The Dream Master

by Theresa Breslin

  ‘Look out!’ cried Cy. He jumped up and pushed Aten to one side as the great pyramid came down on top of them. It struck them as it fell, sending them all sprawling.

  Aten sat up first. He raised his fist in triumph. ‘I have it,’ he said. He opened his hand to reveal his ankh. And with a happy smile he raised his arms and looped the leather cord of the silver amulet over his head.

  As the ankh fell into place round his neck Cy remembered the fear in the Dream Master’s voice, the look of terror on his face when Cy had been about to give Aten back his amulet. He spoke aloud to Aten. ‘The Dream Master didn’t want you to have your ankh back in this time and space.’

  Aten shrugged. ‘There cannot possibly be any harm in my putting it on. It will help to keep me safe. Wearing it will prevent me from being trapped in the tomb.’ He lifted his hand and adjusted the cord round his neck, and as he did so his fingers held the silver amulet.

  There was a shuddering crack in the air around him. A bright white light exploded out of the ankh and sent a thousand fractions of colour hurtling into space. And then the fabric of Time tore open and they were sucked inside the spinning, whirling vortex.

  Chapter 18

  Cy screamed. he was falling. Tumbling down and down, inside the Great Pyramid. He flailed about with both hands as he fell, desperately trying to find something to grab on to. Close beside him he could hear Aten yelling.

  ‘We’re going back! We’re going back!’

  Cy landed on a hard surface. Solid ground below him, and – he felt about cautiously – around him, and . . . above? He couldn’t see above.

  ‘Aten?’ Cy called. There was a groan and Cy could just make out Aten sprawled alongside him in the darkness. ‘Where are we?’ Cy whispered.

  ‘In the tomb,’ wailed Aten. ‘The worst place I could be.’

  ‘Not the worst,’ said Cy, trying to be cheerful. ‘I mean there have to be worse places than this.’

  ‘Only one.’ Aten shuddered. ‘Thank the gods we are not at Lake Moeris with the crocodiles.’

  From within the darkness Cy heard a sliding thump.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘What was what?’ asked Aten.

  ‘Didn’t you hear anything?’ said Cy, and then he dug his nails into Aten’s arm as he heard the same noise again. Only this time louder, and closer. ‘What is that?’

  ‘I can’t see,’ said Aten. ‘We need light, some torches . . .’

  Further down the passageway a ruddy glow crept along the wall. Cy scrambled to his feet. ‘Come on. Let’s go that way.’

  ‘Someone has left flares to show the way,’ said Aten. He reached up and lifted a burning torch from its bracket. Behind them came a noise of something heavy slithering across the ground.

  Cy glanced back nervously. ‘I don’t like that noise,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what it is. But I know that I definitely don’t like it.’ He took down another torch. ‘At least we can see a bit better now.’

  ‘If we are in a burial place there should be wall paintings,’ said Aten. He held his torch high. ‘Ah, yes . . .’

  In the dim flickering light they could see pictures on the walls. Figures with kohl-lined eyes, names in elaborate cartouches, and many, many lines of writing.

  ‘Can you read what this says?’ Cy asked.

  ‘It tells us of the gods. There is Horus, falcon of the sky, and there is Sebek,’ Aten shivered, ‘with the head of a crocodile.’

  ‘It must have taken years to write it all out,’ said Cy. ‘I’d hate to have had to do that.’

  ‘To be a scribe is a privilege. It means you have an honoured place in society,’ said Aten, ‘with much power and wealth. You would pay no taxes.’

  ‘Well, I suppose that is an advantage,’ Cy admitted grudgingly. ‘If you could earn lots of money then it might be worth it.’

  ‘A scribe’s work has much more worth than mere money.’ Aten pointed at the hieroglyphs. ‘Here upon this wall is written wisdom, and ideas.’ He stretched out his fingers and touched Cy gently on the forehead. ‘Ideas,’ he repeated. ‘More valuable than gold or incense. More precious than water in the desert.’

  Cy looked again at the picture-writing. He thought of the tremendous effort involved. ‘Writing is such a lot of work,’ he said.

  ‘Without writing,’ said Aten, ‘knowledge would be as perfume in the air. Across time and space, with writing, we are able to meet the minds of others.’ Cy followed Aten as he moved along, examining the drawings and the script.

