Zac and the Dream Stealers

by Ross Mackenzie

  He was still holding his breath when his feet touched down on something solid. He opened his eyes, which had been jammed shut so tightly he’d begun to see stars. Granny was standing right in front of him. He hadn’t fallen! He flashed a smile at her.

  “Well done! Now follow me!” she cried.

  Feeling a little braver now, Zac shuffled along behind Granny, sticking carefully to her path. Walking on moonlight was like nothing he’d ever experienced. His feet sank slightly, and each step sounded a little different from the last. Like a lost tune, his footsteps rang out into the void. He was walking on music.

  When Zac finally reached the ledge on the other side, a wave of relief washed over him. His legs were shaking terribly, and he had to fight off an almost over-whelming urge to kiss the ground.

  Cornelius shook him by the hand. “Tremendous!” he beamed. “Truly tremendous! Now we just need Julius.”

  Zac looked behind him. He had to stop himself from laughing.

  Julius was about halfway across the moonlit path. He was on his hands and knees, very possibly about to be overtaken by a snail.

  “Come on, Julius!” Cornelius boomed. “Pick up the pace!”

  “Better safe than sorry, Cornelius!” replied Julius, inching toward them. When he was close enough, Cornelius leaned over and yanked him rather painfully to safety by the waistband of his pants.

  “Where to now?” asked Zac. There was a sheer wall of rock in front of them.

  “Almost there,” Cornelius said. He pushed against the rock and it began to crack open, revealing a gap justwide enough for them to squeeze through.

  “You first,” said Granny.

  Zac smiled, and wriggled through the opening. On the other side the nighttime air was warm and sweet. Under a colossal moon, a whole world opened up before him.

  What a sight it was!

  He was standing on a shelf of red rock miles above the ground. Below, a waterfall tumbled for a sparkling eternity. A patchwork of fields, woodlands, and mountains reached to the horizon and beyond. A swooshing sound overhead made him look up. Two enormous winged creatures were flying above him, gracefully rolling and dipping in the warm currents of air, their scales glittering so brightly they might have been carved from crystal. Zac watched them swoop out of sight.

  “Dragons!” he breathed.

  Footsteps behind told him that Granny and the others had arrived, too.

  “It’s amazing,” he said. “It’s stupendous . . . It’s . . .”

  Granny’s eyes twinkled. She walked past Zac and stood on the very edge of the cliff, inhaling deeply. A wide smile broke over her wrinkled face.

  “We’re home, Zac,” she said. “Welcome to Nocturne.”

  Rumpous Tinn flinched.

  His skull was pounding with white-hot pain. He tried to touch the wound on his head, but found his hands were bound tightly.

  He wasn’t in his beautiful cell anymore. He had been tied to an uncomfortable iron chair in the center of a bare, circular room, with only one apparent exit. The walls were completely covered by blood-splashed mirrors, and torches cast flickering spotlights over his exhausted body.

  Tinn’s attention turned to the door. It opened to reveal the tall, elegant figure of a woman dressed completely in black. Her black cloak was so long it trailed on the floor, and a black skull mask, encrusted with glittering black jet, covered her entire head. Her eyes were hidden behind two circles of dark glass.

  She stood before him for a long moment, and he felt her eyes bore into him from behind those eerie black lenses.

  “Who are you?” asked Tinn.

  “Mr. Tinn,” she replied, bowing mockingly. “What a great pleasure this is.” Her voice was a grating, metallic whisper that made him grit his teeth. Listening to her was as comfortable as chewing on tinfoil.

  “My name is Shadow,” she said, “leader of the Dream Stealers.”

  “Why have you brought me here?” Tinn demanded.

  Shadow circled Tinn slowly, only speaking when she was standing in front of him again.

  “Come now, Mr. Tinn. There is more to you than the frail old man who sits before me now. I know who you truly are.”

  “Oh, really? So, who am I?” said Tinn.

  Shadow bent down, her glass eyes almost touching Tinn’s face. “You are the Grandmaster of the Knights of Nod,” she said.

