Dimension Of Dreams rb-11

by Джеффри Лорд

  Narlena shuddered. The idea that her people-and even more, the Dreams, their proudest achievement-were responsible for this desolation was more than she could take in, at least at the rate Blade was throwing it at her. Blade saw this and decided to be quiet for a while, letting his first burst of words work in Narlena’s mind. She was a product of her crippled and decadent culture. But Blade thought he detected a lively intelligence under that black hair. At least he was going to assume it was there until he was convinced otherwise. Silently he took her by the hand and led her up the street, away from the bridge.

  They wandered through Pura for several hours, feeling the warmth of the day increase as the sun rose higher and higher. It burned down from a cloudless sky into the windless canyons between the high towers and was reflected from their polished surfaces until it was almost oppressively warm in the streets below. Narlena did not appear to notice it; she still had something of the air of a sleepwalker about her.

  They found no living people, either Wakers or Dreamers, but several skeletons of victims or comrades that the Wakers had not managed to carry away. Beside one of them lay a long, beautifully made knife, obviously looted from one of the vaults. Blade picked it up and handed it to Narlena. She took it without comment, but Blade noticed that as her fingers closed around the hilt, the trembling of her hands increased for a moment. Her people had cast away much of their capacity for violence even before they had secluded themselves in their vaults and had lost much of what remained during their century of Dreaming. Not that they were totally unfamiliar with violence-but with the Wakers ruling the night city, they knew it only as victims.

  Blade saw a great deal of Pura that afternoon. Their wanderings took them in a wide sweep through the littered streets, past more of the high towers and smaller buildings. They also passed other structures that Blade would not have recognized if Narlena had not gradually shaken off her numbness enough to point out and describe them-or describe them as they had been.

  «This was the House of Wisdom,» said Narlena. She was pointing at a quartet of red-tinged domes, flaked and cracking, occupying most of a hundred-acre park, now as rank and overgrown as any meadow. One of the domes showed a black cavity where a section fifty feet high had fallen in or been knocked out.

  Narlena took a couple of deep breaths and went on, «The House of Wisdom. Where our scholars lived, studied, did their experiments. Where they developed the Dreams and the vaults.»

  Blade made for a place where half the wall around the park had collapsed, but Narlena grabbed his arm.

  «Don’t go in there! See that white marking on the wall? That’s a Waker gang badge!»

  Blade looked to where she pointed, saw three white circles set in an equilateral triangle, staring back at him from the dingy stone. He nodded and stepped back. There was no point in barging into a Waker stronghold, alone except for Narlena. With a band of fifty armed Dreamers at his back it might be another matter-would be another matter, some day soon. Treading as lightly and as softly as he could until they were around a corner and out of sight, he led Narlena away.

  When they were out of sight and earshot of anybody lurking in the domes of the House of Wisdom, he stopped and turned to the girl. «Did your scholars leave any of their records in the house before they went into their vaults?»

  «Many of them didn’t go into the vaults, Blade. Even when that was the only way they could be safe from the Wakers, many of them still stayed in the house. They were killed there, or they died of disease and starvation. There were not many of them in the vaults. It is said that even those who spent one or two cycles in the vaults eventually tried to return to the house. They were killed by Wakers, so there are possibly no scholars left.»

  «Why did they stay in the house, when they knew they were risking their lives?»

  «‘They-I–I’ve heard stories. They thought they could find a way to fight the Wakers and stop the Dreamers and-oh, I don’t know, don’t ask me!» she wailed, then burst into tears.

  Blade put his arms around her and held her while she shook and sobbed. Some of the people of Pura had apparently realized the disaster they had brought on their city. They had risked and eventually sacrificed their lives in a last-ditch effort to save it. An unsuccessful one, but it had proved they were not all as blind as Blade had begun to suspect. And even if the scholars themselves had died. .

  «Do you know if they left any notes on what they had been doing in the house?»

