Dream a Little Dream: A Tale of Myth and Moonshine Page 21

  “Wilma?” came Mich’s whisper. He brushed against her back to let her know he was close.

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “Don’t be scared,” he reassured her. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, but as long as we are careful to keep up appearances, I think things will work out.”

  It occurred to her that it shouldn’t be hard to keep up appearances, when it was impossible to see or be seen in this black hole. Maybe the Fren could see in the darkness; she could not be sure of that.

  “Joy?” Mich asked.

  Tina answered with a cough. She was at the front of the procession, while Mich, Nola and a Fren were bringing up the rear.

  “Schilenche!” yelled one of the Fren, prodding Mich with his razor jag. “Now we are taking you inferiorsch to schee the chief. He will dechide which schector you are to work in. I would schuggescht that you schpeak when schpoken to. Otherwische, keep your mouthsch shut.”

  There was something familiar about that particular Fren. But what did it matter? All Fren were enemies, until she had the magic to revert them to their true forms and natures.

  As time passed, Nola’s feet began to ache. She tried to keep her feet from shifting unnaturally on the stony floor. The tunnel continued its deep descent for some time. Nola was positive that they were no longer in the cliffs, but far below Kafka’s surface.

  At one point, Nola’s ankle turned inward as she stepped on a sloping rock in the dark. Mich managed to keep her from falling by bracing himself between her and the wall. However, the pause in movement caused the Fren to show their impatience. One of them pushed Nola forward and she fell, again twisting her sore ankle beneath her. She knew her ankle was sprained, and the rope that tied her feet together cut painfully into her skin.

  She was forced to struggle to her feet and move on. She limped badly and was bound to fall again on the loose stones of the tunnel floor.

  She suddenly felt a pair of hands moving over her own. They belonged to Mich. He was walking backward so that he could use his bound hands to untie hers. It was very difficult, as Nola kept stumbling on her injured ankle.

  He walked that way for a moment, face-to-face with a Fren. It was a good thing that it was so dark. Mich wasn’t sure if he could stare into its face for more than a few seconds without vomiting from the ghastliness.

  Finally the rope loosened and slipped off her wrists. Nola felt the blood rushing to feed her starving hands. She rubbed them together to help the circulation. Then she tried to untie Mich’s hands but she couldn’t even loosen the rope. Her limp was so bad that she had to keep moving her hands away to keep herself from falling.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered. “Just brace yourself on me.”

  Nola put her arm around his neck and he helped her steady herself. This made walking much easier and more comfortable. She was so grateful that he was there to help her. He seemed to know just what to do. She wished she knew.

  “Reility will recognize me,” Mich whispered.

  Nola hadn’t thought of that. If they were being taken to Reility, he would surely recognize Mich, and therefore Nola’s mud covering would not help her. As it was, her mud was drying out.

  “Halt!” a Fren snapped. “Get in there.”

  They were shoved to the side, where there turned out to be a hole in the wall. They found themselves in a musty chamber barely large enough for the three of them. Was this their destination?

  Tina was the last to be shoved in. “They’re ahead of schedule, so they’re taking a break,” she muttered. “I heard them talking. We just have to wait.”

  “That’s great,” Nola said. “We can use the time.”

  “We can?”

  “Yes. Ti—I mean, Joy, sit so you’re blocking the entrance, so they can’t see in.”

  “Okay,” the girl agreed dubiously. There was the sound of her body shifting around. “Done.”

  Now Nola got busy. First, she created a tiny hooded flashlight, then she created a small spray bottle filled with water. These things appeared in her hand. She sprayed the mud and worked it over the places where it had dried and flaked off. She then disbelieved the bottle. She was learning how to make her talent work effectively for her. She didn’t have to perform great feats of magic, just make little efforts of the right kind.

  She imagined a pair of scissors and a bottle of hair dye. “Mich, I want to change your appearance pretty drastically, so you won’t be recognized. Okay?”

  “Very well,” he agreed with resignation.

  She hated to do it, but she sheared his long black hair so that it came down no farther than the back of his neck. She squirted some of the brown hair dye into her hands and tried to apply it to his face and arms. She worked hurriedly, as there was no telling when the goof-off Fren would decide to resume the hike. That meant an imperfect job of makeup. His skin was a bit splotchy and he’d have a heck of a time getting it off, but at least he looked nothing like himself. She labored to improve the details, but this just wasn’t the ideal laboratory for such an operation.

  “Douse light!” Tina hissed. Nola disbelieved the items immediately, to avoid discovery. She would have done so anyway, in due course, so that she wouldn’t have to carry them.

  There was motion at the cave entrance. “Out, captivesch!” the naggingly familiar Fren ordered.

  They obediently crawled out. Nola wondered whether she should have focused on untying the other two, but realized that the Fren might check their bonds. In fact, she would have to conjure more rope for her own hands the moment they entered any lighted region. So she did that now, knotting the cord around one wrist and leaving a loop, so that she could quickly slip her other hand in when she had to. The Fren probably wouldn’t check it for looseness, because they would figure she'd have freed her hands if she could.

