Dreamscape: Saving Alex

by Kirstin Pulioff

  Stone markers outlined the graveyard, even and symmetrical, except for the occasional scattered stone. I weaved through them, trying to find something familiar to pinpoint where to start.

  Letters and symbols stained each slab, but I could discern no order or pattern. I traced the stones, surprised when a viscous substance stuck to my fingers. It was like the putrid muck from the pits all over again. I cleared my hands of the slime in the dirt and moved to the next marker. More lettering greeted me, but nothing made sense.

  I started shivering—from nerves more than cold—but pressed on. Arrow and the rebellion were counting on me. The entrance had to be here somewhere. I just had to navigate the differences between the game and the real world.

  A pebble hit me in the back as I traversed the third row of grave markers. I turned and saw Arrow tapping his ear. I threw the ear device back in and heard a strange new sound. A steady beat thumped behind the rush of steam. I dropped behind the nearest pillar, watching as Arrow ducked behind a gravestone. I held my breath, hearing the rhythmic thump collide with the staccato beats of my heart.

  We waited, casting glances in all directions, watching for an intruder. The thumps grew louder, and then stopped abruptly before scurrying off. I turned and saw tail feathers ruffle in the wind. My exhale sounded like a storm. I took the ear device out and rested my head in my hands. This was only the beginning, and I was already teetering off the edge. I needed to keep my head in the game.

  Tension grew across my forehead, and I rubbed the pressure points at my temples. I didn’t expect it to take this long to find the marker. Arrow’s hands rested on my shoulders, and then he helped me up. Deserted graveyard or not, I didn’t want to risk being out here too long.

  I skipped forward, running past the stationary markers into a darker region of the cemetery that hid in shadows, larger statues and mausoleums blocking out the sun. Walking around statues of fallen angels, stepping over their broken wings and fallen scepters, I felt hidden, more at ease. The cool marble slid under my hands as I caressed its edges.

  The garden of tombs stretched out of view. Flustered, I turned around to find Arrow, only to see two grotesque gargoyles flanking a granite archway. Beyond the arch, mausoleums lined up on either side of a pathway. Their open doors haunted me, until a moment of déjà vu hit. Of course! I knew one of them marked our entrance.

  A rock thumped ahead of me, and then another hit me in the back. I turned to glare at Arrow and tripped over a marker. Bits of gravel dug into my palms and knees, leaving impressions and dots of blood. The hearing device dangled next to my ear. I listened, waiting for a thump of footsteps, and then heard something else, something constant beneath the bursts of static. My head shot up as Arrow approached me.

  “Is that what I think it is?” I asked, feeling something like hope.

  He pulled the hearing device out of his ear. “It sounds like water to me. Is that what we’re looking for?”

  I nodded and put the device back in. The smooth gurgle was undeniable. I pulled it out again and smiled. “That’s our way in. Help me up! I know where we have to go now.”

  I ran back to the stone archway and counted off the mausoleums, stopping in front of the third one on the right side. The stone tomb terrified me. The morbid symbolism of gaining entrance to the king’s castle through death’s chamber…well, it was unnerving, to say the least.

  I jumped when Arrow’s voice sounded behind me. “Is this it?”

  Without removing my eyes from the dark building, I nodded. Ten stairs led up to a half-open door where columns held up decrepit angels. I swallowed hard and grabbed Arrow’s hand.

  “I can’t go in there alone,” I whispered.

  “You don’t have to face any of this alone,” he said, squeezing my hand as we started up the stairs.

  At the top of the stairs, a green rectangular box lay on the ground like a welcome mat. I shrugged at Arrow and knelt, examining the marker. I brushed off the top of the metal, revealing spiral etchings at each corner. Spiderwebs and dirt stuck to my palm.

  It was reminiscent of the money boxes in the forest. A familiar feeling ran through me as I traced the designs. I had found something special.

  My fingers ran over hidden bumps along the outer edge, identifying a set of hinges.

