The columns were crowned by a decorative tower with two arched windows deeply set like frowning eyes, but the walls beneath them were windowless and bare. A pole rose in front with a scrap of cloth fluttering at its top, what must have once been a flag. The slap of rope on metal made a dreary sound.
At the base of the flagpole stood a gentler carving, out of place with the fortress itself. A granite cube with floral corners bore a sculpture of a man and a woman. The man hunched over with his head bowed, one hand covering his eyes while the other rested tenderly on the shoulder of the woman. She knelt beside him, leaning against his thigh and gazing at the doors. The man was dressed in the silver tunic of the machine masters, while the woman’s smock hung loosely from her shoulders, ragged and worn. I stared at their stony faces and recognized them—a grieving earth mother and mentor.
“A tribute to the dreamers,” Kara said. Then more softly, “Crafted by an IB. We have no artists. You’ll see more of their works inside.”
I begged Kara to join us, to guide us the first few steps, but she declined.
Instead, she crouched at the side of the path and picked a handful of heather. “While Zachariah healed, he wrote stories about the new greenie custom of placing flowers where the lost ones lie. I know such an act is... ishkabibble. The dead have no eyes to see or nose to smell. Neither do those who dwell inside the mountain, but with the dreamers nothing can be certain. What if they discovered a new way to touch the physical world, or still recalled the glory of a flower?” She handed me the heather. “For my parents, if you find them.”
Nathaniel and I embraced Kara, grasped hands, and stepped before the stone guards.
The red beam flashed, scanning us from head to toe. A moment later, the doors groaned and swung wide.
***
The doors shut behind us, and the natural light dimmed.
I waited for the entry chamber to brighten on its own, but no light came. When my eyes adjusted, I realized the space we’d entered was not quite dark. In place of lamps recessed along the edges of the wall, this room was lit in its center by the glow from what appeared to be wriggling snakes floating on water and rising up as if to greet us.
I fell back a step, but as I gaped, the snakes became more plant than animal. Multi-colored, rotating lights above had created the illusion of motion, causing a flickering of both plants and their reflections. The plants themselves lay stiff and still, none so much as quivering in the breeze I made as I wandered past.
I reached out to touch the glowing garden, as I’d seen Nathaniel do years before when we’d first encountered the screens in the keep, and my fingertip brushed the nearest object, a serpentine figure that writhed and rose to what looked like a snake head. It felt cold and hard, a familiar sensation. I flicked my fingernail against the surface, and it clinked and chimed like a finely tuned bell—the sound of glass. Then I bent low and peered into the water, trying to pierce the inky darkness to its bottom. My own reflection stared back from an unyielding surface.
I reached out to touch it, but Nathaniel stayed my hand. “Remember the lesson we learned in the keep, how the elders in the darkness created a liquid that burned, a kind of a weapon. What if this is another defense like the stone statues, a trap to protect this place from intruders?”
He set down the pack and withdrew the electric torch the mentor had lent him. Its beam flickered over the water and flashed back brightly. He flipped the torch around and tried to dip its metal end into the surface, but it hit with a clank, causing no ripple. The water was not water at all, but a hardened material.
“A polished table top,” I said.
Nathaniel set the torch aside and waved broadly to encompass the whole display. “But for what purpose?”
With my fear under control, I observed the scene with fresh eyes. The black surface mirrored the glow of the glass garden and highlighted the shifting shapes and colors of the plants.
“To reflect the light,” I said. “To make it more beautiful. Kara told us we’d find more greenie craft inside. This must be another form of their art.”
I circled the display twice, admiring its charm, but also putting off the next challenge in our quest.
At last I turned to Nathaniel and sighed. “Time to move on.”
I was equally unprepared for what I found in the next chamber, not a temple to the gods, but a temple built by the gods themselves. Above me loomed a dome so high, the tallest building in Temple City would have been lost beneath it. Upon its broad expanse, stars flickered and folds of shimmering light rippled across a man-made spangled sky.
On a recessed ledge that circled the dome, statues of giants stood, their arms upraised, seemingly bearing the weight of the universe. I paced around the chamber counting them, seven in all, each distinct. Some had lavish locks, others were bald. Some were clean shaven, others had beards. Three were elders in flowing robes, but the four youngest appeared naked as the day of their birth. Their marble muscles bulged taut and tense beneath their burden.
Here was the opposite of what the earth mother preached—not the earth sustaining its people, but men supporting the heavens.
“But where are the dreamers?” I said.
Nathaniel pointed. “Remember our lessons.”
I followed his gesture. Between two of the statues, a narrow stairway spiraled up around the foundation of the dome behind the statues. At its top sat the source of the light in the heavens, an enormous jewel, tapered like a candle flame, with dozens of glittering facets, a crystalline teardrop revolving in a vat of liquid.
I gaped, recalling a similar image from the mentor’s holos. What else had we learned in that lesson? Nathaniel continued to point until I remembered. Half-hidden behind the jewel, an entrance opened to the final chamber.
