03 - The Nightmare Dream

BILITY WARS
Created by Greg Gerden and Bill Slavicsek
Michael Annis (Order #13994246)

The Nightmare Dream
Tolwyn entered the crypt, stepping through the aged

portal. Christopher Bryce was behind her, holding a
lantern, lending his presence at this awkward juncture.
Six stone coffins were within the small chamber. She
stepped carefully, trying to disturb as little of the tomb
as possible.
"This was not here," she whispered to herself. "I do
not remember this place."
"It seems very old, though," Bryce said, holding the
lantern forward so that they could see. "Maybe you've
forgotten it."
The paladin ignored his remark and stood over one of
the coffins. She brushed away the dust that coated the
stone lid, gently running her fingers over the carved
words. Bryce moved beside her.
"Is that Ayslish?" he asked. "What does it say?"
Tolwyn felt tears well in her eyes, and she was
suddenly grateful that the dark interior hid her features.
"Serfs of House Liandar," she said, keeping her voice
even. "We jousted together. She ate pears in my orchard
and we compared our taste in boys."
"You knew this person?" Bryce gasped.
Tolwyn walked between the five coffins, reading the
inscription on each. "Hogar, dear Kwev, Abonon,
Candal." She stopped at the sixth and last coffin, resting
her hands upon its dusty lid. "I knew them all," she
choked. "These are the Knight Protectors that fought
beside me the day I died."
"And that?" Bryce asked, his voice filled with
sympathy.
"Tolwyn of House Tancred," she read. "Here is where
I rest."

Torg
The Possibility Wars
They have come from other cosms,

other realities, raiders joined together to
accomplish one goal — to steal the
awesome energy of Earth's possibilities!
This spectacular epic of adventure,
magic, and high-technology is set on a
reality-torn Earth — an Earth warped
into someplace else. Don't miss any of
the volumes in the Possibility Wars saga!
Book One
Storm Knights
by Bill Slavicsek and C.J. Tramontana
Book Two
The Dark Realm
by Douglas Kaufman
Book Three
The Nightmare Dream
by Jonatha Ariadne Caspian

The Possibility Wars™
created by Greg Corden and Bill Slavicsek
Book Three
The Nightmare Dream

by Jonatha Ariadne Caspian
Cover Art by Daniel Horne

Interior Art by Bob Dvorak, Francis Mao,
Allen Nunis and Valerie Valusek
Graphic Design by Bernadette G. Cahill
and Stephen Crane
Series Edited by Bill Slavicsek
WYlWEsr

THE NIGHTMARE DREAM
Book Three of the Possibility Wars
A West End Book/November 1990
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 1990 by West End Games.
mm
First Printing: November, 1990.
Printed in the United States of America.
09 8 7654321
BBnIsmÄ” Ca"'°8 C"d N“mb"’ 9°-70246
West End Games

RD3 Box 2345
Honesdale, PA 18431

To Doug, always.
And to those people behind the

scenes who made all of this possible:
Steve Porpora and his production crew;
Fitzroy Bonterre, Tony DeCosmo
and Maria Kammeier in sales;
Ed Hill and his warehouse staff.

Prologue:
In
Illmound
Keep
Damn all stormers to the depths

of darkness anyway! And
especially damn the fact that they
exist in droves on the very worlds
best for plundering!
— The Gaunt Man

Thratchen sat upon the Gaunt Man's throne of bones,

high in the tower atop Illmound Keep. He lazily twirled
the High Lord's walking stick between his clawed hands,
watching the carved Carredon head dance as the stick
turned. So much had been accomplished so far, he
thought. He could feel the power he craved just beyond
his grasp. But there was still so much to do before he
could reach it.
There was a knock at the door, and Thratchen sat up
straight. It was time to interview the Gaunt Man's
lieutenants. No, he corrected, now they were his
lieutenants.
"Enter," he called.
The door to the tower room swung open, and five
people entered. Thratchen looked at each in turn,
remembering their names and positions in the Gaunt
Man's court.
The first was the vampyre, Mantooth. To the general
public of Orrorsh, he was Baron Victor Manwaring, but
his true name was respected by all of the people of the
night who inhabited the dark cosm. His extremely pale
complexion was offset by a tuft of jet-black hair. Long,
immaculate fingernails clicked together as his hands
opened and closed. He was a trusted servant of the
Gaunt Man, but never one of his inner circle. Until now,
even if it was only part of Thratchen's deception.
Next entered Parok, the ravagon warlord. The huge
demon who long ago pledged his race to the Gaunt
Man's service had only recently returned to Orrorsh
after handling missions abroad for the High Lord. He
was going to be the toughest one to convince, Thratchen
thought. But he would be his strongest ally.
The third was General Avery Wellington,
commanding officer of the Victorian forces in Sumatra.
2
The Nightmare Dream
He had sold out his people for the power the Gaunt Man
promised. For a human who had seen things few of his
race even imagined, he held up surprisingly well. His
sanity was mostly still intact.
The fourth to enter was Lord Stanton Cheltenham, a
relative newcomer to the halls of Orrorshan power,
although he bore a remarkable resemblance to his
ancestor who served the Gaunt Man over one hundred
years ago. There was something about the man that
disturbed Thratchen. He knew he wasn't exactly human,
but he could not penetrate Cheltenham's disguises to
glean more information.
The last to enter was Sabathine, the ancient vampyre
matriarch. She did not look old. Instead, she wrapped
herself in a young, beautiful female form - all dark,
wavy hair and voluptuous curves - that many men had
fallen prey to over the centuries. She was not strictly a
member of the Gaunt Man's court, caring little for the
games of power he liked to play. But she was powerful
and influential in her own right, and having her assistance
for even a brief time would greatly aid Thratchen's
cause.
He motioned for the assembled group to make itself
comfortable, but Parok waved him off.
"You'd best have a good reason for sitting in that
chair, Thratchen," the ravagon warlord roared. "Why
have you called us together?"
"Yes," Mantooth added. "And where is the Gaunt
Man?"
Thratchen remained calm. He showed no signs of
anger or nervousness. He simply raised the High Lord's
cane for all to see. "I sit here at the Gaunt Man's request,"
he replied evenly. "He has given me his walking stick as
proof of my station."
3
"But where is he?" General Wellington asked

excitedly. "How could he leave while we are still at this
critical juncture?"
"The Gaunt Man's actions are not for any of us to
question," Thratchen said, letting impatience spill into
his tone. "He has frequently disappeared in the past,
leaving others to run things. If you have a problem with
his choice of regent, I will be glad to lodge your complaint
when he returns."
"We have no problem, Thratchen," Sabathine
answered, letting her hypnotic voice lull the group with
its lilting rhythm. "We just find his absence strange.
Why have you called us?"
Thratchen twirled the cane, directing the sparkling
light from the stone in the Carredon's mouth toward his
visitors. "Because the Gaunt Man's sudden departure is
strange, and because I need help to keep the invasion
moving smoothly. This is a test, I believe, as the Gaunt
Man is wont to do. We are all being tested here, and how
we conduct ourselves will determine how the portions
of power are finally handed out."
"The High Lord has disappeared before, that is true,"
Sabathine offered. "Again, what has this to do with us?"
Thratchen stood, facing the ancient vampyre. "You
must help me convince the other High Lords that it is
business as usual here in Orrorsh. If they detect the
slightest weakness, then the fragile alliance is lost.
Without the alliance, this planet will destroy us all."
Parok grumbled, flapping his black wings angrily.
"What you say makes sense, but I still have concerns."
"Assist me, and when the Gaunt Man rewards my
service I shall see that each of you receives a share of the
power," Thratchen promised. "We shall be the nucleus
of his new inner circle of advisers. And when the other
4
The Nightmare Dream
High Lords are crushed beneath the Gaunt Man's heel,

