Storm Dreams (The Cycle of Somnium Book 1) (9 page)

“Is it really all that dangerous?” Cassidy asked. He and Ned stood around the billiard table in the recreation room. Ned and Cassidy played well, but Brewster’s memory lacked the ability tell the red from the white balls, causing nothing but confusion every time the Englishman played. Instead, he sat watching, sipping gingerly at a cup of jasmine tea.

“You can’t even imagine,” Brewster said. He placed the cup on the saucer balanced on his right knee. “Banner picks us up in random dreams people are having. I’ve never quite figured out how he knows where to look, but the point is we can only fly in and out without being detected because people in the real world sleep and wake up by the millions. Moment the bubble breaks, they know we’re there.”

Ned tapped the cue ball. It struck a red one and bounced it off three sides before it came to rest beside the other red ball. No one knew the precise name of this billiard game, but it mattered little because no one could remember how to win either. “But, Falkenberg says it isn’t in someone’s dream.”

Brewster took another sip of tea, his forehead furrowed into deep waves. “That’s the problem. It’s in a weird little offshoot of the Everdream proper. Imagine the whole thing as a big mass of…” he looked at his cup as if searching the bottom for a good description, “stuff,” he finally settled on. “It’s a big ball off which people’s dreams sort of sprout as they fall asleep. Dreams aren’t made of nothing. They blister off the main mass each time a person starts dreaming, and are reabsorbed when they wake.” He made a fist and cupped his other hand around it. “So, you’ve got an outer membrane and then an inner barrier around the Everdream itself. Dream bubbles grow between the two,” he said around the pipe somehow still clenched in his teeth. “The peninsula extends into the bubble section and almost touches the outer membrane.”

Cassidy cued up and tapped the white ball. It knocked Ned's red ball off two walls and put it in one of the pockets. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Billiards,” Ned said, as if that meant he’d won. “Another game?”

Cassidy set the stick aside and picked up his whisky on the rocks. “I mean, this Scroll is on the edge where it’s not heavily patrolled?”

Brewster snorted. “Breathe on any inch of the Everdream and they’ll have ships there faster than you can inhale again. It’s like a giant bug landing on your bare skin. That Falkenberg imbecile has no idea what he’s talking about.”

Cassidy took a seat across from Brewster and stirred the whisky with his finger. “Will the captain really do this?”

Ned shook his head. “That crazy pirate must have something big on him,” he said, setting his own stick aside.

“That
crazy pirate
is The Flying Dutchman,” Brewster said. He finished off his tea with one final gulp. “Their history goes back further than me. Further than Karl.”

“Did he really save Banner’s life?” Cassidy asked.

Brewster shrugged. “Bloody hell if I know.”

Franz opened the door. The young German looked flushed. He wrung his hands as if trying to wipe something off his skin.

“What is it?” Brewster asked, getting up. His saucer crashed to the floor. Ned and Cassidy stood, too, and gathered around the nervous German.

“He’s going to do it. He’s all happy and confident about the plan. You know how he gets. Says we can be in and out in a matter of minutes, the Armada be damned.”

“You’re serious?” Brewster said. His thick moustache flared.

“Ya,” said Franz. “But he says he’ll put anyone off in the Twilight that doesn’t want to come and he’ll nab them on the way out. Says we’ll stir up the Armada like wasps, and we’ll have to stay in the
real
world for a few months, but it can be done.”

“Is this Dutchman really worth that kind of risk?” Brewster shouted.

“Says it’ll be a hoot, whatever that means,” said Franz. “Says, it’ll be a good exercise.”

Brewster’s body went rigid and he sat down. “Man’s gone mad,” he muttered. “Stark, raving mad.”

***

“So, what’s
your
story?” Cassidy asked, trying to break Brewster from his distant reverie. The Englishman sat stirring milk into his tea. Tea he’d been stirring for ten minutes.

The older man sighed, took a long sip and sat down. “Not much to tell, quite frankly.” He pulled out a bulldog briar pipe and an English blend of tobacco Franz had grabbed for him on their trip to the Big Apple. “First thing I remember is being shot down in the biggest aerial battle I’ve ever seen. Fifty fighters, at least; Jerrys, Frenchies, our own boys. Perhaps a Yank or two flying RAF planes.”

Cassidy observed how meticulously Brewster packed his pipe; stuffing the bottom of the bowl loose and increasing the tamp as he made his way to the rim. “I mostly remember the nose dive,” the Englishman continued, “and trying to push away from the Sop before I went for the silk.” Brewster lit the bowl with a match, moving the flame in a circle to make the tobacco burn evenly. “I floated down as guns tore the sky to ribbons and smoking fighters made their way to the grave.”