I stared at the flight of steps and shuddered, my feet welded to the floor, but Nathaniel blew out his cheeks and set off without hesitation.
From halfway up, he called to me. “This is the way to the dreamers. What are you waiting for?”
I placed my boot gingerly on the first step, as if testing whether it would support my weight, though Nathaniel was nearly twice my size. The entire staircase was made of blackened oak, with broad steps that showed no wear and had been crafted too solid to creak underfoot. I started to climb, gripping the metal handrail and stopping every few seconds to check my surroundings.
At the landing on top, a plain door beckoned, with no numbered stars to unlock it and no stone guards blocking our way. Much like the doors in the keep, this one slid open as soon as we approached.
On its far side lay a round windowless chamber covered by a more modest dome. Dozens of arches had been cut into the circular wall, each decorated to look like the rising sun. Beneath each arch nestled a cradle and, within it, a coffin-like container.
I needed no prodding from Nathaniel to recall what they were.
The cocoons of the dreamers.
Chapter 25 – The Chamber of Dreams
I spun around, eyeing the cocoons.
Here dwelled the elite, those who had advanced knowledge further in their lifetimes than perhaps in all of human history, those who had melded their minds with machines and had reached further than the stars, striving for immortality.
What had become of them now?
Despite all my training, I struggled to slow my breathing. My nostrils burned from the metallic odor I’d smelled in the mentor’s chamber. A chill stung my eyes, making them tear. I wiped away the mist with the heel of my hand but saw no more clearly. The persistent haze dwelled not in my vision but in the scene before me. A pale blue fog swirled around each cocoon, like the wraith of its occupant trying to escape, or the stirrings of unfulfilled dreams.
I startled to a rattle from overhead. A sleeping sparrow in the rafters had woken to my footsteps and now flapped its wings, sending a shower of dust drifting down upon me.
I shook it off. “Are they—?” The words stuck in my throat.
“We’ll soon find o
ut.” Nathaniel approached a cocoon. “Just like the holo in our lessons. A small window where the face should be.”
“Can you see...?”
“Too much fog.”
He leaned in to rub the glass clear with the elbow of his tunic but quickly pulled away.
“What?” I said.
“Too cold.”
He switched on the electric torch, checked its beam by shining the light in his own eyes, and aimed it at the face of the dreamer. His eyes widened as he gazed through the window.
I crept closer, trying to breathe normally, and whispered between pants. “What’s inside?”
His mouth opened, but no words emerged.
I eased the torch from his grip, and shined it on the window.
Withered cheeks looked flush with blood, but the chest showed no signs of movement. The man or woman inside lay still as the corpse at a Little Pond funeral, but without the forced smile... or the love of family and friends.
I returned the torch to Nathaniel. “We should open it to be certain.”
He stood there, waiting for me, as if the chill from the cocoon had frozen him in place.
I fought to stay calm as childhood nightmares raged through my mind, outrageous tales spun by older children to frighten the young, of the dead clawing their way out of their graves to torment the living.
The mentor had trained us for this, driven his lessons into our brains until we could recite them in our sleep, and now I knew why. I scanned the side of the cocoon, and a panel with buttons peeked out from behind an opaque cover. I waved my hand over the cover and watched it dissolve.
Breathe in, breathe out.
My mind steadied while I counted the buttons, but my heart raced as if intent on proving I was alive. What else had the mentor said?
Concentrate, Orah.
He’d said the third from the left would open the cocoon.
My finger hovered. I pressed.
The cover of the cocoon gave a loud hiss and lifted slowly, just as it had in the holos. I followed its rise, never glancing down until I heard Nathaniel gasp.
Inside lay parchment hands, yellow and knobby, and leathery skin—not like that of a human, but pock-marked like the carcass of a chicken with its feathers newly plucked, as if the dreamer had devolved over thousands of years into some creature of the darkness.
Nathaniel rested a hand on my shoulder. “That solves the first part of the puzzle. These bodies have dwelled in this state for too long. They’ll never sustain life again.”
“But what of their minds? Time to find out. But first—”
I pushed the button again and the cover of the cocoon settled back into place. Then I placed Kara’s handful of heather on top. Could this be one of her parents? It hardly mattered at this point. I turned my back on the decaying dreamer and searched for the control platform.
Nothing.
I circled the chamber, starting along the wall and then sliding inward in ever smaller loops. At last, I calmed myself enough to remember the mentor’s words.
Despite their love of science, the dreamers appreciated a touch of whimsy. You’ll find that touch wherever you go inside the mountain. In a nod to magic, they’ve hidden the controls. To make them appear, you must....
I struggled with the memory. What was it he said?
...stand on the brass sun and raise your arms to the heavens as if in prayer. The machines will detect your motion and....
I dashed to the center of the room. On the floor, at the exact middle of the circle, a brass image of the sun had been inlaid in the stone. I shuffled over until both feet covered the orb, with the rays radiating out on all sides. Then feeling slightly foolish, I gazed up to the dome and raised my arms overhead, as the vicars had taught me, with palms facing out.
