Dream a Little Dream (23 page)

“Name, race and territory?”

Mich kept his voice low. “Richard.” He panicked as he tried to think of a last name.

“Last name?” Reility asked.

“No last name,” Mich said at last.

“Race and territory?”

“Uh, I am humanoid, and, uh, I’m from the Forest of Imagination.”

Reility looked up. “There are no humanoids in the forest except those in the castle. What was your job?” He cocked his head and looked intently, as if trying to see through Mich’s blotched skin.

“Groom for the horses.”

“Sector eight. Next?”

Nola too kept her eyes down as she approached Reility’s desk. She had a good idea of what she would say, but wasn’t sure if it would work. When she did glance up, she saw something flash. It was her cross. It dangled around his ugly neck. She was enraged.

“Name?”

“Wilma Roberts of the Shattered-Glass Glade. I am a Terra Nymph.”

“A nymph of mud? I’ve never heard of such a creature.” He peered at her, and she could feel the weight of his stare.

“If you please, sir, I don’t understand. We have always been there,” she said, trying to look dismayed and befuddled.

“Where are you from?”

“The mud, of course.”

“No, I mean, where were your ancestors born?”

“The same.”

Reility became very frustrated and it began to show in his eyes. Nola hoped she wasn’t carrying the stupid bit too far. “Were they not born of the river like all others?”

“What others?”

Reility sighed deeply and leaned forward. “All Kafkians are born of the river. Is this not so for your family?”

“Forgive me, sir, but are you trying to suggest that my ancestors were born in water? That makes no sense to me. I am of terra!”

Reility finally settled back in his chair, a look of complete frustration on his face.

“You must be a nymph! Only a nymph can cause one’s mind so much turmoil! Sector seven!” He stamped his book and grinned. “You’ll like that sector. I know you nymphs are always concerned with your figures; you should have no problem dieting in that sector.”

Nola was escorted through another tunnel. This one was not as brightly lit as the chamber, but she was glad she could see at all.

The Fren kept a jag close at her back. If she lost step, she was poked. With every poke, a new wound was formed beneath her coating of mud. She lost step many times, as she was still limping badly. Her ankle had now swollen and the slightest weight upon it caused her to flinch with pain. However, she did put weight upon it. If she did not, she would surely fall, and possibly be killed by the Fren. She clenched her teeth and moved on.

Nola could hear the banging sounds now, as if they were beyond a few inches of tunnel wall. She could hear the rough and booming voices of the Fren, shouting directions.

The tunnel they walked in was lined on both sides by windowless doors made of wood. The Fren escorting her gestured for her to stop beside one of them.

“I am going to give you some good advice, because I like you,” he said, giving her a poke with his jag, forcing her toward the door. “If you do not behave, and do not work to your last breath, you will end up in this cell sooner than we planned.” He laughed and opened the door a crack so that Nola could see inside.

Nola saw a vision from her dream. There was a tiny fairy being taunted by several Fren. The fairy was quickly reduced to tears and curled up on the floor trying to hide her face from the cruel Fren. Nola had trouble seeing the poor thing because the Fren had closed
in on her. When they finally backed away, the fairy was gone, replaced by a Fren as hideous as any other in the cell. The Fren was much larger than the fairy had been, which surprised her until she remembered that such transformations were independent of size.

Nola couldn’t stand it; she turned away. The Fren shut the door and laughed a little. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s barbaric!”

“Barbaric?” The guard seemed to relish the notion. “Perhaps.”

“Why don’t you do it to me and my friends now? Why wait?”

“Why wait? The chief needs his amusements! Even he gets bored. Why turn you into a butt-kissing servant, when you can be tortured and tormented, and have your will to live broken?”

He prodded her and forced her to walk on her bad foot, sending shooting pains once again through her body.

Nola was so angry that she could barely control herself. She wanted to turn around and kick the little bastard back down the tunnel. But no matter how badly she wanted to, she knew it was not wise to do so. She must be patient and keep her wits. As her dear friend Spirit had said, she mustn’t lose faith. So she squared her shoulders and limped on down the tunnel, closing her mind to the tortured crying coming from the cells as she passed them.

Nola was forced into one of the dirty cells near the end of the tunnel. The door was closed and locked behind her. She pounded furiously at the door with her linked fists. This wasn’t very effective, because she had to face away from it to do so.

“It’s no use, you see?” said a familiar voice.

Nola turned and saw the orange-spotted Dalmatian, sitting on his haunches in the middle of the tiny cave, one sore paw lifted slightly.

“Your name is Curbie, isn’t it?” she asked, slipping her hand free. Obviously the Fren no longer cared about the bonds, one way or another.

“Yes, Curbie the cur. And yours?”

Nola was amazed at the way the dog’s mouth moved. Somehow, his chops formed the words perfectly. The effect reminded her of a cartoon character talking.

“Uh, Wilma.”

