The Book of Dreams

by O. R. Melling

  The tracks were black as soot. With the fluorescent lighting, the tunnel glowed eerily, like a secret labyrinth. The walls crawled with wires and cables. A musty wind blew down the passageway. Trains rumbled like thunder in the distance. Far ahead, at the end of the darkness, the light of the next station flickered like a beacon.

  Trew frowned as he looked up and down the track. A new sound echoed through the dimness. The low boom of drums. It was a threatening sound. The beat of ill intent.

  Trew grabbed Dana’s hand.

  “As I was saying”—he puffed as they ran down the track, away from the drumming—“usually the trolls are not much more than a big fat nuisance. But they’re easily influenced. And right now the troll patrol are under a very bad influence indeed.”

  “Crowley!”

  “Who?”

  “The monster who wants to kill me.”

  “That sounds about right.”

  Running hard to keep up with the little man, Dana was glad to note that he knew the tunnels well. He rushed her over tracks, around bends and twists, and along workmen’s walkways. When the drums died out behind them, she sighed with relief.

  But not for long.

  More drums boomed. This time ahead of them.

  Trew stopped abruptly and cocked his head to listen. Were they calling to the others? Sure enough, drums now beat on either side of them, growing steadily louder as they closed in.

  “We’re trapped!” Dana whispered.

  Swearing under his breath, Trew searched the soot-covered wall beside them. Now he pushed against a large brick. A door swung open, revealing stone steps that ran downward into a pitch-black hole. A stale smell wafted upward.

  Trew disappeared into the murk, but Dana hesitated. She could see nothing below.

  “Come on! There’s no time! They’re coming!”

  He was right. She could hear the drums on both sides. So near! And another sound accompanied them. The tramp of heavy feet. They would soon be on top of her.

  The moment Dana stepped into the shaft, the door slammed shut behind her. She was plunged into darkness. Putting her hands together, she made enough light to see the stairway underfoot. The shaft went down at least twenty feet.

  Trew’s voice called up encouragement.

  “It’s brighter down here! Quick! The trolls know the doors too!”

  Hurrying gingerly down the steps, she was amazed to find herself in an underground cavern as big as the subway station above. The walls and roof were of rock, covered with a phosphorescent lichen that glowed greenly in the dark. A maze of passages ran off in all directions.

  “These tunnels are older than the human ones,” Trew told her. “There was a lot of worry when the subway was being built. What if the workers dug deep enough to find us? Rumors of war were rife. ‘The trolls will protect their own’ and so forth.” Trew let out a laugh. “The only thing that happened was entertainment. Trolls love causing trouble on the system.”

  They ran through cavern after cavern, each identical to the last.

  “Trolls know tunnels like the back of their hand,” Trew told her. “The way you know the streets you live on.”

  “Where do they live?” Dana wondered.

  “Farther in and further down,” came the answer as they hurried on.

  After what seemed an endless chain of caverns, the ground began to rise. They were heading upward. Though she had managed to keep pace with him till then, Dana begged Trew to slow down. Her lungs were bursting. Her legs ached. She was certain they had covered a few miles.

  “Nearly there,” he panted.

  “Where’s … there?” she demanded.

  “Scarberia. The east end.”

  To Dana’s relief, they slowed to a quick walk.

  “I think we shook them off,” Trew said with a glance over his shoulder.

  Then he let out a yelp.

  Looking back, Dana cried out too.

  Only a short distance behind was a band of trolls, quickly gaining on them. Dana’s heart stopped. There were only four, but each was tall and broad, with hunched shoulders, belly-white skin, and black lidless eyes. All wore soot-covered Toronto Transit Commission uniforms, with jackets and caps. She might have laughed, if they hadn’t looked so sinister. They bristled with crude weapons— hatchets, hammers, and even a broadsword. There was a mindless resolve to the way they charged. And now she saw why neither Trew nor she had heard them. Trouser legs rolled up, they were running in their bare feet. Somehow the sight of curled and dirty toenails made it all the worse.

