"Slave girls for the demons of Nightmare," Cloverfoot said in disgust.
The first wagon--there were scores--entered the fog and disappeared. The others began to follow, leaving the ravaged landscape of Dream and returning to Nightmare.
"How will we sneak into a wagon?" Cade whispered. Demons armed with serrated blades and malice guarded each wagon of bone. Cade did not see how he could climb one without being seen. I can't let myself be captured after all these days of journeying.
Cloverfoot smiled a wry, cheerless smile. Bitterness filled his eyes. "Leave that to me," the fox said. "See that wagon in the back? Bearing the three black banners? That one has room between its chests of plunder. Look, there is hiding place there."
More wagons were entering the fog. Only several remained. Cade was worried they'd all vanish when, with a snarl, Cloverfoot leapt over the rock and raced toward the wagons.
"He's crazy!" Tasha whispered.
Cloverfoot landed before the three remaining wagons and howled. The demons screeched and leapt toward him.
"Devils of Phobetor!" Cloverfoot cried. "You've destroyed my home, but your own doom is near."
The demons raced toward him, snarling. Cloverfoot turned to run and they chased.
"Let's go!" Cade said to Tasha and began to run. The demons chasing Cloverfoot, Cade reached the last wagon. One demon--a pitch-black thing of hooks and horns--turned around, red eyes blazing. Cade leapt behind the wagon, hidden from view.
My God. Cade recognized this demon. The memory pounded through him, making him sick.
"The Silent Man," he whispered. The Incubus we saw in Galgev's garden.
"Did he see us?" Tasha whispered.
Cade could hear the Incubus pacing and sniffing toward him. He pressed himself against the wagon, hidden behind it, clutching his Dreamblade. He's going to find us. It's all over.
Just before the Silent Man could reach them, Cloverfoot came racing by, howling.
"Monsters of Nightmare! Your days are numbered, so says Cloverfoot of the Fox Fort."
The fox was bleeding. Demon claw-marks ran across his body. And yet still he ran, shouting imprecations. The fox leapt onto the Silent Man, who was heading toward the wagon where Cade hid.
Cade did not waste an instant. With Cloverfoot clawing at the Silent Man's face, Cade leapt into the wagon and hid between the chests of crystals. An embroidered quilt of leaves and flowers--it looked like a weave of Maninav--lay between the chests. Cade pulled it over him.
"Fox maggot," hissed the Silent Man, his voice like breaking glass. Cade peeked and felt his heart shatter. The Incubus of hooks and horns had Cloverfoot pressed to the ground under its hoof. As Cade watched, the Silent Man pressed down, cracking Cloverfoot's bones.
Cade clutched his Dreamblade and prepared to leap out of the wagon, to save Cloverfoot, but Tasha yanked his ear.
"No, Cade! We can't save him by dying ourselves," the mouse said. Cade bit his lip, watching the scene in horror.
"You've already lost," Cloverfoot hissed to the Incubus, grinning, and his eyes shone with triumph... then peace. "For Fox Fort, and for King Yor!" the fox cried as the Silent Man crushed his head. The fox died with grass and friends and beauty in his eyes.
Cade hung his head low. He pulled the quilt over his head as tears filled his eyes. "He gave his life for us," he whispered to Tasha.
"He gave his life for the memory of Fox Fort and for the hope of avenging it," Tasha responded softly. "The Death of Cloverfoot of Fox Fort--may the poets of Eloria sing of it in the forests in future days of peace."
The demons laughed and kicked Cloverfoot's body aside. They climbed back into the wagons, whipped the horned beasts, and the convoy began to move. Soon fog enveloped the wagon where Cade and Tasha hid, and finally, after so many days of journey, they entered Nightmare.
Chapter Twenty
White Jasmines
She walked through the fields, her scarves of silk, twenty feet long, streaming in the breeze behind her. She marched solemnly upon elk hoofs, each step a measured thing of beauty like a dance rehearsed ten thousand times. Her eyes were dour, her lips tight, her head straight and her blond hair streaming. Before her, across miles of grassy plains, the Begemmed City rose into the sky.
Under the rising sun, Princess Niv--the half woman, half elk--walked through the plains toward the mountain of jewels.