“Well, Uh-Wilma—”

“No, my name is Wilma.”

Curbie shrugged his dog shoulders and continued. “It would seem we are to share a cell. You know, we are very lucky. Most of the other cells in this sector are packed with slaves. You see, each cell is delivered the same amount of food. Those like ours will have more to go around, but those with five or six to a cell will soon starve, or
else kill one another over the food.” His dark eyes glanced around Nola’s face.

“You seem to know a lot about this place,” Nola said as she took a seat on the floor, stretching out her injured foot as she got her hobble off. “How do you know those things?”

“I am from a family that practices telepathy. My mother and father practiced, but weren’t very good at it. Most of my brothers and sisters can communicate with my parents. My sister Curbia and I were very good at communicating with each other, but we couldn’t communicate with anyone else. You see, my sister was taken by the Fren. I kept in contact with her. I was coming here to rescue her but was captured myself. She tells me many unspeakable things about this place. I am in fear for her life.”

Nola felt a little uneasy. What could she say about the loss of his sister? At least he could maintain mental contact with her, unlike Nola with Spirit. Curbie ‘s powers of telepathy must be strong, at least where his sister was concerned. She wished hers were strong enough to reach Spirit. She was terribly worried and would do anything to know how he was being treated. She could readily identify with Curbie. Even though he could still speak with his sister, the things Curbia told him obviously frightened him. She wondered if it wouldn’t be better to be cut off. If she was in contact with Spirit and he was being tortured or something like that, she was sure she would lose control.

She decided to change the subject. “What goes on here?”

“These are the dreamstone mines. Creatures are brought here to dig and to have their spirits broken. That makes us easier to convert, you see?” Curbie stiffened and stared at the door behind Nola, his nose quivering.

The door cracked open and a gnarled hand threw in a metal plate. The plate landed on the floor with a clank and the door was locked once more. The plate contained a sort of slop and a lump of something.
When Nola inspected it more closely, she could see the slop looked much like animal entrails. The lump was a big piece of moldy bread.

Curbie approached and took a sniff, his black nose twitching. “It’s exactly as Curbia described it,” he said. “The creatures in her cave fight mercilessly over every scrap of the stuff, you see.”

Nola smiled and drew the plate away. Curbie snarled at her and she covered her mouth in surprise. His fangs were bared. “No, no! You don’t understand!” she protested.

“What’s to understand?” he growled. “You are trying to take all the food for yourself!” His hackles bristled about his shoulders.

“No, you don’t have to eat this stuff, if you don’t like it, because I can—”

“I like it just fine!” He snapped the air in front of her and pawed at the plate, scooping out some of the guts onto the floor in front of him.

“Okay,” she said, smiling. “But I’m not going to eat that slop! Not when I can have a big juicy steak!” A plate appeared in her hand. The smell of the warm meat quickly overwhelmed the stench of the air.

Curbie’s ears perked up and he was drooling, his tongue lolling out. “Illusion?”

Nola looked at him and smiled warmly. “No. See for yourself.” She put the steaming meat in front of him.

He did not touch it, though he continued drooling a torrent of saliva. “You are a Creator!” he whispered with force.

Oops! Nola had forgotten not to use her skills. What if someone saw her doing it? They would know who she was and the Fren would surely dispose of her.

Curbie seemed to notice that she was worried. “Do not worry, Wilma,” he said, winking at her. “You caught me by surprise. You need not fear me! I am on your side. May I eat that delicious-smelling food?”

Nola thought of correcting him on her name, since he knew the truth anyway. She decided to play it safe and let the name stick. “Of course you may,” she said, creating a bowl of fruit for herself.

She conjured luberries and spotted oranges. She wanted to eat the things that she ate on the surface. She felt trapped and alone in the ground, separated from her friends and her love. She felt as if she'd never see the surface or the light of the sun again. The fruit eased a little of that feeling.

Curbie placed his sore paw, gently, on the steak and chewed it as if it were a rare treasure. Nola ate an orange and two fistfuls of the white luberries. When they were finished, Curbie walked around in a tight circle and curled himself on the floor of the cell, his paws tucked neatly under him.

“You had best get some rest. You see, the guard will come soon and take us to the tunnels to dig.” With that he closed his eyes and refused to speak further.

Nola cleared the pebbles away from a flat spot near the wall and leaned back. It was terribly uncomfortable, but she knew better than to conjure a bed or a pillow, lest the guard see it when he came. Before closing her eyes to rest, she gestured with a hand, and the extra plate and bowl disappeared. Then she disbelieved the fragments of rope that had hobbled her. She doubted that the guards would miss them.

Her eyes closed, and she tried to rest with her arms crossed over her chest. Her ankle throbbed and the rough wall pained the sores on her back. She was forced to change positions. She stretched out across the floor on her stomach, but this caused her ankle to twist when she started relaxing. She was forced to hold it straight by holding her shoe upright, and she had to remain alert to do so. Thus she got very little rest before the Fren guard returned.