  Tinn looked into the blank face before him, his gaze steady. “The Knights disbanded years ago, after the last war,” he lied. “They no longer exist in anything but history and myth. Everyone knows that.”

  “Do not mistake me for a fool,” spat Shadow. “The Knights live on, in secret. Do not attempt to deny it.”

  “What do you want?” asked Tinn.

  “Many years ago, you were visited by an oracle,” said Shadow. “The story is legend among Dream Stealers. You were told that only three people could stop our rise to ultimate power. I believe you call them the Trinity.”

  Tinn stared, unflinching, into the circles of black.

  “As you can imagine, I’d very much like to make sure that these three people are exterminated before they can become a problem.”

  “And you expect me to help?” said Tinn.

  “My dear Mr. Tinn,” said Shadow softly, “all I want is for you to tell me who they are.”

  Tinn laughed. “You must be mad.”

  “On the contrary,” said Shadow, “my mind is clearer than ever. I must locate and destroy the Trinity. Tell me what you know now and you will not suffer, Mr. Tinn.”

  “You really want to choose this road?” said Tinn. “You genuinely believe that gaining more power is worth torturing Wakelings and poisoning Nocturne?”

  “My destiny is to lead the Dream Stealers to victory!” Shadow boomed. “The more the Wakelings are shaken, the more power we can extract from their fear. Dark magic, as you call it, is the key to our future. We shall take control. It is inevitable.”

  “And what will become of the rest of Nocturne?”

  Shadow straightened up. “I am a reasonable person,” she said. “Everyone in Nocturne will be given the chance to embrace the Dream Stealer way of life. Those too shortsighted to see the potential —”

  “— will be killed?” said Tinn. “Adapt or die? Is that it?”

  “That is how life has always been, Mr. Tinn,” said Shadow. “No more of this. You will answer my question. Who are the Trinity?”

  “I don’t know,” Tinn said defiantly.

  “If you will not tell me, perhaps there is some other way I can track them down, some instrument that will lead me to them. Might you know about that?”

  “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” said Tinn.

  “I see.” Shadow paused. “In that case, you leave me no choice.”

  “Do what you must,” Tinn whispered.

  As Shadow’s glass eyes delved deep into his mind, Tinn began to sweat. Flashes of long-forgotten memories began to play in his head like a slideshow, and he knew Shadow could see them, too. She was browsing through his mind like a catalog.

  One image burned brighter in Tinn’s mind than all the others.

  Shadow was suddenly still. “Yes,” she breathed. “That will do nicely.”

  She raised a black gloved hand.

  A billow of smoke began to form around Tinn.

  His head snapped back in shock. Eyes wide, sweat poured down his face. Wildly, he tried to shake off the horrifying vision that was forming in front of him. His eyes rolled back in their sockets.

  “No . . . no, it can’t be . . .”

  Shadow flung her hands in the air, as if she were conducting a symphony of pain.

  “She’s dead! She’s dead!” wailed Tinn. “Oh, Aris . . . my poor Aris, my sister . . .”


  Rumpous Tinn’s worst nightmare was engulfing him.

  On the other side of the door, huddled in the darkness, was a girl. She was caked in grime, and her clothes were matted and torn.

  Trembling, she listened to Tinn’s screams.

  Over the years she’d heard that sound many times, but it never ceased to frighten her. The Dream Stealers would come and go from this secret place. Creatures were herded here and hoarded — used as toys and for dark magic experiments. Humans, trolls, goblins, whatever the Dream Stealers could find. Most didn’t last long.

  Footsteps echoed along the corridor.

  The girl pressed herself flat against the rock wall and made herself invisible as two Dream Stealers turned the corner, their black cloaks flowing, their silver-encased arms folded across their chests. One of them glanced at the spot where the girl stood clutching her heart, but saw nothing. A moment later they were gone.

  The girl reappeared. The old man was alone in there, and for some reason she wanted to help him. But she had to be careful.

  There was quiet for the briefest of moments, then the cries of Rumpous Tinn shattered the silence again.