When the city's scouts saw her, they bowed, cheered, praised her name, and ran to spread the news. Soon trumpets blared and knights galloped with banners bearing her likeness. Around her in the fields, flowers were tossed and men and women bowed with adulation. Niv, Princess of Dream, Goddess of Butterflies, seemed not to notice. She continued her march, her steps long and delicate, her eyes set forward, seeing nothing but the city ahead. As men and women danced and sang and bowed around her, she paid them no heed, just kept moving forward, her scarves of silk flapping.
When she reached the jeweled city, the gates opened with fanfare as blossoms were tossed from the walls and clarions played. The daughter of Yor had not visited the Begemmed City in thousands of years, so long ago, not even the most ancient book could tell of it. The goddess, her lower half shaped as an elk like her father, her upper body shaped as a woman like her mother, silently stepped into the city of marble and gems.
"Praised be thy name, Holy Daughter," cried the people, weeping as she walked. "Praised be Niv, Jewel of Dream."
She moved through the streets, eyes set forward, face emotionless. She seemed to notice nobody, and moved cold and still like the carved masthead of a ship. She passed by market places, where crowds sang for her. She passed by temples where priests worshiped her daily. She passed through alleys between high marble houses, where people cheered on the roofs. Toward the palace she walked, and when she saw it, a tear streamed down her cheek.
The palace doors opened, and the king, queen, and princess of the Begemmed City stepped out. The king wore a cape of purple velvet inlaid with garnets, and a crown of gold and jewels sat upon his head of white feathers. The queen and princess wore gowns of flowing lilac silk, and gems twinkled on their fingers and necks. The three bowed before Niv.
"Holy Daughter of Yor," said the king. "You have bestowed a great honor upon us. How might we be of service to you?"
Niv stepped toward them, face somber. Fireflies and damselflies hovered around her, and flowers bloomed in her cascading hair. "Please rise, my friends," she said, her voice delicate and sad. "Let us step inside. I need your help."
* * * * *
Two years ago, back at their apartment, the kitchen sink had clogged. Tasha had poured Drano down the sink and was taken aback by the stench which filled the room. The apartment stank for an hour. As Tasha lay under the quilt, heading through the fogs of Nightmare, she was reminded of that stench. The fog smelled like it--tenfold. It clung to her fur even as she hid under the quilt, painting her a greenish gray. The grime even stained Cade's armor, Dreamblade, and the clothes Galgev had given him, enchanted clothes resistant to all dirt. This was no normal dirt, but the fog of Nightmare.
The wagon seemed to float. Tasha could feel nothing beneath it. She peeked but saw only fog. It seemed that dragons flew through the fog, but they might just have been wisps of black smoke.
Tasha curled up on Cade's shoulder. I hate this place.
"Hang in there, Tash," Cade said, patting her. With his other hand, he clutched the golden bottle which could imprison Phobetor. It all depends on us, Tasha thought with a chill, lowering her head.
Suddenly the fog parted, and Tasha beheld a landscape of stone and fire. Lava ran in rivulets between red and black boulders, while columns of fire rose into a sky of crimson smoke. Charcoal dragons snaked across the sky while giant gray worms and scaled beasts crawled over the land.
"Nightmare," Cade whispered. "We've reached it at last."
"Now let's find that Phobetor bastard and get the hell out of here," Tasha said.
Rusty iron spikes and barbed wire littere
d the land, and brooding black mountains filled the horizon. The hot air stank, and the grumble of lava, the crackling of fire, and the screeches of monsters rose in a cacophony.
The wagons rumbled across black earth between the streams of fire. Cade checked his compass. "The wagons are heading north, but Phobetor is west. Let's continue by foot."
Trolls, goblins, living balls of slime, and all manner of monsters filled the land. Cade waited under the quilt until they passed by a pile of barbed spikes, then leapt off the wagon and hid behind the rusty metal, Tasha clinging to his shoulder. The surface was red, muddy, and foul. Cade pushed himself down, hidden in the shadows, until the wagons disappeared into the smoking distance. Beyond the growling clouds and beasts, a keen rose through the air, as from hidden pipes, sad and eerie; Tasha could not place its source, and the sound trickled through her veins like ice water.
"How will we move?" she whispered. "This place is swarming with monsters."
