In the City of Dreams

by Tony Abbott

  “Tell us what happened,” said Keeah. “We believe whoever stole your crown is behind what’s happening to our friend.”

  “I only use my powerful Dream Crown on special occasions,” Boola said. “Tuesday, a snotty wingwolf broke into the treasury and stole it. Now Samarindo’s reputation as the official City of Dreams is kaput!”

  Keeah peered out at the dark palace, where a second and third curved tower had appeared. The palace was starting to look like a dragon’s head.

  And all at once, she knew.

  “Old Red Eyes?” she said. “Of course! I should have guessed! Gethwing! He can’t resist dragon-shaped palaces.”

  “But he’s supposed to be lost in the Underworld,” said Neal.

  “He must have gotten the wingwolves to help him steal the crown,” Keeah said. “It helped him make his way back here.”

  Boola went pale. “Gethwing? Everyone knows him. He’s ruthless! Oh, my poor City of Dreams has become a nightmare!”

  “Our best friend is caught right in the middle of this nightmare. We need to save him,” said Neal. “What can we do?”

  Boola stroked his chin. “The truest way to find your way in a dream — even a bad one — is to be swept away by it. I can get us into the palace. From there —”

  “We’ll do the rest,” said Keeah.

  The duke nodded. “Then follow me!”

  The friends hoisted the carpet over their heads, making them invisible once more. Quickly, they began to march through the streets.

  Sarla and Looma held on to Neal’s arms. “So we can keep an eye on you,” Looma said.

  “And off my hair!” said Neal.

  Holding the weaver’s carpet high, the four friends and three Samarindians wove through the streets. Though dreams came and went, Boola’s steps did not hesitate.

  “Look at this,” said the duke with a snort. “Hazards everywhere. Rickety bridges, streets circling upon themselves and going nowhere, sudden canals, deep ponds. I don’t care for Gethwing’s dreams at all. Not at all.”

  When they reached the palace at last, it loomed larger than ever, a monstrous hulk of black stone in the shape of a dragon’s head.

  “Our poor home!” said Sarla.

  Just as the little band set foot on the path leading to the gates, a cry echoed through the streets.

  “Oh, no! Look!” cried Pasha.

  Shapes moved overhead. Shapes of many wings flapping in unison. The sky filled with row upon row of golden dragons flying in formation over the city.

  “The fire dragons are back!” said Neal.

  “Gethwing’s terrible dream is becoming more real by the second!” said Keeah. “We have to stop this —”

  “Wait!” said Sarla. “Look there. The dragons brought their terrible leader!”

  “Gondra!” cried Looma.

  The children watched, dumbfounded, as the largest dragon they had ever seen moved slowly over the city.

  Its great head turned this way and that, searching the dark streets below.

  All at once, the children spied a tiny figure riding on Gondra’s back.

  He had a black cloak and black boots and scowled when he saw the children.

  “Who is that?” said Keeah.

  Pasha gasped. “Oh, no, no, no …”

  For when Gondra banked low, the children saw the rider’s face.

  It was familiar to them.

  “I think we just found Eric,” said Neal.

  The rider’s eyes stared coldly at the children, as if he didn’t know them.

  Julie felt her heart skip a beat. “But what happened to him? He’s not wearing glasses … his eyes … he’s … different!”

  “The Dream Crown!” said Boola. “Gethwing must have used it to capture your friend’s mind!”

  The dragon rider snarled at the children, then raised his black gloved hand. “Gondra, attack those troublemakers!”

  Oooo-ooo! howled Gondra.

  And the fire dragons coiled together in a single mass and dived at the little band.

  Prince Ungast pulled Gondra’s reins, and the fire dragon dived swiftly.

  Blam! Blam! Black sparks streamed from the dark prince’s gloved fingers and strafed the street below.

  The friends scurried to safety under a low stone bridge. Keeah’s fingers sparked.

  “Do we really have to fight our friend?” asked Julie, gasping for breath.

  The princess shook her head. “No. We have to fight for our friend. If Gethwing has used Ko’s curse and the Dream Crown to draw the evil side of Eric out, we have to help his good side battle it.”

  “But how?” asked Neal.

