“Good. So it’s stuck now. What happens?”
I felt oddly as if I was back in biology class. “It panics. It beats its wings in an attempt to get free, and that gets it stuck even worse.”
Sebastian said very quietly, “It knows where it needs to go, but it has no idea how to get there safely.”
A slight smile appeared. “And what happens because of that?”
“The web is broken.” There was a haunted quality to his voice. “Its strength is compromised.” He paused. “It must be repaired before it can serve his purpose.”
She nodded as she started unloading objects from her bag, arranging them by my side. Three large leather pouches. A machete-like knife. “All the worlds that exist are bound together by a network as fine and as intricate as spider’s web. All living things are a part of it.” She opened the pouches, revealing a different color of sand in each one. “The Shadows are like flies, blundering into that web. They glimpse a bit of its overall pattern and they think that’s enough to guide them, but they don’t understand the true nature of the journey. They try to balance the stress of their passage by adding counterweights, and to some degree that works. But no matter what they add, the web still gets damaged.”
Isaac blinked. “Are you . . . are you saying . . . the only reason the Shadows have to balance crossings the way they do, sending people in both directions, is because they don’t have the information they need to map the trip properly?”
She said it quietly: “Their Gift doesn’t allow them to see the web. That can only be done in dreams, and the dead don’t dream.”
What about Sebastian? I thought suddenly. If he obtained a perfect codex, could he go home safely? From the look on his face, I guessed that he was thinking the same thing. His hand trembled slightly as he handed my drawing back to me. How small and insufficient it seemed, now. So much of it was missing, and what little information it contained was imperfect.
“It’s a starting point,” she said gently, responding to me as if I had spoken aloud. “And you’re not trying to go anywhere in body, so the task isn’t nearly as complicated as it is for them.”
To my surprise, she reached into a pocket of her skirt and took out a small gun, which she put down beside the machete. Startled, I asked, “What’s that for?”
“Protection from those who might follow you into the dream world. Because returning from this journey might not be as easy as just waking up.” She looked up at me. “It’s not a perfect defense, but better than trying to fight them off with your hands. They attacked you physically in the past, so you know they have substance.”
It took me a moment to find my voice. “I thought—I mean, I’m not going anywhere in body, right? I can’t take a gun with me.”
“You will exist in two worlds at once. Anything which is real in this world will be easier to create in the other. So copy these when you get there.” She looked up at me. “Do you know how to use this?”
I swallowed and nodded, thanking God in my heart for the lessons Uncle Julian gave me. Though this promised to be a bit more harrowing than shooting soda cans off a fence.
The last thing the old woman unpacked was a set of three rods with metal bands at the ends, which she screwed together into one long rod. At the end was a pointed blade of black glass. This was all becoming frighteningly real.
“Are we allowed to go with her?” Isaac asked.
She raised an eyebrow as she looked at him. “What makes you think you would be able to?”
“She can come into our dreams. Or maybe bring us into hers, I don’t know. But we’ve done it together.” He looked at me. “Can you take us with you?”
I hesitated, then looked at Dr. Redwind, a question in my eyes. She shrugged. “Who knows? There is no handbook for this kind of thing. You can certainly try.”
I looked at Sebastian; there were conflicting emotions in his eyes. “It’s not safe for you,” I said softly.
“It’s not safe for any of you,” Dr. Redwind pointed out. “But since your bodies won’t actually be leaving this world, Mr. Hayes’ issue shouldn’t be a problem.” She looked at Sebastian. “Yes, I saw the plants die around you.”
I saw a faint flush of shame rise to his cheeks.
“Now sit,” she ordered, pointing to the edge of the circle. “All three of you, if that’s what you want.”
