The Gods of Dream: An Epic Fantasy

by Daniel Arenson

  Tasha and the pegacats scurried around, but could find no vines. Cade felt his strength waning. Panic filled him, making him sick. With an artery torn, and no tourniquet, he'd die of blood loss. His head spun, his limbs shook, and he felt his life slipping away. It's so cold... I'm so cold. Help me somebody. I'm dying. Oh God....

  His hand clutched the Crunge's crown. The golden crown was the only thing that felt warm. He held tight, as if his life depended on it. Everything else felt icy, and only the crown filled him with warmth. I've failed my sister. I've failed Dream. I'm going to die here. He closed his eyes.

  Chapter Nine

  Claws and Flame

  Moonmist clutched the poniard, its mahogany handle warm and comforting in her fist. She examined the thin blade, turning it in the light. With a sigh, the princess pocketed it among her skirts, where she could draw it quickly. Standing in the simple stone chamber, her knights scouting the streets outside, Moonmist practiced. She drew the poniard, stabbed the air, then hid it in her skirts again. A dozen times, the princess of the Begemmed City drew and hid her weapon, and with every thrust, she imagined the troll she had seen.

  The monster still haunted her. The meadow among the birches would never be the same. The green thing had burst from the trees and killed two knights before Sir Grendel slew it with shield and sword. It was that same horrible day, the day the hag had sat upon her chest as she slept. Should any creature of Phobetor invade here again, it will meet the tip of my blade, she swore. It was a small blade, the size of a knitting pin, but Moonmist knew she could thrust it with deadliness.

  Onana and Lynk, her two handmaidens, stood beside her in the peasant home, pale, gazing with worried eyes. They are used to the smiling, carefree Moonmist. That girl is still here, just with a blade.

  The door to the small house opened, and burly Sir Grendel shuffled in, his armor burnished, his beard of feathers white and flowing. "We've checked all alleys and doorways," the knight said. "The way is clear, Your Highness."

  Moonmist nodded. "Let's go."

  Since that day of the hag in her room, she had slept in a different house every night, small peasant homes among the jeweled streets of the Begemmed City. She still spent her days in the palace, with the Queen and King her parents, but dared not sleep in her bedroom anymore. Not now that Phobetor knew of it, knew of her.

  She stepped outside into the morning. A million gems bedecked the marble houses and walls of her city. Her handmaidens flanking her, her guards surrounding her, she stepped through the city streets. The people moved gravely around her, peeking from shadowed hoods. These streets used to bustle, Moonmist remembered.

  "How did the night go?" she asked Sir Grendel.

  The knight's armored boots clanked against the marble streets. Banners of King Yor flapped from domed temples ahead, thudding in the wind. "Five trolls came upon the walls before dawn," he said. "My men killed them with arrows. We burned their bodies in the fields. We found two great slugs, the size of horses, feasting upon silos in the eastern fields. It took twenty men to burn them down."

  Moonmist lowered her head. "Our worst night yet."

  Sir Grendel nodded. "But the Begemmed City is strong, Your Highness. We will withstand. We will defend Dream."

  Moonmist raised her head and looked past the marble steeples and domes, up to a sky strewn with white clouds. She thought she could descry Windwhisper, the Eyes of Eloria, floating upon the currents, but she was not sure. For thousands of years had the Begemmed City stood in the western realms, between Nightmare in the west and, to the east, Hidden Valley Ridge where Yor himself dwelled. Nightmare on one side, gods on another. We live on the line between day and night.

  "Our gods hear our plight," Moonmist said softly. "Yor will send aid soon."

  "Blessed be the Father Elk," Lynk and Onana murmured.

  Soon they reached the royal gardens, where topiary and marble statues stood among patches of lilies and lilacs. Fountains shaped as pegacats spouted water, while apple trees bloomed. Moonmist smiled. She loved the gardens, and even during these days of uncertainty, they brought joy to her. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of flowers and grass and clear water. Streams and tiny waterfalls cascaded over smooth stones, singing.

  The palace loomed ahead, built of purest white marble, its walls inlaid with emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds. A towering steeple rose upon its crest, a needle of marble, overlooking Dream. A few times, Moonmist had climbed the steeple, and could gaze past the most distant fields into grasslands and forests.

