Staked out beneath the scorching sun, scoured by the white-hot sand, the beasts yearned for nothing more than death, but death was one gift their master would never grant. He had left them here, their bodies torn, their blood pumped into the sand, their eyes blinded and their tongues shriveled, their guts and their backs and their brains on fire. He had left them here, and left them fully aware of where they were and who they were and why they were here. They had failed him, and worse, had thought to escape him, and now they would never even be able to escape themselves. They would forevermore be his creatures, shaped by agony and filled with fear. It mattered little whether he returned for them or left them here indefinitely, for the pain and terror would always remain the same.
Time had no meaning in this hell where the sun never set, never even inched away from its subjugation of the sky. They were here, had always been here, would always be here. An eternity, or perhaps several eternities passed, and then he was there, looming above them, blocking out the blaze of the sun, burning them more fiercely with his presence than they had ever been burned before. With a flick of one claw he fused their open bellies closed, sealing the fiery sand inside to rage within them forever. Time resumed as his hand closed around them and wrenched them away from the inferno, back to the void where the full force of his being brought the blood seeping through their skin. At long last he released them, and they crumpled to the ground, faces pressed to their clawed fists as if in prayer.
"Well?" his voice sawed through their minds like a ragged scalpel amputating a limb.
"We failed," sniveled Hund, his snout trembling against his paws.
A fist of talons slammed into the side of Hund's head, hurling him across the void. "Well?" their master asked again, voice hammering through their minds.
"We tried to betray you, master. We were fools," Auge confessed in a whining rush, his paws wrapping around his head as if such a futile gesture could actually provide some protection.
"It was his idea," whimpered Hund from the distant spot where he still sprawled, blood oozing from his ears and nose.
"Yes, it was," drawled their master, and Auge screamed, blood bursting from his open mouth even though he had not been touched by anything other than that lethal voice. "And after we have spent a little more time together, I am certain you will never betray or fail me again."
When Auge and Hund opened their mouths this time, no screams could slip past the choking pain.
Vivid streaks of red and purple stained the sky as the tired group stumbled into a small clearing that boasted a ring of stones in its center. Whoever had paused here, whether long ago or recently, had left no other marks of their visit, but had quietly been on their way, perhaps leaving the stones as a sign that in this vast, empty forest, they at least were alive. Considering that this was the first sign of human life she had seen since setting out with her traveling companions, the sight of the ash-filled fire pit was both welcome and troubling to Drew.
Turning to Gyfree as he stood at her side, Drew asked, "Where are all the people in this world?"
His eyes were shadowy, not unfocused but focused on something far away, as he replied, "Although there is one exception, there are no towns on the borders of this world, for the nearness of the Barrier makes most people uneasy. And the possibility that a Dreamer might slip through makes even those immune to the presence of the Barrier itself fearful. Most people in this world live clustered in the center, either in cities or the nearby countryside."
"So no one comes here except for those who guard the Barrier?"
"Sentries, or would-be Sentries. Dreamers. And the Keeper. No one else ventures into this forest. The fire pit was probably left by someone guarding this section of the Barrier."
Drew shivered as if something icy had reached through the ashes to chill her to the bone, as if the purpose of the fire pit was to repel people rather than draw them to its potential for warmth. "So what is the one exception?" she asked.
"There is a town next to the Source, so next to the Barrier as well."
"And people live there, but refuse to live near the Barrier otherwise?"
"Yes, for it's the section of the Barrier that is the most secure, despite some problems it had several years ago," Gyfree answered, but his eyes were cold, and there were lines etching his mouth that were decidedly grim.
Drew shuddered again, but this time at the iciness in Gyfree's face, an iciness that froze the next question on her tongue.
As the two Dreamers stood silently facing each other, Timi collapsed to the ground nearby, curling over to rub her feet. "Are we going to be able to stop here and get some rest?" she moaned.
Gyfree nodded. "I haven't felt the Figments return, so for the time being, we are safe. I'll know the second they do reappear. As soon as the land feels them, so will I."
For the first time since they had resumed their trek through the woods, Mischa's attention was at least partially diverted from the perfect features of Timi's Figment. Frowning in Gyfree's general direction, she sniped, "I don't understand how you could possibly be Keeper. You're not really one of us."
Before Gyfree could respond, a slight flush flooded Timi's cheeks, and she actually snapped, "That didn't seem to bother you before, and it certainly didn't stop you from trying to captivate him until my Figment showed up."
Both Mischa and the Figment flicked a contemptuous glance Timi's way, and then, her eyes flickering back and forth between her past interest and her current obsession, Mischa persisted, "I still would like an explanation. Having a Dreamer as the Keeper may pose dangers to this world beyond any we have known before."
"The world picked him," Timi insisted as she glared challengingly across at her creation. "I doubt that the world would pick someone who posed a threat."
