by Tom Turner
“Charlie!” shouted Rustam, as he tossed his sword.
Charlie caught it mid-slide. He jumped to his feet and, in an almost continuous motion, swung the blade, severing the bear above the knee before spinning and dropping the sword onto the fury’s claw, freeing Remi. She leapt to her feet and her wound healed. Before she could thank him, another fury attacked, but she fired an arrow over Charlie’s shoulder, cutting it down.
“We’re running out of time!” said Remi. She picked up the veil and handed it to Charlie. “Go! I’ll hold them off!”
Charlie raced toward the Archetypes, his heart pumping as fast as his legs. Moloch’s vapor continued to roll into the hall. It was now thicker and more intense. It stung Charlie’s eyes. He knew it meant Moloch was getting close, but he pressed forward, leaping over the grasping claws of furies as they tore through the floor. When Charlie finally reached the slabs, he tossed the veil over Wisdom. Another strong wind surged through the hall, and the remaining five veils appeared. They settled over the Archetypes, and one by one, the eyes of their statues snapped shut. Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. The Archetypes were safe.
But what about him?
The bear had re-formed and was charging toward him again.
This thing won’t die! he thought.
Rustam and Remi were airborne but wouldn’t reach him in time. Charlie felt his panic rise but then heard Wisdom’s voice. It echoed like music in his head. A whisper: Summon a dream…
Charlie wasn’t sure what it meant or how to do it, but he knew he had to figure it out fast. Just when he thought he was doomed to fail, he remembered the newborn’s dream at Dorian. How its beauty and warmth pierced the darkness and gave him hope. Suddenly, a sense of calm fell over Charlie, and a bright orange portal flared to life. It hovered between him and the rampaging grizzly. The bear tried to halt its charge, but Rustam swept forward and knocked it into the portal. It wailed and thrashed and tried to escape, but the portal’s rays latched onto its every limb, incinerating them like paper in a campfire. And then, just as quickly as the portal had appeared, it was gone.
Rustam and Remi landed by Charlie’s side. They were awestruck.
“Incredible,” said Rustam. “Much like your father.”
Charlie smiled, but he knew their victory was fleeting and the battle just beginning. Moloch’s dark vapor still churned, and his army of furies would soon be upon them.
“I need you to guard my dream,” said Charlie. “Both of you! Right now!”
“It’s too dangerous,” replied Rustam. “Moloch will focus his attack there. We won’t be able to stop him.”
“You’ll have help.”
Charlie motioned behind them. Dream spawn formed out of thin air, filling the room.
“These are the faces of dreams Moloch stole. Like me, they want to go home.”
Rustam seemed bewildered and still a bit uncertain.
“I know it’s dangerous,” said Charlie, “but I have to free my father!”
“Are you sure about this?”
“I am. I’ll be okay.”
The dream spawn climbed the walls, trying to slow the furies’ advance as Rustam took some sand from the crystal basin and sprinkled it over Charlie’s head. The noise of the room faded away, and the last thing Charlie saw before drifting off to sleep was Rustam and Remi standing over him. The look in their eyes assured him that they would not leave his side, that they would keep him safe.
Rustam’s eyes burned as they seared their way through dimensions, allowing him to peer into the world between worlds… into Charlie’s dream.
“It has begun,” he said.
Suddenly, Moloch’s menacing voice echoed through the hall.
“Come to me, son of sand and man!” he roared.
Remi drew an arrow of light. The buzz was intense. It screamed for release. Her fingers trembled on the drawstring.
“Protect the Heir!” yelled Rustam.
Dream spawn formed a circle around Charlie as hundreds of Moloch’s furies erupted from the haze. They exploded through the floor and walls, charging into the hall like a pack of hungry wolves. Remi rapid-fired a flurry of arrows, cutting them down. The dream spawn spread out in teams, driving themselves into the massing beasts, immobilizing the furies wherever they attacked.
But the evil assault came from all sides. Furies poured through the castle walls, stampeding over their fallen. The hall was infested.
