Perilous Dreams

by Andre Norton

  As he stood body against body with her, Itlothis felt the tension ebb from Oslan. He drew a deep breath.

  “They are gone! There will be a safe period now.”

  “Safe for what?”

  Oslan looked straight into her eyes. Itlothis did not quite like that searching stare, it was as if he wished to read her thoughts. Though she wanted to break free, she could not. And her failure brought resentment. She did not wait for him to answer her question but repeated her own message as bluntly as she could.

  “If you do not break the dream, now, you will lose Atto. The Council will confirm Lars as Chief in order not to waste time.”

  His smile was tinged with anger as his laughter had been. “Lars as Chief? Perhaps… if there is an Atto left for him to rule over.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why do you think I am here? Why do you think I crossed half the star lanes to find a dreamer to put me in Yul’s past?”

  His stare still held her. Now his hands fell on her shoulders and he shook her, as if that gesture would emphasize his words.

  “You think Yul is a ruin, a masterless place in our own world. Men have repeated that since the first of our kind explored Benold. But Yul is not just tumbled walls and a feeling of awe. No, it is the encasement for something very old… and dangerous.”

  He believed this, she read the truth in his voice. But what? Itlothis did not get a chance to ask her questions, words poured out of him now in a torrent of speech.

  “I have been in this Yul. I have seen…” he closed his eyes as if to shut out some sight. “Our Yul above ground may be three-quarters erased by time. Only that which is the heart of Yul is not dead. It lies sleeping, and it begins to stir. I tell you I have speculated on this for some years, searched out all accounts. A year ago I dared take a scanner within for a reading. I sent the data to the central computer. Do you want to know the verdict, do you?” He shook her again. “Well, it was that the new mine tunnels spreading east had alerted, awakened something. That thing is ready to hatch…”

  Itlothis realized that he believed so fervently in what had brought him here that she could raise no argument he would listen to, the fantasy possessed him.

  “To hatch,” she repeated. “Then what is it?”

  “That which once filled Yul with life. You have just seen its swarm take flight. Well, that is only a thousandth part of what Yul can produce. Those flying things are energy and they feed on energy. If one came near you, your body would crisp into ash. There are other parts to it, also.” She again felt him tense. “That which lies in Yul can appear in many forms, all utterly alien and dangerous to us.

  “Men, or beings not unlike men, reared Yul, made those other cities we can trace on our Benold. Then… that came. Whether it sprouted from some experiment which went wrong, or broke through from another dimension, another world… there is no record.

  “Only those who found it made it a god, fed it with life energy until it was greater, the absolute lord of the planet. Then it blasted away the men it no longer needed, or thought it no longer needed.

  “But when there was no more life energy, it began to fail. Instead of spanning the planet, it was forced back to this continent, then into Yul alone. It knew fear then and prepared a nest. There it went into hibernation… to sleep away the years.”

  “But the mine-search rays awoke it. Those fed it new energy. It grows again. Benold has new food for it. And…”

  “You must warn the Council! Wake us.”

  He shook his head. “You do not understand. This monster may not be destroyed in our time. It can feed upon the minds of those who face it, empty their bodies of life force. There is no shield. Only in the past can it be defeated. If its nest is sealed against it, then it will starve and die. Benold will be free.”

  Itlothis was shaken. Oslan must be mad! Surely he knew this was a dream! What could they accomplish in a dream? Perhaps if she humored him a little…

  “I gathered all the reports,” he continued. “I brought those to this dreamer. They can use such research to back a dream. Clients are often interested in the past. I had her concentrate on my readings.”

  “But this is a dream!” Itlothis protested. “We are not really on Benold in the far past! You cannot do what…”

  This time the shake he gave her was savage. “Can I not? Watch and see! There are dimensions upon dimensions, worlds upon worlds. Belief can add to their reality. I say that this is the Benold which foreshadows the Benold that is now.” Oslan swung away from her to face the wall. “It has sent out its feeders, it will be concentrating only on them. This is my time!”

  He reached above for a hold, began to climb.

  Itlothis moved too late to prevent him. She could not leave this madman here. If she went with him, agreed outwardly that what he said was true, might she lead him to break the dream? Ever since she had entered this fantasy she had felt at a disadvantage, shaken out of her calm competence. She now could only cling to the hope that she could influence Oslan in the future if she kept with him.

  She sat down on the rock, pulled off her boots. With her fingers and toes free, she searched for the wall hollows, started up the wall of Yul.

  Luckily she possessed a head for heights. Even so she knew better than to look down. And she feared and hated what she was doing. But, determinedly, she drew herself up. Oslan was already at the window. Now he reached over to aid her. And they pushed from the wide sill down into a shadow-cornered room.

  “Best you did come,” Oslan remarked. “Otherwise that might sense your presence. You must be quiet for you cannot begin to imagine what your folly in entering my dream might cost you.”

  Itlothis choked down her anger. This was a madman. He could not yet be influenced by any argument, no matter how subtle. So she offered no protest, but crept after him along the wall, for he shunned the center portion of the chamber.