I lowered myself to the ground. Isaac and Sebastian followed suit, one on each side of me. Dr. Redwind set fire to the herb bundles in each of the four bowls, her lips moving slightly as the herbs subsided to smoldering embers. She made no sound, so I couldn’t tell what she was saying. Scented smoke filled the air beneath the canopy, with a different smell coming from each direction. Musky, spicy, floral, woodsy. When all the herb bundles were smoldering, she came back to where we were sitting and set the bags of sand in front of me. “This will help you focus,” she said. “Reproduce the pattern you saw as well as you can.”
I nodded.
As she stepped back I shifted position, so that I was kneeling. I put the drawing down where I could see it, then reached into the nearest pouch; blue-grey sand as fine as talc slipped between my fingers. A tremor of fear ran through me—or was it excitement? I looked up at her. “Do you want to come with us?”
“Someone needs to watch over your bodies,” she said quietly. “Though bear in mind, I will have no power to call you back from this journey. If anything goes wrong, you have to deal with it on your own.”
I nodded. Then, my hand trembling only slightly, I scooped up a bit of sand from the nearest pouch. I held it out the way the avatar had done, testing the texture of the sand between my fingertips, then let it trickle down to the ground in a thin stream. There was no magical glow this time, but it seemed that as each grain settled into position I could feel it connecting to all the others, and even to grains of sand that I couldn’t see, that were somehow part of my pattern as well. Echoes in other worlds, perhaps. I reached for some more sand, hesitated, then took some from another pouch, whose contents were the color of pale coral. More lines. More connections. I didn’t have to look at the sketch anymore; memory of the pattern was coming back to me, and I felt my hand mirroring the gestures the avatar girl had made, each grain of sand cascading down into exactly the same position she had placed it in. The lines were melodies, and as I drew more and more of them, adding in fine details I didn’t even consciously remember, the air surrounding me became filled with music. Sound blended with the scent of herbs and the caress of desert heat on my face, and each note was perfect, each sensation exquisite. I reached for a handful of golden sand and began to lay down a new layer over the old, making my design three dimensional. To the others present it probably seemed I was muddying my pattern, but in my mind’s eye all the layers were distinct, and I could rotate the whole construction in my mind as I willed, adding details wherever they were needed.
I wrapped the music around my companions, drawing them into my pattern, sharing my vision with them. The black plain opened up to us and my sand painting began to blaze with shimmering light, while the universe filled with music, every note of it in perfect balance. Somewhere in the distance my hand was still moving, spilling sand onto the desert floor, but I no longer needed that vehicle. My soul was the sand, my will was the desert, the blood running through my veins was the music—
I’m standing in a small circular clearing in the middle of a field of waist-high grass. Not green grass, like back home, but red as sandstone at its tips, deep crimson in its shadows. Isaac and Sebastian are both beside me, and they seem disoriented. They’re not used to this dream stuff like I am. Overhead I see a swollen red sun hanging in a sickly yellow sky, and my heart skips a beat as I recognize it. We’re here. We made it. We are no longer in the waking world, nor in the dreaming world, but somewhere in between, a special realm that the Dreamwalkers once called home. As I watch, the sky changes colors, the su
n shifting to orange, and then to yellow, the sky shifting to green, then blue. Now we’re standing beneath a sun and a sky that look like Terra Colonna’s. This landscape is responding to me.
So far so good.
Focusing my attention on the ground, I create a trio of weapons to match those Dr. Redwind gave us. They’re much easier to bring into existence than expected, and I give silent thanks for her wisdom as I pick up the revolver. I check to make sure it’s loaded, then create a holster for it. The last task requires more effort than creating the gun itself, a testament to her theory about copying items from the real world. Isaac picks up the machete, while Sebastian takes the spear, holding it in front of him as I imagine he once held his bayonetted musket. His obvious readiness to use it makes me feel a bit more secure.
With all the high grass around I figure we’ll probably lose sight of our arrival point as soon as we start moving, so I create a flagpole with a white banner on top to serve as a landmark. Then, for the first time, I take a good look around. To the north and the west of us, judging direction from the sun, the field of red grass seems to go on forever. To the south there is some kind of tall black hedge extending as far as the eye can see. To the west I see a long, low hill, and I have an odd feeling of déjà vu. Suddenly I realize why it seems so familiar: it’s the same length and proportion as the ridge we rode past in the Badlands . . . and also the hill the avatar girl ran to when I was chasing her. I know where I am!