Cade thought for a moment, then took some red mud and painted his skin. He covered his shield, Dreamblade, and clothes with more mud. He broke off bits of wire and metal from the spikes and stuck them into his clothes, fashioning makeshift armor of rusty iron. "Do I look demonic enough?"
Tasha looked around at the goblins and beasts. "They all look different enough from one another. Maybe it'll do."
Cade rose to his feet. Putrid smoke which stank like exhaust flowed across them. Cade began to walk, Tasha perched on his shoulder. Worms the size of warthogs crawled around his feet, while demons and trolls roamed around him. No one paid him any heed. Maybe they don't expect to see a human here, Tasha thought. She held her breath as they moved, partly from fear, partly because the hot air smelled so foul.
"Look, Cade!" Tasha whispered. "There."
Cade looked and grunted. A dozen dreamloomers stood between black stones, but they did not glow like the dreamloomers of Dream. These ones seemed made of black twigs, and ooze dripped from them to sizzle against the ground. Red eyes blinked atop stalks that covered their bodies. With warty fingers, they collected ash and smoke, and wove them into balls of nightmare. Screams, faces torn in anguish, and demonic eyes swirled inside those orbs. The dreamloomers released the nightmares to float into the clouds.
"Now we know where nightmares come from," Cade said, feeling sick. "Tasha, sneak into my shirt and check my compass. I don't dare take it out here; eyes are everywhere."
Tasha crawled down Cade's collar and checked the compass that hung around his neck. She scurried out and pointed toward a shadowy land to their right, rolling into black mists.
"He's that way."
Dragons shrieked and coiled above, distant drums boomed, and thunder crashed with black lightning. Cade tightened his lips, took a deep breath, and continued walking.
* * * * *
In the throne room, Princess Moonmist sat on her chair of live cherry wood abloom with leaves, fidgeting her fingers in her lap. The Goddess Niv stood upon the marble floor, her firefly familiars glowing around her. The flowers upon the walls bloomed wide and sweet-scented in the presence of the goddess.
Moonmist had grown up hearing tales of the gods of Dream, and here she had met three this year--the pegacats, and Niv herself, daughter of Yor. Moonmist could not tear her eyes away from the goddess, and her heart hammered inside her. Princess Niv. Moonmist had spent her childhood wishing she were like the elk goddess. Every bedtime, her nannies would sing to her from the Dreamsong and tell her stories of Niv. And here the elk's daughter from Butterfly Valley stood before her!
This could have been a dream come true, but no... today was far too terrible. Princess Niv had come to the Begemmed City, but she bore terrible news.
"We have sent spies into the caves," Niv continued her story as the king and queen listened, bent over in concern. "Mice and ants and creeping plants. None have returned. Loor has claimed the caves."
The king tugged his beard in anguish. White feathers came out in his fingers. "So the god Tam has fallen, his cave claimed by the Fallen One," the king said. "I never thought I'd live to see such days."
Moonmist lowered her eyes to her lap. Her parents had always seemed so strong, so joyous, and yet now both shed tears. Moonmist herself felt like crying. The god Tam--dead. Killed by Loor. She could hardly believe it. In all her childhood stories, Tam was always the wisest, bravest god after Yor.
Tam--who wrote the Dreamsong, the god of art and music--dead. Moonmist could hardly believe it, and she felt tears well up in her eyes.
"Ayende, nae loor Tam," she whispered. Goodbye, my beloved Tam.
Moonmist thought of Sir Cade, the Incubus Slayer. Cade was on a quest to Nightmare, Niv had said, a quest to trap Phobetor. Moonmist could hardly believe it. Our life depends on him. Could he save them? A twinge tugged at her heart at the thought of him. She missed him.
If anyone can save us, she thought, it's Cade.
"We must march to those caves," the king said, voice trembling, eyes lit with fury and pain. "We must reclaim them from the furless fox god, from the servants of Nightmare."
"How many men can you muster?" Niv asked. "We need them fast. We can't wait. Phobetor is streaming more forces into the caves. Soon he will flow into the countryside, destroying all in his path."
The king rose to his feet and paced across the throne room, between the suits of burnished armor and vases of flowers. "We can muster ten thousand men within three days, arm them with swords of steel, suits of mail, and helms of burnished bronze. Each will carry a shield and courage in his heart."