“They’re everywhere!” screamed Remi.
“Keep firing!” said Rustam as his sword found a target.
Light slipped into Charlie’s bedroom through tiny slits in the window blinds. Charlie looked around. He was in bed.
Did it work? Or was this all one big dream from which he had finally awoken? He whipped back his covers and was wearing a pair of gold and black pajamas. He still hated pajamas, so this must be a dream, but there was only one way to tell for sure. Charlie squinted through the darkness and focused on the skin around his hand. It emitted a slight, gold glow.
A halo. I am dreaming!
A man’s voice whispered from a dark corner. “Charlie…”
Charlie looked down. There was a weak trail of gold footprints. They were fading. He followed them to the other side of the room and, in the shadows, found his father, the Sandman.
“Charlie…” the Sandman whispered again, this time weaker.
Charlie ran to him, and the Sandman fell into his arms. He seemed a shell of the warrior Charlie remembered from the dark road in his mother’s dream.
“Dad,” said Charlie, his voice breaking with emotion. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
A tear ran the length of the Sandman’s cheek, and he pulled Charlie close, embracing him for the first time. Charlie tried to help him to his feet, but his father was too weak. He collapsed beneath his own weight.
“I’m hurt,” said the Sandman.
Charlie noticed the puncture wound in his chest plate. He helped his father remove the armor. There was a terrible gash, large and deep, just beneath his rib cage on the left side.
“You’ll be okay. I can help you,” Charlie told him.
Although he was clinging to hope, he saw it quickly fading in his father’s eyes. Then he remembered what Rustam had said: that crossing over to the other side of dreams made his father vulnerable. Made him… Charlie looked at the blood running from his father’s wound. It was not gold, but red. …Made him human.
“I tried to protect you from this,” the Sandman said, struggling to form his words.
“I know,” said Charlie. “Please. Stay with me. Don’t die.”
The Sandman shut his eyes and, summoning what little strength remained, raised his hand and pointed toward the mirror on Charlie’s closet door. He uttered something under his breath, and a mysterious energy flowed from the mirror.
“The mirror leads to your mother’s dream,” the Sandman told Charlie. “In it you will find the gateway to your world. You can go home.”
“But this is just a dream. I’m not really here. I’m just—”
“Your dreams are a part of you,” the Sandman told him. “If you cross, your body will follow. You can return home and leave the burden of my choices behind.”
Charlie looked into his father’s eyes. He thought about his friends in the Dreamscape, his mother, his newly found father, and Plug. He thought about what would happen to them, to all the people that were counting on him if he chose to go home, if he chose not to fight.
Charlie walked over to the mirror. He stared through it and into his mother’s dream. All he had to do was step through. The choice was his. But in his heart Charlie knew if he chose to go home, his mother’s dream would remain fixed in the clutches of darkness, as would every dream Moloch now had trapped in the grip of fear.
In a small corner of the mirror’s surface, Charlie caught
a glimpse of his own reflection staring back at him. He remembered Remi’s words — about fear… and not letting it control him.
“I won’t run,” he said. “I won’t leave anyone behind.”
Charlie did not realize it, but in that instant, the whites of his eyes shined like gold. He slammed his foot into the closet door mirror, shattering it, sealing the entry into his mom’s dream.
Charlie could sense the pride in his father’s eyes.
“Your mother,” said the Sandman, “she never fully understood the truth about us. She couldn’t.”
“She told me you died.”
“To her, I did,” the Sandman said. “I was only ever a dream to her. Even the day I crossed into your world.”
The Sandman took Charlie’s hand and squeezed tight. A weave of thin, gold threads suddenly became visible. The threads spun into an intricate grid that covered the room and everything in it. With a gentle blow from the Sandman, the threads stirred, bending the fabric of time and space, causing Charlie’s dream to shift. Charlie watched as the wall behind his dresser pulled back like a curtain, revealing a quiet hospital room on the other side. His mother was asleep in bed, with a newborn infant cradled beside her. A bright portal of light appeared by her side, and the Sandman stepped through, crossing into the waking world. When he did, the gold tone of his skin shifted to a pinkish white. His eyes tired, and the muscular cut of his jaw softened. The shift was immediate but nearly imperceptible. The way night slips into dawn.
