Dream thief

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  "And I know why. This one is very old. Carved long before the idols took on their classical, stylized fore. After a while, the priests started making the gods appear more human."

  "Man made god in his own image, is that it?"

  "More or less. But this one is an example of what they must have looked like before that happened."

  "Do you think this is the Dream Thief?"

  "It's hard to say. Dream Thief is more a demon spirit. He takes many shapes." Adjani looked at the carving on the altar and ran his hands over it. "I can't read the writing here. It's a dialect I don't know."

  "Gita might know it."

  "Yes, he might. We'll bring him here tomorrow. Right now we had better get back to the celebration before we're missed." …

  THEY LEFT THE SHRINE and darted back across the teeple yard. In the moonlight their shapes became those of spirits springing up out of the stones of the shrine and escaping into the night. They hurried back across the footbridge and through the old town. Upon reaching the ancient bazaar Spence stopped.

  "Wait!" His voice was a stiff tense whisper. Adjani froze in his tracks. "Listen!"

  Both men trained their senses into the darkness around them. Far away they could hear the sounds of the celebration still reverberating into the stillness; the salutes of fireworks rang like distant gunshots of goondas in the hills.

  "I don't hear any-" Adjani began.

  "Shh!" Spence cut him off.

  Then he heard what had stopped him, though for a moment he did not know why. It was a mere rustling of leaves upon the paving stones, a whisper of a sound, like the echo of the day's traffic seeping back up out of the cracks that had absorbed it.

  Adjani heard it too. "What is it?"

  At first Spence did not know what to say. Then it came to him. It was a sound he had heard in a dream-the sound of death on rushing feet.

  "Dogs! Come on!"

  They ran down the narrow street between crumbling facades of the aged buildings. The moon shone between the buildings from above and he could see far down the street as if he were looking at a canyon whose ridges of stone rose in towering banks on either hand. Adjani ran at his side and they heard the muffled rush of the feet behind them.

  Spence's lungs burned in his chest; he was not used to such exertion at high altitude yet. He ignored the pain and ran on through one street and then another. He threw a quick look over his shoulder and saw the glint of eyes in a churning black mass, formless in the shadows, sweeping ever nearer to them.

  Then they were in a courtyard bounded on three sides by a high wall and open to the street. It was a marketplace; he smelled the sweet stench of rotting fruit and meat. The paving stones beneath his feet were slippery with filth; refuse piles formed dark mounds across the market square. A rat scuttling across the square stopped, raised up on his hind legs and sniffed the air, then jumped away and disappeared down a drain hole.

  Adjani leaped to an empty stall and came back with two long objects. He thrust one of them into Spence's hand. "Here-just in case."

  Spence looked at his hand and saw he had been given a heavy length of wood. He glanced from it to the street behind and saw the moonlight ripple on the backs of the dogs as on a swiftly running stream, glinting on the curved white slivers of their teeth.

  "It's too late," said Spence. Even as he spoke he heard an enormous slavering growl as the dogs sprang into the deserted marketplace, pouring in through the narrow gate of the street and spreading over the stones in a flood toward them, jaws snapping, hackles raised, ears flattened to their angular heads. Just like in his dream.

  Throw down your club, a voice said inside him. Throw it down. It's over.

  "God help us," cried Spence shaking himself out of the numbing lethargy he felt stealing over him. It was as if a dream were trying to swallow him whole.

  The dogs, more than two dozen of them, scattered across the marketplace, ringing them in. The pack leader, a huge black animal with a broad snout and long fangs, leapt forward with a throaty growl.

  Spence raised his club and swung it down. The dog dodged aside and another jumped up from nearby. He swung at it, too. Adjani was already busy on his side.

  The dogs ran around them barking and snarling and dashing in to slash at them with their teeth, as yet not daring to close in for the kill. They would try to wear down their prey first.

  Spence and Adjani stood shoulder to shoulder fending off these feinting attacks with their clubs. How long they could hold out like this Spence could not say-already he felt the strength in his arms fading. The run through the streets had tired him.

