The Dream Leaper

by Cory Barclay

  Lig chuckled in admiration. “Perhaps you are sneakier than I thought, bread-and-butter man.”

  Steve stared at him and couldn’t help but smile. Lig looked comical with his tiny arms wrapped around the loaf of bread that was almost as long as he was tall. “Thank you for your help, Lig. For everything.”

  Lig bowed mockingly but his voice was serious. “After finding out what the Reynolds family has done to Annabel’s poor heart, I can’t, in good conscience, allow that marriage to take place. I know what’s in store for her should she marry Tiberius: a life of difficulty, trying to please a spoiled brat who can never be satisfied. Somehow, some way, you seem to be the person best equipped to neutralize that threat.”

  If it was Lig’s way of saying “you’re welcome,” Steve accepted it. He said, “So, you’re doing this completely for her, right? Not at all because you wanted to help me?”

  With a smirk on his face, Lig turned away. “Perhaps a teensy tiny bit. You aren’t the worst traveling companion I’ve run across, Steve Remington.” He started to walk down the driveway toward the mansion.

  “Stay safe,” Steve called out softly. He watched the brownie’s bow-legged gait carry him into the distance.

  “Don’t get yourself killed,” Lig said over his shoulder. “And may your determination bring you success. If it doesn’t, I don’t see any reason why I should talk to you ever again.” His voice got smaller and smaller as he disappeared into the darkness.

  Steve untied Francesca’s reins from the tree and mounted her, steadying himself. He brought his heels in and she dashed out onto the road, toward Aiden O’Shaunessy’s house and Steve’s friends.

  As he rode through the remaining hours of the night, Steve passed a couple small villages and hamlets. The Mythics had made their homes from the myriad of modern buildings that straddled both Terrus and Mythicus.

  He wondered what brought these people together in these seemingly random locations. Being close to the bay and water? Being near green, arable land? He imagined the same things that brought these folk to their villages also brought settlers from older times to the same places. It was the proximity to the coasts, to trading highways, to fertile land. And, most importantly, to uninhabited expanses.

  Simple people, who only want to own land and raise a family without the threat of violence or domination, tend to move far away from other people. Like the Gold Rush era: let the miners in San Francisco fight over the gold—I’m moving to the peaceful mountains. Or the Industrial Revolution: let the railway tycoons fight over the untamed territories—I’m moving to California. The weather is nice there and the land is free and open, unlike in the country’s interior. The railways will get to me eventually, anyway.

  The villages Steve rode by were where the Mythic families decided to stake their claims and lay down roots.

  As he passed by the buildings and hovels, Steve realized how feudal these people really were.

  It was such a culture shock to him, to feel like he was no longer in a different world, but simply a different country. And like in his own country, the people here were a boiling pot of differences: creeds, beliefs, ethnicities . . . except these people were also differentiated by their special abilities—by magic.

  Steve had expected Middle Earth or Narnia when he came to Mythicus. Instead, he got a slightly skewed, alternative version of where he’d come from. Except for technology, of course, which was definitely more comparable to Middle Earth.

  Steve saw a growing presence of black-cloaked, black-helmeted riders patrolling the villages.

  They were Brethren blackguards, and seeing them made his blood run cold. The mere sight of the military arm of the Brethren government scared him.

  He lowered his head to Francesca’s neck, hoping to avoid direct eye contact with any of the riders, but they paid him no attention.

  He relaxed a bit when he thought about that. Why would they recognize me? I’m no one here . . . and unless they were physically at the battle of Orange County, I should have nothing to fear . . .

  But he couldn’t unwind entirely. Just looking at those billowing cloaks brought him back to that hillside, where he’d taken a shield to the face and had almost been skewered alive.

  Steve passed the riders and started to see how the people here were sick and tired of the Brethren’s iron grip. Even though they didn’t show it, Steve recognized the villagers’ changing demeanor. Passing by the first few villages, which had been absent of blackguards, the people had been happy, talkative, neighborly. When he passed the villages where the blackguards were present, the people were stiff and quiet and kept to themselves.

