Dreamscape: Saving Alex (8 page)

“Thanks for your concern, but I made it through
fine,” I said, pulling a leaf out of my hair and brushing her hands away. “I’m
better now. Thank you.” I stood, confused at the stifled anger in her voice. No
longer comfortable with my back to her, I turned to face her. “I must be going.
Can you help me with new clothes?”

“Will you pay for them, or should I just hand them
over?” Her voice was too sweet, the saccharine that dripped accusations.
Whatever kindness she had shown had disappeared.

“Of course,” I said, fumbling for the wooden box
and dropping the money on the counter. “I don’t expect charity.”

Her eyes widened, and she slid the gold into a
pouch in her apron as if it would disappear. “Right over here,” she said,
glancing behind me out the window before leading me to the corner filled with
gowns.

“Thank you,” I murmured, already losing myself in
the soft velvets. I didn’t notice her leave, but heard the clinking at the
counter as she counted her gold.

I caressed the rich fabrics, appreciating the
embroidery along the bodices. Auntie Quinn, no matter what I thought about her,
certainly had a talent for tailoring and draping. Getting lost in the fabric
was easy. The smooth finishes of the dresses brushed against me, and I wanted
to throw one on. My fingers lingered before I lowered my hand and let go of
that thought. I didn’t have a ball to go to anymore. In fact, even as I
shopped, draping the lavish gowns over my arms and watching my reflection
change, I knew this wouldn’t work.

I scanned the rest of the room, reluctantly leaving
opulence for practicality. Unless I found a quicker way home, I knew what
journey lay ahead. Auntie Quinn’s eyes narrowed in on me.

I hurried around the store, looking at every
table. The shop was bigger than I had thought. Tables wound around the room,
creating niches and corners for clothes and accessories. Auntie Quinn sold it
all, from men’s tunics and hose to traveling attire, peasant smocks, work
aprons, and gorgeous gowns. When my eyes tired of fabric, they found sparkling
jewels, bags, and hats. I grabbed a leather travel bag from the edge of a table
and continued my search.

At last, I found it. In the back corner, partially
hidden beneath the wool coats, the costume came together. Something in my mind
clicked, and as I grabbed the green cloth, I knew my fate had been sealed.

The leggings fit snugly, and when I tucked my
white shirt beneath the dark green tunic and looked at my reflection, my
lingering doubts subsided. The costume was a literal translation. I looked like
the hero. I finished the look with a pair of leather boots and stuffed a woolen
cloak, pointy hat, the papers, and my empty money box into the travel bag.

The bells above the door jingled, and I felt a
burst of air. Auntie Quinn stood in the shadows, clutching the gold to her chest.
She nodded at the men blocking the door and then looked at me.

“Auntie Quinn?” I
asked, watching my only escape disappear behind a pair of towering guards.

“Nothing personal,
my dear, but I
knew
you weren’t who you
said the moment you walked in. Money’s money, and if I can get yours and
theirs, eh, I can clean up the mess later.” She smiled as the gold coins
clattered together. “Boys, just watch the jewelry. And make sure King Berkos
hears of my loyalty.”

They smiled as she
retreated into the back storerooms. We were alone. My heart sunk when one of
them slid the locking mechanism on the door and it clicked into place.

I grabbed a dagger
from a display case on one of the tables and held it up, wishing it didn’t
shake.
Cupping
it with my other hand steadied
it, but too late. The men had seen it, and their laughter decimated what little
bravery I had. They unsheathed their swords. I finally
knew
a sound that was worse than nails on a chalkboard—the
steely grate of
certain
death.

The floorboards
creaked under their weight. I threw the bag over my shoulder and grabbed a
couple bottles of perfume before I pushed the table over, jumping to the side
as the remaining bottles shattered. The momentary commotion worked to my
advantage. I catapulted over the table and landed beyond the slick ground. One
of the men dove for me, narrowly missing my legs, and slid across the oily
puddle. The other approached more cautiously, tip-toeing around the fallen
items, cracking his knuckles. Each pop sounded like a small explosion. The
first assailant regained his footing, and I found myself caught between the two
of them. The air tightened as they closed in on me.