we shall be the heirs to their Darkness Devices. We shall
be the new High Lords, loyal to the Gaunt Man and free
to plunder the cosmverse to our heart's delight."
"For now, Thratchen, we shall aid you," Parok pledged
cautiously. "But only to ensure the Gaunt Man's
interests."
"Aye, for now," Wellington repeated.
Satisfied that they would aid him for the time being,
Thratchen explained what he wanted each of them to
do. Then he sent them on their way. The ancient vampyre
waited until the others were gone, then she turned to
face Thratchen.
"You play an interesting and dangerous game, son of
Tharkold," Sabathine said. The hypnotic quality was
gone from her voice. Now it was simply cold, even,
dangerous. "Do not give me cause to believe you have
played us for fools."
"Never fools," Thratchen smiled, showing his fangs.
Sabathine let her own fangs peak from behind her
blood-red lips. "As long as we understand each other. I
have always liked you, son of Tharkold, from the first
day your master introduced you to the Gaunt Man all
those centuries ago. Why you followed him I never
understood."
"He was the ruler of my people," Thratchen said.
"When he pledged our race to the Gaunt Man's service,
I followed willingly. And when he received his own
Darkness Device, I followed him to his own reality."
Thratchen flexed mechanical claws absently, unfolded
metallic wings. "There were... certain advantages to be
had."
"As you say." With that the vampyre turned,
gathering the shadows about her, and disappeared
5
through the door. It closed in her wake.

Of course it was a dangerous game he was playing,
Thratchen thought. The most rewarding games usually
were. Look at the game that the Gaunt Man started. It
was nothing less than a quest to become theTorg, the
immortal High Lord of legend. To do that, he had
gathered six other High Lords into a loose alliance for
the purpose of taking the possibility energy of a
previously-undiscovered world called Earth. This planet
and its cosm had the most energy they had ever found
concentrated in one reality. It had the power to elevate
him to Torg. All he had to do was convince other High
Lords to help him absorb the massive surges this reality
would produce, surges that could destroy any of them
who tried to take this world alone — including the
Gaunt Man.
They had agreed to the plan, six of the most powerful
beings in the cosmverse, and most of them had actually
made it to Earth.
Baruk Kaah, High Lord of the primitive reality of
Takta Ker had invaded North America and established
a realm where Earth's technology would not function.
Lord Angar Uthorion brought the magical reality of
Aysle to northern Europe.
The Antipope of Magna Verita, Jean Malraux I, had
brought a medieval theocracy to France.
In Africa and the Middle East, the Egyptian Empire
had been resurrected by Dr. Mobius, High Lord of a
pulp reality.
Even the mysterious Kanawa had arrived on Earth,
overlaying his reality of high technology over the area
called Japan.
Only one of the High Lords that promised to join the
alliance failed to reach this cosm, but that was not
6
The Nightmare Dream
because he did not try. Thratchen's one-time master,

High Lord of Tharkold, was discovered by the Soviet
Union and stopped before he could bring his reality to
bear. That mistake almost cost the Gaunt Man this world.
And it was all because of stormers. The cosm had an
annoying habit of creating large numbers of the reality
retainers, and they in turn had a habit of working
together.
But Thratchen could not entirely hate stormers. They
had taught him so much since this whole cycle of war
had begun. He thought about the lessons as he passed
through a secret door that led to a descending spiral
staircase. He started down, remembering how his study
of one particular group of stormers had directed him to
his new position. With luck, further study would provide
him with the power he craved — and the answers to the
questions that gnawed at his soul.
At the bottom of the stairs stretched the long corridor
that led to the Gaunt Man's secret laboratory. Thratchen
crossed the stone floor quickly, passing into the dark
chamber without hesitation. The huge room extended
in all directions. Against the nearest wall rested the
Gaunt Man's ornate mirror, now covered with spider
web cracks. Far across the room was the remains of the
possibility sorting machine. And between the two, in
the middle of the chamber, was a swirling maelstrom
that spun around the blue-red stone called the Heart of
Coyote.
Thratchen, maintaining what he hoped was adequate
distance between himself and the storm, thought about
the stormers who had brought this to be.
Tolwyn of House Tancred, a paladin from Aysle who
died five hundred years ago in battle with Uthorion -
the very battle in which Uthorion had taken over the
7
magical reality - but had somehow returned to life to

aid this planet.
Dr. Hachi Mara-Two, the young genius from
Kadandra who Thratchen had been sent to kill. Instead,
he had followed her to this world and watched as she
gathered other stormers. She had discovered how to use
the collected powers of stormers to accomplish amazing
feats, and he was learning through her how to use that
same knowledge to his own ends.
Father Christopher Bryce, the Core Earth holy man
whose faith had seen the stormers through Orrorsh's
worst horrors. In many ways, the priest and Thratchen
were alike. Both were seeking confirmation of their
faith, but where Bryce's beliefs centered around the
light, Thratchen's focused on the darkness that was the
Nameless One.
Djilangulyip, another Core Earth holy man, was still
a mystery to Thratchen. He seemed to deal in dreams
and primitive magic more akin to the Living Land than
the technological reality of this cosm. What his role in
this would be, the Tharkoldan could not say. But he
seemed to give the stormers direction when they needed
it, even calling Tolwyn and the others from half a world
away with his strange magic.
Andrew Jackson Decker, another Earther, had recently
been attached to the Gaunt Man's sorting machine. His
power was great enough to order this planet's
possibilities for the High Lord, to help him create a
pattern of reality where no possibility of failure existed.
Without the machine, however, the hold over Decker
was severed and suddenly failure was possible, as
evidenced by the wreckage all around Thratchen.
Finally there was Kurst, the Orrorshan hunter who
the Gaunt Man had sent to capture Tolwyn and Mara.
8
The Nightmare Dream
Instead, he betrayed the High Lord and joined the

stormers' cause. He had even wounded the Gaunt Man,
a feat that Thratchen had thought impossible. Kurst was
a shapeshifter, a werewolf. But he was also something
more, something the Gaunt Man had thought he stripped
away. Thratchen would have to find out about that, as
it had occurred before he had arrived at court and all he
knew were the whispered rumors. Knowledge of such
events could prove beneficial in case Kurst should decide
to return to Orrorsh.
Thratchen smiled. For now, however, he had a truce
with these stormers. They had helped him beyond his
wildest dreams, and they deserved his gratitude for a
time. Besides, they were now on their way to Aysle.
With any luck they would eliminate Uthorion and leave
Thratchen with one less High Lord to worry about as he
sought the power of the Torg.
He watched the storm as it churned before him, and
he remembered how it came to be. It was just yesterday,
and he had been hiding in the shadows, watching as
Mara explained her plan to the others.
"The Gaunt Man is full of energy" Mara said. "But it's
a destructive energy, a dark energy. It's the energy of the
nothing — what Kurst called the Void. This is a piece of
the everything, of Eternity." She held the Heart of Coyote
for all to see. "If the nothing and the everything come
together, it will create a Maelstrom, just like in Djil's
story."
"But nothing was able to survive in the Maelstrom
except the Nameless One and Apeiros," Bryce finished.
"Exactly," Mara said.
Thratchen imagined the Gaunt Man and his ravagon,
standing before the flaming wreck of the sorting machine.
The image was so clear. Even if he had not recorded it
9
with his built-in cyber equipment, it would still be