  ‘This,’ said Aten, ‘tells of the Journey to the Afterlife. Anubis weighs the person’s heart against the Feather of Truth. See, there are the judges seated on their thrones. They will watch to see on which side the scales come to rest. Insincerity will be found out. A heavy heart is full of deceit and will tip the balance down.’

  ‘Like Chloe and Eddie,’ said Cy. ‘Pretending to be nice, but nasty on the inside.’

  ‘Chloe and Eddie,’ repeated Aten. ‘They are as crocodiles. Wide smiles to devour the innocent, but remember, those who deal in darkness will remain in the dark.’

  Again Cy heard the strange noise. He looked back down the tunnel. Was there something moving there in the dark, just beyond the light cast by their torches? He shivered. A very vivid imagination, Mrs Chalmers had told his mum and dad on parents’ evening. Too vivid. He turned his head firmly to the front and continued walking after Aten. ‘Why do you think we are going downhill?’

  ‘Don’t all tunnels slope down?’ said Aten.

  Just as Aten spoke, there was an unexpected dip in the ground beneath them. Aten stumbled and then stopped. Ahead of them were two passageways. Cy peered into the gloom. The passage on the right looked drier, the wall paintings fresher and cleaner. ‘Which way?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Aten. ‘They both look exactly the same.’

  ‘No,’ began Cy. ‘The one on the right is better . . .’ Cy stopped speaking and focused his eyes. He looked from right to left and then back again. The tunnels now appeared identical. ‘I thought . . .’

  ‘What?’ asked Aten.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Cy. ‘Let’s go on. I don’t like this place at all.’

  They took the right fork and walked on . . . and on.

  ‘Soon we must reach a hieroglyph which tells us where we are,’ said Aten. He held up his torch to illuminate an elegant cartouche. ‘This . . .’ he began. Then he stopped, and reaching out a trembling finger, he traced the outline of the pictograms. Cy could see an owl, a plaited tress . . .

  ‘E-M-,’ Aten began to spell out the word, ‘Emseh.’ Aten’s voice gurgled in his throat.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Cy asked him.

  Aten pointed to the hieroglyphs. ‘It says . . . it says . . .’

  ‘What?’ cried Cy in exasperation. He held his own torch closer. There was a scraping sound, heavy and dull, from near their feet.

  ‘Eeeeeeeeeeeee!’ Aten’s voice screeched in terror directly into Cy’s ear.

  ‘What is it?’ Cy looked around wildly and then followed Aten’s pointing finger. Just beyond them in the darkness he could make out a low, hulking shape. And then, two pinpricks of dull red. ‘What is it?’ he repeated. He shook Aten by the arm. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Now I understand,’ said Aten. ‘The tunnels, the noises . . .’ His voice stuttered in fear. ‘We are in the labyrinth . . . in the labyrinth with the crocodiles.’

  Chapter 19

  Cy grabbed aten by the arm and ran. ‘You keep to the left in a maze, don’t you?’

  ‘I thought that you turned right at each corner,’ gasped Aten.

  Ahead of them in an opening was a crocodile.

  ‘Omigosh,’ said Cy. ‘There’s two of them. Go the other way!’ As he hared up another tunnel behind Aten, Cy tried to think. ‘It might be better if we run zigzag,’ he yelled. ‘I read somewhere it confuses them if you go from side to side.’

  ‘I know the best way to run away from a crocodile,’ At
en yelled back.

  ‘How?’

  ‘Very quickly,’ said Aten. ‘Egyptian humour,’ he added and dodged as Cy tried to punch him.

  Cy skidded to halt. ‘Let’s take a second to think this out,’ he said. ‘I’m sure it’s left.’ He remembered when all the family had gone to Hampton Court maze. Lauren had insisted that they turned left at every junction. Although, Cy suddenly recalled, they had been in the maze for hours before they had found their way out. ‘When we got lost in Hampton Court maze,’ said Cy, ‘I’m sure Lauren said that the key to getting out was to keep left.’

  ‘Lauren?’ said Aten.

  ‘Lauren!’ yelped Cy, as he caught sight of his sister running along the tunnel.

  ‘Cy, what are you doing here?’ Lauren gave her brother a puzzled look. She looked around her. ‘What am I doing here?’