  The dogs edged closer and the black leader ran yapping around the pack, whipping his mongrel soldiers into a foaming frenzy, jumping on his hind legs and clacking his jaws in the air as he shook his head.

  The dogs were all around them now, within striking distance. At any moment they would rush in. The first would fall with battered skulls, but the humans would not be able to get all of them. Spence could almost feel their teeth in his flesh, tearing and tearing.

  "Stand back to back," said Adjani. "We can protect each other."

  They moved to take up this position, and as if on signal the dogs charged them.

  At the same instant Spence heard a flurry above them, a rustle in the air as of leather wings. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a strange shape descending. The dogs saw it too and a few of them turned to snap at it. He saw a flash of silver in the moonlight, and all at once the air vibrated with a sound that seemed to bore through him.

  The foremost of the dogs fell to the ground as if they had been slain with a single unseen blow. They rolled, whining and biting themselves. He felt the air vibrate again, though he could not hear the sound; it was above the human threshold. This sent the rest of the animals yelping. Those felled by the sound lay as if beaten, breathing heavily, heads resting on the ground. The strange creature touched lightly down in the square a short distance away.

  In the moonlight it was hard to make out a distinct shape, but Spence thought he saw a creature of about a meter or more in height with two locustlike wings on its back. Its lower legs were furred like a goat's, but it had the tail of a scorpion that curved up in a backward arch. Its arms were long and emaciated, its hands and fingers little more than sticks.

  The thing held in its hands a shining silver ball; it was this object that had emitted the high-pitched tone that drove the dogs away.

  Spence stood spellbound as the creature turned to regard him with a cold, alien stare. Its face, and this was by far the most frightening thing about it, bore an intelligent, distinctly human look. It gazed unblinking at him with pale green eyes that glowed in the moonlight and Spence, staring into those eerie, otherworldly eyes, suddenly understood that it was trying to communicate with him.

  The idea filled him with such repulsion that he cringed. The urge to run out and smash the creature flooded through him. As if sensing his mood, the thing hopped back in uneasy, jerky movements and its wings rustled in the air like dry leaves on a dead tree and it flew away.

  Spence followed it with his eyes until it disappeared over the rooftops. "Did you see that?" he asked, disbelief making his voice small and uncertain.

  "I saw it, but I don't believe it."

  "Whatever it was, it tried to communicate with me." Spence turned wide eyes to his friend, and a shudder passed through him. "Adjani, it was a demon."

  "A naga-a snake spirit. Here and now. We saw it."

  Without another word the two ran from the square, lightly stepping over the panting bodies of stricken dogs. Once out of the marketplace they raced through empty streets back to the governor's palace. Overhead, red and gold glittering starburts lit their passage as fireworks blossomed in the sky.

  They reached the palace walls out of breath and sweating, despite the cool evening breeze coming down from the mountains. They moved along the straggling knots of merrymakers still milling in the streets around the palace, the greater number of cel
ebrants having departed for the lake to witness the burning barges. But several of the effigies had been set on fire and were being paraded through the streets on long poles to the chants of ecstatic worshipers.

  They ducked in the still-open gate and proceeded across the close-cropped lawn toward the terrace, threading among the throngs watching the fireworks.

  A worried, hand-wringing Gita met them as they mounted the steps of the terrace.

  "You disappeared. I could not find you. There was trouble, yes? Oh, I knew there would be."

  "We're exhausted, Gita," said Adjani. "We'll go to our rooms." Spence only nodded.

  But as they turned to leave they were met by Fazlul, who seemed to appear from nowhere. "You have had enough, my guests? So soon?" He smiled warmly, but his eyes were dead in his face. "In any event, I hope this evening's entertainment offered you a taste of the exotic and perhaps an unusual diversion."