“I stood by her side while she slept,” the Sandman said, explaining the vision. “She held you in her arms. You were so beautiful. So tiny and fragile.”
The Sandman picked up the infant Charlie and cradled him in his arms, pulling him close and inhaling his newborn scent.
“You looked up at me. You grabbed my finger and smiled.”
The Sandman placed a kiss on the infant’s forehead and returned him to his mother, kissing her as well. He opened the palm of his hand and placed the golden, tear-shaped diamond by her side. He then returned to the portal and looked back one last time. His eyes filled with tears. With that, the wall in Charlie’s room returned, wiping away the memory. Moved, yet confused, Charlie looked at his father.
“If I was born on the other side, you didn’t have to cross over. To take that risk — to become human. Why did you do it?”
The Sandman squeezed Charlie’s hand.
“I wanted to hold my son,” he said. “The love I felt for you and your mother was so strong. I had never known that kind of love. That’s what made me human.”
“A family…” said Charlie, smiling.
The Sandman reached out. He touched Charlie’s face.
“I feared I would die only a dream to you. I’m glad I did not.” He smiled at his son. “I love you, Charlie.”
Tears dampened Charlie’s eyes. He held his father and watched as the golden footprints faded away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BIRTH OF A HERO
A pack of furies ripped through one of the massive pillars, which crashed to the floor, rocking the Hall of Archetypes. The force of impact scattered the dream spawn and knocked Rustam and Remi off their feet. Rustam’s eyes flared. His vision was suddenly jarred, released from Charlie’s dream. When the dust and debris settled, a monstrous beast had entered the room and was charging toward him.
“Moloch!” screamed Rustam.
Remi trained her bow, drew an arrow, and fired. But Moloch opened his mouth, vomiting a row of his pointed teeth into the hall. The uprooted fangs sailed toward her, splitting, multiplying, and mutating into a furious bug swarm. The bugs were slimy and black, about the size of Rustam’s thumb. They had round eyes, clawed legs, and pointed wings. The swarm clustered together and absorbed Remi’s arrow, consuming its light. The arrow’s energy hummed, massing within the swarm, causing it to swell before erupting into a powder keg of claws and teeth. The insects pelted Rustam and Remi in buzzing streaks of red. Rustam grabbed Remi. They crouched by Charlie, one on either side, folding their wings over him to create a shield against the attacking insects.
“Stay with Charlie,” Rustam screamed. “I’m going for Moloch!”
He unsheathed his sword and charged through the bugs. Dream spawn kept the furies at bay as he soared into flight, flipped mid-air, and lashed Moloch with a clean, swift stroke across his chest. The blade tore into Moloch’s skin, but the wound healed before Rustam’s feet hit the ground.
Rustam swung his blade again and again. He shot a burst of light from his forearm, briefly blinding Moloch, causing him to stumble. But was it enough? Rustam had lost sight of Charlie in the dream and was unsure if he succeeded in finding his father. He held out hope, but time was not on their side.
When Moloch regained his balance, Rustam fired two more light bursts into the columns behind him. The sand activated, weaving together to form giant hands, which Rustam yanked, collapsing the columns, burying Moloch in a heap of rubble. Rustam drew his sword, but from beneath the wreckage he heard Moloch bellow a command that sounded more like growls than words. Packs of his furies responded, bounding into the hall. They overwhelmed the dream spawn and then tore through the collapsed pillars, burrowing down until Moloch rose like a corpse from his grave.
Rustam tried to flee, but with a wave of Moloch’s arm, the bug storm swarmed him. The insects latched onto his wings, draining them of their power and light. Rustam crashed to the floor as Moloch leapt over him and clobbered his way toward Charlie.
“Remi, stop him!” Rustam cried out.