  ‘Omigollygosh!’ said Cy. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Aten. ‘She was not with us in the assembly hall.’

  ‘I was with Baz and Cartwheel,’ said Lauren. ‘What is this place, anyway?’

  ‘How can she have got here?’ asked Cy.

  ‘I know!’ cried Aten. ‘It is because you mentioned her. You told me that’s what happened in your special dream, and you just said her name a moment ago.’

  ‘But where has she come from?’ said Cy. ‘Where should she be at this moment that she’s not?’

  ‘It is very strange,’ said Aten. ‘Her friends will not know what has happened to her.’

  ‘Hey, what gives?’ said a voice from the darkness. ‘Isn’t this the weirdest place?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Cy whirled round. Baz and Cartwheel were now on either side of Lauren.

  ‘Terrific set for your band, Aten,’ said Cartwheel, looking about. She reached out and touched one of the walls. ‘These wall paintings are so realistic.’

  ‘That is certainly true,’ said Aten. In the distance there was the scrabbling sound of claws. Aten glanced nervously behind them. ‘May reality remain an illusion more real than I hope you ever find out.’

  ‘Sorry?’ said Lauren.

  ‘Let us pray that close by here there is a swampy underground lake where crocodiles may wish to stay,’ said Aten to Cy in a low voice. ‘Although, it is said that they are attracted by human voices.’

  ‘This is an amazing place,’ said Baz. ‘Kind of funky.’ She looked beyond Aten’s head. ‘Wow! Those two crocodiles look as if they’re actually alive!’

  Cy and Aten looked at each other. Then Cy shouted out, ‘It’s not me that’s making it happen! It’s you!’

  ‘No. Way!’ said Aten.

  ‘Yes!’ yelled Cy. ‘Just a second ago you said that crocodiles are attracted by human voices and now they are here! And think back. Since we landed in this place every thought you’ve had has happened. We fall inside the pyramid, then you think a worse place to be would be in a maze with crocodiles. Next minute we are in a maze. You said we needed light. Zap! Torches appear. To me the tunnels seemed different. You said that you thought they were the same, and I look again, and they were! It’s you! You’re doing it!’

  Aten shook his head.

  ‘You are!’ Cy insisted. ‘You mentioned Lauren, and her Boy Band groupie friends, and hey presto!’

  ‘Boy Ba—’ repeated Aten.

  ‘No! Don’t’ – Cy clapped his hand over Aten’s mouth – ‘say it!’ He held up his hand as Aten opened his mouth. ‘Don’t even think it. Think of something else. Think of anything else.’

  ‘My mind keeps coming back to crocodiles,’ wailed Aten. He stopped, screamed out loud and put both his hands over his mouth. ‘I said it! I said it!’ He moaned again and then squeezing his eyes tight, he shouted out, ‘A lake, a swampy lake. Crocodiles, please stay in the water.’

  There was a splashing sound behind them, and the largest of the crocodiles flapped its tail around in a large, spreading pool of slime.

  ‘That’s so cool!’ said Baz. She took a few steps forward, knelt down, and held out her fingers. ‘Isn’t he cute?’

  ‘Omigosh,’ said Cy.

  ‘Here, boy,’ said Baz. ‘Come and I’ll scratch behind your ears.’ The large reptile heaved itself forward. Its huge jaws opened up.

  ‘Think of something,’ hissed Cy. ‘Fast!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A muzzle!’

  ‘What’s a muzzle?’ asked Aten.

  ‘A cage-like thing which locks round its mouth.’

  ‘Like that?’

  ‘Good,’ said Cy. ‘Now think up another one.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ shouted Cy as he saw that the larger crocodile was now wearing two muzzles. ‘One each.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Aten.

  Being muzzled confused the crocodiles. They began to walk backwards, shaking their heads from side to side.

  ‘Listen!’ said Cy. ‘Remember at the beginning when you said the crocodiles were a bit like Chloe and Eddie? And . . . and,’ Cy’s voice rose in excitement, ‘you also said that people like that should stay in the dark. So . . .’ Cy grabbed the torch from Aten’s hand and pulled him further up the tunnel. ‘Let’s move away and see what happens. I think that the crocodiles will stay in the dark.’

  ‘You don’t mean,’ said Aten, ‘that those crocodiles could actually be Chloe and Eddie?’

