by James Erith
She closed her eyes and recalled what she knew – what she remembered. Nature’s course must run as it always did. Nothing could stop The Prophecy now, for the Gifts of the Tripodean Dream had triggered the building of rainclouds and a great flood was almost upon them. Nature had called for a new time. A time to wash away the old and bring in the new.
Would the children survive? Who could tell. It was impossible for them to have any idea of nature’s fury, but she knew the storm would only break when the Heirs of Eden were out in the open. She shivered and her old legs rattled together.
If they succeeded, what price would the children pay? But failure; forty days and forty nights of devastation – for everyone – the planet wiped out.
A feeling of dread built up in her. Even if the children survived the flood it would take nothing less than a miracle to find the stone tablets, let alone secure the key to the Garden of Eden.
Asgard wasn’t stupid. Yes, perhaps she was the fool. At least she was wise enough to know that nature’s wishes cannot be resisted. Not at any cost.
And what about the old man – there to guide and help? He had forgotten everything. Time had taken its toll – he was old, but was he now – in a curious twist of fate – a liability?
She dipped her claws one by one into her maghole. She would make sure he was given a dream every night that would somehow, somehow – however hard, however shocking, however desperate – stir him into action. Something had to click, it just had to.
Genesis stretched out a leg and held it still for several seconds. How could the dreamspinners remind the old man of the past so he could help the children?
There had to be a way, but what it was, right now, she didn’t know.
With these thoughts, she inverted into her maghole and vanished into thin air.
13
Cain’s Luck
How could Genesis let it happen? Asgard fumed.
Could she not see that the whole Tripodean Dream was doomed? These were children. Simple, pathetic children. They had no chance of success, none whatsoever. The world of man had slipped into the sort of decline that had been talked about from the outset. The species deserved to fail. Children to save the planet? Absurd. And what of Adam, Asgard thought. Useless – a bumbling old fool who had forgotten his mantra. It was laughable. Time really had got the better of him.
There was only going to be one winner in this shambles, and that was Cain, the Master of Havilah. Cain would finish them off even if their trials didn’t. A ghost like Cain had enough tricks to see off these children one hundred times over. Asgard knew what he had to do. He had to find Cain and somehow transport him from Havilah to Earth. Then Cain would mop up this sorry affair once and for all. He had talent for this type of occasion. And anyway, what were the alternatives?
The dreamspinner toyed with the thought and dipped a couple of legs in his maghole, feeling the warmth. Why did it sound so right, yet feel so horribly wrong?
The world had changed so much; was there a need for inspirational, magical dreams from Eden? Was there a requirement for dreams that gave insight, or dreams that inspired change, or for dreams that solved puzzles or elicited love and joy? Did dreams have a place in the world?
Maybe – maybe not, Asgard thought as he cleaned a couple of legs by flicking and rubbing them rapidly. Did it matter? Not really. So long as dreamspinners kept spinning dreams, so long as they did not become extinct.
After all, this was the great rule: if you can’t change, you die. It had applied to every species apart from them. And right here was their opportunity. There was a choice. A choice almost every other species had had to make at some point. Asgard remembered spinning dreams to creatures trying to show a route out of their crisis – and then watched as they failed – and died. Would dreamspinners fail and die out too?
Did other dreamspinners see this? If they didn’t, he’d have to educate them, that was clear.
Asgard worked out the chain of events: if the children were killed by the storm and Earth fell to the rains, he would be vindicated. Dreamspinners would harvest dreams from the spider webs across Havilah under Cain’s watchful eye until the Garden of Eden opened again. So what if dreams would only be nightmares. At least they would be alive.
And then another thought came to him. A brilliant thought. What if one of the heirs was there – alongside Cain? Perhaps Archie. The boy heir might dilute Cain’s power.
He toyed with the thought. Would it be possible to separate the boy from the other Heirs of Eden, especially when all three heirs needed to survive the storm?
Asgard could see a plan forming. Yes, tricky – but the more he thought it through, the more excited and fearful he became. But he’d made his mind up. He would take sides and align with Cain.