  Narlena jerked her head up and stared at Blade for a long time. Then she bit her quivering lower lip until it was still, and a frown spread over her delicate features, a frown that suggested to Blade she was making a serious effort to remember. Finally she shook her head.

  «You don’t know? Or they didn’t leave any?»

  «I don’t know. Nobody I talked with during my Wakings has ever been into the house.» She stopped for a moment, then said sadly, «Even if the scholars had left material there, wouldn’t the Wakers have destroyed it by now?»

  «They might have,» Blade conceded, «but we can’t be sure.»

  «No,» said Narlena slowly. «We can’t.»

  Blade felt like hugging her and cheering out loud. For the first time she was showing signs of interest in doing something about the situation in Pura. She certainly seemed to have adjusted at least partly to being out and about during the daylight that she and her fellow Dreamers had so rigidly shunned for so long.

  During the afternoon they wandered on through the streets of Pura, their course taking them slowly back toward the river. They saw no more signs of Waker gang lairs. But they did find occasional abandoned weapons, which Blade collected, and scraps of clothing that had been lying out long enough for even the tough synthetic materials to show signs of wear.

  About mid-afternoon they finally reached the river at a point several miles west of the bridge that Blade had used to first enter the city. Here there was another bridge across the rain-swollen river, carrying another rubble-strewn and weed-choked roadway out into the open countryside. And here for the first time in several hours, Narlena cringed and shivered. Blade made no effort to force her across the bridge or even to look across it. For a time he let her turn her head away and bury it against his broad chest. She had come this far already, bit by bit, carefully led by him but drawing to a great degree on her own inner resources. He was sure that she would go the rest of the way if he just gave her time. But they would not have too much time left for exploring the country if she did not nerve herself up for the crossing fairly quickly. The danger they would both be in if darkness caught them outside Narlena’s vault was obvious.

  But after only a few minutes Narlena forced her gaze back to the green tree-clad hills across the river and said in a pathetically small voice:

  «I want to go across.» A pointing hand indicated where when her strained voice failed her.

  «You’re sure?» said Blade, keeping the triumph out of his voice only by a terrific effort.

  «I-there’s been so much new today-I want to go on, I want to feel-I-«and her emotions simply outran her ability to express herself. Again Blade kept a grin off his face. Bit by bit Narlena was realizing that the Waking world had feelings, beauties, and qualities that no Dream could offer. She was still a long way from preferring the Waking world and even farther froze being able to live in it and cope with all its sensations and dangers. But this was a start. Blade took her hand and at a brisk walk, led her out onto the bridge.

  Several times during the crossing Narlena’s fears flooded back into her mind, and she stopped, trembling, clutching Blade’s hand, and sometimes looking desperately from the desolate city to the countryside ahead. Once she looked down into the rushing, murky blue green water of the river far below. That was the only moment when Blade took an extra firm grip on her arm. He remembered the woman fleeing from the battle who had preferred hurling herself to death in the river below to fleeing to at least a temporary safety in the darkened countryside beyond. But the moment p
assed, and she again began to put one foot slowly in front of another. Eventually they came to the hill on the far side of the river, climbed up it, and looked back down its slope to the river, the bridge, and Pura beyond.

  To see the corpse of her city lying there naked in the daylight was almost too much for Narlena’s precarious mental balance. Once again Blade saw her cringe, tremble, and cling to him, saw tears start from her wide staring eyes and her lips tremble. But it passed after a few minutes. Then she drew him gently but irresistibly behind a clump of flowering shrubs and then drew him down to the ground, onto the sun-warmed grass amid the hum of insects and the sweet-sour scent of the yellow flowers of the shrubs.

  It was well on into twilight before the darkening sky and the insistent clamor of his own empty stomach made Blade sit bolt upright, then spring to his feet, and hastily rouse the sleeping Narlena. Night was moving in on Pura, and they had more than three miles to go before reaching the safety of her vault. It was time that they got started.