Mischa continued to ignore Timi, although the Figment watched her coldly as the two hummeybees buzzed loudly, their drone holding a distinct menace, their barbed stingers quivering as they pointed in her direction.
"What changed in this world that caused the first Keeper to be selected?" Gyfree asked wearily, his eyes haunted by ghosts that, at least for the moment, only he could see.
The color drained from Mischa's face until she looked like the pale reflection of her former self. "The Barrier was broken," she answered huskily, her eyes pausing in their restless shifting and settling on Gyfree's face.
"And then what happened?" pursued Gyfree harshly, his voice scraping raw everyone's nerves.
"Chaos," whispered Mischa. "The Dreamer who broke through was followed by a Figment who killed everyone in its path. Including the Keeper's son. Then the land rose up and infused the Keeper with the power to banish the Figment, as well as any future Figments that might follow a Dreamer through the weakened Barrier."
"Other than banishing them, could the Keeper exert any power over Figments?"
"No," Mischa breathed, "only a Dreamer can have any real power over a Figment."
"So," returned Gyfree, his hand painfully gripping Drew's as he once again held it unconsciously in his grasp, "perhaps a Dreamer as Keeper is the only possibility left to this land. Perhaps banishing Figments is no longer enough, and a Keeper is needed who can actually control or maybe even destroy them instead. You know as well as I that the Barrier has grown progressively weaker over the last few years. What do you think an ordinary Keeper could do if the Barrier gave way completely? As a Dreamer I may still pose a threat to this world, but it's just possible that just as I've always represented the biggest danger, I may now represent the biggest hope." As she looked at him, Mischa's eyes slowly filled with fear. "Don't think about it," he told her softly. "Just go back to your Figment friend and let him help you forget the risks this world itself is courting." As she backed away he added bluntly, "And be grateful I'm saving my powers for Figments who are different from him."
Mischa backed into the Figment's embrace, and as his arms closed around her, new color as vibrant as the sunset flooded her cheeks and the fear drained from her eyes like sunlight from the sky. Turning in his clasp, she smiled, and as he murmured something in her ear, she even laughed, the sound ringing through the forest as if she had no cares in the world, or at least none she could remember. Wrapped in each other's arms, they tripped farther into the woods, disappearing among the trees, although the treble of Mischa's laughter and the answering bass of the Figment's murmurs echoed through the clearing, the soft drone of the hummeybees providing background music for the staccato gasps and moans that soon infused the melody and gradually climbed to an ear-shattering crescendo.
The atmosphere in the clearing was decidedly awkward, and as the sounds from the forest escalated, Timi in particular became increasingly agitated. Her hands visibly shook as she helped roll out blankets around the fire pit, and after one especially shrill squeal, she collapsed to the ground with a jerk. Casting a look of appeal at Gyfree, she finally blurted, "If you have the power to banish or even destroy him, you must. He may not be hideous, but in his own way he's as dangerous as Drew's Figments."
"What makes you think he's dangerous?" Gyfree inquired with a puzzled smile. "It may sound like he's hurting Mischa, but I'm relatively sure that he's not."
Something dark flashed in Timi's eyes, as if some secret pain had escaped from where she had hidden it deep inside, and suddenly surfaced like a livid scar. "I can't explain, but I do know he's a menace."
Gyfree shook his head slowly, his eyes and mouth setting like cement in the sun, and then retorted, "I've been called a menace too many times myself, and I will not destroy anyone or anything simply on a hunch, or because of feelings that might have their source in something as untrustworthy as jealousy. If and when your Figment does something that merits retribution, I will take whatever steps seem appropriate at the time. But I will not destroy him simply because you want me to."
Timi dropped her head and stared at the hands in her lap as if they had been discarded there by some incomprehensible source, and then biting her lower lip, she watched the alien hands twisting and writhing in a strange dance. After a long moment punctuated by the continued moans and sighs emanating from the woods, she said, "I'll go gather some firewood. It will be getting cold soon."
Night was settling over the small group like a blanket, and although the edges were still fringed with the violet tinge of the setting sun, Mischa, the Figment, and Timi had all snuggled into its folds to snatch what sleep they could. Even the hummeybees were still, their wings completely motionless, their incessant buzzing reduced to a quiet murmur.
A fire crackled within the stone circle, casting light and shadow over the faces of Gyfree and Drew as they stared at the flames, their eyes so intent on the heart of the blaze that it seemed as if all of the answers to every possible question must be hidden there. Yet the only truths concealed deep in the fire were the secrets of fire itself: the ecstasy of burning, the drive to consume the very thing that granted life, the need to forever find something new to embrace and destroy. Drew's eyes grew dark with the fire's consuming needs, and after a long while, when the others had succumbed to gentle snoring and the occasional sigh of sleep, she tore her attention from the fire and transferred it to Gyfree's face. "How long have you been here, in this world?" she asked softly.
