Dream Magic

by Joshua Khan

Thorn helped her up. “Must be good to get that back, eh? You can see your dad again.”

  “I’ve just seen him. He’s with my brother in the Dreamtime. I surrendered to Weaver and handed over Gehenna. Now he has everything he ever wanted.”

  “Do…do you intend to wake him?”

  She gazed down at her half brother. He looked peaceful; perhaps for the first time in his life, all the rage and hate had disappeared from his brow. “He is happy. Why should I deny him that?”

  “I suppose we’d better take him back and—”

  A mighty, branch-shaking roar cut Thorn short. The whole of Spindlewood seemed to tremble and thrash. The ground shook with the tread of huge feet.

  “Now what?” Thorn complained.

  Lily saw huge, lumbering shapes among the trees. “That’ll be the troll army.”

  Trees fell, bent by bull-broad shoulders and splintered under iron-shod boots. The trolls lined up at the edge of the woods, beating drums and roaring, and waving banners and weapons. Some were as tall as birch trees and had bodies wider than the oldest oaks.

  And at the head of the group was their king. He raised a hand, and the horde fell silent.

  Lily looked around her. “Someone get the trolls who’ve just woken. We’ll hand them over. He’ll understand it wasn’t our fault. That we’ve saved them.”

  Thorn frowned. “He don’t look too understanding.”

  The king wore a necklace of helmets.

  Wade snarled. “That’s my father’s!” He took a step forward, hammer raised to his shoulder. “If he’s done anything to him, I’ll—”

  Thorn stopped him before he got any farther, but Wade was right. The battered horned-demon mask was definitely the baron’s. Lily recognized a few of the others hanging from the troll king’s neck.

  Her zombies, sensing her fear, gathered into a mob. Old Colm stood with his squires. The boys were exhausted, but Lily saw the fire in their hearts shining out. They’d survived a battle and were swollen with courage. The spiders had been defeated; was a troll army so much harder?

  Others joined them, all aware that this was the real fight. A few riders plodded up, their lances poised for a futile charge. There were crossbowmen and there were spearmen, led by Golgoth. He rushed up to the front. He barely glanced at the waiting trolls, turning instead to Thorn. “Gabriel?”

  “Safe,” replied Thorn.

  Golgoth smiled, visibly relieved. Lily did not understand why Golgoth felt any fondness for the Solar boy. Still, there were many people in the world, so perhaps it was inevitable that someone would have warm feelings for Gabriel. How strange that it was an executioner.

  “Any advice for us?” she asked him.

  Golgoth turned his axes in slow loops, loosening himself up. “Fight well, and hope those trolls choke on our bones when they eat us.”

  Thorn nudged her. “Got any more magic up those baggy sleeves of yours? Bang out a spell, and we can all go home for supper.”

  “If I could, I would.”

  Dott joined them, a twisted, dented old shovel in her hand. She was grinning from ear to ear. “Big bash! Bash some more?”

  Lily straightened her robes and faced the line of trolls. “I’ll go and talk with the king.”

  Thorn took her arm. “No! He’ll put you in a stew pot.”

  Dott frowned when she saw what Lily was looking at. She dropped the shovel and took a few steps forward. “Big kin?”

  “King,” corrected Lily. She and Thorn exchanged glances, worried that she might set something off. If the king thought Dott had been kidnapped…

  The troll king marched forward; his army waited behind, but stirred impatiently.

  Dott moved closer. “Dada?”

  Thorn looked at Lily. “You don’t think…?”

  “Dada!”

  The troll king stopped. “Dottir? Dottir here?”

  Dott ran to him, laughing in delight.

  “What’s going on?” asked Wade as he watched Dott embrace the troll king. Big as she was, she barely came up to his waist.

  Dott took the king’s hand and pulled, saying, “Come meet friends!”

  Lily smiled. “Any father would go to war to rescue his daughter, whether troll or human. I think Dott just saved Gehenna.”

  Thorn shook his head in amazement. “Now that’s not something you see every day.”

  “Thank the Six,” muttered Old Colm.

  “Hail Lady Shadow!”

  “Hail Lilith, friend to trolls!”