  Sometimes, when Moonmist gazed upon Dream, she wished she could explore the eastern realms. To swim in Beluga Beach! To walk through Autumn Forest, where Panda dwelled! To visit Butterfly Valley, the home of Niv, or the enchanted waterfall where dwelled the pegacats, her guardians! Moonmist had never even been to Sunflower Corner or the Crystal Caves, where dwelled the god Tam. With all her heart, Moonmist prayed to someday explore those realms.

  When these dark days are over, I will take my mare Comet, and my handmaidens, and we will explore all of Dream, my beautiful world.

  They stepped into the palace, entering a wide hall bedecked with tapestries. Golden statues and urns stood against the walls, and lords and ladies moved across the marble tiles. Moonmist smiled. Home. She loved coming back here after every night in the city.

  "Come, let's get some breakfast," Onana said, and Moonmist nodded. Breakfast would be fantastic.

  Suddenly a hundred suits of armor clanked, and Moonmist turned to see soldiers thunder down the streets outside. "Ogres!" their captain called, saluting Sir Grendel. "Ten of them this time."

  The knights thundered down the road, swords drawn, and Moonmist lowered her head. War.

  Onana took her hand. "Come, my princess. Let's find some bread and tea."

  As Moonmist followed her handmaiden to the kitchen, she gripped the poniard in her skirts, and had the terrible thought that someday, perhaps very soon, even this city and her guards would not hold back the western wave.

  After she had broken her fast on bread, butter, and raspberry jam, Moonmist told her handmaidens that she needed a bath. "I will wash alone today," she told them. "I need to be alone with my thoughts."

  "It is dangerous, Your Highness," Lynk said, wiping a smear of jam off Moonmist's lip.

  Onana nodded, collecting the cups of tea. "We dare not leave you alone."

  Moonmist stared at the two girls, love for them flowing through her. She couldn't help but smile, even as outside still came the clanking of armor and beyond, distant, the howls of monsters.

  "I'll bathe in the lower chambers. There are no windows there, and guards will stand outside the doors. I haven't been alone since that day, when the... creature invaded. Please, Onana, Lynk. Let me do this."

  The handmaidens lowered their heads, then nodded. "Very well," Onana said, "but let's not breathe of this to Sir Grendel."

  Within the hour, Moonmist lay in a wide bronze bath full of bubbles and steaming water. Soaps and brushes stood upon tables around her, and mirrors tossed back her reflection a hundred times. Moonmist shut her eyes and lowered her head into the water, keeping just her nose above the surface. The long, golden feathers on her head floated around her. Underwater she could hear her heartbeat, thumping softly like the hoofs of her mare on a stroll.

  Finally some silence.

  Onana and Lynk stood outside the bathing chamber, just by the door, and with them a dozen guards. More guards patrolled the hallways. No creature of Phobetor had made it into the city since the hag, but that day's memory still haunted her. She winced when she recalled that weight upon her chest, the bloody footprints in her closet, the trolls that awaited in the copse....

  Her heartbeat had increased, Moonmist realized. It now pulsed twice as fast underwater. But no....

  Her eyes snapped open.

  It was not her heartbeat that had sped up, but another heartbeat, thumping along her own in the tub.

  Moonmist leapt to her feet, dripping water.
She looked down into the bath, but could see nobody else, and she let out a shaky breath. I'm just nervous, she told herself. How could another heartbeat pulse along my own? I haven't been alone for days, and fear makes me imagine things.

  She sat back in the tub and breathed shakily. She relaxed again in the water, took a brush and soap, and began to clean the golden feathers on her head.

  That was when she saw the white, clawed hand emerge from the water between her legs.

  Moonmist could not even scream, let alone move. She only lay, paralyzed, watching as the clawed hand turned to face her, as if regarding her.

  "Hello again, sweetness," came a voice, that same voice from that terrible day.

  Moonmist opened and closed her mouth, but no sound came out.

  "Here, sweetness, look into the mirrors."

  Heart racing, not breathing, Moonmist slowly turned her head to look at a tall bronze mirror to her right. There she saw a pale face, like wisps of smoke, with yellow eyes. The face smiled.

