The laughter got louder and more raucous. No, the Forest had all the power it needed from the fears of millions of dreaming minds, and it made light work of any barriers he put up.
“All right,” he shouted, wildly. “I’m still a scared little boy. But I’m leaving!”
He felt blindly around him for the way back to the others. They would have to wait until daybreak for the bicycles to come back. Another delay; he hoped Brom couldn’t be too far ahead.
His questing hands brushed against one tree bole after another, but failed to find a gap between them. The trunks stood in a solid ring around him. How had he made his way into this glade if there was no space between the trees large enough for his body to fit? But, no, he had forgotten they could move.
His eyes were becoming accustomed to the dark, which only made things worse. He could half-see the pointed branches waving around him. One clawlike cluster reached for his eyes, and he dashed it away. Shadowy axes waved over his head; arms brandished swords; clubs whisked dangerously close; evil, glowing, green goo dripped from them all off, but there were always more threats beyond them.
Then, something dropped on his hand, and Roan jumped. With myriad crawly legs, the something ran off before he could brush at it. Another fell on top of his head. He looked up, and two more fell on his face, and scurried off. More and more dropped from the trees. There were thousands of them, pouring down the tree boles, filling the space around his feet. In moments, he’d be drowning in vermin.
“Help!” he shouted. “Can anyone hear me?”
Low, creaking laughter rose around him in the blackness, and Roan went on guard. He reached for his pocket knife, remembering that there was an emergency lamp attachment in it. He fumbled with the blade, and had one fleeting glimpse of red, malevolent eyes, before another branch knocked the knife from his hands. He dropped to his knees to search for it, but a knobby root slipped over it. Roan scrabbled at the rough bark, and the laughter mocked him.
“Are you there, sir?” asked a man’s voice.
Roan stood up. “Yes! Come help me!”
“Roan?” cried Leonora’s voice. “Where are you?”
“Here!” he called into the blackness, pounding on the nearest tree. “I’m trapped! I can’t get out! Bring an ax!”
A thin beam of light pierced the dark, shining between two trunks. Roan thrust an arm out and waved to show the searchers where he was.
“Here!”
“Right you are, sir!” Captain Spar’s voice said, and the reassuring silhouette rushed up to him, with the slender shadow of the princess behind. “Never fear, we’ll scare these wooden boys off. I’ve got a big, sharp ax just waiting for one of them.” He shone his lamp through the gap past Roan.
In the spillover from the light, Roan saw his eyebrows go up.
“Sir,” he said, in an entirely different voice. “Why didn’t you just go out that way?” His other hand came through and pointed. Roan turned his head to look.
The way was open. There were no large trees behind him. A few shaggy saplings clung together in the light looking like terrified deer.
“They had me surrounded,” Roan protested. “They were huge. They knocked my knife out of my hand and stood on it with a root. I was trapped. Really!”
Spar’s head tilted. “Things go funny in the dark,” he said, and his voice suggested it was more than moving trees. “Come on, then, Master Roan. Isn’t that your knife down there?” The beam angled downward and picked up a finger of red and silver. Roan bent to pick it up and brushed at its case. It was covered with a thick coat of moss, a parting jeer from the trees. He turned to show it to Spar, but the captain was already leading the way back to the narrow clearing. Feeling sheepish, Roan ducked around the few trees that remained of the ring, and fell in behind.
“Are you all right?” Leonora whispered, dropping back to slip her arm through Roan’s.
“Apart from a wounded dignity, I’m fine,” Roan assured her. “Did the bicycles come back?”
“No,” she said. “Isn’t that funny? It’s the second time today they’ve been scared off. At least those trees didn’t throw a pair of people.”
For a gently reared noble lady for whom the greatest terror was having to dance with visiting dignitaries and taking final exams from private tutors, she was coping remarkably well.
“We’ll have to walk out of here,” Spar said. “The steeds will come out in the daylight, if they can. Otherwise, we’ll double up until we can get replacements. Form up!”
