Dreamers Do Lie

by Megan Cutler

  Unleashing a heavy sigh, Kimuli rolled his eyes. “If every inch is trapped, how are we going to travel there?”

  “My friend taught me how to find the safe path. Demons need ways to traverse the realm quickly. He learned it by watching them.”

  Sulard nudged his companion with his shoulder. “Can't be much worse than the river, can it?” His cheerful grin only caused Kimuli's scowl to deepen.

  “Speaking of the river,” Eselt grumbled, “why can't we bypass the traps by staying on it?”

  “I'm afraid our destination doesn't touch it,” Arimand replied. “But we might be able to navigate from further up the river. We'll have to assess the situation when we get there.”

  From the narrowing of Eselt's eyes, Kaylie guessed he wasn't pleased with that response.

  She swallowed several questions of her own. Why had she agreed to this? Her friends would be trapped in those pits after she left. How could she allow that to happen?

  Arimand labeled the rest of his map. “The next circle we'll encounter is Jhagjaw, the city of discord. As far as we know, the souls inside are left to their own devices. Most of the time. The greatest danger there comes from Hell's other inhabitants, so we should stay on the river. Beyond the city lies Iliargild, the impassable wall.”

  “If it's impassible-” Kimuli started, but Arimand cut him off.

  “We'll go under it.”

  “Excuse me?” Sulard choked.

  “Both the Styx and the Phlegethon run beneath the wall. How else would they cut through the rest of the rings? I talked to souls dead long enough to traverse Ethilirotha's entire circle. They describe encountering both rivers twice before returning to their original destination.”

  “I've traveled enough of these lands myself to confirm that much,” Eselt said with some measure of pride. “It seems a safe assumption.”

  Arimand frowned. “The only trouble is not knowing which branch of the Phlegethon our intrepid cartographer departed from.”

  “So we're going to search for our bearings in Hell's most dangerous ring?” Kimuli looked ready to spit again, but remembered himself and swallowed it.

  Arimand shrugged. “It shouldn't matter until we reach the fourth ring anyway.”

  Sulard tapped the edge of the map. “By this logic, the Styx and Phlegethon must cut through the Cocytus.”

  “Unless the landscape draws the rivers away from each other,” Wardel suggested.

  “We're getting ahead of ourselves.” Arimand traced the thick line of the wall again. “The only way past the impassable wall is to follow the river beneath it.”

  “Is that how your friend got through?” Thail murmured, speaking for the first time.

  Arimand winced. “He said he swam. I'm sure we'd rather avoid that.”

  “And when we come out the other side?” Eselt rumbled. “My knowledge ends at the wall.”

  “We'll be in Sammorc; the prisons,” Arimand replied. “Unfortunately, we don't know much about that circle. My companion said he kept to the river because demons roam that ring in patrols. Presumably, they serve as wardens to the prisoners.”

  Silence filled the small space. Kaylie's stomach formed creative and unconventional knots that made her regret eating dinner. What if the demons found them on the river? Thank goodness Arimand hadn't included descriptions of each circle's punishments. Her imagination provided plenty of possibilities.

  “W..what about the f..fifth circle?” Thail stammered, shifting his weight to the opposite knee.

  Arimand shook his head. “It's called the Forbidding Forest, but we shouldn't have to get close to it.”

  No one asked what path they would take to return. Kaylie's chest constricted.

  Eselt slid to his feet and Arimand handed him the stick. “We'll move at a diagonal.” The clan leader traced an angle between the rivers marked S and P on the crowded diagram. “Hopefully it will cut our travel time by a couple of weeks.”

  “The best we can do for now is plan for the worst,” Arimand said. “We won't know what waits on the other side of the wall until we get there.”

  “The river should protect us from everything but demons,” Wardel replied.

  “And roasting to death,” Kimuli muttered.

  Sulard nudged him again. “We aren't going to throw you into the river. Unless Eselt gets sick of your complaining.”

  A hint of weary humor graced Arimand's face. “I'm sure the river of fire will be the least of our worries.”

  Perhaps they wouldn't be able to find a solution to sailing through flames. At this point, Kaylie would have preferred it. She could think of no other way to deter the clan.

  Eselt and his lieutenants departed. Thail darted through the door first, followed by Sulard still teasing Kimuli. Wardel left without comment, but Eselt bid her good night and warned her he planned to depart by dawn.

  Kaylie couldn't find her voice. Why hadn't she considered the consequences of this undertaking before she agreed? In all the excitement, she'd forgotten her own warning about the dangers.

  Before Arimand left, he swept his boot across his map, leaving nothing but a dirty smear. “We'd best not leave any traces. You never know who, or what, is going to pass through here. And I don't think Hell's ruler would take kindly to our plans.”

  Chapter Seven: The Princess's Tale

  Fog-headed and bleary-eyed, Kaylie settled onto the floor of the covered wagon she shared with the children. It's not too late. They can still change their minds. If enough of the clan turned aside before they reached Dech, they'd be forced to abandon this foolhardy quest. All except Arimand and Eselt, the two souls with whom she was closest, aside from Dwenba. Her desire for answers would doom them.

