Waking in Dreamland
Waking in Dreamland
Roan knew even before he passed the great doors that the party of scientists and their burden would be already out of sight. He exploded into the courtyard, looking about for a sight of Brom and his minions. The pigeons scattered, hooting their alarm. The clap of their wings sounded unnaturally loud in the silence.
Roan's pupils contracted painfully in the hot sun as he squinted in every direction. The heat shimmer radiating off the stony ground made everything look as if it was moving. What a time for the courtyard to be deserted! Normally, it was heaving with people on business with the crown or one of the ministers: courtiers, lobbyists, merchants, ostlers, beggars, hangers-on, and servants. Where were they when the very existence of the Dreamland was in danger? Now that he thought about it, where were the sentries? The posts next to the castle doors were empty. He couldn't even see the men who had challenged him on his way into the castle.
Roan dropped to his haunches and searched the ground for any sign that would show which way Brom and his Alarm Clock had gone. The light-gray gravel revealed hundreds of wheel ruts going in every direction. And not a single means of transportation anywhere. Brom's attention to detail, again. Before they had left, the scientists must have scattered all the bicycles. Not one steed, not one carriage, nor any other conveyance remained. Brom had meant to delay pursuit as long as possible.
A slight breeze sprang up, and Roan got to his feet. He spotted a distant glimmer of color in the sky to the north, and strained to make it out. Could that be a hot-air balloon? An airship would be the simplest way to transport a heavy load a long way.
The rumble of an engine alerted Roan just in time. A white sports car screamed into the courtyard, heading straight for the palace doors.
"Hey!" Roan shouted, as the shiny chrome bumper missed him by a hair. At the wheel was a man wearing dark goggles. In the seat beside him was a dog, its face in the wind, its tongue lolling with foolish joy. The car described a tight circle. Roan waved his arms at the driver.
"An emergency, friend! Help, please!"
The car wheeled. Midway through its turn, it became a white charger pawing at the ground, wearing a gold-braided saddlecloth that bore the royal sigil. The man, clad now in shining plate armor, held aloft on his wrist a small hawk that had been the dog. Its tongue was still out.
"How may I be of assistance?" the man asked, raising his pointed visor. "I am a king's messenger and a Night of the Dreamland. My name is Sir Osprey."
Roan crossed to him in a few steps and caught hold of the horse's bridle. "Sir Night, have you seen a group of people leaving the castle in haste in the last few minutes? Carrying a heavy burden? In the king's name, it's urgent. They could be endangering all of the Dreamland. They want to wake the Sleepers!"
"I've seen no one," the Night said, his eyes wide with alarm. "Shall I go and try to find them?"
Roan nodded gratefully. "If you can just find their trail, return here and notify His Majesty. I thought I saw an airship just now, headed northward, but that may have been an illusion. They might be on foot."
"I am on my way," the Night said, and lifted his arm aloft. "My dog will go after this airship. We shall report back as soon as we may. Rely upon us."
"My thanks, friend," Roan said. He had to jump out of the way as the Night turned his steed to thunder out of the castle gate. The hawk bated, beating its wings on the air, and arrowed out of sight to the north. Roan watched after them with gratitude. He couldn't catch Brom alone. He needed help, but time was flitting away. He strode back into the castle.
The great hall was in an uproar. Men and women clutched at Roan's sleeves as he passed, asking anxious questions. He pulled away from them firmly but kindly, making his way to the throne.
King Byron leaned forward, his noble eyes full of concern. Roan shook his head, and the king sighed. Roan explained what he had found.
"They must be stopped, Roan," the king said. "You must go after them."
"I will, Your Majesty," Roan said. "I will follow Brom at once on foot. The steeds will come back soon, but we cannot risk waiting. I'll try and pick up the trail." He started to shift out of his colorful court robes and back into a practical traveling suit. "It's a good thing I didn't unpack yet." He felt in his pocket for his all-purpose knife.