etched into his mind.
He remembered Mara hesitate as her built-in
computer calculated the distance between her and the
Gaunt Man. Then she spoke.
"Okay, let's form the circle again," Mara said.
She let her mind fill with the feelings of the others.
They were her group, her teammates, her friends. They
shared their experiences freely. They shared their lives.
And out of that power, Mara formed the possibility of
stepping through a gate over here, then stepping out of
one next to the Gaunt Man. She added the possibility
that the gate would remain open for a few milliseconds
— long enough for her to do what she had to and step
back. Yes, Thratchen remembered. If the girl thought it
was possible, it would be. That was the power which
stormers possessed — and which fascinated Thratchen
the most.
Then, with the power supplied by the others, Mara
made the possible real. A gate opened in front of her, a
portal to somewhere else. She entered it, the Heart of
Coyote held out before her, and —
— she was halfway across the room, standing before
the Gaunt Man. Her left leg was thrust back, for support.
Her right was nearly touching the Gaunt Man's left foot.
Her right arm was spread out for balance. Her left hand
touching fingertips to the Gaunt Man's chest, as high as
she could reach — thrusting into the light that spilled
from his wounds. That was the hand that held the piece
of the everything. She let it go, for when the everything
met the nothing, then came the Maelstrom!
Mara stepped back, reacting with computer precision
in the instant that the Maelstrom raged into being. The
gate, still open by the power of the stormers' minds,
10
The Nightmare Dream
took her back in the blink of an eye. But Mara screamed.

She had miscalculated, her fingertips a centimeter too
far forward. Her hand was destroyed by the Maelstrom,
and even though it was only mechanical, it was also
cybernetic. As metal and plastic wired synapses ceased
to be, pain fired through Mara's arm and info her brain.
It was worse than losing a real hand, Thratchen knew,
because this metal appendage was totally controlled by
conscious thought. She fell to her knees in the center of
the circle, between Bryce, Djilangulyip, and Tolwyn.
But she had done her job well. In the center of the
chamber a storm raged. It was localized, swirling around
the still-visible Heart of Coyote. It filled floor to ceiling,
stretching out seven feet to each side. It was a storm of
blackness, closing in upon the glowing blue and crimson
rock. It touched the ravagon and tore the demon apart
without hesitation. It touched the machine, and what
remained of the device was consumed within the
Maelstrom. But what of the Gaunt Man?
Within the swirling storm that billowed up from the
glowing ball, Thratchen could see the Gaunt Man. He
was being battered by the mix of nothing and everything,
caught within an endless cycle of destruction and
creation. But he was holding himself together, using
every bit of concentration he could muster to keep his
body from being torn apart. Every so often a piece of his
body did detach, but the Gaunt Man quickly caught it
and replaced it, ignoring the obvious pain. Once he
exploded entirely, but he reformed with considerable
effort in the center of the storm.
Thratchen let his mind return to the present. The
infinite storm was still in the chamber, howling, and
some of that howl was the rushing wind and the little
flicks of blue or red lightning. And some of that howl
11
was the infinite pain of the Gaunt Man, forever dying,

forever being reborn.
“Perhaps a gift is in order," Thratchen said aloud,
pushing the memories away. "What do you think, Gaunt
Man? Should I reward Mara for her work?" He laughed,
and he imagined he could see the Gaunt Man rage from
within his swirling prison.
Then he turned back for the corridor and the secret
staircase, leaving the storm to run its course alone,
hidden in the darkness beneath Illmound Keep.
22
Dreams
Dreams are shadows of the real

things.
— Djilangulyip
Beware what you dream, for the

difference between dreams and
nightmares is but a thin veil of
sleep.
— Orrorshan Proverb

Her name was Mara, and her pain was almost

unbearable. She sat alone in the jungle, staring at the
severed metal of her left arm. The hand, all claws and
wires and printed circuitry, was gone, ripped away
when the Maelstrom formed around the Gaunt Man.
Her calculations had been off, and the slight mistake
had cost her dearly. Her left hand was the sum of her
work, filled with the instruments that allowed her to
create microchips. Its loss left her less than whole.
Another wave of pain rippled through her. She knew
it was only a sensory ghost, echoes of electrical impulses
firing from her brain along synthetic neurons, leaping
across enhanced synapses only to find no connecting
circuits. They had been obliterated along with her hand,
and the resulting feedback was translated as pain by her
cerebral sensors. As long as her nervous system
considered the pain real, then it was real and she would
have to live with it until her built-in diagnostics corrected
for the feedback.
"My hand," she weeped, and suddenly all of the pent
up sorrow and frustration of the past few years exploded
from her as uncontrolled sobs.
Images of her life on Kadandra flowed across her
mind, memories of the child genius being taken from
her parents to live at the university so that her progress
could be better studied and her potential more fully
realized.
... memories of force-education via RNA injections.
... memories of her first cybernetic implant, set into
her brain to boost her natural mental capabilities.
... memories of the further cybernetic enhancements,
the price of which indentured her to the World Council.
... memories of her theory of the cosmverse and the
14
The Nightmare Dream
subsequent invasion of the Sims. If she had never

discovered the damn principle the invasion would never
have occurred. Illogical, yes, but her heart told her it was
true.
"Dr. HachiMara-Two reports on her theory of the cosmverse
to the General Council of the Academy of Sciences ..."
Mara, she thought as the images came unbidden to
the surface of her mind. Call me Mara.
"Cosm. A dimension where a particular set of laws holds
sway. A specific reality that can be quite different from any
other reality."
Mara, Mara, Mara," she whispered as the images
continued. She was only fourteen then, and the Council
dismissed her findings as the product of an overly-
active imagination. "Fools!" she spat.
"Our own cosm is just one of a multitude of dimensions
that, together, form what I refer to as the cosmverse. As our
own universe contains the whole of our reality, the cosmverse
contains the whole of all realities. What is possible here, using
our laws of science, might not be possible in another cosm,
where a completely different set of laws govern the workings
of their world."
She had been so full of herself then, so sure. If not for
her childish pride, she could have had Mikkos or Kendal
present the report. They were older, respected. The
Council would have listened to them. But then Dr.
Hachi Mara-Two wouldn't have received the credit she
deserved — or the guilt.
'Mara," she whispered again, "my name is Mara."
The memories flashed by with mechanically-
enhanced precision and speed, their clarity and accuracy
due to implants which still worked at peak efficiency.
They were what gave her an edge, but the edge cut both
ways.
15
More sobs, and tears flowed from her one natural eye.
"It isn't fair," she wailed, acting like a child and disgusted
by it.
"Stop. Acting. Your. Age." She shot the words through
clenched lips like bullets from a gun, one at a time
between her sobs.
"What is wrong with acting your age once in a
while?" Asked a usually commanding voice that was
now soft and gentle.
Wiping the tears from her cheek, Mara turned to see
Tolwyn walking toward her. She turned away quickly,
trying to hide her tears. She did not want the strong
warrior to see her showing weakness. It was ...
unbecoming.
Tolwyn gently brushed at Mara's mane of silver hair.
"Do not turn from me, child," she said soothingly. "Let
me help you."
Mara forced the sobs to subside before she spoke. "I
don't want you to see me like this."
"Like what?" Tolwyn asked, genuinely surprised.
"To see you acting human? What is the shame in that?
You have been asked to do more than someone your age
should ever have to worry about. The weight of worlds
has been on your shoulders for so long. It is all right to
let some of the pain and sorrow come out, as long as it
does not overwhelm yqu."
"But what good am I now?" Mara cried. "I lost my
hand!"
"Yes, you have. But you are still alive. You still have
your mind and all the knowledge that it contains. We
need that knowledge, Mara. We need your spirit,"
Tolwyn explained.
More memories flashed through Mara's mind. Her
days as a soldier for the World Council, battling beside
16
The Nightmare Dream
friends and companions against the Sims, suddenly

