Dream Magic

by Joshua Khan

  Weaver scowled. “Careful, boy. You’re treading on very dangerous ground.”

  A hole opened up in front of Thorn. He stopped walking just in time to avoid falling through it into open sky.

  Through the gap he saw the snow-covered forest. And campfires—hundreds of them glinting in the night.

  “Trolls,” he muttered. “They’ve nearly made it through Spindlewood.”

  Weaver waved his hand, and the hole sealed up. “The troll army has moved swiftly. They’ll be upon Castle Gloom tomorrow.”

  Thorn despaired. The army looked unstoppable.

  Weaver was responsible for all this death and destruction, and it was just the beginning. For a moment, a brief moment, but one that filled him from top to bottom, Thorn agreed with Golgoth. Maybe some people did deserve to die.

  Thorn needed to escape. But how? The guards were at his shoulder. In the meantime, he kept talking. “So you’re all about overthrowing the masters, I get it. I’m the same—a lowly peasant, working for stuck-up nobles who think they’re in charge, just because they were born with silver spoons in their fat faces.”

  “Oh? Is that true?”

  “Yeah. I ain’t even from Gehenna. I’m from Herne’s Forest.” He met Weaver’s questioning look. “I had to run; I was an outlaw.”

  “What crime did you commit?”

  “Poaching. To feed my family. Trouble was, the local lord didn’t take kindly to people trying that sort of thing. My dad had already lost two fingers as punishment. I had to run, or it was the rope.” It was close enough to the truth. “Then I was caught by slavers and brought here.”

  Weaver put his good hand on Thorn’s arm. “What of Lilith? I understand you are friends.”

  “Friends? Maybe she does like me, as a pet. We ain’t never gonna be equals, not like true friends.” He paused, no longer knowing where he was with the lies and the truth. “I ain’t important to her.”

  “I understand,” said Weaver thoughtfully. “For all your talents, your heroism, you will never be allowed to sit at the high table. You will, like I did, take meals with the dogs. That is the world I hate, young Thorn. Where a man’s worth is not measured by his deeds, but by his birth.” He looked down through another hole in the cloud floor. “And that is the world I intend to destroy, beginning with Castle Gloom.”

  “Maybe you could get Lily to surrender? It’s clear you’re gonna win.”

  “You have so little faith in your mistress?”

  “Lily’s good at magic, but not that good.” Thorn gazed around him. “Nowhere as good as you.”

  “Nor as powerful. I have these.” Weaver plucked at a web. The whole thing thrummed, and pulses of light ran back and forth along the threads. “These webs absorb the dreams of those held within. It’s not learning from spell books that makes a great sorcerer; it’s one’s imagination. That’s what fuels magic, and there is no greater source of imagination than people’s dreams.”

  “Look, I ain’t stupid,” said Thorn. “You’ll win, and there’s no point in me backing Lily or anyone in Castle Gloom. You and I are the same—you said so. Let me join you. I can help. I know the layout of Castle Gloom, its weaknesses.”

  “You would betray Lily?”

  “She never earned my loyalty. She only bought it.”

  Was that enough to convince him? Thorn settled down. He couldn’t risk slipping up.

  “You would be a valuable ally, I’m not denying that. You could scout out the opposition, fly above it all on your bat. Count the enemy troops, see where they’re positioned.”

  He’d give him Hades? It just got better and better with this maniac.

  Thorn grinned inwardly. Lily had always called him a poor liar. She wouldn’t say that after this. He’d be called Sir Thorn Charm-Tongue. He liked the sound of that.

  Weaver stroked his chin. “Yes. You could use your bat. I could even send you to speak to Lilith. She would trust you after all. But to do that I would have to…” He looked up slowly.

  So did Thorn. Into the mandibles of a dozen descending jewel spiders.

  Weaver sighed. “I would have to be a total moron.”

  Thorn made a move to run, but the webs caught his shoulders. He fell as more trapped his legs. The jewel spiders began dragging him upward.

  “Nice try, Thorn.”

  They began weaving webs over his limbs and torso. Thorn flinched as their needle-thin legs scratched his face and prodded at his mouth. He squirmed, keeping his lips firmly sealed. No way was one of them getting inside to lay its eggs.