  Keeah didn’t know exactly how. But she couldn’t forget the cure hanging around her neck. Nor could she forget the old woman’s words about entering Eric’s dream.

  Pay the price of admission.

  Pay the price.

  She fired a blast into the sky, careful to aim at Gondra’s tail and not near Eric.

  Wha-boom-boom! The fire dragon squealed and coiled away. As one, the flock of orange-scaled dragons shrieked and swept back into the sky after it.

  “Ooooh, nice!” yelled Looma.

  “That was good!” cried Sarla.

  “We should split up,” Keeah told Boola and his daughters. “If Gethwing is in the palace, you may still have a chance to steal back the crown. We’ll give you cover while you run to the palace.”

  “We’ll meet you inside later,” said Neal.

  “Really? When?” said Sarla, her fingers reaching for Neal’s hair.

  “Just … later!” said Neal, pulling away.

  Boola nodded. “We’ll do it. My head itches for that crown to sit back where it belongs. While you battle the dragons, I’ll find a way to get my crown back. Girls?”

  “We’re with you, Daddy!” said Looma.

  As the yellow-robed duke and his daughters zigzagged to the palace gates, Keeah blasted at the sky to confuse the dragons and give cover to her new friends.

  Blam! Blam! The sky lit up with blasts.

  “Eric!” called Julie as the dragon swooped low. “Don’t you know us?”

  “Who is Eric?” snarled the boy on Gondra’s back. “I am Prince Ungast!” He raised his hands and hurled a blast of black fire at his friends.

  Ka-blam!

  “Eric!” called Neal. “This is only Gethwing’s dream, his horrible dream —”

  “A dream in which I’m the star!” said Ungast coldly. “How do you like my role so far? Now give up or pay the price!”

  He sent stinging blasts of sparks at the street. Boom! Boom!

  “Pay the price?” said Keeah. As she looked into Eric’s stony face, she suddenly understood what the old woman meant.

  “To enter Eric’s dream, I have to pay the price!” she cried. “The ultimate price! The only way is to battle him. To be wounded —”

  “Are you kidding?” said Julie. “You’re going to fight him? For real?”

  “What if he hurts you?” asked Neal.

  Keeah touched the ruby necklace. “I think that’s the point. I have to be wounded as he was —”

  “No!” cried Julie. “You can’t!”

  “Keeah!” said Pasha. “Please don’t!”

  “Pasha, I need the carpet,” said Keeah calmly. “It’s the only way. I’ll bring Eric back to us, or … or …”

  She didn’t dare say what she was thinking. But she didn’t have to. Reluctantly, Pasha slipped the carpet from his pocket and gave it to her.

  Keeah laid it flat on the ground, sat on it, and gave the front fringes a tug. Whooosh! She swept far up into the evening sky and straight for Eric and the giant fire dragon.

  As she banked high over the palace, she gazed at the desert outside the city. Ranged on the dunes were hundreds of war tents, each one lit by a flaming torch.

  “Gethwing’s nightmare!” Keeah said to herself. More determined than ever, she turned sharply and flew at Gondra’s rider.

  “Face me, will
you?” Ungast yelled, his face twisted in anger. He dug his heels into the dragon’s sides. “Then prepare to fall!” His fingertips exploded with black sparks.

  Keeah’s carpet reeled from the blasts. She yanked it to the left and swooped high over the fire dragon.

  But the beast was as nimble as a sparrow. Ungast tugged the reins and it corkscrewed in the air, circling around behind the princess.

  Keeah knew that the time had come. She was afraid, but she had put it off long enough, and now there was no escape.

  Closing her eyes to speak a loving word to her faraway parents, she set her carpet on a collision course with Gondra.

  “This — is — it!” Ungast aimed a huge blast of black sparks at the princess.

  Wha-blammm! The blast struck Keeah’s necklace like an arrow hitting its target.

  Keeah screamed. As she fell, she knew it was the most powerful blow she’d ever received. She hurtled head over heels from the carpet.

  “Oh, dear, no!” cried Pasha, clutching Julie and shutting his eyes, unable to look.

  Pressing her miniature magic mirror to herself, Keeah fell, fell, fell to the city below.