Eyes as dark as her own turned toward Drew. "I don't know exactly," Gyfree replied. "Since I was a child."
"A child!" exclaimed Drew, her voice stirring the quiet so that the hummeybees emitted a single sharp buzz. "Why did you never return?"
Gyfree's head turned back to the fire, but there was ice, not flame, reflected in his eyes. "It wasn't safe. The Figment that had chased me here was banished by the Keeper, but only after killing a large number of people, including the Keeper's son."
Drew sucked in a breath so harshly that the fire flickered, leaning into the current of air that had pulled it away from its own center. "So you're the Dreamer who first broke the Barrier," she gasped.
"Yes. Before I came, this world had never known the danger of a Dreamer or the death brought by a Figment."
Without thought, Drew reached out and lightly brushed her hand down Gyfree's arm. "I still don't understand why you have remained here so long. All other Dreamers are sent back, so why weren't you?"
Gyfree's voice was so low it seemed to melt into the flames, but Drew heard each word as clearly as if it had been shouted. "I was at first, but it happened again, almost immediately. She chased me here, followed after me, and although she was banished again, it was only with great difficulty, so the Keeper decided it was safer to keep me here. Safer than risking me ripping another hole in the Barrier that she could follow me through. And even if he had wanted to send me back, it would have been a difficult task to accomplish, because somehow, the second time she chased me, I managed to dream myself here completely. Mind and body both fully here, and not in the old world at all."
"Couldn't she still pursue you?"
"She tried, but failed. Not only could the Keeper feel her coming each time, so could I. Between the power he held through the land, and my dream power, we were able to keep her out. It took both of us, but it worked. And even though I can remember her clearly, can still see her whenever I close my eyes, even though her memory haunts me to this day, she has not tried to enter here in several years now. There came a point when she simply stopped trying." His eyes once more lifted, and his hand grasped hers with sudden fervor. "But in your world, the world that used to be my world, she would have killed me long ago. It was easily within her power, for she was a very strong Figment."
Drew squeezed back as his hand squeezed hers. "But there must have been other Dreamers since you, Dreamers followed by other bloodthirsty Figments, and those Dreamers were sent back."
"Yes," he whispered, his eyes flooding with a dark so pure they turned pitch black.
"Did you ever have to take any of those Dreamers to the place you're taking me?"
"A few. But of those only one seemed unusually aware. He's the one who taught us much of what we know of your world. Since I left that world when I was still a small child, all I could remember clearly were my own dreams. But he was older, much older than you and I are now, and even when he was less lucid, there were many things about that world he was able to explain, however inadvertently. He had spent his entire life as a Dreamer trapped in a world where, to most people, dreams were only the fantasies of their unconscious minds, even though dreams were something else entirely different to him. He had clearly given much thought to what his dreams could accomplish, so there were many things he seemed to understand that most Dreamers never comprehend. He understood what Figments were, even understood the delicate balance of power between Dreamers and those they had dreamed into existence. Most importantly, he understood where he was, and what was happening. He understood the possibilities offered here, and had actually sought out this world so he could destroy his own Figment. Yet in the end, he too was sent back, for even he lacked the strength to stay."
"Would it have made a difference if he had possessed the strength to stay?"
"He was eager to return home once he had rid himself of his Figment."
"But if he had wanted to stay, and had been strong enough, would it have mattered?"
"It would have been impossible. His body and mind were divided between two worlds, and he could not remain in two separate places forever."
"Why not?"
"It placed stresses on him that were apparent even to me, and I was still just a child at the time. There were times he seemed almost as alive and present as you, but the times when he would become vague and uncertain, the times when his sleeping body and mind would try to pull him back, were far more frequent. One second he would be alert, the next confused and disoriented. He came here with a purpose, but once his purpose was fulfilled and his Figment was dead, there was nothing to hold him here, and he grew increasingly befuddled and withdrawn. Once we reached our destination, nothing and no one could have held him back. He rushed toward the Source, and then, in a blink, he was gone."
"But what if he had been here fully, as fully as you? Then would he have been able to stay?"
"No. The people in this world would have never allowed it. There are many on this world who would even have sent me away. But the Keeper had adopted me as his son after his real son was lost, and no one here would openly challenge his decision."
Drew studied the shadows flit across his face, shadows that no longer had anything to do with the fire. "There's more bothering you than your position as a Dreamer in this world, isn't there? More even than your father's death, or people considering you a menace?" she asked.