  Castle Gloom had never held a feast like it, not in all its thousands of years.

  “Hail the witch queen!”

  The Great Hall boomed with voices, with cheers and oaths and singing.

  There were hundreds of soldiers, both commoners and the Black Guard. They drank and wrestled with one another, the trolls scattered among them. The trolls were trying hard not to win too easily.

  Zombies and ghosts mingled with the living. Many of the zombies were wearing armor from the depths of the catacombs, the armor of the Immortals. Most of it was rusty and clouded with cobwebs, but they didn’t seem to mind.

  And in among them were people who had been rescued from the cloud ship. Had the Great Hall ever seen clothing of such varied and vivid colors? The green of folk from the Coral Isles, the red of those stolen from the south, the Lu Fengese in their flowing blue robes, and the earthy browns and gray of villagers from Thorn’s old home, Herne’s Forest. Half of the people couldn’t understand the other half, their babble of languages trampling over each other’s. Yet they knew how to eat and drink and, somehow, join in the chorus of “The Old Duke’s Longsword.”

  Thorn snatched another chicken drumstick from the pile on the table. He elbowed one of the squires aside for the jug of gravy. He poured it over his plate, soaking the bread and the potatoes and turnips until it was an inch deep.

  “You’re going to explode,” commented Wade as he crashed down on the bench beside him.

  Thorn burped. “Oh, come down to sit with us commoners, have you, m’lord?”

  Wade pulled the drumstick out of Thorn’s slippery grasp and bit off a strip. “I won’t forget you, Thorn. After all, I’ll still need someone to clean my boots.”

  “I’m honored.” Thorn paused and looked up at the high table.

  Lily sat in the middle, smiling and nodding at this person and that. On her left was the immense troll king. No chair could accommodate him, so he’d been seated on a tree trunk. Even then his knees were folded up near his chin. On her right were Baron Sable and other nobles, including Gabriel, looking sullenly at the chaos around him.

  “Who would have believed it,” said Thorn. “A feast even Gabriel can’t spoil.”

  Dott climbed over the table and, to mighty, roof-shaking cheers from the trolls, lifted Gabriel out of his seat and dragged him toward the dance floor. Terrified out of his wits, Gabriel hung in her arms like a rag doll as she swung him around while hundreds stomped their feet and beat their mugs in unison.

  “I’ve heard that Gabriel’s father is considering a marriage between them.” Wade handed back the now-bare chicken bone. “Makes sense. Dott is technically a princess, and the Solars could use trolls in their war with the Sultanate.”

  Thorn faced his friend. “So you’re now part of the Gehennish Council?”

  Wade laughed.

  Thorn had been there when Baron Sable had marched across the field, embraced Wade, and declared him his son. His legitimate son. Wade now wore the Sable coat of arms on his tunic, the fanged demon, and there was no one prouder in the hall tonight.

  “They’ve reopened West Skull,” said Wade.

  “Where’s that?”

  Wade sighed. “Everyone knows West Skull. You know those big halls to the north of the Needle? Just beside Old Keep?”

  “Yeah, I think.” Thorn frowned. “Isn’t it haunted?”

  “What part of Castle Gloom isn’t?” Wade picked up a sausage and dipped it in Thorn’s gravy. “The ghosts there are
n’t happy about war refugees taking over their haunts. Some of them are even demanding rent.”

  “What can ghosts do with rent money? That’s stupid.”

  “It’s not always coin they ask for. You know Rattler?”

  “The one with all those chains?”

  “Now he wants a new bell added to his chains at the beginning of every month.”

  “I’m never gonna get used to this place.”

  So the population of Castle Gloom was growing. With the living as well as the undead. There would be plenty of work for his family when they arrived come spring.

  The troll king laughed, which shook frightened bats out of their roosts. They swirled overhead before vanishing out through the doorways and vents. And they weren’t the only ones. Thorn saw Lily rise and slip away.

  Where was she off to? Maybe she’d gotten tired of everyone fawning all over her. Thorn refilled his goblet. Things had been bad enough before, with him hardly ever seeing her. Now? He’d be lucky to have two words with her before next winter. And Wade was heading off to Sable’s manor up near the Troll-Teeth.