Brewster gave the pipe small quick puffs until the tobacco glowed red. He wasn’t looking at Cassidy anymore. Wasn’t talking
to
him, but staring instead at a spot somewhere beyond. “It’s strange. That’s still the most vivid thing I remember. Remember it better than I recall yesterday, but it took me months to pick it out of my head.” He paused, then woke from his reverie again and coughed out a thin cloud of smoke. “Anyway, I landed safe enough. No one else had, and war was still raging up in the sky. And this ship came out of nowhere. Broke out of the clouds and picked me up. I’m sure it’s a lot like your story,” he said, and clicked the stem against his teeth.

“How about your dreamer?” Cassidy asked, interweaved his fingers and leaned forward. “Do you think you’ll ever meet him?”

Brewster shook his head. “Never met anyone who’s met their dreamer. The dream just fades and poof, that’s it. You’re in or out.”

Cassidy leaned back. He had hoped his friend would remember things better. “I still don’t understand how Banner finds us.”

The Englishman laughed. “Queue up at the ever growing club, Old Boy. From what I understand, it took a lot of trial and error. He’s better at finding those of us that are
well-formed
, so to speak. See, it all depends on how vivid we are in the dreamer’s mind. Some poor boys he picked up were no better than walking lumps of clay. They barely held themselves together long enough to get out of their own dream, and then melted to puddles of grey on the deck.” Brewster shook his head. “Saw one once. Lived only few hours. Not a pretty sight. Bled into the deck and faded away. Seems once you lose your mind...or consciousness perhaps, you’re a goner.”

“I’m worried about this mission,” Cassidy said, trying to nudge Brewster out of memories that obviously pained him.

The Englishman fidgeted with his pipe. Took a puff or two. “This Dutchman fellow’s not the sort Banner would usually take up with.”

Cassidy shrugged. “Says he saved his life.”

“That’s what worries me. I never knew anyone to save the captain’s life. He’s not the kind to owe a man something.”

“I take it he’s never told you how he got his start?”

“Not really,” Brewster said. “We’ve all heard how a god of a man dreamed him, and dreamed him so strong that Captain Banner sailed out of the dream and into the Twilight on a galleon he wrestled from a fellow dream. That’s why everyone stays no matter how crazy he gets. They believe in him.” He shrugged. “Me too, I guess.”

Cassidy tried to read Brewster’s expression, but couldn’t penetrate the British facade. “Do you actually believe all that? I mean, the god of a man dreaming him and all?”

Brewster gestured with his pipe. “Who knows? Captain doesn’t tell the story himself, you see. Others tell it. He’s always mum about his past.”

Cassidy tried to imagine what Banner had looked like back then. How long ago that must have been. A hundred years? Two hundred? “I want to meet my dreamer,” he said. A lump swelled in Cassidy’s throat as he said it. Didn’t know why he’d said it, but the words just slipped out. “I need to know who made me.”

Brewster gave a knowing nod, but looked sad as the tobacco went out in his pipe. “Don’t know if that’s for us to know, Old Boy.”

They were silent as they stared out at the ever twilight sky.

***

Banner’s eyes twinkled as he glanced at his crew across the map table in the battle room, which was really the galley covered in what looked like half-finished maps. “I’ve been over it a thousand times in the last few days,” he said, “and it can be done. Done without losing a man.” He cracked a long wooden pointer down against the centre map, a cloudy mass which Cassidy took to be the Everdream.

The crew exchanged glances as Banner smiled.

“Cassidy’s our man!” Banner said.

Cassidy snapped his focus back to the captain.

“Don’t look so frightened, Major,” Banner said, pointing the wooden stick at Cassidy’s chest. Calling him by rank only occurred when the captain was trying to be military-like.  “You’re the best damned pilot I’ve ever seen, and this’ll be a walk in the park for you.” He circled an area on the map that looked like an outcropping of black clouds.

“According to Falkenberg’s notes, the Scroll’s in a church right here on the border,” Banner continued. “Apparently, it’s an old church on an island that drifted out of the bulb and into the main territory of the Everdream before the dreamer woke, and it’s been permanent there ever since. Armada’s got no use for it, so they leave it empty. Nothing else around for miles.”

“They’ll still know the moment we cross the border,” said Franz, glancing over at Cassidy with obvious concern. “He’ll be caught in an instant.”