“Sir!” Lum said, appearing beside him and throwing a crisp salute. “We found ’em!”
“The bicycles?” Roan asked.
“No, sir, the scientists,” Lum said, highly excited. Alette and Hutchings were behind him, nodding agreement. They had altered to be slightly taller and more fit, and their uniforms were tailored, deep olive camouflage shirts and trousers, with round steel helmets encased in netting. “I heard their voices, off to the west, sir. We all heard them. Voices, and machine sounds. It had to be them, sir.”
“Good,” Leonora said. “I’ll have something to say to Master Brom about making us bungle around in the woods after him. I have never liked it here.”
Spar frowned while his uniform changed to match those of his troops. “Can you find it again, Corporal? The path keeps moving.”
“Sure of it, sir,” Lum said. “We followed my compass back here. That’s stayed true, at least.”
The captain rubbed his hands together and flexed his knuckles. “That’d make this worthwhile, then. What do you say, Master Roan?”
“We’ll do it,” Roan said. “Lead the way, Corporal.”
“Yessir!” Lum said. He pointed his lantern off to the right toward where the trees were more widely spaced. “This way to start.”
One pace behind, Roan found it easier to maneuver in the dark. Leonora fell in beside him, and put her arm through his. In the light of the lantern they had borrowed from one of the guards, he could see her eyes, huge and wary.
The trees cast fearsome shadows on their path, but Roan kept turning the lantern toward them and reducing them to twigs and leaves. A sharp hooting from a night-bird made them both jump, and then laugh nervously. Leonora maintained a tight clutch on his arm.
“How far is it, Corporal?” Roan asked, after a while.
“Not much farther,” Lum said. “If you’re quiet you can sort of hear their voices now.”
“Can’t hear much of anything with all the threshing we’re doing,” Spar grumbled from his position at the rear.
“Shh!” Leonora hissed impatiently. “Listen.”
Roan strained to understand the low susurrus coming from ahead of them. Gradually, words surfaced. “Turn back. It’s a trap. Lost. You’ll die here. Die.” Was it a warning, or just the natural malice of the forest?
“Did you hear that?” Roan asked.
“Hear what?” Spar asked. “Just the wind in the branches. Sir.”
“I hear it,” Hutchings said. “Sounds like threats. The Forest doesn’t want us here. It’ll kill us.”
The female guard was sobbing quietly to herself. “I was lost here once when I was a child. The voices almost drove me mad. The words!”
“It’s all right,” Roan said, soothingly, reaching out to grasp her shoulder. “We’re together. Stay close.”
Mustering lanterns, pocketknife lights, torches, even bright ideas to light their way, the small group marched onward. The needle in the miniature compass that was attached to the side of Roan’s pocketknife pointed toward the Castle of Dreams off toward the right, so he knew he was headed west. The ground underfoot was dry and relatively even.
Something with dozens of cold, tickly legs landed with a plop on the back of Roan’s hand, almost making him drop the knife. Not again! he thought. He jumped in surprise and slapped at his hand, but hit only his own flesh. There was nothing there. Another illusion.
Something else tickled the nape of his neck under his left ear. He jum
ped and turned. A glowing face leered at him. Roan gasped, and the face vanished. Some of the guards shouted. Roan turned, and another face loomed ahead of them, with vacant eye sockets and a grinning mouth. Lum raised his quarterstaff and struck out at the face, but hit nothing except more tree branches. The glowing mask vanished with a chilling laugh. A gargoyle face with horns, pointed ears, and a forked tongue, more horrible than the first two, appeared right in front of Roan, who jumped, startled. Leonora screamed.
“Nightmares,” a familiar voice said, cheerfully. “Harmless.”
Roan let out a relieved breath. “Bergold. You’ve changed again.”
“Hmm,” Bergold said, scratching his ear, and frowning when he discovered the point at the top. “Bad?”
“Horrendous,” Leonora said, firmly. “You glow in the dark.”
“Interesting,” Bergold said, unperturbed. “Then I ought to go first, and lend my countenance to this expedition.” He pushed forward, and walked beside Lum.