  "Who are you?" Moonmist mouthed, unable to produce a voice.

  "You know who I am." The claws ran along her knee.

  "Phobetor," Moonmist whispered, not daring to move. The claws were gentle, but carried just the hint of menace, and she knew they could tear into her flesh. "Leave this place."

  Phobetor's smoky face appeared in all the mirrors now, a hundred times, and Moonmist felt another clawed hand caress her nape, run through the feathers on her head.

  "Oh, sweetness... such a sweet thing," the faces spoke. "I have not come to scare you, only admire you. You are a beautiful girl, courageous and noble. Would you not join me in my court?"

  "Never," she whispered.

  The faces smiled. "Goodbye for now, sweetness. We will meet again."

  The faces dispersed like a mist, and the clawed hands fled into the water and disappeared. Finally Moonmist could scream.

  When her handmaidens and guards burst into the room, they found her pale, trembling, weeping... but she could not tell them what she had seen. Those last words lingered in her mind, speaking over and over like a mantra.

  We will meet again....

  * * * * *

  Phobetor withdrew his hands into his lap, the soap and water still clinging to them. He smiled thinly, still feeling the touch of Moonmist's wet skin. Through eyes half-shut, he looked over his throne room, the columns of stone that held the towering jet ceiling, the landscapes of Nightmare that burned between the columns, the centipedes and slugs that scurried across the tiled floor, knee-tall.

  My kingdom.

  A vast kingdom was Nightmare, as large as Dream and growing, a kingdom of endless armies and endless power. Millions worshiped him here, obeying his every whim, and all pleasures of the flesh or soul filled his palace of jet and iron.

  "But it's not enough, is it?" whispered Eliven, lying on her side by his throne. Phobetor looked down upon his demon wife, the Queen of Nightmare. She gazed up at him, eyes like lit coals, and her hair of flame crackled. From the red clay of Nightmare, Phobetor had raised her, had infused her with flame that gave her life, flame that burned in her eyes and haloed around her head.

  "There is never enough," he replied to her softly.

  She rose to her feet, seductive, her body like endless curves, the body he had molded from red clay. She unfurled her bat wings, and the heat from her flaming hair seared dry the soapy water on Phobetor's arms.

  "Am I not enough for you, my lord?" she whispered, smiling coyly, her tongue licking her full lips. She sat upon his knees, her body searing through his white silk clothes, and licked his cheek.

  "You are my wife of Nightmare, of flame, of passion, of lust, of malice and of pride," he said.

  "But not of conquest," she whispered, drawing back, petulant. She stood up, leaving tendrils of smoke to rise from Phobetor's seared clothes. Clad only in wisps of fire, she walked three steps down the hall and turned to look upon the landscapes of Nightmare that sprawled beyond the columns of stone. The skies burned and grumbled, ash swirled, and great lizards screamed in the distances. Black mountains and jagged boulders covered the horizons.

  "You cannot let go of Dream," she whispered, half in disgust, half in admiration. "Forever it consumes you, no matter how much I strive to fill your mind with only lust for me. Forever you dream of that princess of flesh and feather."

  "It is my home, Eliven," Phobetor said softly, rising to his feet. He stepped toward her, stood beside her, and the two gazed together upon the landscapes of their kingdom. Eliven's flaming hair crackled, warming his pale skin.

  "You've never even been there," she said, only the touch of bitterness filling her voice. Her black wings creaked as she shifted them. Her claws flexed.

  "It is my birthright." He took her arm, digging his pale fingers into her red flesh. "The elk banished my mother; why should I live in exile too? I was conceived in Dream. Galgev is my father. That land belongs to me no less than the elk." He remembered his mother's stories, how the mysterious ghost woman tricked Galgev into impregnating her, pretending to be his wife, how Yor had discovered the ruse and banished her. Should sons suffer for mothers' sins? I grew up in nothingness and pain because of the elk, but it made me strong. That the elk did not expect.

  Eliven shook her arm loose, then turned her back to him. "The Dream girl consumes your thoughts. Why can't I fill you with such lust?"

  He looked upon her, smiling softly at her perfect form, her burning hair, her wide wings of purest black. He embraced her from behind. "You do, my wife, my love."

  "Not like that Moonmist of yours."