  Blinking sleep from her eyes, Narlena rose to join him, and together they swung out along the crest of the hill, moving parallel to the river and keeping well south of it. Blade had no desire to cross the river any sooner than he had to and risk a meeting with Waker gangs prowling streets which they inevitably must know far better than Narlena or himself.

  Although they moved at a pace fast enough to make Narlena pant, it was still almost dark before they reached the bridge. Blade looked across it into the darkened ruins and then down into the river rushing past under the bridge. If its current had not been so swift and its banks not a sheer drop of nearly a hundred feet on both sides, Blade would seriously have considered swimming the river. He did not like the idea of crossing a bridge that prowling Waker gangs could easily seal off. He himself would have had no objection to spending a night in the open countryside, but he doubted whether Narlena’s mind or body could endure the experience.

  As the moon rose and lit the visible face of the city, it showed nothing moving. With sword and spear held ready, Blade led the way out onto the bridge, half crouching as he stalked forward. Every few yards he dropped on his stomach to peer out from behind the tangled thistles toward the far end of the bridge and the piles of rubble beyond.

  It took them many minutes to cross the bridge this way, minutes that rasped like files on even Blade’s trained and tough nerves. It must have been far worse for Narlena. But though her face in the moonlight was white as flour, she kept moving steadily and made not a sound. Perhaps returning to Pura and feeling the cover of darkness over her again was easing her mind.

  Finally they both lay on their stomachs behind a mass of thistles grown almost to the proportions of a hedge, looking up at the ridge of debris that lay between them and the entrance to Narlena’s building. They could not move at a rush across the hills and valleys of piled rubble. They would have to pick their way across it, clearly visible to anyone lurking in the shadows or watching from a high window. And they would be unable to move fast if attacked.

  Blade took a deep breath and motioned forward. Up the slope they went as fast as their legs would carry them, then down into the first hollow and down on their stomachs for a momentary halt. Then on again-brief pushes forward, longer pauses lying in pools of shadow that should provide concealment, then on again. They could not move silently; chunks of rubble turned under their weight or came loose and went clattering down slopes.

  Over the last crest now, and down the last slope, half-climbing, half-falling, down into the shadow of a massive slab of fallen wall precariously balanced at an angle. Stare out into the empty street, grip weapons, catch breath, get ready to make the final rush across the level street to the door of Narlena’s building.

  Blade turned to Narlena and murmured with teeth bared in a flickering grin, «Almost there, Narlena. If your people had known how to move like this by night, half the ones the Wakers got would still be alive and free.»

  She nodded. Then he motioned her forward again. They had just slipped from the shadow of the wall slab and were straightening up, ready for their run, when the sound of racing feet hit their ears from farther up the street. A second later a human figure burst from the shadows. It was a man in Dreamer clothing, sprinting toward them as though he were running for his life. He was. Hard on his heels came half a dozen Wakers.

  Chapter Eight

  Blade waited long enough to get a clear look at the approaching Wakers, a brief few seconds that were enough for the Dreamer’s frantically churning legs to carry him many yards closer. Then Blade plunged forward, passing the man at the edge of the rubble. He crashed into the Wakers before they could notice or prepare to meet the gigantic figure hurling itself at them out of the darkness.

  Blade took out his first victim without using either sword or spear. He shot out one long leg, and his foot connected with the nearest Waker’s kneecap. The man screamed and dropped to the ground. Blade leaped over his falling body into the gap his fall left in the advancing line. He swung the sword in one hand to decapitate the man on his right and thrust with the spear at the man on his left at the same time. The second man jumped back in time to escape with a graze on his side, but he could not save himself a second later from the sword. Blade whipped it around and brought it down in a slashing blow that took off the man’s arm at the shoulder.

  One dead, one dying, and one down in a matter of seconds. Two of the survivors were on his left, one on his right. Blade retreated a few steps until he could get a clear view of all three survivors. They showed no signs of either coming after him or of running. They were going to stand and fight. As he watched, they drew into a rough triangle, each facing outward in a different direction.

