Dream a Little Dream (8 page)

“Will do, Highness!” Marcus said. His chubby friend was staring at Nola and seemed not to comprehend that they were to depart. Marcus pinched him, hard, on the shoulder. “Come on, you moron!” he said impatiently. They disappeared into the forest.

Nola allowed herself a faint smile. This corset bodice was a pain, literally, but it seemed to be doing wonders for her image. Now if only Mich would notice more than her labored breathing!

Spirit knelt down and Nola grabbed a handful of mane and tried to mount. The dress prevented her from spreading her legs wide enough. Spirit was a large animal. He had the size of a draft horse, but the build of a morgan. She loved it, but she just couldn’t swing her leg over him unless she hiked up her skirt so far as to make it pointless. She was forced to ride in the fashion of ladies, sidesaddle. She thought the position was not only degrading to women, but dangerous at high speeds as well. She knew that an actual sidesaddle had stout bars and things to hold the legs firmly in place, but she was riding bareback. Still, she had no choice. She sat square with both her legs in front of his left wing, close together in the manner evidently required of ladies. She had to sit up by his withers to do this. When
she tried to sit behind his wings, her legs ruffled his pretty feathers and got in the way. There were times when she wished it didn’t matter so much just how far a woman spread her legs. Suppose she slid off and fell? Then she was likely to show more than her bare legs to the sky, while her face was in the muck.

Spirit rose up and started trotting southward toward what was Welton Town on the map. Snort half slithered and half galloped behind her. Mich mounted Heat, who caught up and took the lead.

Nola was still a little excited and confused by all of this. She was terribly happy, and yet she was also terribly afraid of what might happen to her precious dreams if she let Kafka down. She couldn’t imagine going through life without being able to escape reality in her dreams. She hugged Esprit’s neck, and he blew air through his nostrils in response. How could a simple girl like her possibly hope to save an entire world? She decided she had to try, for the sake of Mich and Esprit. She just
had
to do it!

Nola looked at Mich, who was riding ahead of her. He sat confidently on Heat’s back. He bounced a little, as there was no saddle, but he rode well. His broad shoulders were squared and his hair flew about wildly in the wind. He was very comely. He turned and smiled back at her and she was reassured. Actually she seemed to be keeping her place on Spirit’s back well enough; maybe there was some magic holding her there, because even if she had been an expert rider, she wouldn’t be able to ride well bareback sidesaddle.

“We don’t have much time left! Come on!” Mich yelled. He delicately squeezed Heat’s ribs with his knees and Heat faltered, then lunged forward into a full run.

Nola figured this would be a laudable time for her to show off. Esprit already knew what she wanted. He too lunged forward, almost dislodging her despite the magic as he thrust his body ahead. She clung tightly to his thick mane as he galloped. His great black hooves
beat thunderously beneath them, kicking up large rocks and clods of dirt. The hairs of his mane were so fine and silky, yet it seemed as if each one was made of steel wire.

It was only a moment before Esprit was in front of Heat, and he was still running strongly when Nola heard Mich call faintly for her to stop. He wasn’t very far behind but it was difficult to hear over the pounding of hooves. Nola started to wonder if something was wrong. Esprit slowed to a trot and stopped, his sides heaving.

They had covered a lot of ground. Nola had dreamed that Esprit was fast, but this was incredible. She'd never experienced anything so pleasurable. She was pleased to read in Spirit’s mind that he felt the same. They had left the Forest of Imagination behind and were within sight of the River of Thought, on their left, and Welton Town was also nearby, though out of sight.

“What’s wrong, Mich?” she asked, panting for breath.

“Nothing,” he said as he caught up. “It’s just that we're almost to Welton Town and the townspeople wouldn’t like it if we just came crashing in. Besides, we left poor Snort far behind. He can fly pretty fast, but he’s not
that
fast.”

She realized that she had been thoughtless, in her sheer delight of the ride. It had been fun to ride Spirit on the beach in the real world, but here in Kafka it was absolutely glorious. “Where is the town?”

“It’s just over that rise in the meadow,” he said, pointing. “The Welties don’t like unisi. They are scared that their crops will get trampled.”