Banner grinned. His smiled widened as if this was the question he’d been waiting to address. “If we flew the
Nubigena
in, yes. But that’s not our plan. See, what they actually detect so damned fast isn’t dreams. Hell, they’re dreams themselves, right? It’s the
real
stuff that tweaks their antennae. This ship lights up like a Roman candle, especially with the engines turning.”

He pointed to the black blob where the church was supposed to be located. “See how it sticks out. Now, what we’re going to do is fly past it without touching the outer border.” He moved a Zeppelin model into position just short of the target point.

“When we get just about here, we let that Fokker go and slingshot it into the Everdream.”

The crew blanched in unison. “Why in God’s name would we do that?” asked Brewster.

Banner’s fingers cracked as he gave them a sharp snap. “Glad you asked.” He pulled out a tiny model of Cassidy’s Fokker and positioned it beneath the
Nubigena
. “Karl’s outfitted it with an extra seat, just big enough for one passenger. You’ll be cramped, Ned.”

Ned paled. He gripped the table to steady himself.

“Our man Cassidy may need help, and you’re the lightest,” Banner said, without breaking speed. “Anyway, we slingshot you two without your engines on.”

“Impossible,” Brewster said. Ned looked like he was going to throw up.

Banner pretended not to notice. “Karl’s got those magnetos working like liquid lightning. Says it’ll start in a downpour. No armstronging involved.” He aimed the pointer at Cassidy. “Major, you’ll coast as far as the momentum will carry you. There’s little wind resistance in the Everdream and the gravity isn’t as severe, but that also means less lift for the wings. Start the prop at the last second. Fly it in. Grab the Scroll and get back in the air. We’ll pick you up on the other side.” He snapped the pointer on the map again and left it there. “We’ll be at full speed by the time they rally their ships and we’ll gate into the real world. Hell,” he said, clapping Cassidy on the back as he made his way around the room, “it’ll be good practice for us all. Keep us sharp.”

He’s serious, Cassidy thought. Banner’s actually serious.

Ned threw up.

Cassidy ran his hand over the fuselage of the Fokker. It had been moved into the rear bay for the modifications necessary for the mission. Karl’s work was impressive. If Cassidy hadn’t known better, he’d never have guessed the craft hadn’t been built with an extended tail and small passenger seat right out of the factory. The plane looked new. The paint gleamed and Karl had written
Valkyrie
down both sides in electric blue.

Cassidy climbed in and tested the resistance of the stick and pedals. Turned to watch the rudder and elevator flap move as he imagined pitching and rolling.

“It will swoop like eagle,” Karl said. His voice came from the fighter’s starboard side. Cassidy looked up to see the engineer watching from the shadow of his tool shed.

“Can’t believe it’s the same plane,” Cassidy said, running his hand over the Spandau guns.

“Is not the same plane,” Karl said. “Is only yours now. Valkyrie. In our mythology, they are war goddesses who bear fallen warriors to Valhalla.”

“Not sure that’s a good thing, but it’s beautiful,” Cassidy said, as he climbed down from the cockpit.

Banner approached from the stairwell. “Ready to be the first dream in and out of the Armada stronghold?”

Cassidy tried to grin. “No, I’m not, but I guess I’m earning my keep.”

Banner blinked. After an awkward pause, he grinned and shook Cassidy by the arm. “Best damn flying I’ve ever seen. Knew you would be.”

“How?” Asked Cassidy.

“What?” Banner’s smile faded a hair.

“How did you know who I was and where to come for me?” Cassidy asked, meeting Banner’s steel grey eyes. “And why don’t I just go back. The Everdream wants me. It’s always wanted me.”

Banner’s smile vanished.

“It was home,” Cassidy continued before he lost his nerve. “I’m not complaining, Captain, but I didn’t exactly ask to be rescued.”

The skin around Banner’s eyes turned red, along with his cheeks. “I gave you a life, Airman.”

“Then who’s my dreamer? I know you know, and I think I deserve something for this.”

Banner put his hands on his hips and took a deep breath. “Make it back with that Scroll and we’ll talk. Believe me though, you’ll rather I’d never told you.”

***

Fifteen minutes later, Cassidy sat in his cockpit, waiting. It seemed like an hour since they attached
Valkyrie
to the
Nubigena’s
belly and headed for the Everdream. Cassidy’s heart quickened as a black dot came into view in the distance. The Fokker trembled as the Everdream came closer. He tried not to show fear, if for no other reason than because Ned’s face looked green in the rear seat. Cassidy hoped the young man wouldn’t throw up again. If he did, hopefully it would be over the side. The fighter jolted as Ned adjusted himself in the seat. “You okay back there?” Cassidy asked.