  They crawled all over him, minute, sharp, searching.

  Weaver looked up at him as he dangled a few feet off the floor. “Don’t worry, they’re not going to bite you, not yet.” Weaver instructed one of his guards. “Tell Hurricane to bring the cloud ship down to a hundred feet. We will release the jewel spiders at first light.”

  Thorn glared at him. “She’ll beat you. Lily always finds a way.”

  “Lily’s lost, boy. Lost deep in her dreams. She’s not coming back.” He jabbed Thorn with his staff. “You just stay here and watch me conquer Gehenna.”

  “This is perfect,” said Lily as she admired the view. “I don’t want this day ever to end.”

  It was glorious, her home. The spires of Castle Gloom stood straight and proud. Their tips would have pierced the clouds if there’d been any to disturb the clear blue sky. The marble walls of the Great Hall shimmered like oil on water, and she could see the Black Guard training on the field outside Phantom Gate, their armor glossy black as they rode their majestic warhorses.

  “I know what you mean,” said Dante as he searched one of the baskets, no doubt trying to find the cakes.

  Her mother joined them with blackberries she’d picked from around a tomb. She popped one in Lily’s mouth.

  Lily sucked the juice out. “Delicious.”

  The sun shone brightly on the City of Silence and its countless tombs. They’d walked up the hill and spent a good while looking for the perfect spot, in the shade of one of the huge family mausoleums. Lily sighed. “I should come up here more often.”

  “We’re here all the time,” said Dante.

  “When was Phantom Gate rebuilt?” Lily asked. “It’s been a ruin since—”

  “What does it matter?” said Dante. He started on a muffin. “And thanks for helping, by the way.”

  Lily joined him in eating. Plums, tarts with the richest, darkest blackberry jam, and bottles of grape juice, ice-cold. She picked up a tart.

  Her mother laughed. “That’s for dessert, sweetheart.”

  “Too late,” said Lily, and she pushed the whole tart into her mouth. It barely fit and crumbs spilled out as she munched.

  “Very ladylike,” muttered Dante.

  Lily lay down on the cool grass and closed her eyes. “I could stay here forever.”

  She felt her mother lightly brush hair out of her face. She’d forgotten how soft her mother’s skin was. “I’d like that, dear,” said Salome.

  This was all Lily wanted.

  Then there was a yelp.

  Lily opened her eyes.

  Small, energetic legs scampered through the overgrown bushes, and a soft, silly growl rose up from behind a gravestone.

  “Custard?” Lily rolled onto her elbows as her dog began sniffing at the basket.

  Dante laughed and swept him up. He hugged Custard as the puppy licked his face. “No, don’t eat me! Help! I’m being devoured by a savage beast! Help!”

  Custard was wild with excitement; to him, having someone to wrestle with was the best thing in the world. Dante picked up a sausage and held one end between his teeth. He scampered around on all fours, and Custard chased after the sausage, yapping and jumping for all he was worth.

  Lily watched, grinning. “Don’t get him too excited, or he’ll wet himself!”

  Eventually Custard grabbed the sausage and bit it in half. Dog and boy both settled to enjoy their portion. Dante rubbed Custard under the chin. “I
never thanked you, Lily. For giving him to me.”

  Lily faltered. “When? He’s…mine.”

  Dante rolled over and growled at Custard, who wasn’t the least bit interested in playing now that he had his prize. “You gave him to me,” Dante went on. “You kissed him, told him to find me, and put him in the ground. Buried between two rosebushes.”

  “That’s not funny, Dante.” Lily got up. “Tell him, Mother.”

  Lady Shadow smiled. “But he’s telling the truth, Lily. Don’t you remember?”

  Lily stood up. Her chest heaved, and she started crying. “No. Don’t talk about such things.”

  Her mother took her hand. “Lily, it’s for the best. Come now, it’s only death.”

  “No!”

  Lily wrenched away. She kicked over the basket and watched the plums roll away. The picnic was spoiled. She needed to get back to the castle. “I need to go….”

  Dante grabbed her. “Stay with us, Lily.”

  “I…can’t.”