  The stone walled, ceilinged, floored room was bare. What light came issued from the window behind them. Oslan did not head to the door Itlothis could sight on the other side. Instead, he halted halfway down the wall, and felt above him at the full stretch of his arms, as if seeking another place to climb.

  However, he did not swing up as she half expected him to do, to no purpose, since the ceiling, though well above their heads, appeared entirely solid. There sounded a grating noise. Three massive blocks before which he stood thudded back, to display a very dark opening.

  How had Oslan known that to be here? Of course, in a dream, an imagined wall passage was entirely possible. Only the seeming reality of this shadowed room continued to war with logic. How could a dream appear so real?

  “In!” he whispered. When she did not move at once he jerked her into the hidden way. She tried to break free as the blocks moved to seal them in a dark which was more horrible because now she was conscious of an intangible sense of wrongness, that which dwelt in the Yul she knew.

  “Here is a stair,” his grip on her wrist was mercilessly tight. “I will go first, keep hand on the wall beside you.”

  Now he loosed her. Itlothis heard only the muted sounds of his moving. There was no way back, she had to follow orders. Setting her teeth, more afraid than she had ever been in life, Itlothis cautiously slid one foot forward, feeling for the drop at the end of the first step.

  Their descent was a nightmare which left her weak of body, drenched with sweat. That there was any air to fill their lungs was a minor marvel. Still always the stair continued.

  Oslan had not spoken since they left the room above. Itlothis dared not break silence. For about her was the feeling that they now moved, in a caution born of intense fear, past some great danger which must not be alerted to their presence within its reach.

  A hand on her arm brought a little cry from her.

  “Quiet!”

  His grasp drew her beside him. There her bare feet sank into a soft cushion, as if centuries of dust carpeted this hidden way. Once more Oslan was on the move, towing h
er with him. In the utter darkness she was content to cling to him as she dared not think or face what might happen if she were to lose contact.

  Finally, he dropped his hold and whispered again: “Let me go, I must open a door here.”

  Trembling, Itlothis obeyed. An oblong of grayish light appeared ahead. After the complete dark of their journey this was bright. Across it moved a dark bulk of what must be Oslan. She hurried to follow. They stood in what was nearly twin to the room far above, save that its ceiling was much lower and one full wall to the left was missing. Thus, they could look out into a much larger space. That was not empty. What light there was, and Itlothis could not locate the source of that wan glow, made clear a massive park of wheeled vehicles jammed closely together.

  Oslan paused, his head turned a little to the right as if he listened. Then he beckoned to her, already on his way toward the outer area.

  There was only a narrow space left open around the wall through which they could move. Oslan hurried at the best pace he could keep in such cramped quarters. Now and then he paused to inspect one of the strange machines. Each time, seemingly unsatisfied, he pushed on again.

  At last they reached another open wall and there he halted abruptly, his nostrils expanding as if he caught a warning scent. She had seen a vast hound do so on settling to hunt.

  Here was another of the strange vehicles directly before them and Oslan made for its control cabin. When Itlothis would have gone after him he waved her back. A little mutinous, she watched him climb into the driver’s seat, study a control board.

  The rigid line of his shoulders eased. He nodded as if in answer to his own thoughts, then beckoned again. Itlothis wriggled through to join him. The seat on which she crawled was padded, but both short and narrow, so his body pressed tight to hers. Oslan hardly waited for her to settle before he brought the palm of his hand down on a control button.

  There was an answering vibration, a purr, as the vehicle came to life, moved forward, down the open way it faced. Itlothis waited no longer for an explanation.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Seal the nest place.”

  “Can you?”

  “I will not know until I try. But there is no other way.”

  There was no use in trying to get any sense out of him while he was so sunk in his obsession. She must let him follow his fantasy to the end. Then, perhaps, he would break the dream.

  “How do you know how to run this?” she asked.

  “This is my second such visit to Yul. I came at an earlier time in the first part of my dream, while there were still men serving Its needs.”

  He had been two days deep in the dream when she had located him and she supposed a dream fantasy could leap years if necessary. That did have some logic of its own.

  The vehicle trundled forward. Now the passage began to branch, but Oslan paid no attention to the side ways, keeping straight ahead. Until a rock wall blocked them. At that barrier he turned into the passage at the left This new way was much narrower. Itlothis began to wonder if sooner or later they might not find themselves securely caught between the walls. From time to time Oslan did stop briefly. When he did so he stood upon the seat, reaching his hands over his head to run fingertips along the ceiling.

  The third time he did this he gave a soft exclamation. When he sat down he did not start the vehicle again. Instead he crouched closer over the control panel, peering at the buttons there.

  “Get out!” he ordered without looking up. “Go back, run!”

  Such was the force of that command she obeyed without question. Only she noticed, as she jumped to the floor, his hands were flying over the buttons in a complicated pattern.

  Itlothis ran, back along the corridor. Behind her she heard the vehicle grinding on. As she turned, pausing, she saw Oslan was speeding toward her, the machine moving away on its own. Satisfied he had not deserted her she began to run again.

  He caught up, grasped her arm, urging her to greater efforts. The sound of the vehicle receded. They gained the mouth of the main tunnel. Oslan pulled her into that, not lessening his furious pace as he pounded back the way they had come. The fear which boiled in him, though she did not know its source, fed into her, making her struggle ahead as if death strode in their wake.