Ned slapped Cassidy’s shoulder and gripped hard.

Cassidy patted the quivering fingers. “It’s gonna be alright, kiddo,” he said, keeping a tremor from his voice. He’d get either answers for doing this or a one way trip back to the Everdream. Banner wasn’t as sure about this as he pretended. That winning grin and overconfident attitude might work with the rest of the men, but Cassidy saw deeper. Knew the man was regretting his debt to the damned pirate. How many others would live to regret that debt remained to be seen, but Cassidy supposed that was the price of being crew to a man like Banner.

“In and out,” the captain shouted from above. “We’ll pick you boys up in twenty minutes.” The wide smile flashing down at them, and Karl’s trademark frown, were the last things Cassidy saw as the hatch closed.

The
Nubigena
accelerated through the mists. The long thin strands of solid fog twisted past and around the ship. It was beautiful, Cassidy thought, but was it part of the Twilight, or gasses given off by their destination?

“You hanging in there?” Cassidy asked, as he glanced at Ned over his shoulder again. The young pilot had already donned his flight-cap and brought the huge goggles down over his eyes.

“How do we know when to let go?” Ned asked through chattering teeth.

“He said I’d know,” Cassidy hollered, trying to overcome the scream of the wind. It blew harder as the ship accelerated. Five engines hummed. The Jerry-rigged plane propeller buzzed as it tried to keep up with the others. A dark cloud morphed out of the streaming haze and grew fast.

“Is that it?” Ned shouted. His voice sounded far off as rushing air tore most of the volume away.

Cassidy didn’t have to answer. It was the Everdream if anything was. The mass of black contrasted with the Twilight as complete darkness, sucking in light so that a stringy haze surrounded the inner darkness. This had been the great purple shape he’d seen filtered through the atmosphere of the dream he’d gated from when he first escaped. This was the tugging presence that wanted him back. Wanted them all back. Would it speak to him again?

The
Nubigena
headed for the mass as if on its way to puncture a lesion in the Twilight sky. Cassidy put his hand on the release. Ned squirmed in his seat. The Zeppelin accelerated until it almost tipped the outer layer, then banked hard in the kind of impossible manoeuvre only Banner was capable of coaxing from his ship.

Cassidy’s stomach lurched as the belly of the
Nubigena
grazed the black nimbus surrounding the outer membrane. Banner said Cassidy would know. He did. He felt the apex of the climb. The very point where the momentum reached its perfect arc. A gentle tug and the plane fell away, his stomach still back on the ship.

Valkyrie
glided towards the cloud. The wind stopped when they touched the outer rim. Sight and sound dampened as the fighter slipped through the membrane with an audible pop which sealed once more after they passed through. Below, an island rose up to meet them. Not really a peninsula, per se. Instead, it looked cut off from the rest of the mass, though thin lines of shadow connected them. Bridges or tethers, he couldn’t be sure.

Without the momentum gained from the airship the
Valkyrie
would have plunged into an instant dive, but Cassidy glided the fighter in the direction of the only structure in sight. It rose from the landscape like an arch growing from shadows. Not just a church. A cathedral, Cassidy thought.

Ned screamed. They were losing altitude fast as the gentle gravity of the Everdream increased. Cassidy wound the magneto hard and hit the switch. The props spun. The engine roared to life. He pulled back on the stick and levelled the fighter just in time to skim the bumpy ground. It landed hard, but the landing gear absorbed the shock without shattering and he rolled the
Valkyrie
to a stop twenty feet from the cathedral door.

Cassidy cut the engine and leapt to the ground.

“Let’s hope like hell
that
didn’t alert them,” Ned said with a tremble in his voice, as he landed with a harsh thump beside Cassidy.

“Let’s just assume it did,” Cassidy said, sprinting.

Ned agreed with a nervous nod, his heavy boots thudding the ground at top speed. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

A few fast strides took them to the mammoth entrance. The huge doors opened to a dusty sanctuary. Thin light streamed through the dull stained glass as they made their way down the main aisle to the altar. “I thought this was supposed to be empty,” Cassidy whispered, as they passed the silent pews. “Why are people here?”

A few parishioners sat scattered through the otherwise empty pews. A group of nuns prayed near the altar. A priest stood silent in the shadows. “Perhaps they were left over from the dream. Got stuck with the church,” Ned said, as they reached the altar where the Scroll had been said to lay in a box in plain sight.