  Roughly cut stairs in the rock led Zac and the others down the face of the cliff.

  At the bottom, Julius’s fireball burned brighter, illuminating a hidden cove behind the thundering waterfall.

  “Ahoy there!”

  The voice came from a chubby rowboat bobbing about in the cove. Inside it, a figure so tall and thin he looked like a drawing of a stickman was waving frantically at them, as if they might not spot him. He was wearing a tattered top hat and tails, and his clothes were far too short for his gangly arms and legs. The boat was rocking wildly.

  The stickman clicked his long fingers and the oars began to move of their own accord, propelling him suddenly toward the shore and knocking him off his feet. When he reached shallow water, he leapt from the boat and came splashing excitedly toward them.

  “Cornelius! Julius! You’re late. Where’s Tinn?”

  “He’s been taken,” said Cornelius. “We were ambushed in the Eternal Forest. Dream Stealers, I think.”

  A look of horror crawled over the stickman’s face. His mouth moved, but no words came out. He swayed a little, and Zac thought he looked like a skinny tree about to crash to the ground.

  “But all is not lost,” continued Cornelius. “Tinn distracted the Dream Stealers long enough for Julius and I to slip away and reach Eve Wonder. As you can see, she’s agreed to return home with us, and she’s brought along her grandson, Zac.”

  The man held out a very long, lean hand. “By the stars,” he said, “Eve Wonder. I’ve heard all about you. It’s a great pleasure to meet you at last. My name is Gideon Small. I’m a Knight of Nod, too.”

  “Yes, yes, let’s get moving, shall we?” said Cornelius, fidgeting with his mustache. “There isn’t a moment to spare. Our first order of business is obvious. We must plan how to rescue Tinn, so we need to get to Slumber City as quickly as possible. That’s the capital of Nocturne,” he added, for Zac’s benefit.

  They waded out to the boat and climbed aboard. Gideon sat at the front, facing everyone else. When they were all settled, he clicked his fingers, and the magic oars began to swish through the water.

  “But we’re heading straight for the waterfall,” said Zac.

  Gideon smiled. “Of course we are, dear boy. Going through is so much quicker than going around.”

  Before Zac could think about the wisdom of this, they had reached the roaring wall of water. Burying his head in his knees, he waited to be crushed. Nothing happened. It was as if an enormous invisible umbrella was protecting them. He sat up when he heard the others chuckling. Soon the waters gave way to a wide river, and the conversation turned back to Tinn’s predicament.

  “If the Dream Stealers have him, there’s no telling where he might be,” said Julius. “But if it was one of their evil crews of werewolves or vampires that made the snatch, we’d have a fair idea where to start. That’s the trouble with Dream Stealers. Under those masks, they’re people just like us, humans who have turned to the dark side. Without their disguises, they blend in, so we’re never sure where our enemies are.”

  As they sped on across the water, Zac noticed twinkling in the darkness up ahead. The lights drew nearer, and a shape emerged from the gloom. Zac blinked.

  “Granny.”

  “Yes, lad?”

  “Is that a double-decker bus floating toward us?”

  “Oh, that’ll be a leftover from some Wakeling’s dream,” said Granny with a smile. “It would amaze you what turns up. Some people have the strangest imaginations! You know, there are merchants who make a living out of venturing into the Dream Plains and salvaging all sorts of things to sell.”

  “But it’s a bus! Buses don’t float!”

  “Well, that one does,” said Granny.

  The rusty red bus bobbed gently past. There were round paddles where the wheels should have been. A tiny old man waved happily from the driver’s seat. Zac lost sight of it as the rowboat rounded a bend in the river.

  “Look up ahead!” said Granny suddenly. “Slumber City!”

  The river broadened and an island came into view. A great mountain rose up into the night sky, twinkling with countless lights. It reminded Zac of a giant Christmas tree. A huge outer wall encircled the city. It was made with enormous stones, each one the size of a car. Zach wondered who could possibly have built such a thing.