  “Up and out!” Trew cried. “They hate the light!”

  Moments before, Dana was sure she couldn’t have run another step. Now she sprinted off, with Trew beside her. Behind them came no drum or footstep, only the foul breaths of their pursuers.

  “Where’s the steps? Where’s the door?” Dana hissed to Trew.

  “No … amenities … the ’burbs …” he answered in fits.

  At last she understood what he meant. There was no stairway to lead them out. The ground rose in a steep incline that finally reached a door with an iron bar across it.

  Trew grabbed at the bar to lift it. Dana glanced behind. The trolls were there behind them! One reached out for her. Trew pushed the door open. With a scream, Dana hurled herself through the opening, on top of Trew. They tumbled out together on the other side, sprawling on the ground.

  “Close it!” Trew roared, as a dead white hand clutched at the air.

  Scrambling to her feet, Dana slammed the door shut.

  They were back in the regular subway tunnels. Hurrying along the tracks, they came to the spacious and airy Warden station. But not until they were outside in the fresh air did Dana stop looking behind her.

  Though it was late afternoon, the light seemed very bright after the dim tunnels.

  “Stay out of the subway for the rest of the day,” Trew said. “Once the troll patrols know they’ve lost you, they’ll go bonkers altogether. Throw the whole system into mayhem, you betcha.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Dana said. She rummaged through her pockets and pulled out a chocolate bar. “How about this?”

  The little man admired the shiny gold wrapper and was even more pleased as he bit into the chocolate.

  “I love this stuff,” he said, “big-time.”

  “Can I ask you something?” She hesitated, not wanting to offend him. “Why did you help me?”

  He peered at her over his shades. The earth-brown eyes regarded her thoughtfully.

  “Do you think this is all about you, girl? You’re not the only one who cares about dreams, eh? There’s no neutral ground in this kind of war. You sit on the fence, you get splinters in your bum. But it’s a sign of just how desperate your enemy’s gettin’ if he’s callin’ on the trolls. Scrapin’ the bottom of the barrel now. You’ve got him rattled, that’s for sure.”

  “I think he’s underestimated all the people against him,” Dana said.

  “He’s underestimated you, that’s for darn sure,” said Trew. Again he peered at her over his glasses. “Now, there’s one more bit I gotta do for you afore I go. You know the thing you’re lookin’ for? It’s near all right, but it ain’t here in Trawna. It’s in a place called the Plain of the Great Heart.”

  “The what?” she said. “Where?”

  “That’s all I know.” He shrugged. “A little birdie told me. I don’t get out of the subway much.”

  He was shifting from foot to foot. Dana could see he was uncomfortable outdoors. Even with the dark glasses, he was squinting in the sunlight.

  “That’s Warden Woods,” he said suddenly, pointing across the road.

  Dana looked over at the plot of trees rising behind a tall wired fence.

  “Your friend’s in there. That’s why I brought you. Between you and me, some last advice. I see a lot ridin’ the Rocket. The good, the bad, and the ugly. He’s good for you. Don’t turn him away. Nobody said you gotta do this alone.”

  Da
na shielded her eyes against the sun as she stared into the trees. She couldn’t see anyone.

  “Do you mean Jean?” she turned to ask, only to find herself talking to thin air.

  A quick look around showed no sign of Trew. For a little man, he could really move fast. What exactly was he? Dana shrugged to herself. Whatever he was, she felt she could trust him.

  Crossing the road, Dana found a gate in the fence that allowed her into the woods. The ground was damp and fragrant from the rain the day before. The October sun lit up the trees that still had their leaves. Red and gold flecks brightened the rusty brown of aspen and birch. Where the branches were bare, the autumn sky shone through. The sound of traffic beyond the woods grew muffled. In its place, she heard birds calling and the scurry of squirrels on the ground.

  She found him leaning against a tree, staring up at the sky. He wore a navy-blue scarf around his neck and his hands were plunged inside the pockets of his jacket. Her heart beat quicker as she looked at him: the fall of dark hair over his eyes, the lean features. Every time she saw him, she felt the same skip of her heart, as if she hadn’t seen him in ages.