The bottles of
perfume in my palm gave me a new idea. I threw one on the ground in front of me
and skidded into the rose petal oil, slipping under the man’s legs. As I
stopped on the other side and glanced back, I saw him, bent over, looking
between his legs. The other man stumbled over him.

Jumping to my feet,
I ran to the door and pulled against the metal lock. It didn’t budge. The
wooden door seemed cemented in place. My desperate attempts at escape
amplified.

“Let me out! Help!”
I screamed, pulling on the decorative steel rings and banging the rectangular
window at the top of the door.

A cackle grew
behind me.

When I turned
around, evil intent radiated from their manic grins. They came closer, giving
me a better
look
at them. None of the
clothes in this shop
would
have fit them.
They stood taller than the average man, with much thicker arms.
B
rute strength was in their favor.

My options for
fighting vanished. I had to outrun them. It was my only chance, and a slim one
at best. My hope for escape was the window on the opposite side of the shop.

I juggled the
remaining perfume bottle and saw their steps falter. A plan burst into my mind.
I lobbed the bottle high in the air between them, smiling as one fumbled and
tried to catch it. The other tripped over his feet and slipped in the residual
oils.

They grunted as I
ran around them, jumping over the fallen table, and dove through the window.
Shards of glass sliced into my forearm as I broke through and landed in the
middle of the pathway.

The crowd outside
stopped. Their momentary confusion quickly turned to whispers as everyone
backed away from the broken window and huddled together. Their eyes darted
between me and the men now peeking through the shattered window. I heard Auntie
Quinn scream, and I bolted through the marketplace before someone caught me.

“Stop her!” I heard
from behind me.

I knocked over
carts, tossing apples, bread, and trinkets into the road, a
nything
to slow their pursuit. My chest burned before I even
made it out of the main square and around the corner. I scanned the wall for a
back gate and my heart sunk. The walls were solid. There wasn’t any way to
escape. My only chance lay with the two men hammering away on the stage. The
screams behind me grew.

“Pipes, Deakon,
help!” I yelled, alerting them as they nailed the wooden planks back into
position.

Pipes took one look
at me and dropped his board. A look of panic spread across his face as he waved
me to the back of the stage.

“Hurry, quick,” he
said. “I’m guessing they found out about you?”

“Ha,” I replied.
“Like you said, this place isn’t safe for me. Or you, either,” I added.

“We know.”

“You can come with
me,” I said.

He shook his head
sadly. “We all have a part to play, and ours is here.”

“But I don’t know
what I’m supposed to do! I’m no hero!”

“We have faith
you’ll figure it out. But you won’t find it here.” He led me to the back of the
stage and pointed up the scaffolding. “You’ll have to climb out.”

“You want me to
climb up there?” My voice cracked as I stared up the tangled web of planks
leading up to the sheer edges of the walls.

“It’s the only way
out,” he said.

“Hurry up, before
they come,” Deakon grunted. “They won’t stay back there for long. Your only
hope and ours is if you get out of here unseen.”

I stared at him.

“We’re in enough
danger as it is. Go!” he yelled, and then ran down the street with his juggling
knives in hand. “You’re early for the show. I’ll show you some stuff while you
wait,” he said, slowing the mob.

I shook my head and
placed my hands on the planks. It was my only choice. I was beginning to hate
that. It seemed as if all my actions were spurred by the only available options.
When would I get to truly decide?

“Thank you,” I said
as I pulled myself up to the next plank. “I’ll see you again.”

“I hope so my lady.
I truly hope so.” He gave me a quick salute and cartwheeled down the street
towards Deakon.

I looked up the wavering
length of boards and crossed my fingers, hoping the scaffolding would hold.

With each plank I
climbed, my heart screamed in fear. I wasn’t afraid of climbing; I did that
weekly at the gym at home. But the possibility of falling almost paralyzed me.
On the rock walls at home, the handholds and footholds were secure. The only
times I fell were from miscalculations, and that was rare. And my harness
always held me secure.