  “This has to be it,” I said, gripping with my nails around the edge. Sweat dripped down my forehead as I pulled, but nothing budged. Arrow knelt beside me, but even our combined strength didn’t help.

  “It won’t open. What do we do now?” he asked.

  Ideas flowed through me as I played the level in my mind, trying to relate its two-dimensional features to this world. In the game, I entered through the tomb and descended through the tunnels.

  The tomb. I shuddered and gazed behind at the darkness peeking in from the doorway of the mausoleum. “We go in there.” I sighed.

  The door creaked when we pushed it open. Warm, still air mingled with the dust sitting on every surface, choking my breath. Arrow covered his mouth with his cloak as he entered.

  An oppressive silence consumed us. The tomb, dark except for the sliver of light at the doorway, scared me. Nothing seemed right about the place. My breath quickened.

  Arrow tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the far end of the room. Against the back wall, poised between the two blown out candles, a metal wreath marked the wall. I walked closer and saw the leaves of the wreath—a pattern of spirals.

  “They’re the same as on the marker outside,” I said, reaching forward to touch the scrolled metal.

  “I think they are.” He coughed.

  “Ouch!” I jerked my hands back and brought my fingers to my mouth. The metal had burned me. Small blisters popped up along my fingertips.

  “Do you need a vine?”

  “No, save them,” I mumbled, shaking my hands through the air, annoyed that I had already bruised my shins, scraped my palms, and burned my fingers, and we still weren’t inside the castle. “Be careful, it’s hot,” I said, wrapping my hands inside my cloak before grabbing the metal wreath again.

  It creaked, giving way reluctantly as I pulled it away from the wall. Now it looked more like a wheel for a hatch opening than a decorative fixture. I slid my covered palms along the metal wheel and nodded to Arrow for help.

  He placed his hands alongside mine. The metal stung, even with a fabric barrier. I hoped the burn wouldn’t be deep enough to blister. We twisted the wheel, moving it no more than an inch each time.

  Sweat coated our faces when it finally released, and a blast of steam shot up from outside.

  I looked behind us and saw the green box standing open in the doorway. Squealing in delight, I ran to it and fanned the steam out of the opening. The heat of the steam burned me, yet I shivered.

  “We did it!” I jumped up and down and grabbed his hand. “Now, don’t forget to stay close and have your luminance handy. The tunnels will be dark.” My words raced together in my excitement.

  “You want me to go in there?” Arrow asked, waving his hand through the warm cloud.

  “This is the way in,” I said.

  “You never mentioned tunnels. I…can’t do that, I don’t like being closed in.” He stepped back from the entrance.

  “This isn’t a time for fear. It’s the only way I know of to get in. We don’t have another option.” I reached forward, grabbing his wrist to keep him from sprinting down the stairs.

  “But—” he protested.

  “But nothing. You knew we weren’t going to walk through the front door.” The finality of my tone broke through his reservations. We had come too far to let anything stop us now.

  “I, er, I know, but I didn’t expect this. This wasn’t in the plan.”

  “Didn’t you say you embraced adventure? Here’s a new one for you. It’s time to drop every notion you have about this castle. What we saw in Marix’s manor is nothing compared to what lies ahead.” I reached for his hand one more time. Relinquishing control, running to
wards the enemy, it all went against our natural instincts. “I asked you before, but I’ll ask again. Are you ready?”

  “No.” He gulped and held up a hand. “Wait, I think someone’s coming. Shh…” He furrowed his brow in concentration, cupping the ear device with his hand. His jaw tightened, and he pushed me back into the tomb. “Stay in the corner and don’t move.”

  I fell back to the ground and watched him race around the stone doorway. His tone scared me. I didn’t understand what was going on, but I knew it was serious. Then I heard the electric hum. Crawling to the door of the mausoleum, I pulled myself up against the doorway and peeked around the edge.

  Silent screams rattled my heart.

  A sharp gasp escaped me. At the base of the stairs on the mausoleum opposite, five guards stood in a semi-circle around Arrow’s body. His head hung forward onto his chest, and a drop of blood fell from the corner of his mouth. Blood matted his hair against his cheek, and I saw a large welt appear around his left eye. His arms draped lifelessly at his side.

