Dreamscape: Saving Alex

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Dreamscape: Saving Alex Page 11

by Kirstin Pulioff


  I held my breath as he considered my offer. He put the money back in my hand and closed my fist around it, shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just, there’s so much you don’t seem to understand,” he said, stiffening, refusing to meet my eyes.

  It was more than just Dreamscape that confused me. Every piece of me ached for Arrow’s warmth. No matter how much I shouldn’t have, I reached out for his hand.

  “Can you help me understand?” I pleaded. “You’re right. I’m not aware of all the rules here, and I wish I had a good reason for that. But I want to learn.”

  When he looked back at me, my heart fluttered. So much emotion raged behind his eyes, and I didn’t understand half of it. He scooted closer, knocking a chunk of mud off with his heel.

  “Sorry,” he said and moved even closer. The side of his thigh touched mine. I forgot how to breathe. Did he have any idea what he did to me? I recognized the first box he held out. The stained swirls and carved craftsmanship still captivated me.

  “See? It’s too beautiful to leave for no one to appreciate.”

  He sighed so loudly I knew he was almost out of patience, so I bit my cheek and waited.

  “They are beautiful,” he conceded, “but they’re so much more than that. Look closer. This mark here,” he said, pointing to the tree carved into the outside, “that’s a mark from the royal army. This box was intended to pay for a month of supplies for the queen’s army.”

  “The queen has an army? Auntie Quinn said a king ruled.”

  His jaw tightened. “Yes, Berkos is in charge, but the rebels still fight to free the queen. This money was for them, to aid in the rebellion.”

  “And the other box?” My voice trembled.

  “This one,” he said, juggling the boxes in his arm to focus on the second. He exhaled. “Where did you find this one?”

  “Just outside the marketplace.” I closed my eyes as if that would shield me from his answer.

  “Open your eyes,” he said, nudging me hard with his elbow. “This isn’t a game.”

  I opened my eyes, but he had nailed the underlying problem. To me, this was a game.

  “This money was meant for medical supplies,” he said before swearing under his breath. His dark hair covered his eyes as he shook his head. “Now they won’t get any of this.” He cursed again and dropped the box in my lap. “Did you get your money’s worth?” he asked. “No, don’t answer that. I’m sorry. It’s just that now, more than ever, we need every bit of help we can get. You’re nothing like I expected. I only wish…” his voice trailed off as he looked at the fire.

  “Wish what?” I asked timidly.

  He gave me a sideways glance and sad smile. “I only wish I knew what to do with you.”

  My heart doubled its pace. I bit the inside of my lower lip as my thoughts raced. How could I regain his trust? I sighed. There was only one way. If he wanted a hero, I would have to step up my game. It was my only way home, after all. I reached forward, tapping him on his shoulder, and gave him my biggest smile.

  “You said you were looking for me, right?” I asked. “That I’m the one here to help the rebellion.”

  “Yes, but all of that seems ridiculous if you don’t understand even the most basic of principles.”

  “I’m your hero, Arrow. Don’t doubt me because I’ve forgotten a few things. You have to remember that heroes go on many quests. They’re all kind of jumbled in my mind right now. Help me sort them out, and you’ll have no more doubts.”

  His forehead scrunched in concentration as he thought about what I said.

  “Help me understand?” I asked.

  “There’s so much—”

  “Then we better start now,” I said. He poked at the fire again.

  “Ah, Goldy, you don’t give up, do you?”

  “Never,” I said, winking and reaching behind him to grab my leather bag. “We can start with these,” I said, pulling out the packet of worn parchment from Auntie Quinn.

  “Where’d you get this?”

  “From Auntie Quinn. Why?”

  “Lockhorn News,” he spat, reading the title. “This is trash.” He handed the papers back to me. “You won’t find anything useful in there.”

  “Maybe not,” I said, opening the pages of the book and stopping at a picture of a man dressed all in black. “But there’s still some stuff I need to know about what’s in here.”

  “What?”

