fought over him like hyenas over a carcass, pushing him this way and that, disorientating him and inexorably driving him back towards the waiting rocks. In a few seconds he would be dashed against them, pinned by the overwhelming forces battering his body until he suffocated. Then he would be left to the fish.
He was lost.
Or was he?
Kicking hard with his feet again, he righted himself from the ungainly position he had been thrown into and found that he could use his arms to maintain his attitude. He kicked again and was launched forwards with impossible ease. He found himself able to glide through the currents like a fish, with the water seemingly having little effect on him. With renewed hope and vigour, he aimed for the surface and kicked hard. Its rippling belly lay enticingly before him; close now, just a few kicks away. With one last titanic effort he reached it, bursting through triumphantly into glorious, dazzling sunlight.
Slowly Ryan awoke. A groggy mist lay across his vision and he rubbed his eyes to try and clear them. His hands felt cold and hard against his face. Away to his right came the sound of trickling water.
It must be raining outside, he thought. Mum had better not make me walk to school today.
He rolled onto his side and immediately recoiled as something sharp prickled against his face. Had he left something on his pillow last night? He squinted in the half-light to see what it was, but the shape was indistinct. He reached across to turn on his bedside light but his hand was met with more prickles. Confused, he sat up, and as he did so something brushed against the top of his head.
This is getting weird, he thought. Clearly I’m not in my bed. Maybe I’m on the floor.
He reached out tentatively to his left and found the prickly thing again. It was a bush.
I don’t remember having one of those in my room, he thought.
He clambered to his feet and heard the crackle of twigs and leaves beneath him.
I must be still dreaming. But what is this place?
He looked up and saw hints of moonlight filtering through a thick canopy of trees. Reasoning that the sound of running water was coming from a river rather than a window pane, he set out towards it in the hope that the trees would thin out close to its edge and he would be able to get his bearings.
The ground was thick with brush and sloped steeply away to his left into a jungle of indeterminable size. There were many trees grouped in thick clumps, with vines entwining their trunks to form an impassable barrier. Ryan followed the only way it was possible for him to go, and within a few metres the watercourse appeared. It came tumbling over a series of rocky ledges, skipping away merrily down the slope. The moonlight shimmered in its many facets, and had he been inclined to look closer he would have seen something deeper and more mysterious within its waters. But Ryan did not notice. He was standing by the water’s edge looking out over one of the most astonishing vistas he had ever laid eyes upon.
The trees had opened out to reveal a vast crater several miles across. He was standing about halfway up one of its sides, and even by the light of the moon he could make out other streams and rivers carving their way down its heavily-forested flanks. The top of the crater did not appear to be an abrupt edge, but rather a smooth, gradual transition from a flat, unseen land beyond. It was like a great whirlpool in the earth, getting steeper and steeper, until all the rivers were left with nothing but gravity to guide them and they cascaded into a huge circular lake in the centre. It was a breathtaking sight.
For many minutes Ryan stood taking it in. It was as if he had stumbled back into pre-history and he could imagine all manner of strange and marvellous beasts roaming this lost world. It came as quite a surprise when voice broke through the chatter of the water.
‘Nice view, isn’t it?’
Ryan turned to see a strange-looking creature standing on the far side of the stream. Half man, half bull – like the Minotaurs of myth – he peered at Ryan with keen yellow eyes that stood out dramatically against the wan shades of night.
‘Not bad at all,’ Ryan replied, thankful for confirmation that he was still dreaming.
‘What brings you here?’ asked the bull-man.
Ryan was taken aback.
‘I don’t know,’ he said frowning. ‘I don’t even know where ‘here’ is. I presume it is a place my mind has just conjured up. Last thing I knew, I was swimming for my life. And now I’m here.’
‘Interesting,’ said the bull-man, striding across a number of stepping-stones until he was only a few feet away. He was enormous in stature, the blackened tips of his horns towering over Ryan, yet the boy did not feel intimidated.