For a long moment the only voice in the clearing was the crackling one of the fire. Then, as slowly as if his words had to surface from some long-forgotten and deeply buried dream, Gyfree answered, "Every time other Dreamers have broken through the Barrier, I've felt no qualms sending them back. I never felt as if any of them were like me; most were vague, disoriented, seemingly half asleep. It was easy to send them back because most of them never even knew they were here. Even the stronger ones seemed tenuous and unreal much of the time. And never since the day the Keeper asked me to stay has there been a Figment even half as strong as the one that followed me. The Figments have usually been like the Dreamers they followed, weak and flimsy wisps of ghosts. Despite the strength they gained here, they were easy to expel. Even the ones who were truly dangerous seemed too weak to enter their Dreamers' waking world. The only harm any of these Figments could have ever brought to their Dreamers was here, in this world. So I never worried about sending away Dreamers followed by such weak Figments. And over the years I never questioned whether or not I truly belonged here, because compared to every other Dreamer, even the strongest Dreamer of them all, I clearly did."
"So what's wrong?" Drew insisted. "If you feel that it's right for you to be here, what has you looking so bleak?"
"You."
"Me?" Drew questioned, startled into a loud squeak that made the hummeybees buzz a drowsy warning. "Why me?"
Gyfree's eyes seemed to swallow his entire face, and then reached out to swallow her, and everything surrounding her as well. "You are the first Dreamer who has ever been real, as substantial and alive as I am. More substantial and alive than the people in this world, at least to me. So now I wonder if I do belong here. If you don't, perhaps neither do I. And if I still do, I wonder if somehow you belong here too. If there is a way for us both to stay, it could destroy this world, and if we both leave, that could destroy this world too. What is worse, no Dreamer or Keeper to protect the land and sustain the Barrier, or two Dreamers potentially wreaking havoc on reality? I just don't know anymore."
"Would you want me to stay?" Drew asked faintly.
In a flash the darkness drained and the ice melted from Gyfree's eyes, and in the brown depths tiny flames leapt higher than those in the fire pit. "Yes," he answered briefly, then as quickly as the flames had flared, they were extinguished by the dark and the ice. "Among other things," he breathed roughly, "the Figments that follow you are as solid and substantial as we are, and pose a real threat. If we don't destroy them here, and you still return home, they may actually possess the strength to hunt you down in your own world, where your powers are severely limited, and if they catch you there, they will be able to kill you. After all, they have already come close to killing you once."
The Dreamers sat hand in hand, their eyes once more immersed in the fire because it was the safest place to be. Then finally Drew asked in a voice as crackling as the blaze, "Do you miss anything from the other world?"
"Not really," Gyfree responded. "Even when I lived there, everything seemed unreal, more like a dream than my dreams actually were. I never stayed anywhere long, but moved from place to place, and it seems to me that even the faces of the people I lived with were constantly changing, although even that may have been a dream. Sometimes it's hard to be sure what were the dreams back then, and what were the realities."
"I remember seeing a swingset topple over when I was a child," mused Drew. "I can still envision it clearly, see it tilt slowly backward, almost like in a slow-motion film, the faces of the children blank with surprise as they were carried into a cloud of dust. That memory is so vivid, so real, and I have no idea whether it was a dream, or whether it actually happened. And I never asked my parents if they recalled such a thing, because in the end I didn't really want to know if it happened in a dream or outside a dream. It would have ruined the memory if it was clarified in any way."
Again Gyfree squeezed the hand that still nested in his own. "What are your parents like?" he asked, as if in wonder that she had parents to describe.
Drew shrugged, the gesture as uncertain as her memory of the tumbling swingset. "I don't really know," she admitted. "I spent an entire childhood with them, but at times it seemed as if I inhabited one world and they inhabited another. We moved around a lot, so I never had friends, and as early as I can remember, I relied solely on myself. I even had a sister, but she was so different from me that living with her was like living with a stranger. She loved people, loved attention, and people loved to give her all of their attention. I felt like the invisible child, the one always watching from outside, the one who was there, but at the same time, not there enough to merit notice. As soon as I could move out on my own, I did. I went to college, and studied, and still made no close friends although I stayed in the same place for more than a year. Ever since, I have moved from place to place, job to job, as if moving is all I know how to do, as if I will find someplace familiar, someplace that feels like a home, if I just keep moving enough. And I haven't heard from my parents, or my sister, in years. As soon as I was gone, they didn't even remember my birthday."
Gyfree sighed, and for Drew it was the sound of all those lonely nights she had huddled in her bed, watching demons looming over her or pirates bounding around her room, wondering if calling out for her mother would bring safety or give life to the most terrifying nightmare of all. She didn't explain to Gyfree, although she was certain he would understand, that in some ways her worst nightmare, the nightmare that had frightened her above all others, was not the one that boasted the fiercest of monsters stalking her night after night; instead it had been of her mother with that cold, distant look that was always on her face, raising a hand with a loaded gun clenched in her fingers to shoot a bullet directly between Drew's eyes. She always awoke as the bullet grazed her skin, but afterward, as she burrowed beneath her covers, shivering and alert, she knew better than to call her mother's name.