  They resumed the trek, wending down. Nola realized that the slant wasn’t as bad as she had thought; they were going into the mountain behind the cliff face, rather than down below it. Still, she had the impression of enormous depth.

  At long last, it seemed that her eyes were adjusting to the darkness. She began to see dark shapes ahead of them.

  Nola felt they were at least two miles beneath the surface (though she knew better) when she noticed the crystals. The walls of the tunnel were lined with tiny glowing crystals that cast a dim bluish light in the dusty air.

  She began to hear noises. She could hear banging sounds through the thick walls, as well as far-off voices. The echoes of their footsteps took on a deeper tone. Soon she could see well enough to realize that the tunnel was slowly widening. Ahead of them was a huge cavern.

  Inside the cavern, they were told to stand at the end of a short line of creatures. Tina was first, Mich second and Nola was third. She slipped her free hand into the loop of cord, and tried to work it reasonably tight. She hoped they wouldn’t notice that her wrists were no longer cruelly constricted.

  In front of Tina was a huge brown rat. In front of the rat was a medium-sized Dalmatian with bright orange spots. Next was a small boy with strange ears and shaggy pants. Nola saw, upon closer inspection, that his ears were really stubby horns and his pants were really furry legs ending in cloven hooves. She decided it was a faun. She had read about them in her mythology book.

  The first creature in line, a gray mule with a single sharp, slender horn between its eyes, stood before a small desk. Behind the desk sat Reility. There were several guards standing around.

  The friends watched as Reility stamped a page in a book, made a note in pencil, then waved to two guards. The guards escorted the mule into one of the many tunnels that circled the cavern.

  “Next?” Reility said.

  The faun stepped forward.

  “State your name and race,” the Fren king said in a bored tone.

  “Saffron Quandrey, Cava faun, sir.”

  “Territory?”

  “Mangor.”

  “So, you are a Cava faun? Then you have experience working in
caves. You’ll be an asset.”

  The faun bowed his head. In the process, he showed a rather large wound across the back of his neck. No doubt it had been put there by the Fren.

  “Sector one,” Reility said, stamping his book. “Next?”

  The faun was led through a tunnel as the Dalmatian stepped forward. It seemed to have an injured paw. It looked at the ground, and never turned its eyes up.

  “State your name and race.”

  “Bow-wow!” the dog barked.

  Reility nodded to one of his guards. The guard stepped forward and lashed the creature’s back with a whip. The dog yelped.

  Reility stared at the dog as it whimpered. The guard stepped back again.

  “I have no patience for your ilk today. So, I ask you once more: state your name and race.”

  Nola was shocked as the dog began to speak in a male human’s throaty voice. “My name is Curbie Martin. I am a Dalmatian.” He growled sarcastically, showing his canines.

  “Territory?”

  “Welton Town.”

  “Ah. You guarded pigs?”

  “No. I guarded the town.”

  “So, then you are a coward. You were not there when I invaded.”

  The dog growled, his hackles raised. “Who is the coward? Why do you not dismiss these flunkies and face me, Fren to canine?”

  Reility laughed. “Such effrontery will not go unpunished, runty puppy. Sector seven!”

  Two guards approached the dog with their jags. The dog looked furious, but relented, and was taken out of the chamber.

  Reility was still laughing nastily when the rat was called. It was taken to sector three without incident.

  “Next?”

  Tina stepped up to the desk. Reility did not look up from his book.

  “Name?”

  Nola prayed that Tina remembered to use her phony name.

  “M-M-My name’s Joy Cooper. I’m a h-humanoid,” she stammered.

  Nola flinched as Reility glanced at her friend. Tina’s hair was snarled and her face was dusty from their journey, but she still looked decent. “I assume your territory is Welton Town?” he asked, not looking up.

  “Wh-What?”

  This time he stared at her directly. “I see from the amount of bruises on your body that you are not a fighter. Perhaps a lover? Maybe a sexual slave?”

  This time, Tina flinched. That statement had cut a little close to home. “Yes, that’s what I do.”

  “We have no need of that type of service. However, you seem to have strong limbs. At least strong enough to last a week or so.” Reility paused and looked thoughtful. “You look very familiar to me. Have we met previously? Perhaps in the town?”

  Tina decided to do the opposite of what was normally done in a case like this. She hoped she was not being stupid. “Yes, I think we did meet. Y-You destroyed my baby daughter,” she lied.

  Stupid or not, it worked. “Oh, I see.” He paused briefly. “I destroyed many children that day. Oh, well.” He looked back at his book.

  Tina was never happier to see anyone stamp a page in her life. “Sector twelve. Next?”

  Nola had been thinking desperately of something to say, when Mich was called forward. She came up with a crazy plan. While Reility and his guards were distracted by Mich, she disbelieved her clothing and armor, but kept the mud wet and in place.

  Mich felt very apprehensive as he approached the desk. He kept his eyes turned down. His biggest fear was that the moment he met Reility’s gaze, his charade would crumble.

  “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 throug
h 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.”