Asgard could feel his maghole expanding as the enormity of his action hit him. After thousands of years, the dreamspinners – the most ancient and lasting species of them all – would no longer be neutral. But it must be done – for the benefit of the dreamspinners. And he was running out of time.
Asgard felt for Cain’s vibrational energy field. A short while later he was locked on, ready to invert directly to that old devil, Cain, across the universes in Havilah.
In no time Asgard was in Havilah walking through the massive library in Cain’s palace. Asgard remembered how grand it once was; the golden ceiling, the diamond chandeliers that sparkled so brightly they could almost blind, the windows made from cut jewels and shining floors made from complex patterns of coloured stones. Now it was covered in thousands of years of dust, a veil of grey smothering it like a blanket.
The dreamspinner walked through the air, wondering where the ghost might be. Cain’s vibration was strong but ghosts could be hard to find. He found himself facing a huge piece of furniture with hundreds upon hundreds of drawers lined out row after row in neat columns.
Suddenly a drawer opened and its contents tumbled to the ground. It was Cain, searching as he always did for his branchwand.
Asgard readied himself to inject the ghost of Cain with a substance that would enable them to communicate by translating his signing into words.
Asgard jabbed at him, his leg shooting in and out so fast that Cain barely felt it.
‘Who’s there?’ Cain called out. ‘Which rapscallion of a rascal is it? Because I’ll have you. I’ll have you good and proper when I find my branchwand.’ Another drawer crashed over the floor.
Asgard materialised into the air above Cain’s head.
Cain sensed it. ‘Who are you and what do you want? I may be blind but I see things perfectly. Do not underestimate me.’
‘I am Asgard the dreamspinner.’
Cain seemed to think about this. ‘A dreamspinner, is that right?’ he said at length. ‘Well, well, well. Then it is lucky I am blind so I cannot look upon your ugly body.’ Cain sniffed the air. ‘You want to tell me something, don’t you?’
‘I come with news and a proposition,’ Asgard began. ‘The Tripodean Dream has been given, Master—’
Cain seemed to slip. ‘The Prophecy of Eden!’ he yelled. ‘The dreams! Can this be so? You lie!’
‘No. Clouds are building, the sky is preparing for rain—’
‘And the Gifts of Eden? Have they been given too?’
‘Indeed.’
Cain roared. ‘While I am stuck here in this empty hole Eden will be reborn and will inflict more useless creations on the worlds. It is infernal.’
Several drawers flew out at the same time and smashed onto the floor. ‘Who are the heirs, are they strong, are they blessed with power and magic? Huh, tell me, dreamspinner.’
‘They are children, weak sons and daughters of Adam. They have no magic and little sense of nature.’
‘Children? You jest. It cannot be. Are you sure?’
‘Indeed.’
Cain seemed to mull this over. ‘Then they will not succeed. The tasks require immense strength and cunning. They may not make it past the storm.’ Cain’s voice
petered off into the room. ‘And what of the old man?’
‘He wallows in self-pity and remembers nothing. His time on earth has mellowed him. He may prove more of a hindrance to the Heirs of Eden than a help.’
Cain groaned, a noise of deep frustration. ‘So, ugly dreamspinner, why are you here?’
‘I may be able to help,’ Asgard answered.
‘You have my ear, dreamspinner, but there is the small problem of getting away from this damnable place.’
‘I believe I have found a way of transporting you to the Heirs of Eden,’ Asgard began.
‘Yes, yes – I understand what you say, dreamspinner,’ he said, his voice rising until it was booming. ‘Don’t you think I haven’t tried everything in my power for the last however many thousands of years? Now go away.’
Asgard let the echo die down. He had some explaining to do. ‘Dreamspinners move freely throughout the universes – we go wherever we choose – on the feelings of vibrational energy. If a solid being goes through our maghole, our middle, we die.’
‘What’s your point?’ Cain shot back.