"How would you feel if you could never go back?" Gyfree questioned, dispelling the nightmare memory that had momentarily dragged Drew away.
She could feel him waiting for her answer, could sense the tension traveling down his arm and into her hand, and could tell that, despite his suspense, that he already knew what her response would be. "Relieved," she whispered. "I would be relieved."
The night stretched over them, enclosing them in consoling arms as the fire flickered and dwindled, its never-ending hunger once again left unappeased. When the ring of stones was finally filled only with the dull glow of embers, Gyfree announced, "It's late. We have a long way to go, and who knows how much time to sleep."
"What about my Figments?"
"I'll know the moment they reenter this world, and the land itself will make sure I wake up."
"What if we dream?"
"As long as you remember what you dream, then you can deal with it when you wake up."
"And if I don't remember?"
"Then the dream will probably not have enough strength to survive." His hand squeezed hers one final time before releasing it to the embrace of the night. "Trust me. I've been doing this a long time now, and there's always a way to untangle the webs you dream. Or almost always."
Beneath the stairs there was a door, but most people ignored it. Maybe they didn't see it, or maybe they thought it was the typical tiny broom closet often tucked beneath stairways, but for whatever reason, no one but she ever opened the door, and no one but she knew that a room was nestled there, a room that stretched back farther than the eye could accept, a room much larger and cozier than it should have been. This was her refuge, the place she retreated to whenever she needed a moment to think things through, whenever she needed to be alone. Strangers might march back and forth on the other side of the door, and the sound of feet might be heard rushing up and down the stairs, but in here she was safe, warm, apart.
There was a bed in the room, just big enough for her, and she would rest there for hours listening to the world pass by, pass her by. She sat there now, eyes on the door, suddenly and inexplicably frightened that there was no lock on the handle, for the first time in her memory afraid that this place might not be the safe refuge she had always imagined it to be. Then there was sound on the other side, more sound than she had experienced before, and the doorknob rattled, then started to turn. She held her breath and backed into the farthest corner, hoping that whoever was there would just go away, or not notice her hiding there and leave, or would see her immediately and seize hold of her before she could slip away.
The door disappeared and he was there, and with him came so much light that now she understood why no one but she had ever bothered with this room; it was dark, impossibly dark. She looked at him, afraid that he would not see her, would not notice her at all, would turn back through the door and shut her inside forever, alone in the dark forever. So she stepped forward, and as she moved, so did he, a step, and then another step, and then they were standing face to face, breathing each other's breath, feeling each other's heat. His arms closed around her and his body pressed into hers, and she came alive as his mouth crashed down, parting her lips with an urgency she had never known. An ache rose within her, from deep within, an ache she had never felt before, as if a long-unheeded hunger had been buried inside and had finally been released to rise to the surface. His lips moved eagerly to her face, to her neck, and back to her lips, until every nerve in her body burned and her knees started to buckle. She would have crumpled to the ground but he held her up, held her tight, held her as if both their lives depended on how close he could hold her. Every part of her body tingled and throbbed, just like a foot that had been sat on too long and was now feeling all of the pain of waking up, all the intensity of returned sensation. She felt aware as never before, alive as never before, awake as never before.
With the thought of waking came the realization that she wasn't awake at all. Despite the keenness of all she was feeling, she was asleep, sound asleep and dreaming. Dreaming that she and Gyfree were pressed together in a rather intimate embrace, their lips firmly attached, and their hearts thumping wildly in unison. Dreaming a very vivid dream in a world where such dreams became a reality.
Every muscle in Drew's body tensed, and as her lips froze and her body went rigid, Gyfree's hold on her slackened. For another moment they still stood close, the heat of their bodies unabated, and then he stepped away, his hands falling to his sides like deadweights as bright color rushed to his face.
"I . . . I'm sorry," Gyfree faltered.
"I'm so sorry," rushed Drew before the final word had escaped Gyfree's mouth. "I just started dreaming; I couldn't help it."
A frown creased Gyfree's brow. "I am the one dreaming," he responded. "I started dreaming that you had disappeared from this world and I couldn't find you anywhere. I could feel you, but I couldn't find you, and then my feelings led me to a door beneath some stairs, and when I opened it, there you were." The color in his face deepened. "I'm sorry I dreamed us, I dreamed you. . . ."
Hesitantly Drew reached out and touched his arm. "You may be dreaming," she whispered, "but you're not the only one. I started dreaming too, a dream I've dreamed countless times before, so I know you didn't dream me there. I was hiding, fearing that the Figments would find me, but at the same time hoping you would. If anyone should be sorry, it's me." Color as deep as Gyfree's stained her face. "I don't usually dream those sorts of dreams," she muttered apologetically.