Niv stepped toward the king, her elk hoofs tapping, so delicate and sad. "How many horsemen do you have? Ten thousand men are good, but they will move slowly across the country, and we must attack swiftly. It is a thousand miles from this city to the caves, as Windwhisper flies. It will take weeks for footmen to reach the caves, and we cannot wait. How many riders have you? Send out your swiftest horses! Hold Loor back until the ten thousand arrive."
Moonmist shuddered. A thousand miles. It seemed so far.
The king stared at the goddess. "I can give you a thousand armed riders today. The horses of the Begemmed City will not tire; they can gallop all day. Take them while I muster my army. Ride to the caves and hold Loor back until my footmen arrive. I will lead the ten thousand myself."
Niv shook her head, setting her halo of fireflies astir. "No. Do not leave this city, kind king. Your people need you here to protect them. Phobetor will invade more places than the caves, and he will attack this place. I know the Banished One. Stay here and protect the Begemmed City. I will lead the ten thousand."
The king looked out the window, at the winding streets and houses of marble and gems. He sighed deeply, his back bent with sorrow. "I will do as you ask, Goddess of Butterflies. But if I remain to defend the city, and you lead the ten thousand, who will lead the riders? This is a ride for the legends. I cry to think how Tam might have written it into the Dreamsong. This ride needs a leader of royalty or divinity."
Niv stood, thinking, her fireflies glowing. Before the goddess could answer, Moonmist rose to her feet. She stood, trembling, her heart thrashing. Can I truly do this? She could not believe what she was about to say, but she heard herself quietly speak the words. "I will lead them."
For a long moment, nobody moved or spoke. Slowly, the king, queen, and Niv turned to face her. Moonmist felt the blood rush to her cheeks, but she twisted her fingers behind her back and stared back firmly.
"I'm a good rider," she said, a slight tremble in her voice. "I'll lead the horsemen. They will fight for me."
Niv stared at her, and it took all of Moonmist's willpower to stare back. She thought the goddess would forbid her to ride, dismiss her offer, scold her... but slowly, a smile spread across the goddess's face. It was a smile of such goodness and hope, and such warmth filled the goddess's brown eyes, that new tears streamed down Moonmist's face.
"Yes," the goddess whispered. "Yes, you will lead your riders, child."
The
queen finally spoke. "Moonmist! No, I can't send her to...." She broke down in tears.
Moonmist stepped toward her mother and hugged her, patting her head. She stared at her father over the queen's shoulder.
"I will ride for Dream."
The king stared at her with haunted, devastated eyes, but she saw his answer within them. I will ride.
The next few hours were a blur to Moonmist. She was rushed from chamber to chamber, down stairs into vast underground armories where clinks and voices echoed, and the air smelled like oil and steel. She could never later truly remember these hours; they were a rush of fitting on armor, praying feverishly, trying to steady her spinning head. Finally, in a daze, she emerged from underground into a courtyard of gray pebbles, between white walls, shaded by willows.
She wore armor and the colors of her city. Silvery mail covered her breast, polished greaves shielded her legs, and vambraces shielded her arms. A gilded helm crowned her head, and from its tip burst a tail of white feathers. A cape and overcoat of purple silks, inlaid with agates, draped upon her. In her left hand, she held a pole bearing a standard that displayed Yor, kicking his hoofs, across a field of pearl. In her right hand she clutched white jasmines, a favor from her mother to carry to war.
War. She could hardly bear the thought. How could she march to fight? She had never fought before, not even a playground scuffle. Could she truly lead men to battle against Phobetor? She shivered. For so many years, Phobetor had been just a frightening bedtime story, but now Nightmare was here, in their world, and she was riding toward it. She felt callow, and wondered if she had made the right choice.
She let her eyes rest upon her sword, which dangled from her side, and it comforted her. Here was one of the city's three Dreamblades, carved by Tam centuries ago and named the Dawnstone. Only two other Dreamblades--Silverstream and Whisper--had ever belonged to the city. Her father wore Silverstream, and Whisper had been lost generations ago, and only myths could guess of its fate.
The Gods of Dream: An Epic Fantasy Page 19