  "We enjoyed it immensely, Governor." Gita turned on his most unctious, ingratiating manner. "It was a night to remember always. I, of course, could go on all night, but alas!-my poor Western friends are not accustomed to such strenuous celebrations. We beg your indulgence, for a night's sleep weighs heavy after our travels." Spence and Adjani muttered suitable excuses for retiring, smiled, and nodded.

  "Of course," replied Fazlul. "I am sure the exertions of your day are telling on you now. Very well, you'll find your beds waiting. Good night, gentlemen; and pleasant dreams."

  "Namastey, Governor," the three said in chorus. "Good night."

  The governor moved away, the smile still on his lips. They watched him go and as soon as he was out of earshot, Spence turned to the others and whispered, "The sly devil knows what happened tonight, so help me! He knows!"

  19

  … THE SKY WAS PINK long before the sun rose above Kanchenjunga to banish night from the city. But Spence had been up before sunrise. He had not slept much of the night, lying in bed thinking about the creature with the glowing green eyes. Finally, as the night lifted her dark veil and morning showed dull iron in the east, he rose and went to Adjani's room.

  "We've got to get out of here," he said. Adjani was not asleep either.

  "That's just what I was thinking. We should make some excuse and leave after breakfast."

  "No, I mean right away. Now."

  Adjani cocked his head to one side and looked at Spence closely. "Really? You expect some trouble?"

  "I don't know. Maybe. I've been awake all night thinking about what happened-the dogs and that creature, the idol and everything. And Fazlul's knowing that we would go there." He paused. "Adjani, we weren't meant to return last night."

  Adjani sat cross-legged in bed nodding gently, staring at a point just above Spence's head. Spence recognized his friend's manner of concentration and let him turn over the facts in his mind.

  "Yes, perhaps you are right," Adjani said at last. "We will go. Get dressed; I'll fetch Gita. We'll leave at once."

  Spence returned to his room and donned his newly cleaned and pressed jumpsuit and stuffed his feet into his boots. When he returned to Adjani's room a very sleepy Gita was rubbing his sleepswollen eyes and scratching his belly as he finished dressing.

  "To miss breakfast in this house would be a crime!" Gita lamented.

  "I wonder if you would feel that way if it were your last breakfast on this earth?"

  "So?" Gita's eyes grew round as grapefruits. "Then there was trouble last night. I knew it, though you never tell Gita anythingI must always find out for myself."

  "Stop pouting and put your turban on," said Spence. "We didn't tell you because, well, because there was no time. We didn't want you to worry, and anyway, we weren't too sure about what happened last night ourselves."

  "You think I wouldn't understand," said Gita dolefully, winding the long strip of thin blue muslin around his head.

  "I don't think I understand," snapped Spence.

  "We weren't keeping anything from you," explained Adjani. "We will tell you everything as soon as we are away from here. We must go now."

  "I'm ready," Gita sniffed. "Let us fly if fly we must."

  Spence crept to the door and opened it, looked both ways, and motioned for the others to follow. They stole down a long corridor and down the wide marble staircase to the great entrance hall of the palace. Not a sound could be heard in all the palace; not a soul was seen stirring in the gray morning half-light.

  Moving as quickly and stealthily as burglars they crossed the cool marble hall, darting between the great green spiral pillars. Just as they reached the big bronze outer doors a voice, bold and clear and challenging in the silent hall, said, "Leaving so soon, my guests? I had hoped you would have deigned to stay a little longer."

  The three froze and out from behind a pillar stepped Fazlul. He was accompanied by palace guards with old-style combat rifles which looked in excellent condition despite their age. The governor approached, wearing that same crafty smirk they had seen at their first meeting. "How ironic that you should choose to leave just as I was about to arrange a journey for you into the hills."

  "We have done nothing, Governor," said Adjani. "Let us go in peace."

  "Oh, I have no intention of keeping you. None at all." He turned to Spence. "I believe you asked about seeing some of the local architecture-temples, palaces, and such. My instructions state that you shall have your wish."