Silence filled the dream-born room beneath the stairs, and then Gyfree whispered, "Have you ever dreamed about someone you don't really know, but in your dream it seems you've known them forever, that they have always been a part of your life, an important part, perhaps even the most important part? Then you wake up, and you've lost this important person, lost them so completely that you can't even remember what they looked like or who they were or why they mattered to you."
When Drew nodded her head, Gyfree continued. "That's how I felt when I found you this morning, and you looked up at me with your clear green eyes; I felt as if we had always known each other, had always been close. I was angry that you were a Dreamer, angry that my dream come to life was really just a dream after all, and not one that I could transform into reality since I wasn't the one dreaming you here. I even tried to convince myself that you were no different from any other Dreamer, that I was just imagining things, because that was the only way I could deal with the fact that you could disappear at any time. But you are different, and I can't stop myself from feeling that you are that someone who has always eluded me in my dreams, that someone I've both known and waited for forever. And now I'm not just afraid of that someone important slipping away from me when I wake up; I'm afraid that at any moment, waking or sleeping, you will suddenly slip back into the world you came from, and this time I will remember exactly what you looked like and who you were and why you mattered. That was why I dreamed this dream. Because I'm afraid; because if you don't truly belong here, if you are only here in a dream, there is nothing I can do to keep you from slipping away when the time does come."
Drew stepped close, back into the circle of his heat. "We're still dreaming now, aren't we?" she asked huskily.
He nodded, stepping so close to her that their bodies brushed together, their clothes whispering against each other. "The best kind of dreaming," he murmured.
"Then we have every excuse in the world," she breathed, "since it's only a dream."
This time his arms folded around her tentatively, and the lips on hers plied gently, but as the fever of the kiss mounted, they felt carried beyond themselves once more, until their two bodies again trembled with the intensity of their shared dream. Then just as the kiss deepened into something more, and Drew was reduced to clinging to his chest, he ended it, lifting his head sharply as if a distant screech had pierced his ears. "Time to wake up," he stated hoarsely. "Your Figments just got back."
A moment later Drew found herself blinking the sleep from her eyes as she stared at the first rays of light sifting down through the high branches of the trees and streaking the forest floor.
"Good morning," a voice whispered behind her, and she turned to see Gyfree smiling uncertainly in her direction.
The color rose to her cheeks as she smiled back. "Good morning," she responded, a glimmer of mischief abruptly sparking to life in her eyes. "Have any interesting dreams?"
Laughter lit his eyes and his smile gained confidence. "Only a rather nasty nightmare," he teased.
Drew wrinkled her nose at him, but before she could retaliate, Timi's sleepy voice mumbled, "What's going on?"
The laughter ebbed from Gyfree's face as he answered, "The Figments are back, and they're headed straight toward us." His eyes sought Drew's again, but this time they were stony with emotions he had quickly buried. "I think it best if we stop running and wait here for them to arrive. At the rate they're moving, it won't take much time, but at least we'll have a few minutes to prepare."
"Prepare for what?" yawned Mischa as she sat up across the clearing, the arms of Timi's Figment wrapped around her waist, his perfect face buried in her lap.
"Drew's Figments," Gyfree replied shortly. "They'll be here soon."
"Are you crazy, or just suicidal?" Mischa demanded, the sensually sleepy fog clearing from her eyes.
"If we run, they'll catch us. If a confrontation is inevitable, better we choose the time and place," Gyfree responded shortly.
"Well, leave us out of your plans," Mischa returned, her hand convulsively gripping the Figment's arm. "We'll be hiding. I'm not letting you risk his life." With a toss of her head she scrambled to her feet, pulling the Figment up behind her. The hummeybees darted around the remaining three, buzzing harshly and menacing them with their jagged stingers before trailing behind the couple who plunged into the sheltering arms of the forest as if they were the only two people in the world whose lives had value.
Timi stood uncertainly, back pressed against the nearest tree, her eyes darting back and forth between the spot where Mischa and the Figment had vanished and the space where Gyfree and Drew stood, their bodies as coiled as snakes ready to strike.
"You can go if you want," Gyfree informed her tersely.
Timi shook her head so slightly that it seemed she hadn't moved at all. "I'll stay," she answered quietly. She shook her head again, and this time markedly. "It's not like Mischa to run away. It's not like her at all."
Gyfree stared into the shadows that had closed behind Mischa and the Figment. "No," he mused, "it's definitely not like the Mischa I've always known. But there's no time to worry about that right now." He reached out and clasped both of Drew's hands in his own, transferring his eyes to her face. "As Keeper I should attempt to banish your Figments, but instead I'm going to try something that's never been tried before. As far as I know, no one has ever been able to destroy another's Figments, but if I only banish these, they might attack you in your world if you return. Stay close because I may need you, but don't expose yourself either. You and Timi should be safe if you hide in the trees behind me."