‘You are not a solid being,’ Asgard responded calmly. ‘You are a spirit, a ghost. Therefore it should be possible for you to travel anywhere I designate.’
Cain instantly realised what it was saying. ‘Are you saying that I could go … through you, to other places?’
‘Indeed.’
‘My word. It’s brilliant!’ Cain roared. But after a few moments his tone changed. ‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Why would you do this for me? What benefit to you, dreamspinner?’
Asgard paused and then signed rapidly, his claws flashing in the air. ‘Like all dreamspinners, I am concerned with giving dreams. I do not worry where they come from, only that there are dreams to spin and that dreamspinners survive. If you were to get to Earth, perhaps you might realign yourself with the Serpent. Perhaps, at length, you might find a way into the Garden of Eden? If you were to open the Garden of Eden in your own style,’ Asgard paused, ‘we will support you. In the meantime, no more dream powders remain from Eden so we can only spin dreams from Earth and Havilah.’
‘Clever, very clever,’ Cain said. ‘And this is on the understanding that the Heirs of Eden will fail?’
‘Yes.’
Cain’s enthusiasm dampened. ‘But I am a ghost – I cannot do much with what is left of me. I have no eyes for magic or power, nor do I have a physical presence.’
Asgard had been waiting for this. ‘Yes. But what if you were to absorb the body of a man.’
‘And tell me, how would this be possible?’
‘If a being were to freely and willingly offer its body to you, you may join with it – in partnership. It would give you ... substance. You would be able to move with more purpose and have strength.’
Cain suddenly saw what he meant. ‘Get a human to blend into me? Is this possible?’
‘Of course. Though it cannot be forced. Perhaps, as the storm approaches, you might form an alliance with one of the Heirs of Eden.’
‘Even cleverer, you clever, vile, little dreamspinner,’ Cain replied, astonished by this huge stroke of luck. ‘But surely it would harm you in your movements across the worlds, dreamspinner?’
‘I cannot say,’ Asgard said. ‘If it was a child of man, it might not dominate your spirit, so movement may be possible.’
Cain chuckled. ‘An Heir of Eden with me in harmony. My, you have a seasoned plan, dreamspinner. It is an opportunity I cannot afford to miss. Hear me out though: if it fails, will I remain a spirit in another place?’
‘At least you would be on Earth.’
‘Yes. Perhaps it will be more interesting.’ Cain dropped his voice, ‘Do other dreamspinners know?’
‘I am alone, for now,’ Asgard said. ‘I believe others may join me when they learn what I have done.’
‘Indeed. You are bold coming here,’ Cain clapped his hands together, although being a ghost it made no noise. ‘Strange creature, I am willing to try your plan. You will be properly rewarded if this turns out as you suggest.’
Asgard shifted uneasily. Rewards were not what he wanted. ‘Time is moving, Master,’ he replied. ‘On Earth the storm breaks in the morning when the sun is high in the sky and the heirs are in open ground. One of them is a boy named Archie. One of his Gifts of Eden ... failed.’ Asgard hesitated knowing he couldn’t be absolutely certain. ‘His “courage” will not be with him. Now, the boy sleeps, but he will wake shortly. He has seen the Prophecy of Eden in his dreams and he has seen the murder of your mother. You remember?’
‘It has preoccupied my time for too long,’ Cain replied. ‘What do you suggest, Asgard?’
‘Use her murder to manipulate the boy. He does not understand it. It confuses him – he is only a child.’
Cain guffawed. ‘Excellent thinking. Hardly a stone unturned in your plan. But how will the boy believe a spirit? What if he does not comprehend the afterlife?’
Asgard hadn’t seen this. ‘It may not be enough if you are invisible. Can you wear a cloak?’
‘I can – but not for long – an hour at a time.’ The ghost scratched his non-existent chin. ‘There is a long, but light, overcoat which I use to spook my subjects with. I’ll see if I can find it.’
Asgard called after him. ‘Hurry, Master. Make sure it is bland in feature so it will fit in with human tastes on Earth. Bring anything else that you may require.’