"Go," Byron said, his noble brow creased with worry. "I and the whole of the Dreamland are relying on you!"
Roan bowed. He was honored to be trusted, but his thoughts were troubled. He was already thinking ahead.
"You'll need help," Bergold said gravely, appearing at his elbow. His floating clothes became a sensible tweed suit with a gored skirt, and his silk slippers turned into brown leather brogues. "I'd better get some traveling things together. Bless me! What does one pack to save the world?"
"Everything," said Thomasen, throwing up his hands in a rare show of agitation. "Great Night! I don't know what to do! How many of them were there? Should we send men-at-arms?"
"The radar on the roof shows nothing," a guard panted. "I ran up to look, but they haven't seen a thing."
"They've pulled reality around themselves with the crucible," Roan said. "They're going to make it as hard as possible to find them."
"But where are they going?" demanded Micah, wringing his hands around the head of his staff. "I have no records for the Hall of the Sleepers. Brom has made his assumptions from innuendo, not fact."
"May we see the map?" Roan asked the Royal Geographer. She opened up the huge chart, and they scanned it.
"I see nothing that indicates the location of the Hall," Micah said, elbowing between Roan and Romney. "What is it that Brom thinks he sees here?"
"We must stop them long before they get there," Captain Spar said. "You can ask Brom where it is when I haul him back in chains."
"You, you, and you, prepare food, supplies, tents, and weapons," the king said, pointing at his guards. "This is a serious act of premeditated mayhem. We do not know how far they are prepared to go to defend this unspeakable behavior. I will welcome volunteers to accompany Roan." There was a chorus of voices, and dozens came forward. Princess Leonora stood up, too, towering above the others on her pedestal.
"I want to go, Daddy," she said.
"No!" Roan exclaimed, then realized by the startled look on her face that he had failed in tact. A storm began brewing in her eyes, changing them from hazel to a darkly dangerous gray. Roan had to defuse her temper, and quickly. He had embarrassed her before her parents and her people. He knew she would not stand for that.
"Your Highness," he began, stressing her title and bowing deeply before her, "it's too dangerous for you to abandon the capital. You're the heir to the kingdom."
"One that won't exist for me to inherit if Brom and his idiots destroy it!" Leonora said, dismissing danger with an angry wave of her hand. She appealed to her father. "Daddy, please! I want to help."
"Your Majesty," Roan said, equally insistent, "there's no time."
"My dear, you can't go," the king said, reaching up and taking his daughter's hand. "It's impossible."
Leonora looked from one to the other, disengaged her hand from her father's. The marble pedestal shrank into the floor, and she stalked off it, her face a stiff mask. She threw open the silk curtains and marched through them. Her train of courtiers bustled away behind her. The king and queen exchanged glances, and Her Majesty slipped off her throne to follow her daughter, clucking maternally to herself as she went. Her doctors and ladies streamed away in her wake.
Roan's heart sank. He knew he'd have to face a flood of recrimination and accusations of overprotective chauvinism when he returned, but he couldn't let the one he loved so dearly risk her life on a rash venture. He was expendable, and she was not. She had no experience in tracking, combat, or indeed, sleeping rough. If there had been time, and if he had dared think such an icon would want to acquire rude skills like those, he would have been honored to teach her. In the meantime, the kingdom had to be preserved, even at the cost of his personal happiness. The king met his eyes, and gave him a sympathetic look. He understood his daughter and her suitor's dilemma.
"With your permission, I had better go now," Roan said, grateful for the king's kindness, but his mind was already back on the problem at hand. Inspiration struck him, and he made his way through to the fountain. Scooping up handfuls of the small colored stones that lined the bottom, he filled his pockets.
"I'll leave these as I go," Roan called out. "Anyone who is willing to come along, follow my trail as soon as you are ready."
The crowd closed in on itself behind him, shouting plans to one another. Roan hurried toward the door. He could imagine the land itself urging him forward.