  It came down to subtleties, Steve understood. The government might not weigh on your every decision, but its overbearing presence still seeps into your conscience. Eventually, you either became indoctrinated or rebellious to the lords of the land. There was no middle ground. The people couldn’t be content while being controlled, and the government couldn’t be content without being controlling.

  It was a toxic relationship. Steve was shocked and dismayed to find the political circumstances here were the same as they were in his own world.

  He finally made it to Mythicus’ equivalent of Bay Park. He rode alongside Mission Bay, watching the moon glimmer and reflect off the surface of the water. Then he veered toward Aiden’s house.

  When he got to the mansion, he became worried. He didn’t see any candles lit and didn’t hear any activity coming from inside.

  Steve couldn’t believe that they’d actually left him—it wasn’t even dawn yet!

  He tied Francesca the Third against a post around the side of the house. When he went inside, it was black and quiet.

  No shit, he thought, shaking his head as he passed the foyer. It’s the middle of the night. They’re probably taking some much-needed rest, while they still can.

  He bumbled and stumbled his way through the dark, into a living room of some kind, and found an empty couch. He plopped onto the couch and felt his eyelids growing heavy almost as soon as he hit the leather.

  That would be some shit if I wake up and no one’s here—If I’ve fallen asleep in a vacant, empty house and my friends . . .

  He was asleep before he could finish his thought.

  HE AWOKE TO THE SENSATIONAL smell of bacon and eggs wafting through the room. He wiped the eye boogers and drool from his face, blinked a few times, and ran his hands through his hair.

  He sat up on the couch and stretched, groaning, then laid back, preparing himself for the day ahead. Sunlight poured in from the surrounding windows, basking the wooden floor in warmth.

  He’d been so tired the night before that he hadn’t even dream-leaped—unintentionally or otherwise.

  Geddon entered the room, dressed in the same clothes Steve had seen him wearing the night before. Without the technology of laundry machines, Steve thought, washing clothes here must be a pain in the ass.

  There were quite a few things he missed from Terrus, small amenities he wished he had: his cellphone, his car, a warm shower, A/C . . .

  He shook the thoughts away.

  I have none of those things on Terrus, either. My house is nonexistent, I have no job, no means to pay a cellphone or electric bill, and no address to send those bills. And no friends, because my best and only friend has forgotten me entirely . . .

  No, I’m not missing anything there.

  Going over the pros and cons of his situation was something he did every morning since he’d lost Annabel. Eventually, he always came to the same conclusion: he was better off where he was. And when Annabel was with him, he didn’t think of those things at all. He was happy and content when she was around.

  “So, how did your mystery meeting go?” Geddon asked, one hand on his hip, the other holding a steaming mug of coffee.

  Steve shrugged. How much should I tell?

  “Uneventful,” he said, deciding he wouldn’t tell much of anything unless forced to.

  Geddon frowned. It wasn’t
the response he’d been hoping for. “Are you a spy, Steve?”

  Steve’s sleepy mind twisted as he thought he might have misheard. “W-What?” he stammered, and realized his response was less than ideal: a shocked look, a stumbling answer . . .

  Geddon didn’t repeat the question. Instead, he took a long sip from his mug but never moved his eyes away from Steve.

  Finally, Steve snorted. “How could you say that?” he asked angrily. When in doubt, get mad.

  “When you won’t tell your comrades where you’re going in the dead of night—after revealing a clue about our leader’s whereabouts—you have to imagine that raises certain questions. It does not instill confidence in your allies, Steve.”

  Steve was nodding along and had to use all his willpower to avoid rolling his eyes. He said, “Okay, I get how that might look bad. But I promise you, Geddy, I’m not a spy. I have not double-crossed you, and what I went to go do will not affect your plans of rescuing Tetsuo in the slightest.”