Remi drew another light arrow, but Moloch yanked open his musty cloak, releasing a hurricane-like wind that swept through the hall. It blew Remi off her feet and pinned her against a column pedestal. The fierce wind grew stronger. It scattered hunks of collapsed pillar into a churning wall of gravel and stone, keeping Moloch’s other attackers at bay. Neither Rustam nor the dream spawn could advance on him.
Charlie was unguarded and vulnerable.
Rustam’s sword lay just beyond his reach. He watched with horror as Moloch picked it up and raised it above Charlie.
“The boy will die at the end of your blade,” Moloch taunted.
“NO!” screamed Remi.
Her cry, piercing and shrill, seemed to startle Moloch, causing the wind to diminish ever so briefly. Remi seized the moment and threw herself upon Charlie just as Moloch dropped the blade. The sword was driven through her.
“REMI!” yelled Rustam.
He pushed through the wind and tackled Moloch at the waist. They crashed into the basin containing the Sands of Time, spilling the grains across the floor. Rustam grabbed a handful and hurled it toward Moloch. The primordial dust fanned out. It melted through the swirling black mist and ripped into Moloch’s skin like hot acid, blazing a trail of smoldering burns across his face. He roared in agony and tore at his own flesh, trying to stem the fast-spreading pain, but these wounds would not heal.
Moloch bounded onto a nearby pillar as the sand burned ever deeper. His talon-like claws gripped the stone column, allowing him to scramble up toward the vaulted ceiling. Just as he reached the dome, a fury chewed through from the outside, creating a passage of escape. Moloch fled. He vanished into the dim of night. His army of furies followed close behind, leaving a path of destruction in their wake.
As Moloch’s screams faded in the distance, the wind died down, and an eerie silence fell over the hall. Rustam ran over to Charlie and Remi. He knew Moloch would not be gone long. It was only a matter of time before he regained his strength and returned to finish the fight.
Rustam gently pulled his sword from Remi and laid his hand upon her, nudging her gently. She began to stir.
“Slowly,” he said, helping her to her feet. “Deep breaths.”
Remi grimaced as her wound closed and healed. But when Rustam looked down, he saw red blood on the castle floor. It
pooled around Charlie’s motionless body, and the gold portal that hovered by his side began to fade.
“Charlie!” screamed Remi. She rushed to him.
“The blade passed through you,” said Rustam, fighting a sense of shock.
Remi knelt by Charlie’s side. She tried to revive him, but he didn’t move. Rustam feared the worst. He tried to look into Charlie’s dream but could not. Everything was going black.
“He’s not breathing!” screamed Remi through hopeless tears as she cradled Charlie. “Please! Please, don’t die!”
She caressed Charlie’s face, trying to will him back to life. But Charlie’s dream portal faded away.
Charlie was dead.
Numbness overwhelmed Rustam. His heart refused to believe what his eyes were telling him. He watched Remi’s golden tears float past him as the remaining dream spawn hung their heads in mourning, backing away, step by step, until they disappeared into the darkness. Rustam wished he could trade places with Charlie, that death could find him instead. He pulled Charlie’s lifeless body close, lifting him like precious cargo.
“We have failed you,” said Rustam. His spirit was broken.
Rustam held Charlie tight and carried him to the overturned basin. Remi righted it, and Rustam laid Charlie inside. The two guardians huddled together, uncertain what to do next.
Was this the end?
Then, excitedly, Remi seized Rustam. Her eyes were glassy and bewitched.
“Look!” she said, pointing toward the floor.
The spilled Sands of Time rose like a charmed snake. They absorbed Charlie’s blood and then moved into his wound. Each grain lit up like a sparkling jewel, sending a rush of energy through him. The sign of the Sandman formed on the palms of Charlie’s hands, glowing bright gold.
“Miraculous,” said Rustam, drifting back in awe.
The sand closed Charlie’s wound. Air rushed into his lungs, and his eyes opened. Charlie slowly rose to his feet. He was still a ten-year-old boy, but he now stood before them, an awesome sight. His skin had a golden sheen, and the whites of his eyes radiated brilliant gold.