  They lacked the precision Blade had seen in the first gang of Wakers. No doubt they were of a different gang, not as well trained. But that would not make them easy victims. Blade began sidling around the triangle, keeping out of the range of a spear thrust or sword slash. He was afraid of a lucky spear cast and also of the fight going on and on until time or the noise it was making brought yet more Wakers on the scene. He spared a glance toward where he had left Narlena. She had flattened herself in the rubble again, and beside her was the fugitive Dreamer.

  Watching Blade circling around their triangle without venturing to attack seemed to have given the Wakers more courage. They flourished their spears and made feints, faces, and obscene gestures with them, but they said nothing. Were they also afraid of other Wakers hearing the fight? If these men were outside their own gang’s «territory,» they might be so, and with good reason.

  Time to end the fight. The triangle was not something Blade cared to try breaking by force. But his opponents could not come at him, either, without breaking up the triangle. How to get them to come at him? Blade shifted his grip on both sword and spear ever so slightly, feeling underfoot for a loose piece of rubble. Then he bore down hard on it until he felt it turn under his foot, exaggerated the stumble with a whiplike snap of his trained muscles, went down, hit the ground with a thud-and rolled hard to the right, straight into the legs of a Waker rushing out of the triangle, spear poised high to thrust down into Blade’s chest. Blade took the man off his feet with a crash and a thump, leaped to his feet, and hurled his spear into a second man before either of the others could recover from their surprise. Then he spun around to slam the heel of his right foot hard into the fallen man’s chest; the man fell back and lay still. The last Waker turned to run, but Blade caught him before he had gone ten feet. Desperately the man turned to fight, but be was no swordsman. Blade feinted at his thigh to bring his sword down; then he thrust hard at his stomach. The heavy, clumsy sword would be no good against a target smaller or less vulnerable than a man’s stomach. But into that it plunged straight and deep. As Blade jerked the sword free, the man doubled over and sagged to the ground, blood gushing from the wound just above his greasy belt.

  Blade retrieved his spear and used it to finish off the man with the smashed knee. Then he turned ba
ck toward where Narlena and the man had gone to cover. They were still there, crouched still farther back in the shadows under the slab. They were so motionless that if Blade had been a casual passerby, he might not have noticed them at all. He wiped his sword and spear clean on the ragged, scanty garments of his victims and walked toward Narlena and the new man.

  Blade saw the man flinch and show signs of wanting to crawl out and run as he approached. He smiled. The Dreamer had just seen him cut down six Wakers single-handed. Now he saw him approaching steadily, smeared with sweat and the blood of his victims, loaded with weapons, and looking formidable and even terrifying. But Narlena grabbed the man by the arm and spoke urgently into his ear. Blade could not catch her words, but her tone was a reassuring one. The man nodded reluctantly, rose, and with Narlena came out to meet Blade. His hands were spread wide in the universal gesture of peace.

  «My name is Erlik,» he said nervously. «You are Blade, and Narlena says that you are from a world where all people are Wakers. Why do you help us, the Dreamers of Pura?» There was uncertainty and skepticism on his face as he looked at Blade.

  Blade decided that right now was the time to start working on Erlik. «Because you need help,» he replied bluntly. «In my home world, where all are indeed Wakers, those who want to live by robbery and violence find many other people to oppose them.» Not always enough, he added to himself. But Erlik didn’t need to know everything about Home Dimension.

  «Here in Pura,» Blade went on, «you have all made a mistake that only a few people in my world have made. You have run away from reality into your Dreams. None of you are left Waking, none of you are left to fight the robbers and killers. There has been no one to fight the Wakers for a hundred years. So your city has fallen apart and even you Dreamers are being killed off as you Wake and wander around.» Blade was not sure if he had put his argument in words that were too simple, since he had no idea whether Erlik was intelligent or well educated. But at least he had made the point he wanted to make with all the Dreamers-they had run away into their Dreams and left their city to die. And they would have to Wake and fight to get it back.