  Geddon finished his coffee and put his arms over his chest as he studied Steve. “Then why did you go do it at all? Saving Tetsuo is our number one priority. You know that. When you disappear like that, even if you haven’t gone to betray us, it still makes you look uncommitted to our objective.”

  Steve threw his hands in the air, frustrated. There was no winning this argument, so he had to hope to get out of it as unscathed as possible. “What can I say that will not piss you off?”

  Geddon took a seat on a chair opposite Steve. He leaned forward with a slight shake of his head, as if the answer should be obvious. “You can say whatever you were doing was for the Kinship, to help complete our mission.”

  “Well, Geddy, I won’t lie to you. It wasn’t. But you also must know the Kinship is not my only priority—”

  “Is it your main one?”

  “Of course. But I also have Annabel to worry about. I have to neutralize this marriage.”

  Geddon put his hands on his knees, his large belly resting on the tops of his thighs. “There are plenty of other Mythic women in this world, Steve. Even if you don’t ever return to your native realm, you can find someone here, I’m sure.”

  Steve narrowed his eyes, trying not to show how offended he felt. “I won’t find someone who cares about me the way Annabel does.”

  “You haven’t looked.”

  Steve didn’t dignify that with a response. The first image that flashed in his mind was of Emilene Reynolds debauching herself. Fueda had saved Steve from doing something unforgivable and stupid.

  Then he thought of Fuscia’s firm body as she sashayed in front of him, while Lig guided them through the woods.

  The entire time Steve thought of these things—which he’d rather forget—he was silent.

  Geddon seemed to notice his reluctance to share his thoughts. He said, “Did your expedition relate to Annabel’s wedding, then?”

  Steve nodded. He was blushing and tried desperately to forget Emilene and Fuscia, but guilt seeped through his body like a toxin.

  They mean nothing to me, dammit!

  “Have you found a way to annul it?”

  “I believe so,” Steve said in a small voice.

  “Then you’ll have to tell us about it,” Geddon said, standing from his chair. “Come on, we’ll show you our plan for the big day. If we do everything right, we may come out of this alive.”

  Steve stood from the couch and followed Geddon.

  Before they reached the kitchen, Geddon added, “Perhaps we can integrate your plans for Annabel’s wedding into our scheme, too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “THE BLACKGUARD PRESENCE around these parts is growing stronger,” Steve said. His eyes moved over each face in the room: Geddon, Selestria, Aiden.

  Geddon had laid out a hand-drawn map of their current location. Steve had added to the map, drawing lines where the Lees’ and Reynolds’ households lay, in comparison to Aiden’s house. He drew circles to symbolize the forest surrounding the Lees’ and Reynolds’ houses.

  Finally, he drew little squares with triangles on top to signify villages he’d passed on the way back here. He pointed to one of the villages. “The Brethren numbers are growing here, probably to sniff out any rebellions. They’ll want the streets clear of any nuisances before the train of nobles arrives.”

  Geddon frowned. “You saw this on your way back from the Reynolds’ manor?”

  Steve nodded. “In more than one village, too. Everywhere the blackguards inhabited, the people were on edge. The citizens must know something big is coming.”

  “The people aren’t stupid,” Selestria said. “They’ll surely be expecting something.”

  “Perhaps we can use that to our advantage,” Aiden said from his post, leaned up against a wall away from the other three. Everyone looked at him and the leprechaun shrugged. “We don’t have the numbers for a full-blown attack, of course.”

  A round of grumbling swept over the kitchen.

  “He’s right,” Geddon said, “but even with their help, we aren’t planning on a siege. We would lose against trained soldiers like the blackguards. Look what happened to the Nawao—and they were educated skirmishers.”

  Steve’s head sank.

  Geddon pointed at the puffy “trees” Steve had drawn around the Lees’ and Reynolds’ estates. “Our best offense will be the defensible position of these trees. While you were gone, Steve, I’ve met with a few families I know we can trust, that have agreed to watch our backs.”

  “You met these people in person?” Steve wondered aloud, his brow creasing.