Here though, I had
already seen the deliberate destruction of the stage, and the haphazard way the
boards had been re-secured. Falling didn’t seem that farfetched a possibility.
I didn’t want to find out what would happen if I died. Even if it transported
me home, it would hurt, and my pain tolerance wasn’t that good. And besides,
what if it didn’t? Getting home by winning the game still seemed the easiest
and least painful option.

My palms slipped on
the metal beams, but I didn’t stop. I paced my climb to the rhythm of the theme
song, audible through Deakon and Pipes’ impromptu show and the muffled outcries
of the crowd. My fear subsided until I reached the top of the scaffolding and
balanced against the worn bricks of the outer wall. I squinted towards the sky.
Still another fifteen feet to go to reach the top of the wall. The first bit of
the climb was partially hidden by the stage, but this last part was exposed. I
had to climb quickly or risk giving my friends away.

Deakon and Pipes
held back the restless crowd. Their juggling knives and axes flashed in the
air. As hypnotic as their routine was, I didn’t know how long it would hold off
the mob.

Now was the moment
of truth. A layer of dust flaked off the wall as I ran my hands over the rough
stones. Using the dust as chalk, I covered my palms and tightened my grip within
the worn edges. The holes were not as big as I would’ve liked or as stable as I
was used to, but I scampered up the side of the wall.

It took the last of
my strength to pull myself over the top edge, and when I did, I melted onto the
cold bricks on the other side. A wide hallway of sorts opened up, which I
imagined the guards paced regularly.

The commotion of
the crowd escalated below me, and I was certain they had broken through Deakon
and Pipes’ performance. I wanted to peek over the edge, but I didn’t dare.
Their malicious obscenities frightened me. How could they think I was the bad
guy?

I sat up and
propped my back against the bricks, remaining low enough to stay out of sight.
The rise and fall of my chest mirrored the erratic beat of my heart. This place
was driving me crazy. Red blood stained the sleeve of my new shirt. I no longer
doubted the reality of this world. I could only be beaten, cut, and attacked so
many times before I had to believe. I was stubborn, not stupid, and I needed to
start playing smart. I had come too close to game over too many times

I plucked the
remaining shards of glass out of my arm and opened the leather bag to see if I
had any sort of bandage. Waves of disappointment rocked me. For one moment I
had been rich and could have bought anything I wanted. But when I tipped over
my leather bag, all I had to show for it was a dark green cloak, a leather
belt, a jewel-encrusted dagger, and a few other limited supplies. So much for a
shopping spree. My wounded pride spent everything in a flash.

I pulled out the
dagger and thrust through the air. The hilt cooled my hands, the sun flashing
off the blade. It wasn’t the
beautiful
jewelry from the gown table, but it
would
serve me better. Maybe it wasn’t all a loss. At least I’d gotten the basics I
needed to start. I had the costume and a weapon, and I had to believe that I
would run into another market soon. They were in several levels of the game. I
just had to figure out how to find it.

I pulled my hair
back and tightened my ponytail. Whether or not I ended up doing what Deakon and
Pipes expected by helping the rebellion didn’t really matter. That was a side
issue. I only cared about getting home, and that meant I had to win the game.
No more fear, and no more letting someone get the better of me.

My stomach growled,
startling a couple of birds perched along the outer edge of the tower walls,
closest to the outside world. I covered my belly and swore. If I could have
gone back and changed one thing I’d done in the market, I would have bought out
the bakery cart before meeting Auntie Quinn. I looked at the one bird remaining
on the edge, pondered, and then dismissed the idea of eating it. The memory of
killing the puff bird still darkened my heart.

Instead of hunting, I hummed the theme song. Even
though I sung off-key, the bird scooted closer, joining in harmony. Its
iridescent feathers blinded me. I reached forward, drawn to its irrefutable
beauty, and snatched my hand back as a new gleam caught my eyes. The feather
tips were razor sharp and nearly sliced my hand.