‘Who are you?’ Ryan asked.
‘My name is Damocles, and you are right and wrong about this place. Yes, you are dreaming. But no, you have not imagined it. This land existed before you got here and it will continue to exist when you are gone. Welcome to Rasputin’s realm.’
‘Rasputin?’ repeated Ryan.
‘He is the creator of all you can see; the trees, the rocks, the dreams flowing by us now.’
‘Dreams?’ said Ryan sharply. Something Daisy Rose had said to him resonated in the back of his mind.
‘That is correct. This is the place where all your dreams play out. As the waters ebb and flow, so too do the tales held within them. Every possibility is played out as they travel from the great sea at the edge of this land, to the lake in the centre that you see now. Look closely at the water and you’ll see some passing us by.’
Ryan did so, and the strange texture to the water, which he had dismissed as a trick of the light, turned out to be a multitude of moving images flowing by, like fluid TV screens depicting what was going on inside.
‘I don’t get it,’ said Ryan bluntly. ‘Am I looking into people’s minds?’
He found the images mesmerising. It was like watching fence posts out of a car window; you knew that loads were passing by, but it was impossible to focus on one for more than a second.
‘In a manner of speaking,’ replied Damocles. ‘I know it must seem strange to you.’
‘But if these are all dreams of people who are sleeping, am I awake or asleep myself?’
‘Okay, okay, this is going to require some explanation, and I’m probably not the right person to give it to you. Rasputin is keen to see you, and if he can’t set you straight then no-one can.’
‘He knows of me?’ said Ryan, confused.
‘Of course,’ replied the bull-man. ‘He knows everything that goes on here. There are precious few people blessed with the ability to reach this realm, so he insists on meeting each new arrival in person. By your leave, I would like to take you to him.’
Damocles gave a small bow, which still left him more than a head taller than Ryan.
‘Is it far?’ the boy asked.
‘A little way,’ the bull-man replied. ‘You see the tower in the middle of the lake down there?’
He pointed downstream and Ryan saw for the first time the ghostly silhouette of a huge building, its sheer walls rising out of the water as though the land around it had been flooded. Eight equally spaced buttresses protruded into the water, forming a huge star shape, and from deep within the walls rose a gigantic tower. Its tapered octagonal sides were perfectly smooth, and yet they caught little of the moonlight illuminating the rest of the crater. The tower was crowned with a large orb, with spiky protrusions that made it look like a medieval mace. Ryan wondered how he had failed to spot it before.
‘Looks like a bit of a trek,’ he m
used.
‘Fear not,’ said Damocles. ‘I know this land better than anyone, save Rasputin himself. I will lead you there by the swiftest route.’
‘Okay then,’ Ryan shrugged. ‘Take me to your leader.’
Damocles’ eyes narrowed.
‘Right,’ he grunted. He gestured for Ryan to head across the stream and down the far side, keeping out of the trees and following its course as it skipped down the slope.
‘I think I’ve got a friend who’s been here,’ said Ryan conversationally as they went.
‘Really?’ said Damocles, the tone of his gruff voice showing genuine interest.
‘Yeah, she was telling me about it the other day. I thought she was barmy if I’m honest, but I guess now I believe her.’
‘Interesting,’ said the bull-man. ‘And did she describe this place to you? Is that why it seems familiar?’
‘Kind of. She said something about a tower, I think, but I got the impression it was on top of a hill, not down in the middle of a huge hole.’
Ryan suddenly felt the intensity of Damocles’ stare on his back, and he turned to find that the bull-man had stopped a few yards behind and appeared to be deep in thought. There was something in those yellow eyes that Ryan couldn’t quite read.
‘It must have been a misunderstanding,’ Damocles said eventually. ‘As I said; only a select few people are able to find their way here, so it surprises me that you know someone who has. Anyway, it matters not. I’m sure Rasputin took good care of her. Carry
Dreamweavers: Awakening Page 7