She had no idea if it was night or day, or how long she had been
lying there. The light in the tunnels outside the cell was the same as when she first arrived. Curbie trailing her, she followed the guard through a door and into a new tunnel. The din grew to a roar.

The tunnel was short. It opened into a catacomb of incomplete tunnels and passageways. She strained her eyes in the dim light to make out the shapes she saw.

The walls seemed to be lined with a myriad of creatures, fifty or more. Most of them were four-footed or humanoid. There was a bird close to her. It had very short wings, strong-looking feet and blunt talons that seemed to indicate a life spent in burrows. They were all busy digging and banging with tooth and nail. None of them had shovels, or even sticks. Some of them used fallen stones to help them dig.

There were also several Fren. Nola noticed that one of them with a whip was severely lashing a large rodent that had fallen down. It had collapsed in exhaustion. The Fren did not let up until the creature started feebly to scratch at the floor. “That’s better!” yelled the Fren.

Then the rodent stopped scratching and lay still, its eyes closed. Nola knew it was not dead; she could see its back rise and fall as it breathed. It was simply unconscious, or beyond exertion. The Fren whipped the poor animal again, and when it no longer responded to the lashing, it was dragged across the cave floor, past Nola and Curbie. The creature looked up at her as it was pulled past on the rough stones. She had never seen such a pained expression, nor had she seen such a look of pure hatred.

“He’s off to the room,” the guard said with satisfaction, speaking loudly over the noise of digging. “Which is where you will go if you don’t obey.” He pushed both Curbie and Nola into the short depression made by the rodent.

“Now dig, or else!” shouted the Fren. “I’ll be keeping my eyes on
you two. Especially you,” he said, poking Curbie with his jag. “The chief told me you’d be trouble.” He walked away.

Nola looked at Curbie as he started to dig, doggie style. She picked up a stone that looked promising and began to scratch at the soft rock with it. The rock was surprisingly porous, and chipped away slightly with each scrape.

After a moment, she looked around the cave. She noticed that most of the Fren had left and only one or two remained, watching over the throng. It seemed a crazy thing to do, leaving so many oppressed creatures unattended. Any of them could escape. If they all ran at once, there would be no way of getting them all.

“How come the guards left? We can get away now,” Nola whispered.

“Speak for yourself,” Curbie growled. “Don’t you know what we are all looking for?”

Nola hadn’t thought of that. It did seem like a lot of trouble just to dig holes. “No. What is it?”

“The magic dreamstone. The twin of the one Reility took from you, Nola. Besides, even if we could escape this sector, we’d never make it out alive.”

“How did you know my name?” she asked, alarmed.

“Everyone knows you. That is, that you are the Creator. You are to be our salvation. But I now have my doubts that you will escape. You seem to lack the required strength to deal with our problems, no offense intended.”

Nola ignored his doubts, lest they shake her faith. “But I thought there were no more stones like mine.”

“There is one more. They tell us that whoever finds that stone will be set free to live in peace. I’m going to find that stone. When I do, I will ask that my sister be released.”

“But what’s the big deal about finding the stone? I mean, he already
has mine. What good is having another? He can’t even use them. He’s not a Creator.”

Curbie did not answer right away, as he was concentrating on a larger fragment that was resisting his efforts. He did not want to attract the attention of the Fren by progressing too slowly.

Nola noticed that her mud was dry and flaking off. She paused a moment to renew it.

Curbie struck something in the rock and dug vigorously, trying to dislodge it. It turned out to be a large hunk of colorless dreamstone, in crystal form. It looked a lot like quartz. He barked loudly and one of the guards shuffled up and took the dreamstone away. He was safe, for a while: he had produced.

He answered her as he resumed digging, occasionally sifting through large chunks of fallen rock. “Two dreamstones of that type are better than one, you see? When the two are brought together and drenched in the River of Thought, they cause the one who holds them to become fully real. An Earthling, like you. He would be a Creator. He would therefore be able to control your world by giving tormenting dreams to all of Earth, once the Fren of this world have been Forgotten.”

Nola dropped her digging stone and stared, open-mouthed, at Curbie. Her shock and horror were becoming one and the same. This new information was a knife in her heart.

Curbie continued, oblivious to her expression. “That is what all of these creatures are looking for, you see? We all want to be free. We all want to be the one to be freed, you see?”

Nola noticed that a guard was looking in her direction. He had noticed that she was not digging. She immediately turned back to the deepening hole and dug at the wall.

This was awful! If Reility got hold of the other stone, not only would her friends die, but so would Kafka. So would Earth. Just as
she had feared all along. They would have no hope at all, no faith, no reason to live. Earth would be full of killers and suicidal people.

What could she do? She knew. She must find the twin stone and recover her cross. She had to stop Reility. Still there was the question: How?