came to the surface. All of those people — people that
she knew and loved — they were gone now, dead at the
hands of the Sims. But her contributions allowed
Kadandra to eventually destroy the connections that
gave the techno-demons access to her cosm. That had to
count for something. If only her curiosity hadn't gotten
the best of her. If only she hadn't looked through her
cosmscope a second time. Then she would not have seen
Earth — and neither would the Sims.
"You don't need me, Tolwyn," she finally replied.
"All I've ever done was get people killed. It was my fault
that the Sims attacked Kadandra, my fault that they
discovered this world. You and the others will be better
off without me." She turned away.
Tolwyn grabbed her shoulder and spun her around.
"How dare you give up now!" Tolwyn shouted, the
softness in her voice replaced with her usual
commanding tone. "We have accomplished much, you
and I, but neither my world nor this one is yet free of the
invaders. If this is all your fault, which I do not believe,
but if it is, then by giving up now you are conceding
victory to the Sims and those like them. You owe it to
yourself to finish what we have started. It is the only way
to ease your guilt and get on with your life."
"What life?" Mara raged back. She was standing
now, looking up at the taller woman. "I've never had a
life! All I've had was potential and responsibility. You
can't understand that, but it's true."
"I am the daughter of Duke Bordal of House Tancred,"
Tolwyn answered evenly. "I am heir to the throne of
House Tancred, leader of the Knight Protectors of Aysle,
paladin of honor. I know what responsibility is. I know
what it means. There is no little cottage in my future, no
17
man who will be with me simply because of love. No,

any happiness I find is a passing thing. My happiness
must be second to the interests of the estate. That is life
in Aysle for the daughter of a House Duke."
Tolwyn calmed herself before speaking further. Then
she said, "Our roads are not so different, Dr. Hachi
Mara-Two. But they are ours nonetheless, and we must
see where they lead."
Mara stared at the paladin, trying to find something
more to say. "Mara," she finally managed, "call me
Mara." She fell into Tolwyn's arms and sobbed.
"We need you, Mara," Tolwyn said gently, letting the
young woman cry freely into her shoulder. "I need
you."
For a brief time, Mara felt like a little girl again,
snuggled safely in her mothers arms. The pain subsided,
both physical and mental, as Tolwyn rocked her and
squeezed her tightly.
2
Father Christopher Bryce examined the few supplies
they still had. There wasn't much. A lot had been lost in
Illmound Keep. But supplies were only part of their
problem. There was also the melancholy mood that had
settled over them since leaving the Gaunt Man's town.
Tom O'Malley, the Australian pilot, sat with the
dwarves beside a large rock. They whispered in low
tones, mourning the deaths of the other dwarves. Only
Pluppa, Gutterby, Grim and Toolpin remained of the
seven that had journeyed from Aysle realm, and they
had not been their talkative, argumentative, overly
optimistic selves since the battle beneath the Gaunt
Man's manor. Even the normally enigmatic aborigine
Djilangulyip was passive, staring blankly at the knotted
18
The Nightmare Dream
rope he carried.
Poor Mara had gone into the jungle to be alone, and
Tolwyn had followed after her to see to her state of
mind. They all needed a boost, something to get them
moving again. They needed a purpose.
"So, Toolpin," Bryce started tentatively. "What are
you going to do when we reach Aysle?"
The young, beardless dwarf looked up, regarding the
priest with a blank expression. "I shall probably die, like
Tirad and Braxon and Praktix. Lady Ardinay shall kill
us for deserting, if the evil Uthorion doesn't get us first."
Bryce was truly dismayed! Even the jovial Toolpin
was filled with dark and morbid thoughts. "Is that any
way to think, Toolpin?" the priest asked. "What would
Tolwyn say?"
"I don't want to die, Father Bryce," Toolpin answered
seriously.
"We'll have no more talk of death," Mara exclaimed
as she emerged from the bush. Beside her was Tolwyn,
walking regally as ever.
Bryce could see streaks along Mara's cheek, and
puffiness around her eyes, the telltale signs of weeping.
But she looked better than she had since losing her
cybernetic hand. She looked ready to get on with her
self-appointed mission.
"It's time to move out," she said, trying to lighten her
tone as much as possible. "Come on Tom, Djil. Let's get
it in gear."
"How are we going to get out of here?" Tom asked
impatiently. "The horses are on their last legs, our
supplies are almost gone, and my plane exploded when
we landed. There just isn't a way to get out of this land
of horrors. We're trapped here in Borneo."
Bryce started to say something, but Tolwyn cut him
19
off with a fierce look. He had seen that look before. It

meant no more discussion, no more talk. It meant she
was ready for action.
"We will find a way, Tom O'Malley," Tolwyn stated.
"Pluppa, hitra!" she called in the Ayslish tongue.
Bryce didn't understand the word, but he knew the
tone. It reminded him of an army sergeant calling his
troops to attention. At the word, Pluppa leaped up and
repeated the phrase. The other dwarves leaped to their
feet as well. They faced Tolwyn and raised their battle
spikes into the air.
"Hai Tolwyn!" the dwarves yelled in unison.
"Hai Aysle!" Tolwyn returned.
3
Ellen Conners waited in the temporary office she set
up at Twentynine Palms. This was her command post at
the marine base. From here she could find out what was
happening at the battlefront some one hundred and
forty miles to the northwest. She could also keep tabs on
the search for Andrew Decker, the man the Delphi
Council was accusing of assassinating President Jonathan
Wells.
There was a knock at the door, and Colonel McCall
entered the room. With him were two teenage boys. One
carried a large, gray cat.
"Are these the boys we spoke about, Colonel?"
Conners asked.
"This is Coyote and Rat," McCall answered curtly.
He didn't like her, and he didn't hide it in his tone.
That was okay. Ellen Conners hadn't gotten to the top of
American politics by making friends or winning
popularity contests.
"Thank you, Colonel, that will be all," she said,
20
The Nightmare Dream
dismissing McCall without pause.