  I flipped back to the front. Where to even begin? None of it made sense. “Okay, like this for instance. Lockhorn News. Where is Lockhorn, exactly?”

  He gave me a sad glance and looked away. “Goldy, if you don’t even know that, then I don’t know what help this is going to be.”

  “Help me,” I said, shaking the papers in front of him. “I need to understand what we’re facing if you want my help.”

  He shook his head, but remained silent.

  “So, Lockhorn. Where is it?”

  “It’s all of this,” he said, staring at the fire.

  “All of this,” I said. “I thought this was…” but I didn’t finish my thought. Dreamscape was just the name of the game, not the places within. It made sense. “Okay, so this is the news for the whole area. It says here that—”

  “It says here that Auntie Quinn won tailor of the year, that Lindle has been awarded the national trade award for its fifth year in a row. There are advertisements for the local vendors and news that the rebels have been driven south of the capital into the woods. What more do you want to know?” He turned the page.

  “I…uh…I don’t know,” I said, taken aback at his anger. “What about this one?” I asked, pointing to the one headline he had skipped.

  He shook his head and stood up. “Like I said, my lady, this is trash. News twisted to their agenda. I haven’t read it before, and I refuse to now, even to humor you. It’s time to go,” he said, dumping a handful of sand over the glowing embers.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you again.”

  “You haven’t, my lady. But the longer we sit here, the more upset I’ll get, I fear. Let’s go.”

  “Okay, but where are we going?” I asked, leaning over to grab my boots. Dry chunks of mud flaked off at the slightest touch.

  “We’re headed back to the camp at the Grove to finalize plans, but we have to make a quick stop along the way. Do you think you’re up for it?”

  “Of course. I can handle anything you throw at me. Where are we going?” I asked, maybe too eagerly.

  “Baron Marix’s estate,” he said, ushering me ahead.

  My heart practically leapt out of my chest. I had to restrain myself from looking too excited. I didn’t know who Baron Marix was, but I knew my way around all the barons’ estates. For once, I could help!

  As Arrow finished extinguishing the fire, I glanced at the one headline he refused to read: King Berkos Wins the Election by a Head. I exhaled and stuffed the papers back in my bag before Arrow saw.

  “Are you ready Goldy?”

  I nodded, not trusting my voice to hide my excitement.

  “Let’s go,” he said, leading me into the woods.

  Chapter Twelve

  Walking beside Arrow rather than playing catch-up behind his manic pace was nice. Smaller details of the forest, which I’d missed on my own, took my breath away when he pointed them out. The woods teemed with beauty I had overlooked.

  The delicate nature of this world grew on me. Increasingly, I found myself enjoying the beauty rather than comparing it to its two-dimensional equivalent. Some things just didn’t transfer. I had seen only a fraction of this world, but I felt like I had lost out on so much over the years. Dreamscape was a pale imitation of Lockhorn.

  “How do you know all of this stuff?” I asked as he pointed out the erratic patterns of pollen on the underside of dragon weeds.

  “I grew up not too far from these woods. Once you get burned once or twice by dragon weed, you tend to take notice.”
r />   “Tell me about it.” The burns were still fresh in my mind. He chuckled and reached up to pull some vines out of our way.

  “Over the years, I’ve learned a lot from these woods. This, here,” he said, folding up the cuff of his sleeve and pointing to a scar across his forearm. “That’s from my first pet horned-bit.”

  “Pet horned-bit?” I asked. I’d never heard of such a thing.

  “You laugh, but I was serious as a child. I begged and begged for a pet, but my parents refused.”

  “So what’d you do?” I asked.

  “What any reasonable boy would do. I tried to tame one of these wild beasts on my own.”

  “No, you didn’t!” I covered my mouth.

  “Oh, I did. And as you can see, he didn’t like it one bit. He rammed his horn right through my arm the first time I tried to pick him up. Sad to say, my days of pet ownership were very short-lived. Any time I asked again, all my parents had to do was point to my arm.”

  “Oh Arrow, I’m so sorry,” I said, tracing the small scar that ran across his forearm.