Cassidy grabbed the young pilot’s shoulder and drew him back. “Why wouldn’t they carry dreams off that drifted into their borders? Or absorb them? A church I can understand. Perhaps it got stuck because it was a structure, but why leave the people?”

Ned flicked his glance around the room. “I don’t know. Perhaps some dream people don’t have much consciousness,” he said, opening the box and plunging his hand in, “but let’s just get this and fly.” He withdrew a rolled-up piece of shining paper.

“Leave it,” Cassidy said, glancing from one kneeling penitent to the other.

Ned paused. Looked from Cassidy back to the box and shoved the Scroll into his jacket. Everyone in the cathedral looked up at the same moment.

“Run,” Cassidy said, and bolted for the front door. He reached the far edge of the pews, but Ned screamed behind him. Cassidy turned to see two nuns tackle the young airman, each holding a leg as Ned fought to crawl away. Both nun’s eyes glowed a harsh hue of red.

Cassidy drew his Mauser and fired off four rounds. The Everdream atmosphere dampened the sound, but the sharp cracks still resonated like thunder in the enclosed space.

The first two shots took one nun in the face, jerking her back. The second two rounds vanished into the other nun’s habit. She froze for a moment, then fell to the side.

Ned was on his feet and running before the second nun’s head struck the pew beside him. Cassidy dropped to one knee and spent no more than one shell on each as the others dove for their prey. Nuns and parishioners crumpled in heaps as bullets split open their skulls and tore through their chests, exposing colourless facsimiles of
real
organs. The bullets were doing far more damage than they should, as if the people were made of soft fruit. Did his own insides look like that?

Ned rushed by in a mad dash and slammed the door open. Cassidy finished off the Mauser’s payload and ran. He leapt and was in the cockpit, pumping up the tank and revving the magnetos before the first Armada agent, a priest this time, cleared the doorway and started towards them.

Ned fired off all six shots from his revolver. The bullets tore gaping holes in stony ground, but missed the priest by several feet. The magneto fired. The props spun as the engine turned over and Cassidy throttled forwards. Karl’s modifications had certainly changed the way the Fokker flew. The extra length made the action on the stick sluggish, slowing the pitch. He wouldn’t be able to manoeuvre as fast, but he would compensate by...by doing everything quicker.

“He set us up. That old bastard set us up,” Ned shouted, as the fighter caught air and began its ascent. “Can we get back to the ship before the Armada brings in the cavalry?”

“Before?” Cassidy shouted back. “They’ll already be there.” As they broke through the clouds, the
Nubigena
floated motionless, surrounded on all sides by hundreds of airships. It hadn’t even reached the rendezvous point, probably stopped minutes after he and Ned entered the Everdream.

Cassidy cut the throttle, rolled to the side and pitched until they’d turned a full 180. He levelled out and gunned the engine again. “Dump that Scroll.”

“Why?” Ned asked, as they slipped over the far edge of the cloud of Everdream. “It’s still got to be worth something.”

“It’s probably made of some sort of dreamstuff they can track. Why else wait until you picked it up.”

“How do you know,” Ned asked. His voice came out high and panicked.

Cassidy growled. “Because they’re not following us,” he shouted glancing over his shoulder at the empty space between them and the shrinking
Nubigena
. “Probably think we’ll lead them to anyone we might have dropped off. Now dump the damned thing.”

Ned tore the Scroll from his jacket and let it blow away. “We don’t have a chance now.”

“Just tell me where we can go.”

Ned was silent for a minute. “I don’t know this area.”

Cassidy aimed the
Valkyrie
at the farthest point from the nebulous Everdream and throttled down to conserve fuel. The mists thinned and the Twilight returned to its usual clear skies of purple clouds and dim light. Floating islands pocketed the empty space and Cassidy looked for one that might provide rest and fuel.

“I could sure use the hotel on Arcadia right about now,” Ned said. His speech had returned to its normal pitch, but Cassidy still heard a tinge of panic in his voice.

“I’m shooting for something more low-key,” Cassidy said, as he steered towards a medium-sized island with only a few buildings. “We’ll have to hide this plane.”

Ned groaned. “Just make sure we find a shower and someone who does laundry.”

“Why?” asked Cassidy.

“I think I wet myself coming out of that church.”

Cassidy nodded. The tiny island grew as he neared. He tilted his fighter towards a good landing spot when two bi-plane fighters banked from behind the far edge, their wingtips marked purple and blue.