by Joshua Khan
More sorcerers.
Weaver shuffled forward, leaning heavily on a stick made of pure crystal. It looked like every movement was painful; he gritted his teeth with each feeble step. Then he grinned. The clawlike hand rose and beckoned her.
He stepped onto the old, narrow bridge that crossed the River Forlorn.
“Wait here,” said Lily as she dismounted.
Thorn scowled. “Cross that bridge, and you ain’t coming back.”
“I have to go, Thorn.”
Lily stepped onto the cobblestone bridge. The webbing stuck to her hands and her clothing and tried to catch her boots, so by the time she’d crossed, she was tangled in a fine crystal cloth.
Halfway across, she faced the sorcerer. He bowed. “M’lady.”
“Weaver,” said Lily. “Is that what I should call you?”
His gray eyes darkened. “I did have another name, once. But it was burned away in a terrible fire.”
“I am sorry for that, I truly am. But I had nothing to do with it.”
“Isn’t it strange, you and I both being here? It’s as though two separate worlds have collided, thanks to our father.”
“Strange? How?”
“Don’t be naive. I am the rightful heir of Gehenna.”
“It’s not that simple.”
He laughed—or it could have been a laugh. Instead, air rattled in his lungs and out from his ruined throat. “You are a talented witch but an amateur. I’ve been weaving spells since I was a small boy. I was taught in the best schools of House Typhoon. The spiders feed me dreams. Dreams strengthen me, and every living thing dreams.”
“Dreams that you rob from the innocent. What have you done with my people?” said Lily. “What have you done with Gabriel?”
“He dreams, m’lady. And he is happy.”
“How can he be happy trapped in a dream?”
“I’ve seen his visions.” The sorcerer shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Gabriel is all that his father wishes him to be—clever, accomplished, handsome. All those things that in the waking world he is not.”
“But they’re only dreams. They’re not real.”
“Ah, but when do you know the difference between a dream and reality?”
“When you wake.”
“And if you never wake?” he asked.
Lily tried to stifle a shiver. “What about Tyburn? You have him, too.”
Weaver scowled. “His are nightmares. He cannot escape the people he’s killed. His guilt consumes him, as well it should.”
“And do you feel any guilt? For the people you stole out of their homes? For the ones you’ve killed by turning them into breeding bags for your spiders?”
“That is fine coming from a Shadow. Your ancestors often fed upon their own people, did they not?”
There was no point in arguing. She was here to save her people; nothing else mattered. Lily looked over at the other waiting sorcerers. “And who are they?”
“My brothers in magic,” Weaver replied, without looking back at them. “The one in red is Firestarter, a very remote cousin to the Sultan of Fire.”
Lily nodded. Weaver had mentioned him on the night of the Old Keep fire.
“You came for the letters, didn’t you?” All those treasures in the library, and that was all he’d stolen. But Lily could guess who’d written them, and that perhaps made them the most valuable things in the world to Weaver. “Letters from your mother to…our father?”
“I wanted to find out what sort of person she was and how she felt about Iblis.” He grimaced. “I don’t remember anything about her. I was only four when she died.” His gaze hardened. “When you Shadows killed her.”
The rage filled him. Lily wondered if there was room for anything else. She hoped there was, or else all was lost. “And what about your other friend?”
“Hurricane. My wind sorcerer. He guides the cloud ship.”
“A fire sorcerer, a wind sorcerer, and a sorcerer of darkness, working together. Think of the great things you could do,” said Lily.
“We are already doing great things.” Weaver smiled maliciously. “We’re conquering your country.”
“What if I gave you Gehenna?” said Lily. “What would you give me in return?”
Weaver paused. He’d not been expecting such an offer. How could he? Kingdoms weren’t usually traded on bridges in the middle of lonely moors.
“You’re lying,” he whispered. “This is a trick.”
Lily shook her head. “I cannot beat you, and there is a troll army descending from the north. A ruler’s duty is to her or his people. I have to do my best to protect them, otherwise I’m no ruler.”