“Welties?” Nola asked, perplexed.

“Their name implies their state. They are people like you and me, but their bodies are black and blue and covered with lumps and bumps, otherwise known as, you guessed it, welts.” Mich looked up. “Here’s Snort.”

Nola looked up too. Snort was flying downward to them on his
nearly inadequate wings, leaving a trail of steam behind. He landed with a thud on his short front legs and did a clumsy somersault. He shook himself and looked toward Mich, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, little guy,” Mich said, patting Snort’s brown head. “We just got a little excited. We won’t leave you behind again. That is, except for now. I don’t think the Welties would appreciate you as much as we do, so you will have to stay with Heat and Spirit and travel to the southern fringe of Welton Town. We will meet you there. Be careful; the Fren might be wandering about. We'll see you soon.” He patted Snort again.

“One question,” Nola said. “Why do we have to go through here at all? Can’t we just go around?”

“We are going to need all the help we can get.” With that, he dismounted and walked out into the meadow.

Nola followed uncertainly. These creatures sounded disgusting, but if Mich thought that they could help, then they probably would. After all, he was a prince here.

Welton Town was incredibly similar to a Virginia suburb. It consisted of a few town-type houses and some ramblers. Each had a beautifully manicured lawn, and flowers bloomed in backyard gardens. It was all surrounded by small plots of farmland.

On each plot was a specific kind of fruit or vegetable. On some plots, there were familiar livestock such as chickens, goats and pigs.

One of the town’s inhabitants came out to greet them. It was a tall, slim woman. She was wearing a white tight-fitting minidress, a pair of sandals and a flowing black cowl. Her face was greenish blue and her lips were black. In contrast, her eyes were a sparkling gold color. She smiled, showing perfectly straight white teeth.

She bowed deeply to Mich. “Welcome, Your Highness, to Welton Town. My name is Greyden. The Welties have heard of your coming. I and my husband would be so honored if you and your lady friend would consent to stay at our inn during your brief visit.”

Mich was forced to reply, as Nola was too disgusted by her beaten appearance to speak. It reminded her of an abused woman and dredged up thoughts she wished not to think. “We would be happy to,” he said, nudging Nola.

“Yes, of course we would!” she agreed with feigned enthusiasm.

The woman smiled and led them through the paved streets to the
inn. It was really a small motel. It looked like the kind one would end up staying in if one’s car broke down in the middle of nowhere.

Nola was surprised at the inside, however. It was lavishly furnished with Oriental rugs and Victorian furniture. In the ceiling of the lobby was a massive crystal chandelier lit by flickering candles.

She led them down a narrow hallway and through a squeaky door. Inside was a small chamber. Bookshelves lined the walls. There was a desk with an elderly gentleman sitting behind it. The room was lit by a tiny window. A haze of dust floated along the rays of sunlight that sprang through the glass.

The old man looked up from his papers when he heard the squeak of the door.

The woman bowed to them. “I’ll prepare a dinner if you’ll be staying.”

“We will stay for dinner, thank you,” Mich said. He hadn’t thought about dinner, and the guards had forgotten to bring them some food. It was kind of Greyden to offer, as the Welties were not normally so hospitable to strangers, even royal ones. Greyden bowed again and left the room.

“Greetings,” the man said. “My name is Daree’. I am governor of the eastern territory.” He put his paper aside and removed his spectacles. He stared at Nola with intensity. Nola, feeling uncomfortable under the weight of the stare, shifted her gown and averted her eyes. She was relieved when he turned his eyes to Mich.

“So, Prince Michael, it has come to my attention that you are in need of our help and I in need of yours.” His staring dark eyes became slits and his voice was excited as he leaned forward so that his guests could hear him better. “The Fren have destroyed two of my villages and have repeatedly burned up our crops. With no food to export, our people cannot continue to produce and we will become too poor to feed our children.”

Daree’ leaned back and quieted himself; he was becoming angry
to the point of losing his dignity. “Therefore, I shall offer what little I have left to you. As you know, my people like to keep their distance from other humanoids, but in a dire case like this, exceptions must be made, and in this circumstance,” he looked again at Nola, “I believe that I have nothing to fear.”