If I’m right, the changing tower should be right behind that ridge.
I head in that direction, gesturing for the others to join me. The tall grass makes it hard to move quickly, so I concentrate and flatten a narrow strip to serve us as a road. Then I start running. I’m so close to my goal that impatience burns in my veins, but though I keep looking at the hill in hopes of seeing the tower’s summit peeking over it, nothing is visible yet. Soon, I promise myself. Soon.
Suddenly something huge and black bursts out from the grass to my right and barrels straight into me. I’m slammed onto my back with stunning force, and when a massive jaw filled with razor-sharp teeth tries to snap shut like a bear trap on my head, I barely manage to twist out of the way in time. Whatever is trying to bite my head off is immense, and I’m pinned beneath its weight, barely able to breathe. Even as the creature lunges for my neck I feel something stab into my left arm, and all I can do it bring up my other arm to try to protect myself.
Then the massive weight shifts to the left momentarily, and I am able to draw a full breath. I struggle to pull myself out from under the beast, desperate to get free before it pins me down again, but it’s thrashing in rage and snapping at something I can’t see, making escape almost impossible. Finally I manage to get my body free, and I crawl away on my elbows like a soldier trying to stay below the field of fire, trying to get out of range of its massive jaws before it turns its attention back to me. Now I can see the reason it pulled back from me: Sebastian has speared it and is using the long weapon to hold it away from me as I make my escape. The animal is thrashing with such force that the ground shakes beneath me, but Sebastian leans into the spear with all his weight, pinning it to the ground. “Get behind me!” he yells. I somehow manage to get to my feet and sprint to where he’s standing. Gasping for breath, I turn to see what attacked me.
It’s a dog, only ten times larger than any natural dog, with fur as black as pitch and three massive heads. Sebastian has run his spear through its shoulder and into its upper chest, but he must have missed its vital organs, because the beast is still going strong. I see one of its heads turn toward the spear and I realize it’s going to try to bite through the shaft. If those massive jaws split the wood, Sebastian will have no way to keep it from charging us.
But I do.
I pull out my revolver and aim it at the beast, gripping it in both hands like Uncle Julian taught me. But where am I supposed to shoot it? A shot to one of its heads is unlikely to stop it. But then its jaws close around the spear and there’s no more time to strategize. I fire at that head, close to point blank range, the recoil nearly jerking the gun out of my hand. Blood splatters everywhere, but though the head jerks back the creature keeps on struggling. I shoot again and again, trying to hit the heart this time, or at least the place where I think its heart should be. One shot misses completely. Another barely grazes a leg. Then my fourth shot pierces its torso, and the beast howls in fury. I move back while it convulses, black blood pouring out of its chest, while Sebastian strains to hold it in place. The spear is beginning to bend from the stress, and I hold my breath, knowing that it if breaks we will all be in serious trouble. But the shaft holds, and after what seemed like an eternity the creature’s movements finally begin to slow. The head that I shot is hanging limply, and it swings like a pendulum as the beast thrashes desperately, its other two heads still howling. Blood is pooling beneath the massive body, and its struggles are growing weaker by the moment. Then all movement ceases. The only sound left is ringing in my ears from the gunshots.
“Shit,” I gasp. The ringing is so bad I can barely hear myself speak. “What was that thing?”
Sebastian tries to pull his spear out, but it’s stuck in the beast. He walks up to the creature and puts a foot on its shoulder for leverage, to work the weapon free. “Cerberus, I think. Or something that looks a lot like it. Guardian of the underworld.”
My left arm is throbbing. I look down and see a circle of puncture wounds with blood oozing from several of them. One of the heads must have bitten me. “What the hell is a Greek myth doing here?”