“Easy does it,” Bergold said. “Wait, whoa, hold!”
In between the “wait” and the “whoa,” the ground rolled under Roan’s feet and heaved itself up into a hummock. By the time Bergold got to “hold,” he had fallen backwards onto his friend, knocking Roan into Drea, who toppled into the file of guards, and they all collapsed on one another into a hollow full of scratchy tree roots.
“This wasn’t here just now!” Lum exclaimed. “We just walked over that spot, and it was flat as a pancake. I do most earnestly beg your pardon, Your Highness,” he added, moving off the princess’s legs in extreme embarrassment.
“Is it alive?” Leonora asked, scrambling to her feet. She hadn’t really noticed the imposition in the confusion. Her nurse was beside her, helping her up. They clambered out of the hollow as quickly as they could.
“If the trees can move, so can the ground,” Bergold explained, grimacing and showing about eighty pointed teeth. “It’s not alive as we know it, but it’s got a kind of consciousness, and a sense of malicious mischief. Not very nice, is it? Is anyone hurt?”
“No, sir,” Spar said, counting heads and noses, and finding an equal number of each.
“Look!” Felan said, behind him. “A light! They’re here!”
“That’s it, sir,” Lum exclaimed. “That’s what we saw!”
“Shh,” Roan whispered. “Brom’s people will hear you.”
“They won’t hear a thing,” Leonora murmured from beside him. “Listen to all the noise they’re making.”
Roan stood silent. He heard numerous voices talking in low tones, plus many other sounds that were unfamiliar: liquid burbling, mechanical chuckling, and odd, tinny music. But there was no sensation of alarm or urgency.
“They’ve made themselves right at home,” Spar whispered.
Roan put his hand in front of his borrowed lamp so it would be visible to the others, and cocked a finger to beckon them close.
“They don’t know we’re here,” he whispered. “We’ll make ready, then charge into their encampment. Remember, we want to destroy or disable the Alarm Clock. And don’t let the group get close together. Their influence is surprisingly strong when they touch.”
“I remember,” Spar hissed. “A dragon, out of thin air.” He drew his sword, and motioned for his soldiers to do the same. Roan opened his red pocket knife, this time selecting a heavy cudgel studded with steel knobs. The princess moved back in the ranks to stay with Bergold who, as a winged gargoyle, could protect her if necessary.
“Now, don’t charge until you see where everyone is,” Roan warned them. “Don’t let anyone sneak around us.”
The clearing ahead of them glowed with a blue-white light so bright it was difficult for Roan to make out details from where he crouched. Figures, looking oddly attenuated, moved back and forth before the light source. The machine sounds were unfamiliar, but that was unsurprising. Only the Sleepers knew what other machinations Brom had come up with. Roan made himself a wager that the scientists had more technical advancements in hand than they would ever show the king.
As his eyes adjusted, he squinted through the harsh light looking for the Alarm Clock. A light touch on his arm from Lum made him glance to his right. Some of the figures were moving around a humped shadow. It looked large enough. Roan nodded to the corporal, who tiptoed silently back into the undergrowth. In a moment, Roan felt three taps between his shoulder blades.
In a move calculated to startle, Roan burst out of the woods into the clearing. Slack-limbed with surprise, the shadowed figures turned to stare at him. He saw their eyes, looking huge and dark in their faces.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you are under arrest in the name of the king!” Roan announced, hefting his staff. “Please do not attempt to escape. If you cooperate and come quietly, it will be better for you.”
“Stop them!” Felan cried, a silhouette to Roan’s left. “They’re running away!”
“Get them!” Spar roared, charging into the clearing. “In the name of the king!” He set off in pursuit of the shapes scampering across the open glen. Roan joined in the chase. Brom’s minions had a head start, but on his long legs he should catch up with them in no time.
“There’s a cave up there!” Lum shouted, pointing at a low hemisphere of shadow many yards ahead. The scientists were pouring into it. For a moment, in the gleam of the light, Roan got the impression that they weren’t wearing any clothes. Had he interrupted some weird scientific ritual?