Daree’ stood up and put his spectacles back on. “My army will be waiting for you at the Shattered-Glass Glade.” He skirted the desk to open the chamber door. He held the door open for them to pass through it. Before they exited the chamber he said, “I will make the arrangements tonight, but it will take some time. After dinner, you must travel on with this woman.” He gestured to Nola. “Get to the Source and destroy the dam. Our world and hers depends on it.”

“The palace thanks you for your help, Daree’,” said Mich. He bowed and left the old man to his reading.

Mich and Nola stayed almost until nightfall. They were served a feast of piglets and luberry cake. Nola wasn’t fond of the idea of eating piglets, but she tried them and decided the taste wasn’t too bad. She just had to imagine them in some other way, lest she toss her “cookies” and humiliate herself.

After dinner, Greyden suggested they get going before moonrise. The Fren were diurnal creatures, so it would be safest that they travel by night. At this hour, the Fren would be resting and it would not be likely that they would run into them.

Snort, Heat, and Spirit were waiting anxiously for them just south of the town, right where expected. Once together again, Mich looked at the map and instructions that Madrid left him. They must continue southward along the river. It would lead them past the newly established Fren Cliffs and into the most dangerous place in Kafka, the Forget Mists, where they were to meet someone who could help.

The group traveled most of the night unmolested along the river. They reached the Fren Cliffs a few hours before dawn.

What a forbidding and ominous place it was! Mich and Nola were
very nervous as they walked below the towering cliffs. They seemed to rise forever through the early morning mists. Their faces were covered with small dark caves. The area smelled awful. They walked close to the cliff walls and finally made it through to the meadow beyond.

Nola stopped and breathed, it seemed, for the first time. “Couldn’t we just have flown over this region?” she inquired plaintively. “Or around it?”

“No. The cliffs rise forever and it is impossible to go around without being captured by guards.”

Spirit suggested that they mount and ride from here to the sea and the Forget Mists.

“What a disgusting place!” Nola said, mounting Spirit.

Yes, it is,
Spirit agreed.

“Who would have dreamed up a place like that?” she asked.

I don’t think it is a dream,
Spirit thought.
No one really knows who the Fren are, but I think that they are the leftovers of good dreams that were not forgotten, but destroyed. I felt nothing there but hate and regret.

“Destroyed by whom?”

Probably just someone who doesn't care about whose dreams he has to step on to push his reality on others.

At that moment, Snort growled menacingly and blew some steam through his nostrils.

“What’s wrong?” Mich asked.

Heat translated for him,
He said he smells something.

“Is it a Wood Troll?”

No, it smells sweet and delicious.

Mich wondered if it was some kind of food. “Well? What is it, Snort?”

A nymph. More specifically, a Foliar Nymph.

Now Mich knew exactly what Snort had smelled. No wonder it
excited him so much. “It’s just a foliar nymph,” he relayed to the others.

“Oops!” Nola said.

Mich turned and looked at her. “Don’t tell me!” He put his hand over his brow and shook his head. “You created the plant nymphs as well?”

Nola shrugged. She wondered how closely it would resemble her dream nymphs. In her dreams, they’d appear occasionally when she was lost. They helped her to find her way, though they were often unreliable and flighty. The strangest thing was that they spoke as if they knew everything about everything.

Spirit scuffed his hoof through the grass as a form appeared out of the dim morning light. It was a small woman, about four feet tall. There was no doubt she was a woman, for she was very well endowed. Her slender torso was scantily covered in blue flower petals. Her green hair grew down to her ankles and matched her pale green skin. Her tiny feet were covered in white blossoms that matched the color of her milky eyes. She resembled one of Nola’s dream nymphs exactly.

She approached Spirit and looked up at Nola, who felt so small and delicate from atop Spirit’s huge body.

“Creator,” she said sweetly, “why are you going this way?”

“Madrid told us that we must,” Nola replied, somehow not surprised to be recognized in this manner. Mich had known her immediately, on Earth, and Heat had recognized her nature in Kafka. Apparently there was something about her, and it wasn’t the constrictive dress.

“But, Creator, there is no need.”