“You’d give up your kingdom?”
“If that’s what it takes,” said Lily. Strangely, she felt lighter. Had ruling Gehenna weighed her down so much? “But on one condition, easily fulfilled.”
“Ah. What is it? You want to keep the Shadow Library? Or leave with all your fabled treasures? The Mantle of Sorrows?”
“I want you to free everyone trapped in your webs. All of them. Human and troll. And you must make amends for those you’ve killed.”
“Amends? How?”
“Seek their forgiveness. Make good their loss, as best you can.”
“Why? They aren’t important.”
Lily stared at Weaver. “Is that what you think?”
His lips parted in a grotesque smile. “Surely it is their duty to serve their ruler in any way he demands? They sleep; they dream. The power of their dreams keeps the cloud ship aloft. The webs hold it together. And I venture into the Dreamtime and harvest dreams for myself. They give me strength. They are what makes me greater than you.”
Lily bit her lip. She’d not expected such arrogance, or cruelty. He had suffered more than most, and she’d thought he’d have pity. Instead, Weaver was happy—no, driven—to spread suffering to any who crossed his path. That was not how rulers should be.
But perhaps he could change? If he could be diverted from this blind need for revenge, maybe he might do right by Gehenna. There had to be a chance. He was her brother.
“It is my only demand. Gehenna for the people you’ve stolen,” said Lily. “You have the Skeleton Key. The library is yours. You could learn other ways to be great, without robbing the lives of innocent people.”
Weaver looked at her, disappointed. “You are weak. It’s a surprise you’ve survived this long.”
“I have friends who’ll stand by me,” said Lily.
“Ha!” He pointed past her to Thorn and Old Colm. “Them?”
“Free my people, Weaver. You know it’s the right thing to do. Do it, and I’ll pack my bags tonight.”
“I have another suggestion,” said Weaver. “Give me Gehenna and everything within its boundaries, and in return, I’ll give you…absolutely nothing.”
Lily glared at him but held her mouth shut.
Weaver continued. “You come here to make a deal, but you have nothing to offer that I couldn’t just take for myself. You see, sweet sister, the Shadows must be destroyed. As you did to my family, so I shall do to yours. I will take Gehenna from you and will not be gentle. Then I shall cast my jewel spiders across the whole land. Entire towns and villages will be wrapped in silvery webs. I’ll have thousands upon thousands of dreamers, all feeding me. I shall reap such a harvest.”
“You are insane,” said Lily. That fire in his eyes was more than revenge; it was madness.
“I am what the Shadows made me.”
Lily stepped forward, suddenly consumed by the urge to push Weaver into the River Forlorn and hold him under until that cruel smile was washed off. “Gehenna is not your home; you do not have any right to it,” she said. “You’ve come, uninvited, on a cloud ship that you stole from your masters, with renegades and these parasites that feed on my people. What power you have is just thievery. You’ll never have my country.”
“How will you stop me? I know your castle is defended by boys and frightened servants. Ever
y dreamer trapped in my webs strengthens me. I could crush you right now, sweep you away, but you are my sister, so I’ll give you a chance. Pack your bags, take as much as you want, and go. I care not where.”
“The other nobles won’t accept you.”
“Oh, and they accept you? They’ll have no choice once they see what I can do. I am a truer heir to your father’s kingdom than you are. I am his firstborn son.”
“I came here to make peace with you. To find a way. You’re my brother.”
“You came because you were desperate.” He turned to leave.
“Wait…”
The wind swelled around them. The sheets of spiderwebs fluttered. Weaver retreated into the mists, along with his companions. Their cloaks flapped, and the leaves swirled around them, spinning faster and faster.
The three men rose, lifted by the winds. Weaver’s cloak of spider silk shone with scintillating colors, spinning him in a rainbow.
And then they were gone.
Thorn crossed the bridge. “Well?”