  She hadn't slept after the meeting adjourned. For once, it wasn't nightmares fueled by the discussion of Hell's blighted landscape. It was the inescapable truth she was drawing decent souls to greater damnation. What if she couldn't pass through the exit? What if it deposited her back on the shores of Ethilirotha where she started? Her companions would spend eternity in torment for naught.

  As the wagon lurched into motion, its occupants collided in the small space. Kaylie played games with the children to pass the time, but her heart wasn't in them. She slept the empty sleep of exhaustion that night, and rose the next morning to the same doubts. She needed more than childish guessing games to keep her mind occupied.

  “Come closer, children,” she called, smoothing her skirt over her knees as the wagon jostled and bounced beneath them. It was difficult to get any closer in the cramped space, but the children formed a rough half-circle around her, vying to get the best position. “I'd like to tell you a story.”

  She waited for their cheering and clapping to subside before she cleared her throat. “This is a special story, not like the others I've told.” Most of her tales came from Dwenba, the official clan storyteller before Kaylie's arrival. None of them lasted long. On a journey of this length, she needed something she could stretch for days, weeks if she was clever.

  “What kind of story?”

  “Are there dragons in it?”

  “And knights?”

  “And castles?”

  “There certainly are castles and knights.” Kaylie smiled. “This particular story begins with a princess.”

  Of course, the children wanted to know all about the princess. What did she look like? Where did she live? Kaylie let them create their ideal fantasy, since she had no answers to offer. She wasn't even sure where the idea came from. A soft voice almost seemed to whisper the details into her ear.

  “Our princess's mother died when she was young. Her father, who was a good and kind king, raised her on his own. The world was different back then, filled with tiny kingdoms whose rulers cooperated with each other. No one had thought up the idea of an empire yet.

  “But the idea was starting to form. One by one, greed consumed the rulers of the neighboring kingdoms. They fought over land and roads and bridges while their citizens grew hungry an
d confused.

  “The day came when our princess's father had to ride to war to protect his people from the madness.”

  “I thought this story was about the princess!” one of the youngsters protested. A round of agreement traversed the story circle.

  “We want to know what happened to the princess!”

  Kaylie laughed. “I was just getting to that. When the king left for war, he put his daughter in the care of two priestesses. These women maintained the last grand temple devoted to the old gods, said to reside in the remains of Eden itself. The one haven no mortal would dare defile.

  “Even with all the green and beauty of the garden surrounding her, our princess spent her days in prayer. She prayed the old gods would protect her father in battle, and she prayed they would protect her kingdom and keep its people safe from harm and strife.

  “But the old gods hear many identical prayers every day. The greedy easily feign kindness and the violent pretend to peace. They needed proof of the princess's intentions. So they asked the priestesses to test her. They laid three challenges before her to reveal her true nature; one to test her faith, one her honor and the last, her resolve.

  “And our princess passed every one.”

  Here the children interrupted again, wanting to know the details of the challenges. Unable to recall the specifics, Kaylie turned it into a game. The children spent the next several days inventing silly challenges for their fellows to perform. They arrived each morning with several new ideas, eager to try them out. But as time wore on, they lost interest in the game and wanted to hear more of the story.

  Kaylie cleared her throat. “Weeks passed with no news of the war. Finally, the knights came riding home, battered and dirty, but triumphant. And our princess's father rode at the front. Believing her prayers had been answered, she asked her father how the battle was won.

  “Agents sent by the King of Hell had infiltrated many of the surrounding kingdoms. They were the source of the madness. As each agent was slain, the affected rulers awakened as if from a trance. Horrified, everyone agreed the war must end. And so the king and his daughter returned home, the safety and wellbeing of their people once again assured.”

  She paused there while the clan set camp. The next morning, the children asked what game they should play.

  “Don't you want to hear the rest of the story?” Kaylie asked.

  “Haven't we finished that one?”

  “The king came home and everything!”

  Kaylie put her hands on her hips, adopting an expression of mock severity. “This story is about a princess. It's only just begun.” She waited for the children to settle in their circle before she resumed the tale.

  “Though the war ended, the kingdom's troubles had just begun. The King of Hell's agents were dead, but their damage lingered. Many ruling families had grown paranoid, uncertain who to trust in the wake of the devastation. The fighting resumed and, soon enough, the princess's father was forced to leave for war again.

  “By now our princess had come of age and the princes of the growing neighboring kingdoms sought her hand in marriage. Her father knew that none of the princes loved her; they only wanted to add her land to their own. He despaired, wishing she could marry for love instead of duty and obligation.

  “As the chaos spread, the King of Hell took advantage of the situation, once again sending agents to influence the war. As more princes demanded our princess make a decision, she fled back to the grand temple in the Garden of Eden to seek the counsel of the old gods. She asked the priestesses to test her again, but the old gods had already seen inside her heart and were willing to hear her words.

  “Far away, on the battlefield, our princess's father came face to face with his long dead wife. 'Because of our daughter's fortitude,' she said, 'the old gods have granted her deepest wish. You shall be aided by the might of the Angelic Avengers, sworn enemies of the demon hordes. Ride now with their blessings upon you.'