“This place created it,” Isaac says. “It’s pulling images from our minds and giving them life. El Malo works the same way.”
“Great,” I mutter. Since when do you know so much about how El Malo works? “Just great.” I concentrate on my punctures, trying to close them, but whatever power allowed me to create our weapons evidently won’t allow me to heal my own wounds. So I create an antibiotic ointment and gauze to protect the wound, hoping that there isn’t some mythical Greek bacteria inside me, that will resist modern treatment. Beyond that, I don’t know what to do.
We start to move again, more cautiously this time, weapons at the ready. The slightest rustling in the grass makes me flinch, and I keep scanning the surrounding terrain for new threats. The black hedge running parallel to our path looks larger than before. Or is it my imagination? I stop for a moment to study it, and yes, it has definitely gotten larger, and it’s also closer to us, enough so that I can see the black vines sprouting from it. Each one is studded with thorns as long as my hand, and they’re moving in our direction. Some of them are snaking down into the depths of the grass, where they can’t be seen. The whole field could be full of them by now.
We start to run, and I pray that we can reach the hill before the vines catch up with us. But we aren’t fast enough. A vine whips out of the grass and wraps itself around Sebastian’s ankle, sending him sprawling. Isaac rushes in and hacks off the end of it with his machete, and thank God, the whole thing stops moving. We help Sebastian to his feet and start running again, but he’s limping now, and the end of the vine is trailing behind him. Another one appears, but this time Isaac is ready for it, and his response is swift and sure. Even as that one is severed, another comes. They’re showing up so fast now that Isaac can barely keep up with them, but somehow we keep going. We literally have no other option.
Then the grass beneath my feet gives way to gravel, and I’m no longer on flat ground, but stumbling up a slope. We’ve reached the ridge! As I work my way uphill I glance behind me to make sure my companions are still with me. They are, and the vines seemed to have stopped at the foot of the slope. Elated, I turn my attention to climbing. Only a few yards more and I’ll be at the spot where I stood in my earlier dream, gazing at the Dreamwalker tower for the first time. I feel the kind of dizzying elation that Edmund Hillary must surely have experienced when he approached the summit of Moun
t Everest. So much hope and fear have been invested in this journey! By the time I reach the top I’m breathless, and I straighten up to take my first look at the magical place I have come so far to find—
—and for a moment I can’t even process what I’m looking at. My mind refuses to accept it.
The other two come up beside me, but I’m barely aware of them. All I can see is the scene spread out before me, more devastating than I could have imagined possible. Hope drains from my soul like blood from a mortal wound. No. Please, God. No. Don’t let it be like this. I fall to my knees, and tears come to my eyes. I don’t want to look at what’s in front of me, but I can’t bring myself to turn away.
Past the hill is a dry lake bed, riddled with cracks and littered with the aged skeletons of tiny fish. In its center is the same black mountain I saw in my dream, the place the avatar ran to for safety. And atop that is rubble. Just rubble. Endless mounds of rubble. Shattered bricks piled high in some places, cascading down the black slope in others. The only thing that is half intact is the broken skeleton of a tower, fire-blackened and hollow. There’s nothing else left.
The Dreamwalker tower is gone.
22
THE TOWER
JESSE
THE UNIVERSE IS A BLACK SEA of hopelessness and I am drowning in it, with no land in sight.
“Jessica . . .”
The Dreamwalker tower is gone. What should I anchor my hopes to now? What quest or location can save me? I’ve exhausted all my options.
“We can’t stay here,” Isaac says.
“He’s right.” Sebastian’s tone is gentle but firm. “We can go forward or back, whichever you want, but we can’t stay here. Eventually the reapers will find us.”
“What’s the point?” I whisper. “They’ll get me no matter where I go. It’s just a question of when.”
He takes my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “The point is that you can’t give in to despair, because when you do that the battle is over and your enemies win. Is that what you want, Jessica? To let your enemies win?”
Dreamweaver Page 20