The mist evaporated, revealing a desolate wasteland of cobwebs.
“There was no bargaining with him,” said Lily.
“I told you so,” replied Thorn with a nonchalant shrug. “So what do you think of your brother?”
“He’s a dream thief,” said Lily.
A small jewel spider scuttled along the ground, probing ahead of it with its front legs. It crept up to Lily.
Lily slammed her boot on it.
“Just a thief.” She plucked the remains off her heel. “And I know how to beat him.”
Lily explained her plan to Thorn once they were back in Castle Gloom.
“Nope. You ain’t gonna do it” was his reply.
“I thought you’d understand.” Lily folded her arms as she faced him. “It’s the only way to stop Weaver.”
“It’s the only way to stop him that you can think of right now. Give it time, and we’ll come up with something way better.”
“Time we don’t have,” said Lily. “The trolls are only a few days away.”
Thorn kicked a stone. “Is this why you wanted to talk here? In the Night Garden?”
He wasn’t stupid, that was for sure.
The Castle was heaving. Villagers fleeing both the advancing trolls and the creeping jewel spiders continued to arrive daily. Four villages in Bone-Tree had gone silent.
A trickle of her Black Guard had made it back, survivors of the battle at Grendel Gorge. No news of Baron Sable, though.
“This is the only quiet place left in Castle Gloom,” she said. “This is where I can think.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Have you heard what Merrick’s got going at Skeleton Gate? A zombie chorus.”
“Let me guess. He’s teaching them ‘The Old Duke’s Longsword’?”
Thorn nodded. “They’re not that bad, considering.”
Custard howled, as if he wanted to audition for Merrick’s undead musical group.
The pup followed her everywhere, always keen and excitable about everything. Being a ghost had not changed him one bit. In fact, he seemed more puppyish than ever. He was never going to grow up.
Twin opposing forces tugged inside Lily. The happiness of having Custard like this forever, and the regret—for his sake—that he’d never be different from what he was now.
His bones lay between two rosebushes not twenty yards from here. She’d caught the ghost pup sniffing around the grave once, but then he’d dashed off after a butterfly.
Lily picked up a branch and waved it at him until she had his attention. Then she tossed it over a wall. “Fetch, boy!”
Custard didn’t hesitate to run straight through the brickwork.
“He’s going to spend the next half hour trying to pick up that stick,” said Lily, pleased to have some quiet at last. “Silly dog.”
Thorn leaned over a well. “You got a penny?”
“Why?”
“So I can make a wish. They say fairies live down wells. Give them a penny, and they’ll make your wish come true.”
“Won’t buy much of a wish with a penny.” Lily joined him. “No fairies down there. This is Lady Gorgon’s cursing well.”
“Ah, I forgot. This is Gehenna, so…”
“So you write your curse on a sliver of lead, and here”—she pointed at a wedge of folded gray metal—“put it between the bricks.”
“And do these curses work?”
Lily thought about what she knew about Great-Aunt Gorgon. “I know she cursed her husband to drown in a well.” She pointed down the hole. “Which he did—after she had him tied up and thrown in by her two brothers.”
“I’ve stopped being surprised by anything your family does.” He looked down, as if he might spot a pile of old bones. “You all are sunk into this place. That’s why I can’t believe you’d ever give Gehenna up. You love it too much.”
“I do, more than anything. So I’d do whatever it takes to save it, and that includes giving it up.” Lily turned from the well. “But only to someone who loves it just as much.”
“You really don’t like ruling, do you?”
Startled, Lily stared at Thorn. He couldn’t read or write, and he didn’t know history beyond what he himself had lived. Most people dismissed him as a peasant who was good with a bow, and nothing more. Yet he clearly saw what was what, just like that.
No, she didn’t like ruling. How could she ever know what was right, and what was wrong? Chop down trees for farmers, and the foresters lose their livelihoods. Build a dam here, cause a drought there. Decide in favor of one noble, create an enemy of the other. Every decision had its perils.