"No," Drew replied bluntly.
Gyfree's forehead creased and his eyes hardened. "What do you mean, no?"
Drew squeezed his hands as she gazed up into his glittering eyes. "I've had this feeling," she explained, "ever since we came face to face with the two Figments chasing me. I can deal with them. I have power over them, I know it. It is not your task to handle these Figments, it is mine. You have to let me try."
Gyfree shook his head stubbornly. "You have been here so little time. You don't have the experience yet to manage this."
"Time isn't the issue because so much has happened so quickly, and I've already learned more than I could have ever imagined. Trust me. I know exactly what to do." With his hands in hers she hurled both of them into the dreamworld, just as he had previously carried her. Around them the gray landscape once more materialized, but this time there was a ghostly ring of stones beside them, and the translucent form of Timi clinging to a phantom tree. They were still in the clearing, but they were equally inside a dream. "They'll follow me here, won't they?" she asked. When he nodded his head, she stated, "Good. This time we'll meet on my terms, not theirs."
Long it had been, long and full of unendurable pain that they had no choice but to endure, long in the embrace of their master, long breathing the same hot breath that coursed through his lungs, long pumping the same acid blood through their veins that scorched through his, long gnawing on the same bitter morsels that only fueled his insatiable hunger for her dead flesh, long becoming the creatures he finally wanted them to be, long losing themselves until all they knew was what he wanted them to know, all they felt was what he wanted them to feel, all they desired was the death he had long desired. Long it had been, long until their only care was his, their only drive was his, their only identity was his.
Satisfied at last he had peeled them away like old skin and, closing them in his claws, thrust them once more through the void to that world where even now his Dreamer dreamt a powerful dream. He dropped them nearby, near enough that she would not have the time to dream herself completely away, but not so near that she would immediately recognize the hand that carried them to her and by instinct somehow hold them at bay. He dropped them nearby, at just the right distance, so that she would be forced to prepare, so that she would have committed to her defense, cast herself into whatever dream she foolishly thought could save her, before she realized what she truly had to face. He dropped them nearby, and then he waited, flames leaping from his skin as if he would reduce the entire void to ashes, face writhing in the painful pleasure of anticipation. Finally she would be his; finally she would be dead and he would be free.
Auge and Hund dropped to all fours, talons rasping against the ground like steel against stone. Neither glanced at the other; neither made the slightest sound as they loped in pursuit of their quarry. There was no hesitation, no stumbling, no fighting; there was no hunger of their own, only the hunger of the master who had set them this task. Through the forest they rushed, carrying with them a nightmare from which no one could ever possibly awaken. When their prey slipped into a dreamworld, they followed, feet and hands sprinting over the gray ground as easily as if it were solid rather than woven from the flimsy wisps of dreams. Their speed intensified, for she was directly ahead now, and they could feel her with the wrenching clarity their master had always felt her, and could have found her without Hund's keen nose or Auge's discerning eyes, if they had still cared about the strengths two creatures once known as Hund and Auge had long ago possessed. The old Hund and Auge had been given their last chance and had failed, but the new Hund and Auge would not.
The hunters broke into the clearing, the grayness of their attendant nightmare shimmering as it merged with the gray of her dream, and there where gray met gray stood their intended victim, eyeing them coolly as she urged a man to step away from her. There was no delay, no need to relish the moment, as the beasts lunged toward her, fangs exposed and claws extended. The time had come at last for the Dreamer to die, and for them to kill. So forward they rushed, and she did not try to flee from them, did not even try to scream. Instead she stepped into their charge, and with surprising speed and impossible strength, seized Hund by the arm and threw him over her shoulder and into the ground with a force that shattered bones even though he impacted against supposedly insubstantial mist.
For Drew the advance of the Figments felt like a scene from some long-ago but shockingly recognizable dream. Perhaps when she was a child she would have turned to run, bolting awake as the monsters' breath seared her neck and fangs scraped her spine. But she was no longer a child, and it had been a long time since she had felt herself rendered helpless by each and every stray nightmare that haunted her nights. She was rarely the victim of her own dreams anymore; could not, in fact, recall the last dream in which she had played the defenseless sacrifice. She was not always brave in her dreams, was not always strong, but there were times she knew she was dreaming and could choose to be both. Like now, when she had sought out a dream for the very power she knew she might find there.