“But the map says that we have to fly through the Forget Mists across the sea to some island where we are supposed to meet someone who can help us.”

The little nymph laughed musically and her eyes shone bright with mirth. “Dear girl! I am the one who is to meet you. Don’t you know you can never go into the mists? You would be Forgotten! If that happened,” she spread her hands, “this wonderful world would be gone.”

“Well, what do we do?” Nola asked, uncertain whether it was wise to go against the sorceress’s instructions on the word of a stranger. Yet this was definitely a nymph of the type she had dreamed of. Maybe Mich had misunderstood the note.

The nymph stroked Snort’s neck and looked thoughtful. “Madrid sent you to me because we know the ways of dreamstone. Our ancestors mined it from the land. However, we are not sure ourselves how to deal with such a problem.”

Snort was enjoying her caresses and didn’t hide it. The small dragon was now rolling onto his back like a kitten. Nola already knew that though Snort loved attention, he was choosy about whom it came from. The nymph must be all right.

“You understand,” the nymph continued, “that dreamstone is indestructible.”

Mich was becoming impatient. “Of course we know that! What do we do, then? Is there some other way we can let the river flow freely again?”

“There is a way, but it is so very difficult. The human girl must destroy the dam herself.” The nymph turned her white eyes to look at Nola. “She must disbelieve the stone.”

The group looked at one another. “But how?” Nola pleaded. “How can I disbelieve what plainly exists?”

“As I’ve said, it is difficult. There are others who dream of dreamstone and one type is even linked to the great dragon, Kafka himself, and cannot be destroyed by anyone, living or not. I believe you wear such a stone. We are doomed if the dam is made of this type. But if it is ordinary dreamstone, you can do it. You must simply not believe it exists. Or, even better, Forget it.”

“Do you have an idea what type it is made of?” Mich asked.

“No one knows because no one has ever even seen it. It is located at the source. No one can find it, let alone destroy it.”

“We will handle it,” Nola said optimistically, though inside she was trying to digest a bolus of doubt. “Just tell us how to reach the source.” Yet, paradoxically, she felt suddenly strong. She figured that she was responsible for the rescue of this vast world and she had better get some control of the situation.

“Just follow the river. There is one area, past the Shattered-Glass Glade, where you can reach the source by sleeping in the river. It is guarded by a winged hippocampus. Just utter my name before you enter the water and it will leave you alone.”

“But you haven’t told us your name,” Nola protested.

“You did not ask.”

Nola took a deep breath. “What is your name?”

The nymph smiled. “My name is Violet.”

Then, for a moment, the little nymph had a look of confusion on her pretty face as if she was forgetting something. The moment passed and her face returned to its bright state. She curtsied and prepared to leave. But then paused. “By the way, in respect for Kafkian security, if or when you return to this side of Kafka, you will forget the location of the gateway to the source and you won’t remember, even if you stumble into it again, unless I tell you where it is. I think that’s the rule.”

Again, she seemed to hesitate. She shrugged her shoulders and with that she turned and disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

Nola stared after her. What a curious encounter!

Mich smiled at Nola. “I know you can do it,” he said supportively. “You’re the best. After all, you created me.”

Nola laughed at his immodesty. She kicked her feet a little to alert Spirit, and he turned tail and leaped into the sky, following the river.

Mich followed beside her and Snort also took to the air, but was quickly left behind, again.

Nola hung on, reveling in the wonderful flight through the morning air. The landscape spread out below them like a richly variegated tapestry. She wished she could identify specific places, but she just wasn’t familiar enough with this region to get properly oriented. Still, it was a phenomenal experience, no matter where they were.

They flew on for hours and covered much territory before Heat began to tire. He seemed to have gained strength now that his friend was with him once again. Spirit also was feeling strain in his wing muscles, though he could fly on if necessary.

The day was beginning to lose light. Esprit and Heat were both exhausted. They were strong animals, but both had limits. Nola realized with a start that this meant that they had been flying all day. It had seemed like only an hour or so to her.

They were still not yet in sight of the glade, but they landed to rest and wait for Snort to catch up. When the little dragon did, Snort galumphed over to Mich and snorted a puff of steam at him. He was angry for always being left behind.