  This wasn’t how he thought things would turn out.

  “Hey, Wade, you think your dad might need a stable boy to look—”

  Someone slammed into Thorn’s back, knocking him hard into the table, and sending his goblet skittering across the floor.

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

  Lynch Tenebrae stood with two of the older squires. They were dressed in their noble finery—velvet tunics studded with black pearls, and belts embroidered with silver thread. Skulls decorated Lynch’s cuffs, and the sword on his hip was a real slicer; the hilt was wrapped in leather and the pommel dotted with onyx. He held out his own cup. “Didn’t mean to spill your drink. Have mine.”

  He tipped it over Thorn’s head.

  Thorn glared at him, and his hand went to the knife sheathed at his belt.

  Lynch leaned over, half drawing his sword. “Try it.”

  “Don’t,” warned Wade, putting his hand on Thorn’s wrist. Then he stood up. “Get lost, Tenebrae.”

  Lynch glared at Wade. “You fighting his battles? Now that you’ve got this”—he flicked at the symbol on Wade’s chest—“stamp of approval?”

  “What do you want?” Thorn snarled.

  Lynch looked around the feast, lip curled in distaste. “Aren’t you ashamed of what House Shadow has become? Dining with monsters?” He half drew his sword. “Trolls in Castle Gloom…Our ancestors are weeping.”

  Thorn pointed over at the high table. “Be my guest and kick them out.”

  Lynch slammed the sword back. “Their time will come, you just wait and see. You think the noble families will let that…that white-haired freak ruin Gehenna with her peace treaties and magic?”

  Thorn grabbed Lynch and thrust him against the wall. “You dare touch Lily, and I’ll put an arrow straight into your heart. Got it?”

  Lynch shoved him off. He straightened his tunic and cuffs. “You’re going to regret laying hands on me, peasant scum.” Then he turned and stalked off with his allies.

  Wade slapped his back. “Forget him. He’s just bitter. And a coward, despite all his tough talk. Didn’t see him at the battle.” Wade picked a fresh drumstick off the tray and waved it in front of him. “Look, delicious food. Yummy.”

  Thorn pushed it aside. “You finish it.”

  Wade shrugged and took a bite.

  Thorn headed for the door. His appetite was gone, and he wasn’t in the mood for celebrating anymore.

  Someone blocked his way.

  Who is it now?

  “Not like you to leave food behind, boy.”

  Tyburn leaned against the doorframe, completely at ease, puffing his pipe. Thorn examined him for signs that he had suffered on the cloud ship. Were the lines in his face a little deeper? Was his hair marked with more gray? And did he have a few fresh scars to add to the hundreds his body already wore? It was difficult to tell. His dark eyes remained as sharp and watchful as ever.

  “We haven’t spoken,” said the executioner.

  “No, we ain’t. I expect you’ve been busy,” said Thorn. “You caught them two other sorcerers?”

  Tyburn nodded. “They didn’t get far. Not with the whole country looking out for them. They were lucky I caught them before the villagers had their way. They were planning to hack them to pieces and feed them to their pigs.”

  “And you’re just going to stick their heads up on Lamentation Hill?”

  “You got a problem with that?”

  He did, but he wasn’t going to say. What was the point? “It’s your job.”

  “It is indeed.”

  Thorn glanced back at the crowd. “Where’s Golgoth? Thought I’d see him around. Have you…done something to him? Merrick will be beside himself if there’s been a duel and he missed it.”

  “There’s no quarrel between Golgoth and me,” said Tyburn. “He’s busy in the stables. He and the Solar boy are heading home tomorrow, first light.”

  “Or else, right?” suggested Thorn.

  He couldn’t be sure with Tyburn’s mustache, but there may have been a wry smile under it. “Golgoth’s no fool.”

  Thorn didn’t understand Tyburn, but then, nobody did. The man trained him, occasionally, and kept an eye on him. Yet he made no demands or requests. It was as if he was just waiting. Waiting for Thorn to change? Was that it?

  No executioner lived forever, not even ones serving House Shadow.

  So what did Tyburn want from him?

  Tyburn pointed off with the stem of his pipe. “You’ll probably find her in the Night Garden.”