  He kissed his demon wife's neck. "Tonight, though, I will do to you as none have ever done to Moonmist."

  "None until you claim her, that is."

  He shrugged, still embracing her. "She is a princess of Dream; I a lord of Nightmare. You are my wife of Nightmare; she will be my wife of Dream. I am lord of both lands, Eliven. You will share her place, and you will be grateful for it."

  She struggled to release herself from his embrace, but he held her tight, not letting her go. "I will be grateful for nothing," she whispered.

  Yet when he spun her around to kiss her, she kissed him back lustfully, and when he buried his hands in her flaming hair, she moaned with the same passion that burned inside him. He took her there, on the floor by his throne, with flame and claws and blood, the centipedes and slugs watching around them, the fires burning in the distance.

  Soon, Moonmist, Phobetor thought. Soon you too will learn of lust and fire.

  Eliven nuzzled up against him, purring. He shoved her aside, so hard that she rolled across the floor, then glared at him, her eyes aflame.

  "Leave me," he said.

  With a hiss, the Demon Queen stretched her leather wings and shot into the sky, disappearing with a wake of flame and smoke, like a comet. Darkness fell as her fire vanished, and Phobetor sat upon his throne, closed his eyes, and thought of Dream.

  Chapter Ten

  The Crystal Caves

  The strawberries at the marketplace were too ripe, Cade remembered, but that did not stop Mother from buying three baskets. "We'll get a basket for Tash too," she said. Vendors surrounded them, calling out their wares, apricots for sale, the cheapest pastries in town, come check out these new skirts, yes, ma'am, what for you?

  "She won't eat them," Cade said. "She'll say they're too ripe, you know how picky she is."

  Father smiled. "I think tha--"

  Darkness.

  Buzzing. And fire.

  Time passed, and when he woke, there was only pain that screamed and ripped inside him, burning light, and--

  "Look, Cade!" Tasha said. "The crown is glowing."

  Cade opened his eyes. Pain. Again. But a new pain, a pain in his leg. He looked around him. Dream. I'm in Dream. The cave, and the monster. He looked at the crown he held, the crown he had found in the Crunge's lair. It glowed.

  His hand that clutched it, and his entire arm, felt warm. Soon the warmth spread to
the rest of his body, and Cade felt strength refill him. He looked at his wound and his eyes widened. As the crown shone, his wound closed and his skin lost its pallor.

  He was healed.

  "A magical crown of healing," Starlight whispered.

  As Cade shakily sat up, the crown turned to dust in his hand. The dust blew away in the breeze.

  "It's too bad we could only use it once," Tasha said. Then she let out a whimper, leapt onto Cade's shoulder, and hugged him. "Don't scare me like that again, or I'll bite your ear off," she whispered, clinging to him, trembling.

  Cade sat for long moments, breathing deeply. Starlight kept shaking her head in amazement, while Harmony too hugged Cade and refused to let go. Finally Cade stood up and tested his leg. He felt as healthy as ever.

  "Thank Yor," Starlight said. "I was worried there for a moment."

  "Me too!" said Harmony, still hugging Cade.

  Cade took several more deep breaths. It was hard to fathom that just a moment ago, he had almost died, and with him all hope for their quest. But was he truly saved? He gazed at the dark opening of Ral Badar and shivered. His wound was healed, but there was still the monster in the passageway.

  Starlight seemed to read his mind. "Harmony and I could fly over the wall, but we cannot carry you. We don't have the strength, nor tools for climbing. We must walk around the wall."

  "How long is this wall?" Cade asked.

  "Hundreds of miles long," the dark pegacat replied, head lowered. "It would take weeks to walk around. Ral Badar is the only passageway."

  Cade gazed at the opening, lost in thought. "This creature is new, you say?"

  "New in Dream, but created many ages ago in the pits of Nightmare," Starlight said. "Harmony and I visited Ral Badar only a year ago. Back then, gems covered the floor of the passageway, and no bats or Nightmare monsters filled it. The creature that bit you, if I remember Tam's tales, is named Cuanbet, the One-Eyed, puissant and feared among the Incubi. He is old, among the oldest terrors in Nightmare, and dangerous. The One-Eyed is not one to face in battle."