  Fazlul raised his hand and snapped his fingers and the guards stepped forward and took them by the arms. "Take them to Kalitiri. And make sure our visitors have a pleasant journey."

  They were hustled out of the palace and into an antiquated troop carrier of a bygone era. The truck's engine coughed to life as they were bundled roughly in. Two guards sat at the end of the benches with them and two others inside the cab. They sputtered down the broad avenue to the gates.

  Spence looked back at the palace and saw the governor standing on the steps watching after them. He felt betrayed and used-a dupe and a fool-and outraged by the sly ruler's easy way with them. He watched the tall white figure of Fazlul 1 until they were out of the gate and past the walls where it gradually came to him that they were at any rate speeding on their way to meet the Dream Thief.

  "I would have preferred our visit to be more of a surprise, but at least we won't have to walk," he mumbled to Adjani.

  "For that we can be thankful. It would have been an arduous trip on foot. Who knows? Perhaps this is God's way of smoothing the path for us."

  "In that case," said Spence, settling back for the trip, " would hate to think what it would be like if it were rough." …

  OLMSTEAD PACKER TRIED TO send a message to his wife and almost lost his life, and at the same time jeopardized all the carefully woven plans of the Gotham underground. Knowing that she was expecting to hear from him, and that she had probably been trying to reach him herself with news of her return to Gotham, he coded a message and sent it to her, little thinking that the mutineers might have put a bloodhound program into the system.

  Chief Ramm's men were waiting for him as he stepped fro the public booth on the Broadway axial.

  "Are you Olmstead Packer?"

  "Who?" Packer asked, feigning stupidity.

  "Come with us, please. We'd like to ask you some questions." One of the men stepped forward and took his arm.

  Since the axial was crowded with shift traffic, the guards had no doubt counted on the full cooperation of their prisoner-most people do not care to make a scene of their public disgrace. But Packer, having imposed upon the benefits of Ramm's protective custody once already, did not relish the thought of another stay. He shook off the guard's hand and yelled that he was being accosted. Immediately they were surrounded by curious onlookers.

  The confused guards told the crowd to move along, and when they refused the guards got angry. Somebody said something and someone else yelled-all the while Packer was hollering that his rights were being violated-and when the guards; went for their tasers Packer dived through the crowd
and ran.

  The security men followed him, but lost him in the crush around one of the radial tubes. A breathless Packer described the scene to a gravely nodding Kalnikov when he reached the safety of their hidden nest. Kalnikov then informed him that the guards had orders to kill.

  "Are you certain?" Packer asked incredulously. His eyes showed white all around.

  The big Russian chuckled mirthlessly. "We are both considered dangerous. We are marked men. You, my friend, will not be so stupid next time. You can tell your wife all about it when it is over. Until then-"

  "Don't worry. There won't be any next time. I'm not that much of a fool to get caught in the same trap twice."

  "You're learning, friend. Soon I'll make a real freedom fighter out of you." A big hand clapped the physicist on the back. "Did I ever tell you that my great-grandfather fought with Vyenkotrovitch in the War of the Commissars? He was one of the original Moscow Saboteurs. There was a real freedom fighter."

  "You've mentioned him only about fifty times."

  "Well, then, how about Grandfather Nikko and how he saved the President's life on the eve of the first election? Did I tell you that one?" Packer was not quick enough to pretend he had heard it. "No? Ahh, now there's a story."

  Packer had grown used to Kalnikov's interminable stories, and was even beginning to enjoy them. They had, after all, a lot of time on their hands while waiting for this or that corridor to clear, or for one or another contact to appear with information. The two men had become very good friends and wily conspirators.

  As Kalnikov warmed to his tale, Packer sat thinking of their future as fugitives. Their cramped hideout beneath the docking bay in the hydraulics service area had become a prison; Packer longed for the run of his lab again and vowed that he would never complain about his small office again.

  "When are we getting out of here?"

  "Eh? What's that?" Kalnikov was lost in his narrative.

  "When is all this going to be over?"

  "You are getting anxious, my friend."