  “Thanks.” He should hurry, in case Lily didn’t hang around for long.

  “Wait a moment.”

  Thorn turned and met Tyburn’s gaze.

  “You did well,” the man said, to Thorn’s surprise. “Better than anyone could have hoped or expected. They won’t write stories about it, and they won’t sing your praises. They don’t, for the likes of us.”

  “I don’t expect—”

  “Thank you, Thorn.” Tyburn held out his hand. “For saving us all.”

  Stunned, Thorn could only stare at the offered hand. Slowly he took it. “I…I did what I had to do.”

  Tyburn nodded. “Don’t we all?”

  Thorn did find Lily in the Night Garden.

  She sat on a stone bench, half-hidden from the world, with a pile of letters beside her and a lost look on her face.

  Thorn didn’t move for a minute.

  Her black dress shone in the moonlight, and she was daydreaming, swinging her feet back and forth while she pondered….

  Pondered what?

  Thorn couldn’t guess. How could he? How could anyone?

  She was just thirteen, a year older than him. She ruled a country. She’d beaten her brother in a war of magic—his spiders against her zombies—and made peace with the troll king.

  She’d saved Thorn’s life.

  Her hair was done up with a series of bone pins. Her long, pure white hair.

  “Had enough of the feast?” she called.

  Thorn stepped out from the doorway. “How did you know I was there?”

  Lily motioned toward Custard. “He sniffs you out.”

  Thorn peered down the cursing well. “I brought a couple of pennies.”

  “You thinking of anyone in particular?”

  Lynch sprang to mind, but he didn’t want to worry Lily about the Tenebrae idiot. “The dancing master. Apparently I have to attend the classes. Old Colm insists.”

  Lily gazed up, up at the Needle. “Do you know the fairy tale about the evil witch who put a beautiful princess to sleep for a hundred years?”

  “Yeah, Wade told me about it. Don’t make no sense, though.”

  “There will be a new version of that tale now, won’t there?” said Lily. “‘The Prince in the Needle.’ It’ll be about how an evil witch imprisoned her own brother in a high tower and allowed it to be
covered in spiderwebs. How she put him into a sleep that will last the rest of his life.”

  “But he’s happy. Happier than he ever was when awake.”

  Lily wasn’t really listening. “They’ll add things to the story. About how she’s friends with trolls and has an army of zombies and her favorite pet is the ghost of her dog.”

  Custard barked from under a bush.

  “Yes, Custard, I’m sure you’ll be a big part of the story.” Lily looked at her bare hand. “I gave Weaver my father’s ring. At least he has something real.”

  The battle had been just a few days ago, and life was already returning to normal. As normal as a place like Castle Gloom could ever be.

  “Did I do right, Thorn?” asked Lily. “He’s my brother, and now he’s my prisoner. Forever.”

  “It wasn’t just you. We both did what needed to be done. And it could have been much worse for him.” Thorn recalled how much he had wanted to kill the sorcerer.

  Weaver slept in the very highest room of the Needle. Mary told Thorn they’d dressed him as a Shadow. The belt he wore had belonged to Iblis, his father, and was decorated with crescent moons made from the purest silver. The shoemaker had made him boots of fine calfskin, and there were three antique family necklaces around his neck. He’d been put to rest in the trappings of a ruler.

  “Is there any chance he’ll wake?” asked Thorn.

  “He won’t,” Lily answered. “There are a dozen small dream weavers in his bedchamber, keeping him asleep. Most of the spiders ceased when he was defeated, but a few lurk nearby and tend him. I suspect they only work if they’re close to him.”

  “The servants are already calling it Cobweb Tower.”

  “I know.”

  Sparkling webs covered the roof, and long threads of spider silk drifted in the breeze. Dr. Byle had tried to check on his patient, but he hadn’t been able to get up the last flight of steps; the webs were already too thick. It wouldn’t be long—a year or two at most—before the tower itself would be cocooned within a cloak of silvery spider silk.

  “Lily, you saw how many people he had in his webs. Thousands, and he didn’t care about any of them.”

  “And now Weaver is trapped in a web I’ve made.”

  “Trapped in a world he rules. There are worse prisons, Lily.”