Cain drifted away, his invisible presence marked only by the swaying movement of dust and papers lying on the floor. Shortly he returned wearing a trilby hat, a scarf and a long overcoat.
Asgard realised Cain had acquired a sixth sense of knowing where and what everyday objects were.
Cain sensed his thoughts. ‘I have learnt to find things by understanding the energy within objects,’ he said. ‘It is amazing what you can see if you can’t actually see, and what you can hear if you can’t actually hear.’
Asgard stretched out a leg so it was touching Cain. ‘Hold on to my leg – you will feel its energy.’
Cain held out an arm. ‘I will pull you towards me. On my word, crouch down and dive horizontally, as though into water. Do this as fast as you can – understand?’
Cain felt a tingle fizzing through his ghostly frame. ‘I feel you, it is powerful.’
‘Good,’ Asgard said. ‘Now lower yourself and I will open myself up.’
Cain did as he was asked.
Asgard began the countdown. ‘One, two, THREE!’
Cain thrust himself forward, like a diver off a high board. A mild burning sensation coursed through him and, following that, he found himself on a soft floor.
Cain was astonished. What an extraordinary method of travel. He picked himself up and began to dust off his coat. His face beamed with excitement.
‘You do not have much time,’ Asgard said as he turned invisible. ‘You must do the rest alone.’
‘Where will I find the boy?’
‘Make your way up the stairs. The heirs sleep at the top of the house in a room in the shape of a cross. Archie, the boy, is on the left side. I must go – other dreamspinners may be around. Return to the fireplace at the bottom of the house when you are done. Hide in the chimney. I will be back before dawn breaks, before the old man stirs.’
Cain stood up and prepared to go.
‘Remember,’ Asgard called after him. ‘Make an ally of the boy. Use his fear of the murder of the Ancient Woman. Arrange a place and time to meet him before the storm breaks. Go in haste, Master.’
14
Archie Meets Cain
Archie woke, his sleep disturbed. He lay in bed, wide awake, as segments of his dreams flashed back to him like flickers in an old movie. His heart raced as though he’d been running hard. He took a few deep breaths and stared at the ceiling, trying to piece the events together in his mind. Then he closed his eyes. The images of the murder of an incredibly old and haggard woman came to him vividly in a sudden burst. Why was it always so graphic, so s
hocking? And then he’d experienced a feeling of drowning, of gasping for air, of swimming for his life. His heart pumped furiously, sending blood that seemed to flow like hot lava, coursing through his veins.
He exhaled loudly, opened his eyes and looked out into the blackness of their room. Was there someone at the foot of his bed?
‘Daisy? What d’ you want?’ he slurred.
A windy chuckle came back at him. It was loud enough so that he knew instantly that it wasn’t either of his sisters. Archie shuffled into a sitting position, yawned, stretched his arms out and searched the room. Before long, he could make out a figure, a human figure, masked by a long coat and a trilby hat.
Archie started to slip under his duvet, but then, for some strange reason he stopped, and called out, ‘Who is it?’ in a weak voice.
‘Ah! Hello. I didn’t see you there!’ the voice said huskily.
Shivers raced up Archie’s back.
‘Now, are you Archie or one of the girls?’
Archie was baffled by this strange question. He couldn’t think what to say so remained silent as his eyes gradually adjusted to the light.
‘What can I ... er ... help you with, mister?’ Archie stammered at length. He could make out a long coat and a hat. Was it an intruder? Were they being robbed?
‘Ah! Forgive me for waking you,’ said the voice, ‘but I have something very important to share with you.’ His delivery was earnest and crisp.
With his head bowed, the man approached. As he neared, he raised his head.
Archie gasped and felt sick. Underneath his hat, there was nothing there. Nothing. It was a ghost; he was having a seriously bad night. Archie wondered if it was dangerous.
‘Now Archie, I need to speak with you about a rather urgent matter. The thing is, I need a favour.’
Archie reeled. ‘Is this another weird dream?’ he blurted, his brain trying to get a grip on what he was experiencing.