McCall hesitated, started to say something, then closed
his mouth. He patted Coyote on the shoulder and left the
room, closing the door behind him.
Conners inspected the boys, giving them the once
over with her patented gaze that was reputed to turn her
opponents in the Senate to stone. They returned her
gaze without flinching. That impressed her. She would
have to watch these two carefully.
"So, tell me," she began, "how well did the two of you
know Congressman Decker?"
The younger boy, Rat, started to speak, but the older
boy nudged him. They remained silent.
Conners regarded them coldly. "I see," she said at
last. "You hope to protect the congressman by staying
silent. I'll tell you both up front that it won't work. Your
silence does him no good. It simply implicates the two
of you in his crime."
"Ace didn't kill nobody!" Rat exclaimed.
"Be quiet, Rat," Coyote ordered, handing the cat to
the younger boy as he stepped closer to Conner's desk.
"Why are you doing this to Ace?" he asked her.
Ellen Conners smiled. "My dear young man, Decker
is a murderer. He murdered the President of the United
States. Worse, he murdered his friend. Why do you seek
to protect a man like that?"
Coyote's face twisted angrily. "You're a liar, lady," he
spat. "Ace was trying to save the President. No matter
what you say, we know that for a fact. And so does
Colonel McCall and everybody else on this base. So say
what you want, 'cause it don't mean jack."
The youth turned away, motioning Rat toward the
door.
"One moment, young man," Conners snapped, rising
21
out of her seat, "I'm not finished speaking to you yet."

Coyote pushed the younger boy into the hall before
he turned back to face the director of the Delphi Council.
"If you're not finished, then keep talking," he said. "I'm
going off to have lunch, so be sure to speak loudly."
The youth slammed the door as he exited. How dare
he! If this Coyote thought this was all a game, then she
would have to show him the seriousness of his actions.
She was the director of the Delphi Council! If she said
Decker killed Wells, then Decker killed Wells. There
was nothing more to say about it. Why, if she told the
American people that the sky was now green and the
grass was blue, they would believe her! The security of
the country was too important for that not to be true.
She sat back down, absently patting her raven-black
hair into place. If only Decker hadn't gone to the front,
she thought. If only she had arrived a few hours earlier.
Then none of this would be a problem. The congressman
would be in custody and they would have a sacrifice to
parade before the American people. As it was, all they
had were too many loose ends.
Conners checked her hair in her compact mirror. She
hated loose ends. She snapped the compact closed. Vice
President Dennis Quartermain — no, now he was
President Quartermain — had told her specifically not
to send her men after Decker. Let him go, he said. It will
look like he's running. Besides, Quartermain assured
her, a special agent was on his way to deal with the
congressman in the most expedient manner available.
She sighed.
No matter what Quartermain had said, Ellen Conners
still hated loose ends.
22
The Nightmare Dream
4
Andrew Jackson "Ace" Decker could hear the
indignation in Colonel Matthews' tone. The officer wasn't
bothering to keep his voice down, perhaps couldn't,
even if he had time for such niceties as courtesy and
respect. Decker's own voice was weary, hoarse from the
ash that continued to drift down out of the night sky. He
looked up into the darkness, glancing away from Colonel
Matthews for a second so that he could gather his
thoughts. The long night was back, replacing the long
day that felt like it went on forever. It would get cold
soon, but the volcanic ash overhead would forestall
truly bitter temperatures by keeping the heat from
dissipating too quickly.
"I don't know who you think you are, Congressman
Decker, but this is my show," Colonel Matthews
bellowed, breaking through Decker's thoughts. "I don't
need you or anyone else to tell me how to run it."
Decker let his anger out in controlled bursts directed
at the colonel. "Look around, Matthews," he shouted.
"We're up against more than just dinosaurs and lizard
men. We're fighting our own planet, If the world
continues to slow down, we'll have more than just the
edeinos to worry about. Not to mention the changes in
reality ..."
"Let's not get into that again, Decker," Matthews
returned. "I've got enough problems without your
mumbo-jumbo getting in the way."
The colonel was sticking a beefy finger into Decker's
chest, tapping the spot so recently pierced by one of the
Gaunt Man's rune staves. But only the memory of the
staves remained. His chest was unscarred, no physical
reminder of the ordeal remained. Decker caught the
colonel's wrist before the finger could jab again and
23
pushed it away. Then he turned from the still-ranting

colonel and walked back to the tent where his associates
were meeting.
Beneath the canvas covering, seated around a folding
table that held a map of the area, were three men, a
woman, and an edeinos. They looked up as Decker
approached.
"The man is a fool," Decker informed them.
"He does not want to see that this is a war of reality
as much as of physical conflict," Kurst said. The
shapeshifter wore army fatigues now, as did the rest of
the company. His timely appearance had saved Decker
from the claws of the weretiger Scythak, and he had
agreed to accompany Decker to the battlefront here in
the Sequoia National Forest.
"That's what I said," Decker replied. "The man is a
fool."
"Don't let him get to you, Ace," Major Julie Boot said.
"You'll find a way to convince him to listen to you."
Tal Tu, the edeinos who had forsaken his own reality
to assist Earth against his people, nodded sideways in
his lizard manner. "Until you get him to understand,
Baruk Kaah will continue to have the advantage."
"I understand," Major Charles Covent answered. He
had received his field promotion before returning to the
front, and now he served as second-in-command of the
military forces defending this side of the raging storm
front. "And I'll find a way to convince Colonel Matthews
of the tactics we've discussed. He'll listen to me. It will
just take time."
"Hey, I've been with this Baruk Kaah," Eddie Paragon,
the final member of the assemblage said. Paragon was a
rock'n'roll star who had the unfortunate luck of being
selected to sing the National Anthem at Shea Stadium's
24
The Nightmare Dream
opening day baseball game. Unfortunate because that

was the day the maelstrom bridge from Takta Ker fell to
Earth and the invasion of North America started. "I've
seen his troops in action, and I've seen the Wild Hunt
that fights alongside him. You don't have much time.
Baruk Kaah wants this region, and he'll do everything in
his considerable power to get it."
Decker saw frustration work itself across Covent's
face, and he understood the feeling. It was demoralizing
that the edeinos, with their dinosaurs and their spears,
could so totally overrun the best modern fighting units
in the world, but it was happening here and on other
fronts here in the west and back east more often than
not. Communications into the invasion zones were
practically non-existent. The fronts just kept getting
swallowed up, and then all they heard was silence.
It was a war unlike any other war America — or
Earth, for that matter — had ever faced. The invaders
weren't human, and they fought in ways no human
could, with miracles and reality. They forced hand-to-
hand combat on an army that fought most wars long-
range.
And, hand-to-hand, the edeinos had the edge in all
the places it counted — strength, size, and endurance.
Physically, the edeinos were just more powerful than
your average soldier, and they were unafraid of death.
TalTu said they took joy in extreme emotion, whether
happiness or fear, it didn't matter; pain and pleasure
served equally well.
Decker looked at the group again; Kurst, Julie, TalTu,
Covent, and Paragon. Then he looked out at the camp of
soldiers that stretched exceedingly thin in all directions,
and at the wall of storm visible through the trees ahead.
He turned back to the table, running his eyes over the
25
map spread across it.