“It’s an obligation; a duty,” she said, “to do right by the people.”
“You’re a strange, strange girl, Lily Shadow.” Thorn hooked his thumbs into his belt. “Look, we’ll fight. Now that we’ve got a few more of the Black Guard here, we’ll have enough to give Weaver a bloody nose. Make him think twice about taking us on.”
“Weaver’s never going to give up. All he’s got is revenge. It’s eaten him up for so long there’s nothing left in his heart but bitterness and bile.”
“Then we’re back to Golgoth’s plan, ain’t we?”
“No, we’re back to my plan.” Lily reached carefully into her pocket. “We go with this.”
A broken jewel spider lay in her palm. “The only way to win is to beat Weaver at his own game.”
Thorn looked disturbed. “You’d better not be thinking—”
“There’s enough venom still in it to carry me into the Dreamtime,” she continued. “Weaver told me what I have to do to stop him. He gets his powers from dreams, so the answer is simple: I need to wake the dreamers.”
Thorn wasn’t convinced. “How you ever tried anything like this?”
“What? Sleeping and dreaming? Every night.”
“You know what I mean, Lily.”
She looked at the broken pieces. “The magic of darkness covers so many things. We sleep in the dark, don’t we? I have to try.”
Thorn frowned. “Even if you wake the captives, they’ll all still be trapped in the webs. So what’s going to stop them spiders from just biting ’em as they wake and sending them straight back to sleep? No, we need a better plan.”
“There isn’t one.” Lily looked down at the broken spider. “And we’re running out of time.”
“No, Lily, don’t!” Thorn leaped at her—
She closed her fist.
“You idiot!” snarled Thorn. “What have you done?”
Lily opened her hand. Tiny puncture wounds decorated her palm with bright red beads of blood. The spider itself was just silvery dust now.
She drooped. A warm, heavy feeling was spreading through her, weighing her down. “Get me a cushion, Thorn….”
He shook her. “Stay awake, Lily. Fight it.”
She couldn’t. She didn’t want to.
She smiled and touched his cheek. “I like it that you care about me.”
/> “Lily…”
Then she slept.
“This is a dream,” Lily declared. “I am awake in a dream.”
She mustn’t forget that. If she did, she’d be lost.
“I am in the Dreamtime.”
Yes, dream magic was in the sphere of darkness, but she hadn’t been completely honest with Thorn. She had never studied it; her education had been focused on the undead for the past few months, mainly because there were so many of them to deal with.
Still, Lily knew that the Dreamtime, like any realm, could be mapped.
It was a single realm but made of a patchwork of all the dreams occurring at any given moment. Lily needed to see the stitches that held the quilt together. If she could detect the design, she should be able to move from one person’s dream to another’s.
What had she said to Thorn, just as she’d fallen asleep?
He’d looked so worried, she’d almost laughed.
She stood in a desert of white sand. The wind blew fiercely around her, forcing Lily to cover her eyes to keep out the stinging particles. Great waves of sand lapped over distant dunes, and spiraling dust devils danced, forming elaborate patterns across the ever-changing surface.
“Show me a path,” Lily ordered.
The wind blew before her, and the sands shifted, revealing…
Footprints.
Lily smiled. This was going to be easier than she thought.
She followed the prints, her boots sinking into the sand as she marched. It was tiring, even though she knew she was dreaming and her body was lying flat out on the ground of the Night Garden. She should have arranged for a bed, or at least a couch.
The sand hissed as a stream began to wind its way through, widening and deepening as it spread. Tall grass formed around her, and Lily felt cold water against her ankles and then calves.
A riverbank rose, a willow tree appeared, and there were two black-clad figures sitting it its shade, boots off and fishing rods in hand.
“Wade?” asked Lily, now standing waist-deep in the middle of a river. A kingfisher darted by.
“M’lady Shadow?” Wade dropped his rod and jumped into the water. “Here, let me help you.”