  I bit my fist to keep the sobs from echoing in the darkness.

  Around his body, black marks charred the stairs. A buzz swarmed in the air as the guard standing furthest from him snapped a whip. Sparks and dust sprayed off the stone staircase, leaving a crack in the ground. His next attempt didn’t miss. Arrow’s body shook, flailing as the whip connected with him. I watched in horror as his body jerked with electric shock.

  Tears fell down my cheeks, and I wiped them away. Every piece of me screamed to turn around and not watch, but I couldn’t. Each crack of the whip struck me. When they threw their heads back in laughter, they mocked me. They finally dragged him down the stairs and back through the graveyard, taking away my heart.

  I shook, dropping in a heap at the base of the stone doorway, a crumbled mess. My heart boomed in my chest as visions of Arrow’s lifeless body flashed in my mind. The way he hung in the guards’ hands, the blood dripping from his fresh wounds, the blank expression as he stared at the ground.

  In all the scenarios I had envisioned, losing Arrow never entered my mind. He seemed invincible. And he sacrificed himself for me. That debt couldn’t go unpaid. No matter what doubts I had, regardless of the fear rushing through me, I knew one thing for sure. I would do the same for his people.

  I had to save the queen. If not for the rebellion or my way home, for Arrow. I wouldn’t let his death be for nothing.

  I shifted the bag across my back and double-checked the straps. Wiping the fresh tears with the back of my hand, I willed my emotions to settle into a comfortable numbness. I put on my game face. It was time to save the queen.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Steam rolled out of the open tunnel and down my cheeks. I hesitated for a moment before jumping into the darkness, flailing as the searing water attacked me. The current took control, submerging me in the river.

  I gasped for air as I rose to the turbulent surface. Water splashed over my head, the current dragging me down the narrowing tunnel. I spat out water, reaching for the walls, surprised when my fingers slipped along the smooth edges. Nothing could slow my descent.

  Except for the occasional light flickering through vents from above, the tunnel was bathed in darkness. I couldn’t see quite enough to get my bearings, but I knew I was in trouble. Water covered over half the tunnel. Every time the current changed directions, I plunged underwater. I relaxed my body and followed the river’s course, knowing that the harder I resisted, the more the water would force its will on me. The game hadn’t steered me wrong yet; I had to believe it wouldn’t here either.

  The rush of the water deafened me. This was no sweet gurgling stream, but a domineering roar, forcing me down its path. I struggled to keep my head above water in the shrinking tunnel. My legs floundered, twisting me as I swam. I lost track of where I was, how long I had been there, and what direction was up, but I knew it had to end soon.

  But what if I’d taken the wrong tunnel? Had I counted correctly and chosen the right tomb? While I considered the possibility of miscalculation, the water beneath me suddenly dropped away. I floated for a moment in empty space before the freefall down.

  My scream echoed in the darkness until the water silenced me. Pinned beneath the force of the waterfall, I fought to resurface, gasping for air as the current pulled me downstream.

  I flipped onto my back and kicked my way over to the side, savoring my breath. The tight confines of the tunnel widened until the sides disappeared into darkness, leaving me with the feeling that I was suspended in a void. If it weren’t for the flashing dots on the ceiling, I would have been concerned that I’d hit game over. As it was, the flickering lights reminded me of the busy skies back home.

  Home. Even in a world away, it still found me in the smallest of details, calling out with bittersweet memories. Some things never fade away. Isn’t that what Arrow had said in the Grove?

  Thinking of Arrow summoned tears to my eyes. I let them fall, hiding them under the splashes of water. I wished he was still with me. I wished. I wished. I was tired of wishing. That hadn’t worked when I first arrived here, and it didn’t now.

  I flipped over and swam. I couldn’t focus on that anymore. Not now anyway. The end was too close for me to lose my focus.