  Julie and Neal raced to try to catch Keeah before she struck the ground. But as they drew close, they saw her fade before their eyes until she vanished into her own magic mirror.

  Her friends were dumbstruck.

  “She’s gone into Eric’s dream!” cried Pasha, his lips trembling. “Poor Keeah!”

  Gondra coiled straight up into the sky, while Prince Ungast howled at the top of his lungs, “Yahooooo!”

  Keeah fell for a long time — or maybe it was a short time. She couldn’t tell. But when she opened her eyes, she was in the royal bedchamber in Jaffa City. It was evening. Candles flickered on tables beside the bed.

  The little mirror was still in her hand.

  The room was nearly empty. Queen Relna sat alone at Eric’s bedside. Lord Sparr sat in the shadowy corner, as before. Galen and Max were likely in the wizard’s tower and her father, the king, on his way to faraway Mikos.

  “Mother?” Keeah said. “Mother —”

  But the queen remained huddled over the bed as if she hadn’t heard her daughter.

  “Sparr?” Keeah said, turning to the corner.

  No answer from the sorcerer.

  “They don’t hear me or see me,” she said to herself. “So … it worked. The necklace has brought me … into the dreamworld.”

  All at once, her mother cried aloud, stood, and turned away from the bedside.

  Keeah looked down and gasped. “No!”

  The blankets lay flat. The pillow showed the indentation of a head, but no head was there. Eric had faded completely.

  “No!” Keeah sobbed. “Eric! No!”

  “Why is everyone crying?” said a voice from the corner of the room.

  Keeah turned. “Who’s there?”

  Someone stepped from the dusky shadows, a figure more of mist than of flesh and blood.

  “Can you see me?” he asked.

  Keeah gasped. “Eric? Eric! It’s you!” She tried to wrap her arms around him, but couldn’t. Her hands went through him easily. She shuddered and tried not to show her fear. “I can’t believe it’s you!”

  “I’ve been trying to talk to your mom,” he said, practically crying, “but she doesn’t hear me. I feel as if I died or something —”

  “No,” she said, trembling.

  “Well, I look on the bed and I’m not there,” said Eric, “and I’m barely even here. I feel like a ghost. What’s happening to me?”

  For a moment, Keeah wondered what to say, then decided that she simply had to tell him, and quickly.

  “The curse of the ice dagger put you into a deep sleep,” she explained. “Then Gethwing … Gethwing used the power of dreams to draw you halfway across the world. I’ve seen you there.”

  “You’ve seen me?” he asked. “Where?”

  “The dream city of Samarindo,” she said.

  Eric nodded when he heard the name. “Samarindo. I remember. So I’m still alive?”

  “There’s some not-so-good news,” Keeah said. “Gethwing has unlocked your evil side. Eric, you’re bad.”

  Eric looked surprised. “I have an evil side?”

  “You call yourself Prince Ungast,” she said.

  “Ungast? That’s so creepy,” said Eric. “It’s like what happened to you. Your evil twin called herself Neffu. All wizards go through a trial like this, don’t they?”

  Keeah nodded. “I remember Neffu every day of my life.”

  “He won’t win, will he?” asked Eric. “Ungast won’t win against me, will he?”

  Looking at Eric’s ghostly form, Keeah was unsure how to answer. “I hope not. He wears a heavy black cloak. His face is hard. And your silver sparks? Well, they’re black now. And believe me, they hurt.”

  Eric’s eyes widened. “Did I blast … you?”

  Keeah touched the ruby stone on her necklace and recalled the fierce blow. “A little. But if you hadn’t wounded me, I wouldn’t be here now. Look, along with everything else, time is against us. We need to get you to Samarindo now, or … well, we just need to go.”

  Eric understood. “How do we get there?”

  “The same way your other self did,” she said. “Through the magic mirror. Ready?”

  “I’m ready,” said Eric.

  Keeah stepped toward Galen’s magic mirror, then turned to the silent figure on the stool. “Lord Sparr, you said you wouldn’t abandon Eric. I wish you could come with us now.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for Isha —”

  Under the pressure of her fingers, however, the sorcerer’s tattered cloak collapsed to the floor.

  There was nothing underneath!