“Okay, people," he said. "Let's try to figure out what
the edeinos' next move is so we can plan a defense."
"Is that all we can do, Decker, just defend ourselves?"
asked Major Covent.
The congressman nodded. "For the moment, Charlie,
that's our best hope."
5
Baruk Kaah walked among the gathered crowd of
gospog. The force numbered an entire crop, some ten
thousand strong, but only the nearest two dozen or so
could be seen through the drifts of Deep Mist, illuminated
by the floating balls of fire the optants had called into
being. The gospog stood completely still as the High
Lord inspected them, silently awaiting orders. Yes, he
decided, these warriors would bolster his army and give
them the advantage they needed against the Farthers.
The gospog were products of dark sorcery, creations
of the Gaunt Man and Orrorsh necromancy. By planting
the seeds provided by the Gaunt Man in specially
prepared fields of corpses, Baruk Kaah and the other
High Lords were able to harvest warriors that felt no
pain, had no wants or desires save to serve their masters,
and were unaffected by changes in reality. In fact, these
gospog, grown within the reality of the Living Land,
were wielding the weapons of Core Earth — machine
guns and the like.
"That will surprise the Farthers," Baruk Kaah hissed.
"They will be cut down by their own weapons as the
gospog sweep across the storm front and into their
reality." But, because they were created in the Living
Land, the gospog would also add to the force that would
activate the next stelae boundary. All they had to do was
26
The Nightmare Dream
Valerie Valusek

The Nightmare Dream
cross into the bounded area, bringing the Living Land

reality with them. Then another piece of Core Earth
would belong to Baruk Kaah.
A series of leaves sprouted along one of the gospog's
arms, and Baruk Kaah stopped to watch it grow,
fascinated. The gospog was a mix of flesh and plant,
with vines running through skin instead of veins, and
thick roots emerging from the most unlikely parts of its
body. He knew his people were frightened by the gospog,
as they were created by the power of his Darkness
Device, Rec Pakken — an instrument of the dead. But
the High Lord saw the gospog as a confirmation of his
goddess Lanala's power, because she had allowed living
plant to grow out of the dead of this dead world. Of
course, the leaves were unlike any plant he had ever
seen before.
Baruk Kaah broke off his examination when the
ravagon approached. It was the last of the three the
Gaunt Man had originally assigned to him, and he
almost wished that it too had fallen like its brethren. But
until it did fall or was called back to Orrorsh, he would
get the most use he could out of it.
"What is it now, ravagon?" the High Lord demanded.
The ravagon snapped its wings around its body,
showing its own impatience. "The stalenger you sent to
track the Earther naihed Paragon has been found."
The High Lord shook anxiously, too pent up with
emotion to verbally order the ravagon to continue its
report. A slight smile touched the demonkind's toothed
maw.
"The stalenger is dead," the ravagon reported loudly.
Paragon killed it with an Earther weapon."
Now rage overtook the High Lord, and he barely
managed to ask, "Is the singer dead as well?"
27
"No, High Lord. Paragon was not found."

A mighty roar emerged from the High Lord's open
mouth. "Attack, my children! Edeinos, stalenger and
benthe, march toward the wall of storm! Lanala wants
this world to be shown the ways of life, and we are her
instruments! Attack!"
A female edeinos appeared from out of the Deep Mist
and sank to her knees before the Saar of Takta Ker. It was
one of his gotaks — the priests of the dead — Dar Ess, he
believed she called herself. He would have made her
wait before he acknowledged her presence, but he was
impatient to get on with the conquest.
"Speak, Dar Ess," he ordered.
"Saar," she began haltingly, "what are your orders
for the gospog and those of us charged with their
handling?"
"Rise, gotak, and lead the gospog forward," Baruk
Kaah said. "They shall lead our tribes into the dead land,
cutting a path for the life that Lanala will give to it."
Dar Ess got to her feet, bowed to her High Lord, then
disappeared into the mist to carry out her orders. Almost
immediately the gospog began to move.
"Tell the Horn Master to be ready," Baruk Kaah
ordered the ravagon. "Tell him that the Wild Hunt must
fly again."
6
Tolwyn led the group through the jungles of Borneo,
toward the western coast of the island. Bryce had been
a little concerned when she first asked which way was
sunward, but the dwarves explained that directions
were different here, and that satisfied her. As more and
more of her memories returned, Bryce realized how
totally alien her own world was. What would they find
28
The Nightmare Dream
when they eventually reached the place she called Aysle?

Would he be able to function there? Or would the
differences in reality drive him mad? He wondered how
his own world must look to her, and he hoped that as the
images of her past life came flooding back they didn't
overwhelm her.
He was surviving reasonably well in this place called
Orrorsh, so maybe this traveling from one reality to
another wasn't as deadly to his sanity as he feared. After
all, Kurst and Mara handled it like seasoned
professionals. If they could do it, why shouldn't he and
Tolwyn be able to?
Tolwyn, Tom and Pluppa walked at the head of the
group, trying to find the path of least resistance while
still staying on course for the sea. They had abandoned
all but one of the horses when the jungle became too
overgrown for them to safely pull the carriage. Now
Toolpin and Djil led the remaining animal by its reins,
directing it around obstacles as they tried to keep up
with the rest of the group. The horse carried their few
packs of supplies, and every so often it refused to take
another step. When this occurred Djil was there,
whispering to the horse and urging it forward. Bryce
wondered how much longer the shaman would be able
to coax the animal to continue.
Bryce wondered why he was wondering so much.
Mara, Grim, Gutterby and himself were in the middle
of the line. Each of them constantly looked forward and
back in order to keep the whole group in sight. High
overhead the sun stood still, raining its burning rays
down through the cover of ash. It had been day for over
forty-eight hours, and the heat was becoming unbearable.
But Tolwyn pushed on, and the rest of them had no
choice but to follow her.
29
They walked in silence, conserving their strength and

body moisture by keeping their mouths closed and their
minds on the path ahead. They traveled like that for a
long time, and Bryce began to get bored. He was hot,
sweaty, and he was tired of traipsing through the jungle.
So wrapped up was he in his own misery, the priest
barely recognized the sudden change in the horse. But
after a moment its fear-filled neighing registered through
the haze of his own discomfit.
He turned to see Djil and Toolpin wrestling with the
reins, trying to calm the horse. But the animal wanted no
part of that. It was rearing up on its hind legs, trying to
break free so that it could retreat back down the path. It
obviously didn't want to go any further.
"What's wrong, Djil?" Bryce called.
"Something up ahead has frightened this animal,"
the shaman explained. "It is deathly afraid."
"Of what?" Bryce asked, but before anyone could
answer him something crashed out of the trees along the
side of the path.
It was a huge winged creature, and for a moment
Bryce thought it was one of the ravagons that had been
hunting them since they left Philadelphia. Maybe they
hadn't killed them all, he thought, or maybe more had
been dispatched to find them. But then he saw that it
wasn't a ravagon. It was something far worse.
The creature stood over six feet tall. It was humanoid
in shape, with overlapping wings that reminded the
priest of a beetle's wings. The more he examined it, the
more he was sure that the thing was an insect of some
sort. But even the jungles of Borneo didn't produce
insects of this size. It had to be an Orrorshan creature,
and that meant they were in trouble.
Bryce, Mara, Grim and Gutterby were the closest to
30
The Nightmare Dream
the creature, and it was toward them that the creature