“We have them now,” Spar said, gleefully, waving his sword. He gestured to his guards. “You two, stay out here and guard the door. Lum, inside with me!”
“No!” Leonora cried, her voice rising above their war cries. “Don’t go in! Look!”
Roan, only steps away from the cave mouth, windmilled his arms to bring himself to a stop. At last, he was close enough to see one of the figures he had been chasing. It turned a startled, ash-white face toward him. The enormous eyes didn’t belong to any minion of the Ministry of Science he had ever seen. The creature had thin lips and no nose, and the cave it was running for was not dark inside. There were jewel-colored lights everywhere, and a flat, altar-like table in the center floodlit by a hot, white beam. Four of the white-faced beings stood around it, beckoning to him ominously. Roan backed away in haste.
Suddenly, he was the quarry, and they the hunters. A handful of the odd beings grabbed for his arms and legs, seeking to drag him into the cave. Roan threw himself to the ground and rolled away, feeling the drag of their long fingers on his shoulders, his cloak, his hair. Leonora shouted as the soldiers reached him and pulled him free. The last of the beings dove into the strange cave as Roan scrambled back to his feet.
A door slid across the cave mouth, sealing it, and the whole hill vibrated with a deafening hum. Red and white beams of light chased themselves around its surface, and the whole hill and surrounding ground, including the place where Roan had just been standing, shot up into the air. Roan and the others stood gawking upward at it. The saucer-shaped mass stopped a thousand feet above them, emitted a five-tone musical burst of sound, then arrowed away toward the south.
“Bless my soul,” Bergold said, breaking the silence. Roan blinked and came back to earth. His friend’s gargoyle face was wreathed with a happy smile that was positively terrifying with his current features. “Where are my notebooks? I must get that down on paper before I forget a single detail.”
“Take mine,” Colenna said, rummaging in her capacious bag. She beckoned one of the guards over with his little lantern. The yellow beam seemed suddenly inadequate and insignificant after that blinding white glare, but it was much friendlier. Bergold took the proffered notebook and began to scratch away, talking to himself all the while.
“Well, that wasn’t them,” Felan said. “What now?”
“It appears to me,” Roan began, “that Brom and his people never did come into the forest. We would have found at least a trace of them by now if they had. They might even have joined forces with . .
.” he gestured upward, “with whatever that was. We should count ourselves lucky. Let’s get out of the forest, and set up camp for the night.”
“Right you are,” Captain Spar said, briskly, slapping his sword into its sheath. “I for one am hungry and thirsty, and I could use a solid night’s sleep. Corporal!”
“Sir!” Lum said, coming to his side and saluting.
“Lead us out of here, lad.” Spar lined everyone up in a double file behind his corporal, and took the rear himself.
The forest once again tried to block their way and confuse them, but its efforts were half-hearted. It seemed to have given its best shot with the attempted abduction. Everyone stayed close together, refusing to be separated out for individual terrors. Roan found he was less frightened by the invisible spiders that dropped down on him, by the phantom auditors that whispered in his ears, by pop-quizzes flapped in front of him, by the monsters that paced the party threateningly. He realized he had to run for them to chase him, so he did not run. He was too tired to be scared. In a very short time, the party was alone.
“Shh!” Bergold said, tilting a sharp ear to the left. “I hear rustling!”
“Check it out,” Lum directed his soldiers. They squeezed between the bushes, but the others kept their lamps trained on their backs. In a moment, Roan heard glad cries, and Alette returned, smiling.
“It’s the steeds!” she said.
“Really?” Leonora asked, at once solicitous. “Are they all right?”
“Yes, Your Highness. This way!”
Leonora and Roan followed their guide into a small hollow where the four missing bicycles were clustered in a frightened mass. Leonora knelt between Cruiser and Golden Schwinn, and soothed, petted, and complimented them both until they huddled around her shoulders.
Waking in Dreamland Page 10