  He looked lost in thought. Deep, sad thoughts.

  A twig snapped underfoot as she walked toward him. He responded to the sound, meeting her eyes, but he wasn’t surprised. She knew the wolf in him had caught her scent on the air.

  Neither spoke as they put their arms around each other. He rested his head on her shoulder even as she rested hers against his.

  “I had to go west,” she told him quietly. “Even though I made that promise to you. I couldn’t tell you. You had your own problems. Everything’s happening so quickly. I’m just trying to keep up. I’m sorry for telling you what to do. That was stupid. I’d really like if you would do this with me.”

  His features softened as he took her head in his hands and gazed at her. There was no anger in his look, only the same sadness she had noticed before.

  “I am sorry also,” he said. “You take a lot on your back. I don’t want to add to the problem you have. I want to help.” He touched her hair lightly and kissed her forehead. “I’m angry that time because I’m not there with you. I have fear for you. This is chauvin, no? You are strong, but still I want to save you.”

  His smile was wry and it made her grin. They both ended up laughing and then they stopped laughing so they could kiss.

  “How do you know I am here?” he asked her as they walked through the woods, hand in hand. “This is a place I like to come when I am wolf.”

  She told him about Trew and about the trolls in the subway. When she described the tunnels beneath the tunnels, he shook his head, amazed.

  “There is so much we don’t see, eh?”

  He put his arm around her. Her heart felt as if it might burst. It was so good not to be fighting, to be together again.

  Since they couldn’t take the subway home, they traveled the long way on buses and streetcars. Dana didn’t mind. It gave her more time with him. And she was able to bring him up to date with the story.

  “But Ms. Woods not come back to school, n’est-ce pas? Where is she now? And this other person, Laurel?”

  “I don’t know,” said Dana. “With the Old Ones. Oh, and there’s another thing. Trew says the Book of Dreams is nearby. In a place called the Plain of the Great Heart. Did you ever hear of it?”

  Jean shook his head. “It sounds like a Native name. I ask Roy and the Old Man.”

  When it was time for them to go their separate ways, he caught hold of her again and held her close. She was the one who kissed him first.

  “I call you tonight,” he said, when they finally broke apart.

  • • •

  By the time Dana got home, dusk had fallen over the city and the streetlights were on. She hurried in the door, all apologies.

  “Don’t tell me, I know,” said her father. “Radhi’s only in ahead of you. It’s all over the news. The subway’s in chaos. Breakdowns everywhere. Were you hours in the tunnel?”

  “It seemed like ages,” Dana said truthfully.

  “I’ve got a pot of ratatouille simmering. Grate me some cheese and set the table.”

  It was after supper, when Dana was doing her home-work, that the telephone rang. Thinking it was Jean or Georgia, she raced to get it.

  Gran Gowan’s voice came on the line. “I’m getting in an early invite, what with you skipping out on my Thanksgiving dinner. Are you coming up to me for Halloween? I won’t have you trick-or-treating in Toronto. There are all kinds of bad people there who put razor blades in apples and rat poison in the candies.”

  Dana laughed. “I don’t go trick-or-treating, Gran. I’m too old for that.”

  She was thinking fast. She had to dodge her grandmother’s invitation. There was no time for a visit, especially on the day she had to restore the portals!

  “You’ll love how we celebrate it here,” Gran Gowan was saying. “The whole village turns out. There are bonfires and plenty of hot chocolate to keep the kids warm. There’s a haunted house for the youngsters and the Headless Horseman gallops down Mill Street …”

  Dana opened her mouth to speak, but in vain.

  “The King of Creemore does that,” her grandmother continued. “Puts on a great show. We like to do the whole kit and caboodle here in the place of ‘the big heart.’”

  Dana nearly dropped the receiver.

  Why was the truth always so obvious that you inevitably overlooked it? Why could one never see the forest for the trees? Despite all her questing and Grandfather’s point about belonging to the land, she still hadn’t grasped it. The answer was right in front of her, and in Irish to boot! There was a place in southern Ontario that she herself belonged to more than any other part of Canada. A place where her own family had stayed on the land for generations.