Gyfree had been reluctant to allow her to face the Figments, but perhaps he had finally seen the potency of the dream pouring through her eyes, for he had eventually acquiesced with the understanding that he could help if she seemed in danger of being overwhelmed. He had stepped away when the beasts had attacked, just as she had requested, and even though she felt no need for his assistance, it was a comfort to feel him there, a relief to know that he would sustain the fabric of the dream so she might turn her entire focus onto her own tasks. Without the slightest hesitation, she stepped forward to meet the forgotten yet hauntingly familiar monsters of her childhood nightmares, and with the power she had dreamt of only as an adult, grabbed the snouted one and hurled him to the ground, dreaming that the force would shatter every bone in his body.
She had no time to listen for the crunch of shattered bones, no time to look for a sign that she had actually hurt him, for the other beast was already upon her. As he reached for her with razor-sharp claws she dreamt that she was impossible to touch, and his talons changed their course to swipe at empty air. He roared with frustration, hurling himself at her, but it was if an invisible barrier had sprung up between them, and try as he might, all he could do was strike and gnash at the air. He could not pass the unseen Barrier to touch her, but there was nothing to stop her from touching him. With a force she dreamt was deadly, she kicked the beast in the chest, knocking him across the clearing and into the impaling branches of a wraithlike tree she had dreamt into existence. There he hung, bleeding from his mouth and from countless oozing holes where tree branches poked through his skin.
She looked behind her, but there was no movement on the ground, not even the slight rise and fall of a body still breathing. She turned back toward the impaled beast whose eyes kept burning into her, and as Gyfree stepped up beside her, walked over to where his bloody bulk dangled from the tree. Her eyes met his fierce ones, and as she watched, the dark crimson drained from his eyes just as the blood was draining from his body, until he was staring at her with eyes as yellow as she must have first dreamt them, eyes that looked back with an expression as clear and seeing as her own. "I realized you were our Dreamer the very first time you escaped," gasped the Figment. "But there should have been no escape this time. What did you do?"
Drew swallowed the sudden pain in her throat as she looked into the clear, clear eyes of the Figment she had unknowingly given birth to so many years ago. "I dreamed you dead," she answered huskily.
The dying beast nodded as he held her in place with his clear, clear yellow eyes. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly as he breathed out his last words and the last of his life, "Thank you." Then his clear, clear eyes clouded over, and for the first time since he had opened them in a long ago dream he saw nothing to hurt him, nothing to fear, nothing to enslave him; clearly, quite clearly, he saw nothing at all.
The gray swirled around them, surging through and dissolving the dead Figments before fading away, and Drew found herself back in a clearing lit by daylight rather than by the hazy atmosphere of a dream; shaking uncontrollably, she clung to Gyfree, tears leaking down her cheeks like the crimson draining from her Figment's eyes. Timi stood a few feet away, her face devoid of all color, her eyes more frightened as she looked at Drew than when she had seen the murderous Figments.
"How did you kill those things?" Timi asked faintly, her voice as pale and lifeless as her face.
Drew squeezed her eyes shut as if that could remove her vision of the dying Figment, his eyes so beautiful and so clear and so full of gratitude. "Remember what you told me?" she whispered back. "Dreams are power here, so all I had to do was dream."
Gyfree's arms folded around her as if he could shelter her from her nightmares as easily as he might shelter her from the cold.
"Yet those were the most solid, powerful Figments I have ever seen. They seemed as substantial as either of you, more substantial than me. They were no longer limited by whatever dream brought them to life. How could you defeat them so easily?" persisted Timi.
For a long moment Drew stood motionless, her face pressed against Gyfree as if she was a child in bed, his chest her pillow and his arms the blankets she had pulled over her head to hide from the visions that haunted her nights. Yet finally, just like the child compelled to peek from beneath the protection of her blankets to see whether or not the monsters were still there, Drew lifted her head to look directly at the one thing that haunted her most. "It was easy to kill them," she breathed, her eyes full of the dark and all its phantoms, "because they were nothing. The only thing that made them dangerous was that they bore the mark of another's touch. As soon as they entered the clearing, I could feel his taint on them, and when I touched them, I could feel nothing but him, and though it's been a very long time since I have so distinctly felt his presence, I recognized it immediately. He was the most potent, terrifying, deadly demon to ever stalk my dreams. As much as I would like to dream otherwise, it is he who stalks me even now." Drew's eyes slowly returned from the terrors of the dark to focus once more on Timi's face. "You think you've seen powerful Figments. You've seen nothing. You've felt nothing. You know nothing of what awaits me, nothing of how truly lethal a Figment can be, nothing of him. The Figments I just killed were nothing but his tools, his helpless slaves. I saw it all as the second Figment died; his eyes told me more than you could ever tolerate. Now that his servants are destroyed, I know that he's the Figment I need to worry about, that he's always been the one seeking my death. Of all the monsters ever to haunt my dreams, he's the one most worthy of fear. And I can assure you, as frightened as you may be, you cannot be nearly as frightened as me."