Dreamscape: Saving Alex (31 page)

“It won’t open.
What do we do now?” he asked.

Ideas flowed
through me as I played the level in my mind, trying to relate its
two-dimensional features to this world. In the game, I entered through the tomb
and descended through the tunnels.

The tomb. I
shuddered and gazed behind at the darkness peeking in from the doorway of the
mausoleum. “We go in there.” I sighed.

The door creaked
when we pushed it open. Warm, still air mingled with the dust sitting on every
surface, choking my breath. Arrow covered his mouth with his cloak as he
entered.

An oppressive
silence consumed us. The tomb, dark except for the sliver of light at the
doorway, scared me. Nothing
seemed
right
about
the place. My breath quickened.

Arrow tapped me on
the shoulder and pointed to the far end of the room. Against the back wall,
poised between the two blown out candles, a metal wreath marked the wall. I
walked closer and saw the leaves of the wreath—a pattern of spirals.

“They’re the same
as on the marker outside,” I said, reaching forward to touch the scrolled
metal.

“I
think
they are.” He coughed.

“Ouch!” I jerked my
hands back and brought my fingers to my mouth. The metal had burned me. Small
blisters popped up along my fingertips.

“Do you need a
vine?”

“No, save them,” I
mumbled, shaking my hands through the air, annoyed that I had
already
bruised my shins, scraped my palms, and burned my
fingers, and we still weren’t inside the castle. “Be careful, it’s hot,” I
said, wrapping my hands inside my cloak before grabbing the metal wreath again.

It creaked, giving
way reluctantly as I pulled it away from the wall. Now it looked more like a
wheel for a hatch opening than a decorative fixture. I slid my covered palms
along the metal wheel and nodded to Arrow for help.

He placed his hands
alongside mine. The metal stung, even with a fabric barrier. I hoped the burn
wouldn’t be deep enough to blister. We twisted the wheel, moving it no more
than an inch each time.

Sweat coated our
faces when it finally released, and a blast of steam shot up from outside.

I looked behind us and
saw the green box standing open in the doorway.
Squealing
in delight, I ran
to it
and fanned the steam out of the opening. The heat of the steam burned
me, yet I shivered.

“We did it!” I
jumped up and
down
and grabbed his hand.
“Now, don’t forget to stay close and have your luminance handy. The tunnels
will be dark.” My words raced together in my excitement.

“You want me to go
in there?” Arrow asked, waving his hand through the warm cloud.

“This is the way
in,” I said.

“You never
mentioned tunnels. I…can’t do that, I don’t like being closed in.” He stepped
back from the entrance.

“This isn’t a time
for fear. It’s the only way I know of to get in. We don’t have another option.”
I reached forward, grabbing his wrist to keep him from sprinting down the
stairs.

“But—” he
protested.

“But nothing. You
knew we weren’t going to walk through the front door.” The finality of my tone
broke through his reservations. We had come too far to let anything stop us
now.

“I,
er
, I
know, but
I
didn’t expect this. This wasn’t in the plan.”

“Didn’t you say you
embraced
adventure
? Here’s a new one for
you. It’s time to drop every notion you have
about
this castle. What we saw in Marix’s manor is nothing
compared to what lies ahead.” I reached for his hand one more time.
Relinquishing control, running towards the enemy, it all went against our
natural instincts. “I asked you before, but I’ll ask again. Are you ready?”

“No.” He gulped and
held up a hand. “Wait, I think someone’s coming. Shh…” He furrowed his brow in
concentration, cupping the ear device with his hand. His jaw tightened, and he
pushed me back into the tomb. “Stay in the corner and don’t move.”

I fell back to the
ground and watched him race around the stone doorway. His tone scared me. I
didn’t understand what was going on, but I knew it was serious. Then I heard
the electric hum. Crawling to the door of the mausoleum, I pulled myself up
against the doorway and peeked around the edge.

Silent screams
rattled my heart.

A sharp gasp escaped
me. At the base of the stairs on the mausoleum opposite, five guards stood in a
semi-circle around Arrow’s body. His head hung forward onto his chest, and a
drop of blood fell from the corner of his mouth. Blood matted his hair against
his cheek, and I saw a large welt appear around his left eye. His arms draped
lifelessly at his side.

I bit my fist to
keep the sobs from echoing in the darkness.

Around his body,
black marks charred the stairs. A buzz swarmed in the air as the guard standing
furthest from him snapped a whip. Sparks and dust sprayed off the stone
staircase, leaving a crack in the ground. His next attempt didn’t miss. Arrow’s
body shook, flailing as the whip connected with him. I watched in horror as his
body jerked with electric shock.