  “Wait, Sparr is a ghost, too?” asked Eric.

  Keeah gasped. “But —”

  She suddenly knew why the old woman in Samarindo had known her name. And Eric’s.

  “Sparr didn’t abandon you!” Keeah cried. “He never abandoned you. He’s been in Samarindo the whole time, and I know exactly where to find him! Let’s go!”

  The two friends jumped through the mirror. An instant later, they were back on the streets of the dream city.

  But even in that short time, things had changed. Spreading out for miles beyond the dragon palace were more war tents than ever. They extended as far as the eye could see. Next to the tents were thousands of wingwolves and fire dragons, all standing at attention.

  “Gethwing’s dream army!” Keeah said. “Ungast will lead them against Droon.”

  “I will? I mean, he will?” said Eric.

  “Not if we win this battle first,” said Keeah. “We need to battle Ungast, and we need some help, the best help there is. Hurry. Look for a strange little cart!”

  They rushed through the streets as quickly as they could until, all at once — tweeeeeet!

  A little green bird swept over their heads.

  “Isha!” gasped Keeah. “Lead us!”

  The little bird led the two friends in and out of alleys and right under a wooden bridge to where the little cart stood alone.

  “Sparr!” Keeah called out as they approached. “Sparr. I know it’s you!”

  A face popped up from behind the cart. This time, it was Sparr’s familiar face. He was dressed in the old woman’s drab red cloak. He leaned on his rusty saber. He was old and blind. But he was smiling.

  “So it was you!” said Keeah.

  “Look who the clever one is,” said Sparr.

  “You said you’d never abandon Eric,” said Keeah. “And you’re a sorcerer of your word.”

  “I am old and blind, and yet I sensed Gethwing trying to return from the Underworld,” said Sparr. “I knew he might take advantage of Eric’s curse to make his own dreams come true. Pretending to take up the vigil in the royal bedchamber, I actually came here and concocted a magic cure. Keeah, you played your part well.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

&n
bsp; “And thanks for helping me,” Eric said.

  Sparr’s face turned grim. “Don’t thank me yet. You must defeat Prince Ungast — or be defeated by him. There is no room for both of you. Thanks to Gethwing, the curse, and the Dream Crown, Ungast is already far more powerful than you!”

  Eric looked at his ghostly hands. “So how can I fight him? I’m barely here.”

  “That may work to your advantage,” said Sparr. “I am old, but I still know a thing or two about battling enemies. I’ll show you moves you can use. Watch and learn!”

  The sorcerer handed Eric his rusty saber. “It won’t take long for Ungast to sense you are here,” he said. “We must hurry. Keeah, tell me when the moon is at its height.”

  “I will,” she said.

  “Then — on guard!” said Sparr.

  For the next hour, the old sorcerer taught Eric one move after another.

  “Wake up! Look there!” he shouted, spinning on his heels. “Sense the position of your enemies. They give off an aura of evil. Imagine someone behind you. Be quick about it, that person is you! Let Ungast tire himself fighting a ghost. But remember, with every success, you become more visible and more vulnerable. Use the boy’s cloak against him. Trip him up. Make him so angry, he makes a mistake. Use that mistake to defeat him!”

  Clack! Clonk! Using his hands, Sparr parried Eric’s blows. The more he instructed Eric, the more tired the boy became. Eric turned more visible, then less visible. He jabbed quickly, but recovered slowly.

  “Again!” Sparr coaxed. “You are fighting for your life! Fake left! Spin! Duck! You know Ungast’s moves. They are your own!”

  “The moon is up,” Keeah said finally.

  “And so is our time,” said the sorcerer, breathing hard. “Eric, ready or not, the hour has arrived. Magic is over now. Help is over now. Keep the saber. The rest is up to you.”

  Sparr laid his hands upon Keeah and Eric. They bowed their heads in thanks. A moment later, the red cloak collapsed. It was empty.

  Looking into her mirror, Keeah saw the figure in the corner begin to rock again.

  “He did as much as he could,” she said.

  Holding Sparr’s saber, which grew heavier by the moment, Eric nodded. “It’s up to me.”

  “Hey, Eric! Is that you?” called a familiar voice. “Is that really the good you?”