  “The greatest city in all of Nocturne,” said Cornelius proudly. “And the highest peak — Slumber Mountain.”

  Gideon rolled his eyes. “Do excuse Cornelius, Zac,” he said breezily. “He’s such a big softy.”

  Cornelius’s face reddened, and laughter rocked the boat as it glided into the shadow of the city. They swept up to a set of immense metal doors under a tangled curtain of seaweed, drawing level with a little platform on which sat an oversized wooden hut.

  “Sshh! The guard has to let us in,” said Cornelius.

  “Guard?”

  The door of the hut creaked open, and something appeared, silhouetted against the cozy glow from inside. Whatever the creature was, it was too big for the hut; it seemed to be struggling to get out.

  “What’s that?” whispered Zac.

  “A troll,” said Granny softly.

  The creature took a deep breath and, an instant later, came crashing out.

  Zac gasped. The troll was gigantic — twice as tall as a man — and as wide as the bus that had just floated past. It wore a massive metal helmet and mesh chest armor over its leathery body. The troll stood for a moment examining the boat, its head to one side. Zac swallowed as he felt its gaze pass over him.

  The troll belched. “What’s your business?” it growled in a voice so deep that Zac’s ears began to ring.

  Gideon beamed as he hopped up on to the platform. Tall and gangly though he was, even he was dwarfed by the height of the troll, whose meaty hands were bigger than Gideon’s entire head.

  “Oh, just returning from a trip to Port Town,” he said cheerily. He pointed toward Zac and the others. “Thought I’d take the family along.”

  The troll stared at the odd group in the boat. Gideon gave them all a little wink. He seemed to be enjoying himself, but Zac had never been so nervous. At last, the troll grunted, and shrugged its great shoulders.

  “Very well,” it said. “Go ahead.”

  Gideon bowed and hopped back into the boat.

  The troll lifted a huge ivory horn on a rope around its neck and placed it to its mouth. When it blew, the racket was as loud as a ship’s foghorn. Seconds later another horn sounded from the other side of the wall, and the gates rumbled open. The boat shook and the dark water churned.

  “Take us in,” said Gideon, with a wave of hi
s hand. Once again the oars jolted into action, steering the boat into the city.

  A little port opened up before them, filled with vessels of every description. There were fishing boats like those in the Waking World. But Zac could also see a whole range of more unusual crafts: a pirate ship made of bones; a trawler carved from an iceberg that didn’t seem to be melting; and what looked very much like an extra-large coconut shell with a sail. An old sea dog even drifted past them in a tin bathtub, sleeping peacefully under an umbrella.

  Beyond the water were the docks, and beyond the docks were rows of tumbledown houses and narrow cobbled streets that wound out of sight. Slumber Mountain rose spectacularly above the port. Now that he could see it more clearly, Zac realized every square foot of cliff had been built on. There were towers, quaint cottages, and crooked buildings with haphazard extensions jutting out at all sorts of angles. One building had three extra floors balanced on top of it like a house of cards, and another had a windmill sticking out of the roof.

  When the boat reached the buzzing quayside, Zac and the Knights climbed up the steps to the harbor walkway, avoiding the slithering seaweed.

  Had Zac been anywhere else, he might have felt conspicuous walking around in his pajamas and bathrobe, but some of the people here were dressed so strangely it didn’t seem to matter. It was as if Slumber City’s residents had taken bits of style from every time period in the Waking World and mashed them all together. One man walked past wearing a bowler hat, a string vest, and a pair of orange velvet flared pants. Another wore yellow shorts with a tartan T-shirt and pink gloves. There were also lots of hats — beanies, bonnets, and berets, even a few piled high with fruit or flowers. One woman seemed to have a real bird’s nest in hers.

  “Come on,” said Granny. “We must get to The Forty Winks and formulate a plan.”

  “The Forty Winks?” asked Zac, watching a man cycle past on a penny-farthing bike that was belching smoke.

  Granny glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “It’s the secret headquarters of the Order,” she whispered. “A pub on the other side of the city.”