Tears fell
down
my cheeks, and I wiped them away. Every piece of me
screamed to turn around and not watch, but I couldn’t. Each crack of the whip
struck me. When they threw their heads back in laughter, they mocked me. They
finally dragged him down the stairs and back through the graveyard, taking away
my heart.

I shook,
dropping in a heap at the base of the stone
doorway, a crumbled mess. My heart boomed in my chest as visions of Arrow’s
lifeless body flashed in my mind. The way he hung in the guards’ hands, the
blood dripping from his fresh wounds, the blank expression as he stared at the
ground.

In all the scenarios I had envisioned, losing Arrow never
entered my mind. H
e seemed invincible. And he sacrificed himself for me.
That debt couldn’t go unpaid. No matter what doubts I had, regardless of the
fear rushing through me, I knew one thing for sure. I would do the same for his
people.

I had to save the queen. If not for the rebellion
or my way home, for Arrow. I wouldn’t let his death be for nothing.

I shifted the bag across my back and
double-checked the straps. Wiping the fresh tears with the back of my hand, I
willed my emotions to settle into a comfortable numbness. I put on my game
face. It was time to save the queen.

Steam rolled out of the open tunnel and down my
cheeks. I hesitated for a moment before jumping into the darkness, flailing as
the searing water attacked me. The current took control, submerging me in the
river.

I gasped for air as I rose to the turbulent surface.
Water splashed over my head, the current dragging me down the narrowing tunnel.
I spat out water, reaching for the walls, surprised when my fingers slipped
along the smooth edges. Nothing could slow my descent.

Except for the occasional light flickering through
vents from above, the tunnel was bathed in darkness. I couldn’t see quite
enough to get my bearings, but I knew I was in trouble. Water covered over half
the tunnel. Every time the current changed directions, I plunged underwater. I
relaxed my body and followed the river’s course, knowing that the harder I
resisted, the more the water would force its will on me. The game hadn’t
steered me wrong yet; I had to believe it wouldn’t here either.

The rush of the water deafened me. This was no
sweet gurgling stream, but a domineering roar, forcing me down its path. I
struggled to keep my head above water in the shrinking tunnel. My legs
floundered, twisting me as I swam. I lost track of where I was, how long I had
been there, and what direction was up, but I knew it had to end soon.

But what if I’d taken the wrong tunnel? Had I
counted correctly and chosen the right tomb? While I considered the possibility
of miscalculation, the water beneath me suddenly dropped away. I floated for a
moment in empty space before the freefall down.

My scream echoed in the darkness until the water
silenced me. Pinned beneath the force of the waterfall, I fought to resurface,
gasping for air as the current pulled me downstream.

I flipped onto my back and kicked my way over to the
side, savoring my breath. The tight confines of the tunnel widened until the
sides disappeared into darkness, leaving me with the feeling that I was
suspended in a void. If it weren’t for the flashing dots on the ceiling, I
would have been concerned that I’d hit game over. As it was, the flickering
lights reminded me of the busy skies back home.

Home. Even in a world away, it still found me in
the smallest of details, calling out with bittersweet memories. Some things
never fade away. Isn’t that what Arrow had said in the Grove?

Thinking of Arrow summoned tears to my eyes. I let
them fall, hiding them under the splashes of water. I wished he was still with
me. I wished. I wished. I was tired of wishing. That hadn’t worked when I first
arrived here, and it didn’t now.

I flipped over and swam. I couldn’t focus on that
anymore. Not now anyway. The end was too close for me to lose my focus.

The slow pull of the current directed me down a
narrowing tunnel. Thick strings of algae and slime hung from the walls, hiding
spiraled carvings in the stone. The stench of decay from the walls intensified
as I paddled closer to look at the designs. I plugged my nose to keep from
getting sick. Not that it would have mattered here, in the bowels of the evil
kingdom.

The carvings on the walls continued until the room
split into three pathways. A symbol crowned each of the corridors. I looked at
the three: a serpentine branch, a dragon’s head, and the Great Oak. Without a
second thought, I swam towards the passage that flowed under the tree.

The current, now just a strong suggestion,
directed me through several narrow corridors lit only by a faint light
streaming in through ceiling vents. The further I swam, the fainter the pull of
the water grew, until it stilled completely. The tunnel became shallower and
the water thicker and more stagnant. I trudged through, keeping away from the
edges where dark bubbles and algae swirled at the surface.