  Cy nodded. ‘Yes . . . No . . .’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. Come on,’ he said to his sister and her friends. ‘We have to move on.’ Then he turned to Aten. ‘Think of a clear, dry space with some benches to sit on.’

  The benches were an odd shape, but at least they now had somewhere to rest.

  ‘How is this happening?’ asked Aten. ‘I have never had dreams like this before.’

  ‘Your ankh.’ Cy pointed to Aten’s neck. ‘Remember I said the Dream Master was terrified that you would touch it? He was right when he thought that it might connect to the Dreamworld. And now everything you think of appears beside you. It’s making your imagination come true. A bit like dreaming. Perhaps you should take it off, until we can work out what to do.’ Aten lifted his hands to obey. Cy reached out and stopped him. ‘You’d better not handle it again. Let me take it,’ he said. Cy carefully untied the knot at the back of Aten’s neck. Just as he reached round to take the silver amulet Lauren leant over.

  ‘Hey, that’s pretty,’ she said. ‘Can I try it on?’ She lifted the amulet and slipped it round her neck. ‘D’you think this suits me?’ she asked her friends.

  ‘Looks great,’ said Baz.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Cartwheel.

  Aten spoke very slowly and distinctly. ‘Please. Give it back to me.’

  Cy held his breath. His sister looked from one to the other.

  ‘Oh, all right,’ said Lauren. ‘If it’s going to upset you.’ As she began to undo the leather lace, her hand made contact with the ankh itself. ‘Were you practising down here with your band?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ said Aten.

  ‘NO!’ shrieked Cy.

  ‘But I can hear music,’ said Lauren, her fingers still fiddling with the ankh.

  ‘Definitely not,’ said Cy. ‘Give Aten his ankh back.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Lauren put her head to one side. There was a twang from an acoustic guitar. ‘That sound like a track from the new BearBoyz CD.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Cy said hurriedly. ‘Now. GIVE ATEN BACK HIS ANKH!’

  ‘Too late, I think,’ said Aten.

  Lauren was staring with huge eyes down the tunnel beyond them. ‘Do I see what I think I see?’

  Declan, lead singer of the BearBoyz, who, Cy noticed, appeared to have both a quiff and a fringe, was gyrating along the passageway, crooning into a hand-mike.

  ‘I believe we are now in Lauren’s dream,’ said Aten.

  Cy slumped against the wall.

  ‘My dream?’ said Lauren. ‘Is this my dream?’

  ‘This isn’t a dream,’ said Cy. ‘It’s a nightmare.’

  �
��Cos, if it’s my dream,’ Lauren went on, ‘then I might as well have my wishes come true.’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Let’s have some music,’ she said. ‘And let’s have it LOUD!’

  The crash of sound from eight twenty-thousand-watt loudspeakers reverberated round the walls. From deep in the darkness Cy heard one of the crocodiles whimper.

  ‘Now,’ said Lauren, ‘Declan needs a backing group,’ she looked at her two friends, ‘and we’re it!’

  The sight of the three girls in day-glo lime-coloured lycra micros with black mini crop tops made Cy move himself. He leapt across and snatched the ankh from Lauren’s neck.

  Now he had it. The Ankh of Aten. In his own hands, with its power released. As Cy clasped it between his palms he felt the charge from it surge inside him. Like a divining rod it tapped into his own psychic energy, and then, enhanced and increased, it soared, multiplying, force upon force. He was all powerful. What he wanted he could get. What he wished for he would have. He could create worlds, his dreams would come true.

  ‘I await your command, master,’ said a voice at his elbow.

  Cy turned. He wasn’t really surprised to see a Jedi knight standing a respectful pace away. Cy blinked several times, closed his eyes tightly for a second or two, and then reopened them one at a time.

  Princess Leia handed him his light-sabre. ‘Come, Obi-Cy Kenobi. We don’t have much time,’ she said.

  ‘Time.’ Cy repeated the word. The force-beam buzzed in his hand. A flickering white light of pure energy cut through the air. Cy felt the power in him. Now he had it all. He was invincible. But . . . only with the ankh.

  Cy looked down at the silver amulet lying in his open palm. He needed the ankh, but it wasn’t his.

  It belonged to Aten. It was his life force. He must give it back.

  Slowly Cy’s fingers began to close.