  Geddon shook his head. “You’re not the only one who can dream-leap,” he said. “I have a rudimentary understanding of the power, but it was enough to get my point across. The Kinship will be there for their leader.”

  Selestria said, “Are we sure we know where there is, exactly?”

  Steve put his palm down on the map. “I’ve thought about that,” he said. “The Reynolds family is the nobler, more powerful family in this situation. The parents of Tiberius are important members of the Brethren Council. I learned that while I was a servant at their house.”

  “And the family of your girl?” Aiden asked.

  “Annabel’s parents are the ones who will be moving up the ladder with this marriage. I firmly believe the wedding will take place at the house belonging to the Council members.”

  “I agree,” Geddon said. “Overseer Malachite wouldn’t be caught dead fraternizing with people so beneath his station, such as the Lees. The Reynolds’ estate is even deeper in the woods. That is good for us.”

  Steve glanced at all the faces in the room again. There was a momentary silence. He was the one to break it. “What’s the plan you guys have cooked up while I was gone?”

  Selestria and Aiden looked away.

  “It isn’t much of one, unfortunately,” Geddon said. “But we all came to the same conclusion: we can’t win by force. So, we will have to parley.”

  Steve didn’t like the sound of that. “Is it wise to negotiate with a man who hates you as much as Overseer Malachite presumably does?”

  “No.”

  “Then how is this plan viable?”

  “It isn’t,” Selestria interjected, glancing at Geddon. “But Geddon is right about one thing: a display of force will only end in all our deaths.”

  “What’s the bargain you hope to make?” Steve asked.

  Geddon sighed. “We will offer to dissolve the Vagrant Kinship.”

  Steve’s eyes bulged. “What?”

  Geddon put his arms over his chest and stared at Steve, not bothering to repeat what he’d said. His face was stern.

  Throwing his hands up, Steve said, “Then what’s the point of rescuing Tetsuo if we’re just breaking up the band?”

  “Because it’s a farce, Steve-o,” Aiden said from the corner.

  Steve’s eyes shot over to the leprechaun, then back to Geddon. “Is that true?”

  Geddon nodded. “We must te
ll Overseer Malachite whatever he wishes to hear. That way we can get out of there alive. His biggest obstacle, of course, is our rebellion. He has no need to kill us if we agree not to be in his way any longer. Once we’re safe from that place, we can begin building anew.”

  Steve was shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ve never been much of a historian, but I have taken some history classes in my day . . .” He trailed off and circled the room with his eyes. “I’m rather certain monarchs are inclined to kill the leaders of the uprisings they face. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a peasant revolt or something similar where the leader got off scot-free. They always end up at the end of a noose.”

  Based on the looks on their faces, it didn’t seem Aiden and Selestria were too sold on this idea, either.

  “I think I can finagle a way for us to get out of there alive, friends, but you have to trust me on this,” Geddon said.

  Steve frowned. “Remember what you were telling me about ‘instilling confidence’? Well, you’re not doing that here, buddy.”

  “Look,” Geddon began, “we don’t have the fighting means of rescuing Tetsuo, so we must do it with our words. Luckily, I’m good at making the words go. With the woods all around us, we will hide and watch while the marriage is underway. Then”—he pointed at Steve—“it’s my understanding you have something you’d like to say to the congregation.”

  Steve nodded.

  “And that something will, in effect, delay or annul the marriage?”

  Steve nodded again, but less confidently.

  “And that’s when we come from the woodwork, while everyone is confused—”

  “If what Steve-o says is enough to break up the marriage,” Aiden said, “we can assume the leaders of both households will be very pissed off. Including the Overseer. And then we’re planning on engaging in conversation with the mad bastard?”

  Geddon mulled that over. “I think if we time it right, everyone will be too confused to act. That’s what we have to anticipate—that Steve’s proclamation will cause a bit of chaos. Then, if we can promise peace from our revolution, mixed with some . . . tall tales . . . our plan has a good chance of working. At least long enough to retrieve Tetsuo.”