moved. It snapped great clawed pincers together as it
skittered forward, and its wings made a loud chirping
sound as they vibrated, like the sound of a thousand
crickets singing together. It had no mouth or eyes as
Bryce understood the terms, but it moved with a
shambling purpose that hinted at some kind of sensory
abilities.
"Grim, what spells can you use on this thing?" Mara
asked as she produced her laser pistol from a hidden
pouch in her jumpsuit. It looked awkward in her right
hand, unsteady. But she leveled it nonetheless and fired
a short burst at the creature.
The beam of intense light struck the creature in the
shoulder, knocking pieces of its body to the ground. It
backed away, but more to assess its opponents than to
flee.
Bryce reached down to examine the pieces that fell
from the creature. He gasped, and Gutterby moved
closer to see what had upset him.
"It isn't flesh," Bryce stammered. "The thing is made
of bugs!"
He held a handful of bug carcasses, dried husks of
grasshoppers, locusts and beetles. With a shudder, he
let the insects fall to the ground, and he involuntarily
took a step backward.
"Bryce, look," Gutterby said, motioning toward the
jungle.
Emerging from the trees were three more of the insect
creatures. They skittered to stand beside the first one,
and together the noise of their wings — wings formed
from hundreds of insect carcasses — was deafening.
Bryce looked closer, and he saw thousands of dead eyes
focus upon him, peering out from the creatures' bodies.
31
The effect was disconcerting, and the monsters were

abominations. He wanted to scream, but he forced
himself to stay calm. His hands went in opposite
directions. One clutched at the cross he wore around his
neck; the other reached into his pocket to grasp the stone
shard, all that remained of the Heart of Coyote.
Grim made arcane motions, and whispered words of
power. His motions ended when he pointed at the insect
monsters. While no visible effect was produced, Bryce
was certain that something was happening. The insects
shuffled nervously, and Grim seemed to be studying
them intently.
"They smell of necromancy," Grim informed everyone
with an expression of disgust. "They reek of entity
magic. If only I'd studied the death knowledge, then I
could be sure."
The insect monsters started moving forward again,
their claws chittering, their wings humming excitedly.
"This way!" Tolwyn called from further up the path.
"Hurry before they reach you!"
Gutterby and Grim obeyed Tolwyn's command,
running as fast as their small legs would carry them.
Mara hesitated, firing another blast from her pistol. "I'll
hold them off until Djil and Toolpin reach us," she told
Bryce.
The priest shook his head. "No, Mara," he said.
"These things are dead. I've handled these things best so
far, so it might as well be me. Get moving."
Bryce held his cross forward, trying to gather his faith
as he had done the other times during their trek through
this nightmare region. Mara kissed him gently on his
cheek, then she followed the dwarves up the path.
"Come on, you two!" Bryce called to Djil and Toolpin.
"I don't know if these things can be banished like the
32
The Nightmare Dream
banshees."
Perhaps they couldn't be banished, but th<? insects
were keeping their distance. They seemed to have
reached an invisible wall and could come no closer.
Perhaps that wall was the range of the cross, but Bryce
could only speculate. It never worked like this before the
invasion. Still, such horrors had never threatened him
before the invasion, either.
Djil and Toolpin led the horse past the break in the
path where the insects stood. For a moment, it looked
like they were going to get by them without a problem.
Then one of the insect creatures leaped onto the horse.
The animal's shrill screams filled the jungle as pincers
formed from insect carcasses tore into the horse's flesh.
"Hey!" Toolpin yelled indignantly. "Stop that!" He
swung his battle spike at the insect, hitting it solidly in
the back. But no pieces flew from it. Instead, Toolpin
bounced back. It was like hitting a stone wall.
Bryce lost his concentration for a split second as he
automatically reacted to the falling dwarf. He reached
out to steady Toolpin with his free hand, taking his eyes
off the insects. In that instant, one of the creatures
jumped forward. It smashed into the priest and the
dwarf, and the three of them tumbled from the path into
the thick foliage.
The last thing the priest remembered was that he was
sliding down an incline. Toolpin had spun around and
was clutching him tightly, while the carcasses that made
up the insect creature chittered wildly above him.
7
Coyote and Rat sat at a table in the mess hall, quietly
eating sandwiches and drinking sodas. The big gray cat
stood atop the table, noisily lapping milk from a bowl.
33
"What are we going to do, Coyote?" Rat asked at last.

The older boy could see tears welling in Rat's eyes. "We
don't know how Father Bryce and the others are doing.
We might never see them again. And everyone else
went to the battlefront, leaving us here so we'd be safe."
Coyote took the younger boy's hand. "Kurst made it
back here, didn't he? And didn't he tell us that Father
Bryce and Tolwyn must have succeeded because the
runes disappeared from Decker's chest?"
Rat nodded, but doubt still clouded his features.
"What about that lady? She wants to blame President
Wells' death on Decker. That isn't fair."
"Don't worry about Conners," Coyote said. "She
won't be able to prove anything. And Decker can take
care of himself, you know. He's with Julie and Kurst.
The three of them stopped the weretiger. What do they
have to fear from some nasty lady."
As if on cue, the door to the mess hall swung open.
Coyote looked up to see Ellen Conners enter the hall.
Three of the men that arrived with her, the guys in suits
and dark glasses, were beside her. They were all coming
over to Coyote and Rat's table.
Coyote began to stand up, but one of the agents
grasped his shoulder hard enough to hurt and forced
him back into his seat. Another one stood behind Rat,
and the third reached for the cat. The cat hissed, slashing
the agent's hand with a swipe of its sharp claws. Then it
leaped off the table and started to run.
The agent cursed, put his hand to his mouth to suck
on the deep scratches, and reached into his jacket to
retrieve his pistol. Ellen Conners placed a restraining
hand on his arm.
"Let it go," she ordered. "The cat isn't worth the
trouble." Then she turned to Coyote. Ellen Conners
34
The Nightmare Dream
smiled at him, and the boy felt no humor or friendliness

in the gesture. He felt only fear.
"Now, boys," Conners said, "I believe we have a
conversation to finish."
8
Tolwyn was torn as to her next course of action. With
her were Tom, Mara, and the dwarves Pluppa, Grim,
and Gutterby. She saw Bryce and Toolpin go over the
incline with one of the insect things. Djil was still trying
to save the horse, but its screams told her that death was
not very far away. Before she could decide, the remaining
two insect things started toward her group, flying upon
humming wings made from dead insects. She reached
for her sword, then remembered that she had lost it in
the battle at Illmound Keep.
"Your weapon would do little good against those
creatures, Tolwyn," Grim cautioned. "They are full of
entity and death magic. We can't fight them like we'd
fight a normal foe."
The monsters were getting closer. Tolwyn thought
about her options, about Bryce, about her mission.
Though it hurt her terribly, there was only one real
choice.
"Run," she told the others. "Run quickly and do not
look back."
9
Djil rummaged through the few items he carried,
looking for something he could use against the dead
insect spirit. He had his spear and his boomerang, his
knotted rope, his ceremonial artifacts, his tools. Nothing
leaped to mind as a solution. The pitiful screams of the
horse stopped then, and Djil saw the insect thing turn

35
toward him as it finished its grisly work on the animal.