The space before me quivered and firmed, and the control panel appeared. Of course. The machine masters knew how to control the basic elements of matter. They’d learned to synthesize food and make bones grow. How simple to synthesize this panel. Yet only someone privy to the secret would find it.
The air above the panel shimmered. I held my breath and hoped for a holo, some friendly helper to guide me along, but no helper appeared. Instead, an image glowed before me, a field flush with flowers in bloom, blazing gold, but also yellow, red, green, and seemingly every shade in between—a sea of color floating beneath the bluest of skies. The blossoms waved in the breeze and sparkled where the sun caught their tips. In the distance, a lake reflected the blue of the sky.
An imagined setting, or the path up the mountain before the eruption? Whichever, it thrilled my senses, the most beautiful place I’d ever seen.
Suddenly I understood what had drawn the elite to the dream, why it had tugged at their souls no matter how much they fought it. Perhaps they pushed it away at first, wary of the risk, but it snuck past every barrier they put up, creeping around the edges of the curtains they drew against it like the rays of the rising sun. For the dream offered something more than immortality; it offered the power to make all of nature a palette onto which they could paint scenes like this.
I shook off the mood—no time to fall under its spell—tore my eyes away from the display, and focused on the controls.
Again, I understood why the mentor had drilled us for so many hours. Though the dreamers could manipulate machines with their minds, they’d made provisions for mere mortals like me. Yet their controls were complex. The panel I’d studied so often now spread before me while the blood pulsed through my temples. I tried to focus, to recall what I’d been taught.
A map of the chamber showed the cocoons, those in use and those few still vacant. Below the map, two timers flashed zero in bright red numbers—the first to set a delayed start of the dream, and the other for its duration.
To the right of the timers, a series of holos projected from the panel—buttons and levers and gauges. The mentor claimed we needed to worry about only three: the time of duration; the lever to start the dream; and in case of an unforeseen emergency, the controls to end it. This last consisted of two buttons on either side, spread so far apart I’d need to stretch to press both at the same time. Everything else would be automatic.
Nathaniel came to my side and stared over my shoulder. He pointed at the circle of cocoons. “Just as the mentor said. Most in muted gray, showing they’re occupied, but a few blinking green, which means... they’re available and beckoning.”
Before I could stop him, he reached out and touched one.
A whirring echoed off the dome. I glanced up, and a shudder ran down my spine. Along the far wall, the lid of a cocoon had lifted. An invitation to the dream...or a resting place for eternity?
My mouth went dry as cotton, and I had to swallow before speaking, not wishing to show my fear. “I’ll set the timer.”
I wiggled my fingers over the second display. The numbers scrolled and stopped at three hundred seconds, the five minutes the mentor had recommended.
“The duration of the dream.” Nathaniel eyed the first timer, still reading zero. “No need to set the delay. You can pull the start lever once I’m settled inside.”
“You mean once I’m settled.” I stretched wide, pointing to the two buttons on either side. “If something goes wrong, press both of these at the same time to release me from the dream. Use them only if—”
He grasped me by the wrists and spun me around to face him. “You’ll be at the controls. I’ll be the one in the dream.”
At once, I pictured the death bed of my father, the glassy-eyed stare, the hand that would no longer grasp mine. My eyes filled. “I won’t let you. I won’t be the one who stands by to watch you....”
He took a long breath and stared up at the false heaven. “Do you remember that time on the trail to the keep, high above the ravine, when our path was blocked by the boulder?”
Not the argument I expected. I nodded.
“Do you remember how I held the rope for you, lest you should fall?”
“Yes. When
my turn came, you tossed the rope away and crossed without my support. I was furious....” My voice trailed off, fearing where his argument might lead.
“I did that because you lacked the strength to support my weight. If I fell, I’d bring you down with me.”
“What has that to do with—?”
“I was more able to keep you from falling. Now, you’re more able to release me from the dream. You were always the more focused student. My mind wandered during those long sessions with the mentor. What if I forget some detail? What if I stand at the controls and my mind goes blank, and you become trapped in the dream.” He swept his hand across the controls. “This is the rope. You are the strongest. You belong here. I’m the one who should enter the dream. It’s the best chance we have.”
I took several deep breaths to stop my trembling, my terror that he might be right. “I’d happily trust my life with you, rather than—”
He drew me close, and the trembling stilled.
I embraced him and held on tight. “I wish we could go back to Little Pond.”
“So do I, but that’s not one of our choices. We’ve always chosen the path most likely to keep us together. You led us to the keep. You planned the revolution. I built the boat, but it was you who guided us across the sea. You’re the one best suited to lead me out of the dream. I’m safer in your hands than you are in mine.”
I slowly shook my head, then twisted away and dashed to the open cocoon.
He caught me, lifted me off the ground and gently set me back in front of the control panel. “So I haven’t convinced you. No matter. You may be the most strong-minded, but I’m still the most strong-armed, and I’ll use that strength to keep you from the cocoon, if need be. You have two choices: let me be the one to enter the dream, or we abandon the dreamers.”
The Stuff of Stars (The Seekers Book 2) Page 17