The tunnels branched off again, and each time I
followed the tree until the stench of the water became unbearable and the
corridor narrowed into a sliver of space no wider than my arm span.

A wave of excitement rushed over me when I turned
a corner and saw a wall of stones. I sloshed through the shallows, the dark
water and guck splashing over me. At this point, it didn’t matter. I was
already soaked, and I wanted to get out of there.

The wall, a roughly constructed stack of river
rocks, towered over me. If not for the small sliver of light peeking in from
the top, I would’ve thought it was a dead end.

I slipped my hands into the rough crevices between
the rocks and climbed. Rock fragments and dirt loosened my grip, and the water
dripping from my clothes weighed me down, but I pressed on. Nothing was going
to stop me from reaching the top.

When I’d scaled the wall, I pulled myself over the
edge and into the narrow passageway. My heart drummed as I crawled through the
hallway, holding my breath as the full weight of the castle seemed to bear down
on me. When the room finally opened, I rolled over onto my back, breathing
deeply. If I hadn’t played this my entire life, I would have second-guessed my
choices. The narrow passageways did not inspire hope.

But I knew that hope was not the intention of this
castle. A labyrinth of chambers, hallways, guards, and traps, this place
signified death and torture. I really hoped I could skip those last parts.

I rolled into a sitting position and dumped a
small river out of my boots. Leaning the still-saturated boots upside down
against the wall, I sat back and rummaged through my bag. I formed a small pile
of sticks and struck my luminance balls together. The fire was small but
intense, and I basked in its heat. I sat back and waited. I wasn’t going
anywhere until the boots and my clothes dried. Their wet prints would lead the
guards directly to me.

The puddles of
water at my side called to me. I
fluttered my fingers through the pool,
watching the edges of the water roll onto the dry stones in a feathered
pattern.

I leaned forward and dipped my finger in, and then
brushed them on the dry stones to my right, watching the slow transformation.
My strokes became quicker and more fluid as I recalled an image in my mind. The
water didn’t dry at a consistent speed, creating depth in the shadows of the
portrait. I worked intently until a picture of the queen stared back at me.

When her image waned, drying in the heat of the
fire, I painted again. Conjuring a different memory, I deepened my strokes,
angling the edges more sharply. I drew in a trance until I sat face-to-face with
Arrow.

I bit my thumb. Frozen in a moment of happiness,
this was the Arrow I remembered. I traced his lips, raising one end in
mischievous defiance. If only I could see that smile again. The image faded as
quickly as it had been made, and I grabbed my boots, ignoring the dampness at
my toes. They were dry enough to leave no marks.

I needed to get out of there. The small chamber
was closing in on me.

I unsheathed my dagger and walked ahead, careful
of the empty corridors and growing shadows. No matter how abandoned the
subterranean vault seemed, danger lurked everywhere. A moment of complacency
would kill me here. Now that I was on my own, I needed to be more aware.

The hallway ended at a spiral staircase brightened
by evenly hung torches. Charcoal ash stained the walls and floor, and, in
between, an even layer of dust covered the worn stones. I ran up them as
quickly as I could, but four unending flights left me breathless.

Stumbling out of the stairway, I leaned against
the wall, cooling my forehead against the metal rungs that hung beneath dead
torches. When I managed to look up, a sense of familiarity rolled over me.

The corridors on
this level all seemed the same. Dilapidated dark stones lined each wall with
only a small opening at the top for light. It felt oppressive. I struggled to
breathe as I ran down corridor after corridor, leaving a small set of
footprints on the dusty floor.

Red doors flanked either side of the narrow
hallways. I tried to ignore them. Most of the doors remained closed, hiding their
traps, but a few were open, teasing me with bright lights and melodic music. I
scurried through the halls, blending into the shadows. I didn’t have the time
or inclination to explore. I wanted out of this place.

On the other side
of a half-open door, the guards’ rhythmic march sounded. I skidded to a stop
and threw myself backwards against the wall, hoping they hadn’t seen me. I
tried to keep from hyperventilating as I risked a quick peek around the corner.
Their march grew to resounding booms.

Crap. They were headed towards me. It didn’t
matter if they had already seen me or not. If I didn’t move, they’d catch me
for sure.
My grip tightened
on my dagger.

What was I doing? Who did I think I was, taking on
an entire army by myself? I wasn’t cut out for this. The future of Lockhorn
depended on me, and I only had one shot. I had to play this smart.