  “Even in those days, everyone knew the great deeds of the Angelic Avengers, who have fought the King of Hell's minions since the first great war. With their power behind him, the good king rode to victory once more.

  “Outraged that his plans had been foiled twice by the same man, the King of Hell struck across the battlefield, seeking revenge. Though his defeat could not be reversed, he killed our princess's father with a bolt of pure energy.

  “With his dying breath, the good king thought of his daughter, hoping that she would find happiness and love in the peace he fought to secure. Legends say that his angelic wife carried his soul to Heaven, even as an Angelic Avenger carried his body back to his daughter.

  “When our princess emerged from her sanctuary to find her father dead, she wept. The Angelic Avenger who bore him told the tale of his final days. He helped her to bury her father, comforted her as she mourned and guided her as she ascended the throne.

  “In time, the two fell in love. By the grace of the old gods, the Angelic Avenger was granted leave to marry the princess and remain in the mortal realm.”

  Kaylie had stretched the story to its limits. She couldn't think of any more details to embellish. She had skipped the details of the war, of course, though naming the knights and their horses had carried them through several days.

  A small tug against her skirt drew her gaze to the left. “Is that the end of the story, Lady Kaylie? Did they live happily ever after?”

  She smiled. “It is. And they did.”

  “And the blood of the Angelic Avengers still flows in their family,” Arimand's voice announced from behind the wagon. “It grants them special abilities to protect the mortal world from the King of Hell and his demons.”

  One by one the children blinked, as if awakening from a trance. Kaylie hadn't noticed the cart had stopped moving. Arimand unhooked the latch and extended a hand to help her down. As the children poured from the exit, they all wanted to know his opinion of the story.

  Laughing he replied, “Lady Kaylie told it well.” Then he set them to the usual chores, warning that Dwenba would be cross if they delayed. “Eselt wanted me to tell you that he thinks we'll reach Dech in one more week,” he said as he escorted Kaylie to her tent. “We'll have to push hard, but there'll be opportunities to rest when we reach the river.”

  “It will be welcome,” Kaylie replied, though she suspected Eselt would push the clan just as hard even if there was less work to tend. There's still time, whispered the nagging doubt in the back of her mind. They can still change their minds.

  “Between Eselt's strict wood rationing and Kimuli's keen eyes, we've got two carts bursting with wood. Wardel's confident it will be enough if we're clever, and Dwenba's keen to acquire more through trade. Eselt's chomping at the bit to sort the details as soon as we reach port, and you'll be able to give your voice a rest.” Arimand grinned. “I'm not sure how you managed to stretch that story so long, but I imagine it helped pass the time.”

  “Not quite enough time, it would seem. Travel gets difficult for the children if they don't have a focus for their energy.”

  Arimand shrugged. “Perhaps you could ask them to retell their favorite parts of the tale. See how well they were listening.”

  “That's not a bad idea. The story… you seem familiar with it?”

  “Yes…” Arimand hesitated, drawing back the flap of her tent when they reached it. “I meant to ask where you heard it.”

  “I'm not sure,” Kaylie admitted, waving for him to follow her inside. He let the canvas drop behind him. “I think, perhaps, my father may have told it to me. Once I started it all came rushing back.”

  “I'm not surprised. That story is quite popular in Corvala. It's deeply rooted in their history, or so they claim.”

  Kaylie's heart skipped a beat. She remembered something! And not just a fleeting image, not a tiny object or a passing comment, something significant to the place where she grew up. Despite the long days of travel and the constant shadow of fear, joy bloomed in her chest.


  “You were right,” she breathed. “I am from Corvala!”

  Arimand let his hand rest on her shoulder for the briefest of moments. His smile lingered longer. “No one outside the country could tell the story in such detail. Even I didn't know it that well. The real tragedy is that their history seems to be repeating itself.”

  “It's a memory,” Kaylie replied, uncertain what else to say. “In Hell, you take any blessing you can get, no matter how small.”

  Chapter Eight: The River Phlegethon

  Night never fell in this part of Hell. The burning Phlegethon cut a swath through the craggy wasteland, illuminating the shore for miles on either side. Flames danced up to four feet above the boiling water, a dazzling spectacle of red, orange and yellow. The river's heat swallowed its shoreline, intense and penetrating as opposed to the usual ambient daytime swelter.

  Dech wasn't much different from Blalt, a series of dilapidated markets, set far enough from the river they wouldn't burn. Since the river provided the necessary light and heat, the port citizens used all their wood for construction. What hadn't been used on rickety market stalls or hut frames had been devoted to boats, which crossed the river with the same regularity as cargo crossed the Styx.

  Unlike Blalt, the citizens of Dech took rest at midday, performing the bulk of their work during the night, when icy winds counteracted the river's blaze. Obviously familiar with the river's effects, Eselt warned his men against heat-madness the day before they set camp next to port.

  While those who opted to undertake Kaylie's journey received a much needed rest, the clan leader spent those initial days seeking positions for those who wished to leave. The children would be the hardest to place, as many clans refused to accept them, and others had little regard for their care. Dwenba spent her time at market, determined to restock the stores before her departure.