  The slow pull of the current directed me down a narrowing tunnel. Thick strings of algae and slime hung from the walls, hiding spiraled carvings in the stone. The stench of decay from the walls intensified as I paddled closer to look at the designs. I plugged my nose to keep from getting sick. Not that it would have mattered here, in the bowels of the evil kingdom.

  The carvings on the walls continued until the room split into three pathways. A symbol crowned each of the corridors. I looked at the three: a serpentine branch, a dragon’s head, and the Great Oak. Without a second thought, I swam towards the passage that flowed under the tree.

  The current, now just a strong suggestion, directed me through several narrow corridors lit only by a faint light streaming in through ceiling vents. The further I swam, the fainter the pull of the water grew, until it stilled completely. The tunnel became shallower and the water thicker and more stagnant. I trudged through, keeping away from the edges where dark bubbles and algae swirled at the surface.

  The tunnels branched off again, and each time I followed the tree until the stench of the water became unbearable and the corridor narrowed into a sliver of space no wider than my arm span.

  A wave of excitement rushed over me when I turned a corner and saw a wall of stones. I sloshed through the shallows, the dark water and guck splashing over me. At this point, it didn’t matter. I was already soaked, and I wanted to get out of there.

  The wall, a roughly constructed stack of river rocks, towered over me. If not for the small sliver of light peeking in from the top, I would’ve thought it was a dead end.

  I slipped my hands into the rough crevices between the rocks and climbed. Rock fragments and dirt loosened my grip, and the water dripping from my clothes weighed me down, but I pressed on. Nothing was going to stop me from reaching the top.

  When I’d scaled the wall, I pulled myself over the edge and into the narrow passageway. My heart drummed as I crawled through the hallway, holding my breath as the full weight of the castle seemed to bear down on me. When the room finally opened, I rolled over onto my back, breathing deeply. If I hadn’t played this my entire life, I would have second-guessed my choices. The narrow passageways did not inspire hope.

  But I knew that hope was not the intention of this castle. A labyrinth of chambers, hallways, guards, and traps, this place signified death and torture. I really hoped I could skip those last parts.

  I rolled into a sitting position and dumped a small river out of my boots. Leaning the still-saturated boots upside down against the wall, I sat back and rummaged through my bag. I formed a small pile of sticks and struck my luminance balls together. The fire was small but intense, and I basked in its heat. I sat back and waited. I wasn’t going any
where until the boots and my clothes dried. Their wet prints would lead the guards directly to me.

  The puddles of water at my side called to me. I fluttered my fingers through the pool, watching the edges of the water roll onto the dry stones in a feathered pattern.

  I leaned forward and dipped my finger in, and then brushed them on the dry stones to my right, watching the slow transformation. My strokes became quicker and more fluid as I recalled an image in my mind. The water didn’t dry at a consistent speed, creating depth in the shadows of the portrait. I worked intently until a picture of the queen stared back at me.

  When her image waned, drying in the heat of the fire, I painted again. Conjuring a different memory, I deepened my strokes, angling the edges more sharply. I drew in a trance until I sat face-to-face with Arrow.

  I bit my thumb. Frozen in a moment of happiness, this was the Arrow I remembered. I traced his lips, raising one end in mischievous defiance. If only I could see that smile again. The image faded as quickly as it had been made, and I grabbed my boots, ignoring the dampness at my toes. They were dry enough to leave no marks.

  I needed to get out of there. The small chamber was closing in on me.

  I unsheathed my dagger and walked ahead, careful of the empty corridors and growing shadows. No matter how abandoned the subterranean vault seemed, danger lurked everywhere. A moment of complacency would kill me here. Now that I was on my own, I needed to be more aware.

  The hallway ended at a spiral staircase brightened by evenly hung torches. Charcoal ash stained the walls and floor, and, in between, an even layer of dust covered the worn stones. I ran up them as quickly as I could, but four unending flights left me breathless.

  Stumbling out of the stairway, I leaned against the wall, cooling my forehead against the metal rungs that hung beneath dead torches. When I managed to look up, a sense of familiarity rolled over me.