I balled my fingers into a fist and bit my
knuckles. Nothing here came without danger. I kept forgetting, and once again,
I almost got hurt. I needed to keep moving. Deakon and Pipes bought me time,
and I couldn’t waste that gift. Scrambling to my feet, I felt the dust and
mortar from the worn bricks shift under me, and I tripped forward, landing
halfway over the outer edge of the market’s wall. The songbird flew away, its
melody fading to nothing.

“I’ll sing with you again.” I sighed, glancing
back down at the edge of the wall. “What’s this?” I asked, finding a small
hidden ledge and compartment between two of the bricks. Something glittered.

I straightened, threw all my items back in the
bag, and leaned over the wall. I wasn’t leaving without this.

“Jackpot!” I mumbled, reaching further over the
edge for the box of money stuck between the worn bricks. It didn’t budge. My
stomach grumbled. I needed money, and this time I wouldn’t spend it until I
found some food.

As I leaned towards the ledge, I felt my balance
shift. The edge of one of the bricks crumbled beneath me, jolting me back to my
senses. With a desperate grab, I dug my nails into the wooden sides of the box
and ripped it from the wall as I fell.

I screamed for a moment, and then smashed into the
ground. No leaves softened this fall. My only saving grace was that the back
end of the town was built into a hill, so my fall was half the distance of the
climb. It may have saved my life, but it sure didn’t stop the pain that wracked
my body.

The edge of the box bit into my ribs as I tumbled
down the hill. Rocks dug into me. I felt fire down my side, and my screams
sounded like groans. I wanted to cry, give in to the pain, but the hill refused
to let me go. Over and over I tumbled, until light and shadow became one.
My neck and cheek burned with dragon weed pollen, but
I held on. I plunged into the cold river, still struggling for breath.

The icy water stung. I struggled against the
current. Treading didn’t help; nothing seemed to help. My racing heart forced
the air from my lungs. Once my body numbed, I gave in and let the current take
me.

The river pulled me past the marketplace. From the
outside, no one would have guessed that there was a festival of dancing and
celebration inside the square. Auntie Quinn’s distaste for the rebels and their
futile attempts at defiance filled my mind. Would Pipes and Deakon’s
demonstrations really make a difference if no one knew about them? And did they
even realize that their celebrations were concealed under the containment of
the king’s market?

My heart broke for them. They were risking their
lives for nothing. I closed my eyes. It hurt too much to cry.

I floated past open fields and a meadow, similar
to the one I’d first walked through when I arrived that morning. Had it really
only been one day? It seemed like a lifetime’s worth of pain.

My earlier resolve
to win the game died out. How could I possibly win with all the dangers that I
knew—which were formidable on their own—mixed with perils I couldn’t expect?
The novelty of
this place wore thin, sprouting seeds of loneliness. Instead of the theme song,
one question ran on repeat through my mind: Where was the game over button?

Just as the sun set behind a range of jagged
mountains, the river bent and deposited me along its gravel edge. A subdued
palette of orange and blue painted the sky as I hung on to the sharp rocks at
the bank. I watched, but the beauty escaped me.

It took every ounce
I had in reserves to pull myself out of the river. Even numb, I
knew
I
could
n’t
float forever. I wanted to cry. I wanted to let the world of Dreamscape
know
it had hurt me, but I settled for weak protests.
Anything
more required too much effort.

I flipped over,
shoving my bag under my head, and adjusted the wet tunic.
The sky
softened, and after a slow progression, the blues faded dark, and a blanket of
stars covered me.

Stars. I had lamented losing them when we moved,
and yet here, in this new world, they shone the same. Spread across the sky in
constellations that looked oh-so-familiar, they offered me comfort. I grabbed
onto it. It didn’t matter if they were the same stars or not; it was enough for
me.

Out of the corner of my eyes, a burst of yellow
broke my thoughts. Despite the pain in my ribs, I propped myself up onto my
elbows. Fireworks. After a handful of deep
explosions, the sky erupted
into color. Streaks of red flames were followed by blue sparkles, and then
yellow stars filled the sky.

I leaned back and laughed. Fireworks symbolized
one thing—level one was over.