  Pulling free, she stumbled and landed on her knees in front of the tomb. A sharp pain suddenly shot through her hands. She stared at the thorns sticking out of her palms. Black rosebushes surrounded the large sarcophagus. More tears fell.

  Dante scoffed. “It’s just a thorn.”

  The pain sharpened her thoughts. She plucked it out and watched the blood swell. “No. Not just a thorn. Thorn.”

  She stared at the tomb and read its inscription:

  LORD IBLIS SHADOW AND LADY SALOME SHADOW

  RULERS OF GEHENNA AND DEVOTED PARENTS

  TOGETHER IN DEATH, AS IN LIFE

  The roses melded with the stonework, pure black marble and exquisitely done. She got up and saw, lying upon the tomb, two perfect effigies of her mother and father with rose petals sprinkled over them.

  “No, no, no…” Lily sobbed, her tears mixing with the blood on her hands.

  She faced her mother and brother.

  “You’re just shadows,” she said. “Of my love.”

  Lady Shadow reached out to her. “We don’t need to be, sweetheart. You can stay with us forever. You’ll always be happy.”

  “Life’s not like that, Mother. Happiness needs to be special; it needs to be fleeting. Otherwise, how can it be precious?” She plucked a rose, stem and all. She squeezed it, forcing the thorns into her palm. “I need to go.”

  Dante took his mother’s hand. He smiled sadly at Lily, his head cocked to one side, his black hair hanging over one eye. Looking at her just like he used to. “Good-bye, Lily.”

  She almost ran to them. She almost broke her faith in the real world and embraced the Dreamtime. Her heart felt ready to burst from her chest.

  Her mother nodded, accepting Lily’s decision. “Remember us, Lily.”

  Lily couldn’t speak. Tears were her answer.

  The wind of Dreamtime blew them away. It tore up the tombs and gravestones, and then even the earth began to disintegrate. Castle Gloom vanished as if made of smoke and sadness.

  I am dreaming. I am in the Dreamtime.

  Lily repeated it over and over.

  I am in the Dreamtime.

  But it’s not my dream anymore….Whose is it?

  Screams ripped the air. Lily spun around. She was trapped in a small, broken-down cottage. A table had been pushed up against the door, and it jumped each time someone, or something, beat against the door from outside. The windows were shuttered and barred, but through the gaps Lily glimpsed figures moving.

  The screams turned into ferocious roars. The cottage shook from above and they, whatever they were, began tearing at the thatched roof, digging their way down and in.

  A small, ragged boy was curled up in the corner, eyes squeezed shut and hands covering his ears.

  Lily knelt down and put her hand softly on his. “Hello.”

  His face was pinched, his body scrawny due to lack of food. His dark eyes were hollow, ringed with terror. The dirt on his face was dug in deep, and his tears had done little to remove it. The boy shook from head to toe. He wore no shoes, and Lily wondered if he ever had.

  “I’m scared,” said the boy. He gripped her hand with terrible desperation.

  Lily smiled and wiped his face. “You need to be brave.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  The howls rose into a bloodcurdling frenzy. What horrors were out there? Why were they tormenting this little child?

  “Are you a princess?” the boy asked.

  “I am. And you know what all princesses need, don’t you?”

  He shook his head.

  “We need three things, that’s all: grace, wit, and brave knights to protect us. Will you be brave, for me?”

  The boy’s eyes widened; then he slowly nodded. “I’ll try.”

  “Thank you. So I shall dub you”—she tapped one shoulder, then the other—“Sir…?”

  “My name’s Bill. Bill Tyburn.”

  Lily faltered. Then she smiled. “Arise, Sir Bill Tyburn. The fearless.”

  The boy leaped forward and wrapped his arms around her. He buried his head into her neck. “Don’t let them get me.”

  This was Tyburn’s nightmare. Deep in his soul, Tyburn remained this terrified little boy. He’d never escaped this cottage nor faced the monsters outside: the guilt he carried for all the things he’d done.

  Lily lifted Bill up. “We’re leaving now,” she told him.

  “How? There’s no way out!”

  “Of course there is. I can see a door right in front of me.”

  He was frantic. “No! They’ll get us!”