  They had reached the cavern holding the machines when the floor, the walls, shook. There came a roar of sound to deafen her. After that, darkness…

  Something hunting through the dark… a rage which was like a blow. Itlothis hid from that rage, from the questing of the giant anger. Shaking from fear of that seeking, she opened her eyes. Inches away from her face was another’s which she could see only dimly in this light. She wet her lips, when she spoke her voice sounded very thin and far away:

  “Clan Chief Oslan…”

  She had come here hunting him. Now someone, some thing, was hunting her!

  His eyelids flickered, opened. He stared at her, his face wearing the same shadow of fear as possessed her. She saw his lips move, his answer was a thread of sound.

  “It knows! It seeks!”

  His mad obsession. But perhaps she could use that to save them. She caught his head between her hands, forcing him to continue to look at her. Pray All Power he still had a spark of sanity to respond. Slowly, with pauses between words, summoning all her will, she gave the order:

  “Break the dream!”

  Did any consciousness show in his eyes, or had that same irrational and horrible fear which beset her now, driven him into the far depths of his fantasy where she could not reach? Again Itlothis repeated those words with all the calm command she could summon.

  “Break the dream!”

  The fear racked her. That which searched was coming nearer. To lapse herself into madness, the horror was worse than any pain. He must! He…

  There was…

  Itlothis blinked.

  Light, much more light than had been in that cavern below Yul. She stared up at a gray ceiling. Here was no scent of dust, nor of ages.

  She was back!

  Hands had drawn away the dream helmet. She sat up, still hardly believing that she, they, had won. She turned quickly to that other divan. The attendants had removed his helmet, his hands arose unsteadily to his head, but his eyes were open.

  Now he saw her. His gaze widened. “Then you were real!”

  “Yes.” Had he really imagined that she was only a part of his dream? Itlothis was oddly discomfited by that thought. She had taken all those risks in his service and he thought she had only been part of his fantasy.

  Oslan sat up, looked about as if he could not quite believe he had returned. Then he laughed, not angrily as he had in Yul, but it triumph.

  “We did it!” He slammed his fist down on the couch. “The nest was walled off, that was what made it so wild. Yul is dead!”

  He had carried the fantasy back with him, the obsession still possessed him. Itlothis felt a little sick. But Oslan Sb Atto was still her client. She could not, dared not, identify with him. She had performed her mission successfully, his family must deal with him now.

  Itlothis turned to the medico. “The Clan Chief is confused.”

  “I am anything but confused!” Oslan’s voice rang out behind her. “Wait and see, Gentle Fem, just wait and see!”

  Though she was apprehensive during the hyper jump back to Benold, Oslan did not mention his dream again. Nor did he attempt to be much in her company, keeping mostly in his cabin. However, when they reached the spaceport on their home planet, he took command with an authority which overrode hers.

  Before she could report formally he swept her aboard a private flyer bearing the Atto insignia. His action made her more uneasy than angry. She had dared to hope as time passed that he had thrown off the affect of the dream. Now she could see he was still possessed by it even though this was not the Benold the dreamer had envisioned.

  As he turned the flyer north he shot a glance at her.

  “You believe me ready for re
programming, do you not, Itlothis?”

  She refused to answer. They would be followed. She had managed to send off a signal before they raised from the port.

  “You want proof I am sane? Very well, I shall give you that!”

  He pushed the flyer to top speed. Atto lay ahead, but also Yul! What was he going to do?

  In less than an hour planet time, Itlothis had her answer. The small craft dipped over the ruins. Only this was not the same Yul she had seen on her first flight to Atto. Here only a portion of the outer walls still stood. Inside those was a vast hollow in which lay only a few shattered blocks.

  Oslan cut power, landed the craft in the very center of the hollow. He was quickly free of the cabin, then reached in to urge her out with him. Nor did he loose his hold on her as he asked:

  “See?”

  The one word echoed back hollowly from the still standing outer walls.

  “What…” Itlothis must admit that this was a new Yul. But to believe that action taken in a dream on a planet light years away could cause such destruction…

  “The charge reached the nest!” he said excitedly. “I set the energy on the crawler to excess. When the power touched the danger mark it blew. Then there was no safe place left for It to sleep in, only this!”

  She had, Itlothis supposed, to accept the evidence of her eyes. But what she saw went against all reason as she knew it. Yet whatever blast had occurred here had not been only weeks ago, the signs of the catastrophe were ages old! Had they been sent eons back in time? Itlothis began to feel that this was a dream, some nightmare hallucination.

  But Oslan was continuing:

  “Feel it? That has gone. There is no other life here now!”

  She stood within his hold. Once in her childhood, when she was first being trained for the service, she had been brought to Yul. Then only just within the outer wall, beyond which few could go, and none dared stay long. She remembered that venture vividly. Oslan was right! Here was no longer that brooding menace. Just the cry of seabirds, the distant beat of waves. Yul was dead, long ago deserted by life.

  “But it was a dream!” she protested dazedly. “Just a dream!”