  Creemore. Croí mór. Great heart.

  Dana’s mind raced. Halloween was two weeks away. She needed to get up there as soon as possible to search for the book. Surely Creemore would yield the secret to one of its own? As soon as the Book of Dreams told her how to restore the portals, she would use her power to do it on the feast of Oíche Shamhna.

  “Gran, could I stay this weekend? And again at Halloween?”

  “You know I’d love that!” Her grandmother was delighted. “We can make pumpkin pies. As long as your father agrees, of course.”

  “He won’t mind,” Dana assured her. “He and Radhi could do with some time together. With the baby coming, I’m sure—”

  “The baby?”

  The arch in Gran Gowan’s voice crackled on the wire.

  “Oops,” said Dana.

  “Put your father on this instant.”

  Dana sat in the front seat of the bus to get the best view. In the midday light, the highway had a silver-gray sheen. On both sides of the road the land stretched outward like wings. The countryside seemed to be three-quarters sky over a thin line of brown earth. When she first came to Canada she had asked her father, “Is the sky bigger here?” “Definitely,” was his answer. Signposts marked her passage through southern Ontario. Wildfield. Green and gray barns dotted the gentle slope of wide meadows. Farther north, dark forests came to meet the highway. Caledon Highlands. Here and there, tall flagpoles waved the red-and-white maple leaf flag of Canada. Blue Church Road. There was a little wooden church with a steeple painted blue. Pink Lake. There was a lake, but it wasn’t pink.

  Dana liked traveling by herself. Just before Gabe had put her on the bus, he had looked a little troubled.

  “This is the second time you’ve left since we told you about the baby. Are you sure you’re not upset?”

  “Da, I already told you. It’s not like that. I really like the idea of a sister or brother. I just want to visit Gran. You know how much I love going to Creemore.”

  “She does spoil you rotten.”

  Dana grinned. “Thanks for letting me go on my own.”

  “A few months back, I wouldn’t have,” he admitted, “but y
ou’re really growing up, kiddo.”

  “I’m nearly fourteen,” she pointed out.

  “No, I mean … in a different way. You’ve changed … what I’m trying to say … you’re a young woman now.” He looked embarrassed.

  Dana rolled her eyes. Fathers.

  With Ontario farmlands flying past her window, she allowed herself the luxury of daydreaming about Jean. The week had passed quickly at school. When she introduced Georgia and Jean, they both liked each other instantly. The three of them had become a little gang, meeting between classes and sitting together at lunch. They couldn’t help drawing attention to themselves as they talked and laughed so loudly. With Georgia there, Dana and Jean couldn’t talk about the quest, but Dana didn’t mind. She was glad to put it aside for a while. There came a moment in the cafeteria— the three of them were fooling around, Georgia had grabbed Jean’s lunch and tossed it to Dana, while Jean swore in French—when Dana realized she was bursting with happiness. To have a boyfriend and a best friend was, for her, a dream come true.

  As for the quest, she and Jean had made their plans by telephone. He would arrive in Creemore the following day and they would begin the search for the Book of Dreams together. She hoped he might be able to stay at her grandmother’s house, but if all else failed he could go home at night by turning wolf.

  Remembering the quest brought a flutter of panic. Time was running out. And even as she drew near to what she sought, the mystery deepened. Why was the Book of Dreams in Creemore? She had known from the beginning that she was connected to it, but she had always assumed that the bond with the book was through her fairy blood. After all, its secret would restore the portals of Faerie. But it seemed her human side was also involved. Why else would the book be near her family home? That couldn’t be a coincidence.

  There was another matter to consider. Crowley. He already knew about her connection to Creemore. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to find her there. That thought sent her heart racing. Remembering the Old Ones, she managed to calm down. They had shown her she had power and that she wasn’t alone. She had to trust that she could handle whatever happened. There was no going back. Her mission had to be fulfilled.