  “No. I don’t think they will. Hold on tight, though. If both of us go out together, well, I think we’ll be fine.”

  Lily pushed the table aside and turned the door handle. The latch clicked. She pulled it open.

  The monsters were gone. There was nothing outside but stillness and silence.

  Lily met the boy’s dark gaze. She brushed the last tears away. “Time to wake up, Bill.”

  Tyburn’s dream may have been a surprise, but Gabriel’s was entirely predictable.

  “All hail High King Gabriel Solar!”

  Trumpets blasted. Thousands of flags, all white and gold, fluttered in the crisp morning breeze, and doves filled the skies.

  Gabriel sat upon a giant throne. His silver armor sparkled with diamonds.

  The herald stood on the steps of the palace, halfway between the high king and the sea of adoring subjects. “Conqueror of the east, south, north, and west! Master of the New Kingdoms! Peacemaker and justice-bringer! All hail the high king!”

  Lily was at the foot of the steps. In chains. To her left was Ying; beyond him stood a man with scales and gills.

  The Coral king?

  To her right was the Sultan of Fire, with K’leef, and several druids from Herne’s Forest, with Thorn. Thorn was in rags and wore a double helping of chains.

  Nice fantasy, Gabriel.

  “This is ridiculous.” Lily tugged her chains apart and marched up the flight of stairs.

  “Guards! Stop that prisoner!” ordered the herald.

  Paladins, the Solars’ elite warriors, rushed down to attack.

  Lily ignored them, and their swords and spears passed harmlessly through her.

  “Really, Gabriel? And I thought we were friends,” said Lily, stopping at the throne.

  Gabriel arched his eyebrows. “So, Lady Shadow, we meet again. You are no match for me in sorcery, and your womanly wiles will not sway me.”

  “Womanly wiles? Never mind.” She looked at the endless pageantry. “So, ‘high king’? What’s that all about?”

  Gabriel raised his chin. “I have conquered all the other kingdoms. With my magic and my sword. None could stand against me. I defeated, in single combat, twelve of the sultan’s sons!”

  “That’s not so hard. Four of them are still in diapers.”

  High king. The only true high king was the father of the fabled Six Princes. After his death those six, all brothers, had torn t
he world apart through war. But all rulers had ambitions. She wondered if her father had once had similar dreams, to combine the kingdoms into a single empire.

  An impossible dream.

  And who would want to? She had enough trouble making sure Castle Gloom didn’t run out of flour.

  Lily pulled him off his throne. “Come on, we’re going.”

  Gabriel flung up his hands. “Begone, foul seductress!”

  “Who are you calling seductress?”

  “I said…begone!”

  Gabriel was used to getting his own way, in real life and even more so in the Dreamtime. But the dream was crumbling. The colors were draining, and the surroundings were blurring, no longer able to retain their sharp details.

  “What’s…what’s happening?” Gabriel’s hands dropped to his sides. His armor lost its sheen, and the diamonds turned to gray stones. Then he glared at Lily. “Whatever you’re doing, stop it! Put it back! All of it!”

  She’d had enough. Lily grabbed his collar and shook him. “There is nothing here! It’s all a dream, and you need to wake up!”

  “A dream?” He looked ready to cry. “It can’t be.”

  Why did she feel sorry for him? Gabriel, of all people!

  “It’s a dream, Gabriel. A trap Weaver made for you.”

  He reached out, trying to hold on to his phantasmal surroundings. “I’m asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then let me sleep! I want to stay here!” He shouted to the disappearing crowds. “Don’t go! Remain with me!”

  “You can’t sleep your life away. We…er, need you.”

  “I don’t care! Just leave me! That’s what I want!” He paused and looked worriedly at her. “Just don’t shave off my eyebrows while I’m asleep. Or, you know, paint my face or anything.”

  Lily rubbed her temples, just like Mary did when she was getting one of her “special” headaches. How could Gabriel be such a pain even in his dreams? “What are you jabbering about?”

  He covered his eyebrows as if Lily had a razor in her hand. “It’s just that one of my sisters, Raphaela—she, well, this one time…oh, never mind.”

  Lily shook him violently. “I swear, by the Six…”

  “Ow! Be careful! I bruise easily!”