  “These woods, this world…it leaves its mark on you,” he said solemnly. I didn’t know what to say. There was a depth of emotion behind his words that I wasn’t prepared to handle.

  “Did you have any pets?” he asked, rolling down his sleeve.

  “Flipper,” I said with a smile.

  “What?”

  “Flipper. I had a rainbow fish when I was ten.”

  “A rainbow fish? That sounds like an odd creature. What happened?”

  I looked up, searching for the memory, and frowned. I had almost forgotten. “My mom gave him away.”

  “Why?”

  “Just another time she decided things for me,” I muttered. “We were going on vacation, and she arranged for someone to take care of him. But when we got back, she didn’t want to pick him up. She said life was easier without a pet. Less to worry about, less to clean. Like she had ever taken care of him.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Seems like our parents liked to think they know best.” He rubbed his forearm. “That’s sometimes the case, but not always.”

  “Not always,” I said, exhaling deeply before meeting his gaze. “So what else would surprise me about these woods, besides the obvious danger and strange animals?”

  “I never called them strange.”

  “A horned-bit; come on. Those are pretty strange looking, if you ask me.”

  “I never noticed,” he said.

  I shrugged. Maybe they weren’t that strange to someone from this world. “What else?”

  “Never turn your back on a fly trap,” he said, swooping me forward into his arms.

  “What?” I asked just as something slammed shut behind me. Wind from the forceful snap blew my hair off my neck. I stared at a pair of light green petals and overlapping thorns that had closed where I’d stood. Where poison dripped from its open petals, steam shot up in bursts. “Thanks,” I whispered. My hands slid against the cool leather of his vest, tangling in the feathered fringe along the pockets. His heart beat as rapidly as mine.

  “My pleasure,” he said. “I can’t have you hurt before we really need you.”

  A lump caught in my chest. I couldn’t help but feel bad for leading him on. What would happen when I found my way home and the rebellion had to fend for themselves? That wouldn’t happen. This world wasn’t real—when I got myself out of it, it would vanish. Wouldn’t it? I shook the guilt out of my head.

  “Speaking of when you need me. What exactly are we looking for at the baron’s?” Each level of the game ended with a special token. If I knew what he wanted, I might be able to pinpoint the exact level.

  “How do you know we’re looking for something?”

  “Believe it or not, I know about these manors.” I felt smug.

  “Really?” he asked, even more skeptical than before.

  “Yes, really,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Now, what are we looking for exactly? I want to make sure I know which one we’ll be in.”

  He exhaled. “You know more than one?”

  “I know a lot you haven’t given me credit for.”

  “That will change, my lady. I’m truly sorry for any misgivings. You are our hero, and I’m proud to accompany you on this journey.”

  I hid my blush by looking away.

  “Anyways, we’re on a reconnaissance mission of sorts.”

  Now it was my turn to be skeptical. “Reconnaissance? What are we looking for?”

  “The rebellion needs information from Baron Marix.”

  “So we’re going to talk to him?” I asked. There had to be more to the story. No tokens that I knew of related to just talking.

  “Not quite,” he said, softening his gaze as he looked at me.

  “What then?”

  “The information we need is hidden in his paperwork.”

  Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork. My mind raced until it landed on an image of ancient scrolls. Of course we had to go to the hardest manor of them all.

  “And you know where we can find it?” I asked.

  His smile wavered in a crooked grin. “In his safe,” he said.

  “Wait a second,” I said, stopping mid-step and grabbing his arm. “Are you really telling me after you just got mad at me for stealing that you’ve been planning to do the same thing?”

  “I wouldn’t call it stealing.”

  “What do you call it when you take something that’s not yours?” I asked, feeling amused and annoyed at the same time.

  “You got me there, Alex.” He feigned defeat and held his arms out in surrender. “I have to hope stealing from the baron is less offensive than taking money from ailing children.”

  I twisted my lips. He had me there. “Fine,” I said. “So we’re looking for papers and maps? That’s all?”