I ran in the opposite direction, counting the
doors that I passed. Getting lost here would be certain death. Assuming this
was like the game, I knew half the doors would bind me in a trap, and the
others would send me spiraling back to the beginning. I couldn’t risk either.

Skirting the corner into the fourth room, I rested
against the back wall and regarded the roomy surroundings carefully. Grand
golden frames trimmed with diamonds lined the walls, decorating paintings of
human sacrifice and torture. I bit my cheek and slunk through the shadows.
Statues of Berkos and his supporters, some of whom I recognized from Marix’s
manor, leered at me. Intermixed between the statues, gargoyles perched atop
tall pillars. Their hollow eyes seemed to follow me.

At the far end of the gallery, a portrait of King
Berkos stared me down. In a room full of gold and gaudiness, the onyx frame
shimmering around his image seemed to bleed evil. My arms prickled with the
sensation that I was being watched. I looked around, but only the painting
watched me. Feverish black eyes met my gaze, and the edges of his lips were
turned up in a mocking smile.

I took a deep breath and shook my shoulders, but
the hairs on the back of my neck wouldn’t settle. I jumped forward, anxious to
leave that hall. Not all art tempted me.

Before I could prepare for the next challenge, the
room shook. Three distinct blasts jolted the ground and rattled the portraits behind
me. I waited, and ten seconds later the three booms sounded again. A lump
tightened in my chest.

“Pounder,” I said, wiping my palms on my leggings
and reaching for the pouch of dragon weed around my neck. If this matched up to
the game, I knew the only way to defeat the mutated dragon would be with fire.

My fears were confirmed when I turned the corner.
Pounder, a hybrid between an alligator and a dragon, half-slithered,
half-crawled across the floor, blocking my path. Drool dripped from the fangs
hanging over its long, narrow snout. Behind the elongated nose, spiked ridges
ran along its muscular body and encircled the lean, whipping tail. The slits of
its eyes  turned in my direction, its eyes flashing and fading to white. A long
forked tongue uncoiled, snapping as it flicked the ground.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I knew it smelled
me. I ducked behind the nearest pillar, listening as the jingling from its
collar announced its approach. The spiked tail snapped, shaking the pillars
with its force. Acid steam burst from its nostrils as it gnashed its teeth,
leaving a slick trail across the floor.

Its forked tongue flickered and snapped against my
hand, sticking for a moment before releasing my skin. I fumbled with the
opening to the pollen pouch and felt the burn sizzle on my wrist when grains of
the powder wafted out of the package. The acid on just one grain was enough to
burn through the top layer of skin. I hoped they had enough strength to burn
through Pounder’s thick underbelly. Large chunks of pollen dropped from the
bag, falling into the seams between the marble tiles around the base of the
pillar. I had underestimated its speed, but I knew it would follow my scent.

It deserved its name—its tail, once engaged,
pounded in three continuous snaps, pulverizing anything unfortunate enough to
be in its path. The moment its snout rounded the pillar, I blew a burst of
pollen in its direction and somersaulted to the right.

Its tail thumped the ground three times, and then
it jumped, snapping and snarling as it landed where I had scattered the pollen.
Its tail thumped again, and I ran, throwing the vial of dragon weed oil behind
me. After the next two thumps, Pounder thrashed wildly, knocking over the stone
pillars.

I ran out of the gallery and around the corner,
opening the second door on the right. Pounder’s muffled thumps faded. I leaned
back against the door and waited for my heart to slow. Small blisters bubbled
up on my skin where the pollen grains had landed. I was more flustered than I
wanted to admit; my hands shook as I tucked the blisters under my sleeve.

The hallway seemed to lengthen the further I went.
Torches lined the walls, but only one in every three bore light. I ran forward,
glancing back over my shoulder as I counted the doors. When I twisted the
handle to enter the next room, the door behind me opened.

Crap. A set of guards had found me.

Stealth ceased to be important. Speed became my
only tool, and, unfortunately, my head start diminished as soon as they broke
into a run.

I opened and slammed doors, going through some and
back through others, careful to keep track of where I was. The thought of
avoiding one danger by falling into another terrified me. If I died, it didn’t
really matter how it happened. Death in the king’s castle would be final, and
the rebellion would fail.

I ran through the next door and slammed into one
of the guards. Glowering at me from below the tufted helmet, his obsidian eyes
shifted to my hand. He growled and chomped his rotted teeth, tightening his
grip around his mace.