  “You make it sound like a small matter.”

  “I just want to make sure I know what we’re getting ourselves into. The fewer surprises the better. Can I ask what type of information you’re looking for?”

  “Let’s just say it’s worth the risk.”

  I let it be. He could keep his secrets; they didn’t change what I needed to focus on. I had more secrets than I ever wanted to share. “Okay, I trust you,” I said, falling into step beside him.

  “Really?” he asked, furrowing his brows as he looked at me.

  “Yes, really,” I said with a sideways glance. “Don’t you trust me?”

  He matched my smile and nodded. “With my life.”

  We hiked east for hours, traversing the Wounded Woods until we reached the foothills. I tried to recall the map I had hastily drawn at the shoreline to envision where we were now. Lingering pieces of this world floated around my mind, and pinning them down would free me to concentrate on other things.

  Like how to get us out of the baron’s manor alive.

  I hadn’t lied about knowing Baron Marix’s manor. I did. Natalie and I struggled with that level and had to repeat it often, sometimes several times in a game. We often ran out of time in the passageways; other times, the fire dancers killed me. When we made it to the end, we still lost to the baron more times than I wanted to admit. Knowing my way around the manor didn’t ensure our success. My mind churned, flashing awful images of our imminent death. Add that to the new ominous song the birds chirped, and the oppressiveness of dread became unbearable.

  “Why do they do that?” I asked, shuddering at the reverberating timbre in the song.

  “What?”

  “The birds,” I said, pointing to the trees. “Why do they sing that way? It was different before.”

  He followed my gaze and shrugged. “Different birds, different songs.”

  I looked up and saw he was right. The bright, colorful birds that had been with me since the beginning weren’t here. It took me a moment to spot the new creatures, and once I did, I wished I hadn’t. Black birds covered the trees like leaves, shrouded by darkness. Wings and beaks stacked atop each othe
r, blocking out the night sky. Large red eyes bulged beneath crowns of feathers. Their bleeding eyes stalked our every step, mocking us with their insidious song.

  I jumped into step with Arrow and watched the darkness brighten as we withdrew from the forest and summited the peak. The moon illuminated the night, and bright speckles dotted the vista. The birds stayed behind the tree line, but their song haunted us, bass tones giving way to reverberating chirps and clashing squawks. I knew the melody too well. Reserved in the game for castles and the end of the hardest levels, it only added to my reluctance. Nothing good awaited us down the hill.

  “Do you think we can stop to eat before we enter the manor?” I asked, looking up at the stars. Arrow stopped and opened his mouth like he was going to argue but then changed his mind.

  “Of course,” he said. “Will here work?”

  I nodded and dropped my bag to the ground. My neck ached and muscles I didn’t know I had screamed.

  “I’m not used to all this walking,” I said, rubbing the indentions on my shoulders where the bag’s straps dug into my skin.

  “Even with all your journeys?” Arrow asked, pulling out a quarter end of a loaf of bread and an apple.

  Whoops. How many times was I going to forget I was the hero here? I rolled my neck and looked him square in the eyes. “There’s usually more fighting than walking.” It was only a half-lie. I certainly fought with my mom.

  “There’s not much further to go, I promise. We should be there within the hour. It’s just over this ridge,” he said as he handed me a small slice of bread.

  I swallowed hard and accepted the bread. Had we already traveled that far? The first bite of bread melted in my mouth again. It tasted just as wonderful.

  I crossed my legs and wrapped my arms around my folded knees, looking back at the sky. Even here, the twinkling lights put me at ease. The keepers of wishes and unfulfilled promises. Would my wishes be answered in a fantasy world? It didn’t hurt to try. I found the brightest and made a wish.

  “Have another,” Arrow said, throwing me a slice of bread.

  “Are you reading my mind?” I asked.

  “Ha, I wish that I could, my lady, but your mind is a mystery to me.” He sliced the apple in half and then paused. “I’m sorry—” he began as he sliced the apple again and nicked his finger.

 

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