"You seek to tear Djilangulyip apart like you did that
poor horse," Djil said as he hefted his spear. "Well,
Djilangulyip is not ready to be torn apart just yet."
He thrust the spear at the insect thing, hitting it in the
chest. The spear deflected off the chitinous armor
composed of dead bugs, and the creature snapped it in
half with a swipe of its claw.
"I do not like you, monster," Djil said flatly. "You
should not exist in the natural world."
The creature swung its claw in a deadly arc, but Djil
easily stepped out of the way before it could connect.
Then he turned and ran.
The insect, not so easily shaken, took up the chase. It
was larger than the aborigine, and its wings made it
faster. But Djil reached the large rock he had noticed
earlier some steps ahead of the monster. He placed his
hands upon it and began to sing.
The song was a dream song, and through it Djil called
upon the spirits of the Dream Time to aid him. He heard
the creature land behind him, but he ignored it and kept
on singing. He heard it step toward him as he sang, felt
its dead touch as it reached for him. Still singing his
dream song, Djil spun and grabbed the insect's arm with
his right hand. His left hand still touched the rock.
"The spirit ancestors have heard my song," Djil said.
"The way to Alcheringa is open. Come with me to the
Dream Time!"
With that, Djil dove into the rock, passing through it
without any resistance. He pulled the insect creature
with him, and it too passed into the rock.
Djil stopped once half of the monster had passed into
the rock with him. Its back half, from its torso to its legs,
was still in the natural world. Its head and arms were
36
The Nightmare Dream
with Djil in the Dream Time. The aborigine still held its
arm.
"I have changed my mind, dead thing," Djil said
firmly. "I do not want to take you with me. You can stay
here."
So saying, Djil released his hold on the monster.
Unable to enter the Dream Time on its own, it found
itself stuck within solid rock. Whatever magic held its
unnatural form together could not operate in such
confines, and the pile of dead insects came apart.
Djil stepped out of the rock, careful to avoid crushing
any of the tiny carcasses that littered the ground around
him. He turned to the rock and sang a few more verses,
thanking the spirit ancestors for granting him access to
the Dream Time.
"I shall come back for a longer visit," he promised.
"But first I must try to find the preacher and the dwarf."
He turned, pushing his way into the jungle. He looked
down the incline into the valley, but saw no sign of Bryce
or Toolpin. He shrugged, and started his walk down.
10
The Earthers had an annoying tendency to debate
every topic, Kurst reflected, including war. As if the
process of debate would hold back the denizens of the
invading realms or sap the High Lords of their powers.
He despaired at times like these of Earth's chances.
"We haven't got the manpower or the material to
launch a strike across the storm front," Major Covent
argued. "The enemy would pick us off as we crossed,
like they did the last time that we tried. Or worse, our
own equipment would fail when we needed it most,
leaving us defenseless. Or our troops would succumb to
their wildest urges and join the invaders. We've seen all
37
of these scenarios happen before. What makes you think

this time will be any different?"
"You're giving these creatures too much credit^ Major
Covent," Colonel Matthews shot back, pointedly
ignoring the edeinos that sat at the table with them. Tal
Tu raised his head at the statement but said nothing.
"They may not be sophisticated in tactics, but they've
got a nation's worth of army behind that storm," Eddie
Paragon added.
Colonel Matthews, rabidly doctrinaire, was having
none of it. "Not from what we've observed by recon,
they don't. Spotters along the front haven't reported any
activity in over forty-eight hours. We drove them back
last time they advanced, now we have to go in there and
mop them up before they can regather their forces."
"We've tried that," Decker said, exasperated. "We
need to hold them where they are, keep them from
crossing the storm front. Once we contain them and stop
the Dead Ring from advancing, then we can figure out
a way to drive them back."
"Boy, I've fought in wars you weren't born for, and I
know how to run a campaign," the colonel said. "You
stick to politics and leave the fighting to those of us who
know how to do it."
Kurst let the conversation go on around him as he
stood and walked to the edge of the command tent. He
could barely make out the swirling wall of storm through
the trees beyond the camp. He had a feeling, and he had
learned over the years to trust his feelings.
Major Julie Boot walked over to stand beside him. She
was a nurse, and it was through her ministrations that
Decker eventually overcame the Gaunt Man's control.
She was still frightened of the hunter, but not nearly as
badly as she had been when he first appeared at
38
The Nightmare Dream
Twentynine Palms with Decker's comatose body after

the incident in the Grand Canyon. He had recently
returned to save Decker from Scythak, and to Julie's
mind that counted as an indication of positive intentions.
But Kurst was still a shapeshifter from another reality.
He was able to shift from human to werewolf to werebear,
and that was not an ability she thought of as normal.
And since it was not normal, it made her nervous.
"Is the conversation boring you, Kurst?" Julie asked,
trying to be friendly.
He continued to stare at the storm, but he answered
her just the same. "Debate that serves no purpose annoys
me, Major Boot. As Decker said before, Colonel Matthews
is a fool."
Julie nodded, then followed Kurst's gaze toward the
tree line. "What do you see out there?"
"I see the soldiers, and the trees, and the wall of
storm," he said.
"What else, Kurst?" she urged despite her
nervousness. "You look like you're ready to spring. Tell
me what you see."
"I see nothing, Julie," Kurst replied matter-of-factly.
"I see nothing. Yet."
Colonel Matthews and the others noticed Kurst and
Julie staring out of the tent. Leaving his argument, the
colonel joined them. "Too good to sit in on the discussion,
Mr. Kurst?" the colonel prodded, speaking loud enough
so that everyone at the table could hear. "Tell me, what's
so important out there that it dragged you away from
our meeting — a meeting, I might add, that I strongly
believe you have no business attending anyway."
A feral snarl curled Kurst's lip as he leaned close to
the colonel. "I do not care what you believe, nor did I ask
to sit in this tent and listen to you bleat endlessly when
39
there are more important things to be done."

"Such as, Mr. Kurst?" the colonel retorted furiously.
"Rallying your soldiers, for one," Kurst said calmly.
"The edeinos are about to cross through the storm."
Decker, Paragon, and TalTu looked at each other,
then at Kurst, trying to determine if he was joking.
Colonel Matthews made ready to hurl his fiercest barbs
at the shapeshifter, but Covent interrupted him.
"Corporal West, one of the spotters along the storm
front, is on the line," Covent said. He was standing
beside the field radio, cradling its receiver on his
shoulder. "He says that there's movement down there."
"What kind of movement?" Matthews demanded.
"There's something gathering on the far side of the
storm front," Covent relayed to the group in the
command tent.
"Your debate is finished, colonel," Kurst informed
him. "All of your options are gone. The invaders are
coming to you, and all you can do is defend yourself."
Matthews looked from Kurst to Decker, anger raging
in his brown eyes. But he was also a soldier, and he knew
his duty when push came to shove. He turned to Covent,
snapping orders briskly. "Mobilize the troops, Major,"
he said. "Let's keep those lizards from coming through."
11
Father Christopher Bryce opened his eyes and
immediately regretted it. The sunlight, even diffused as
it was by the canopy of trees and the volcanic ash that
hung in the sky, sent sharp pains through his head,
which added to the various pains shooting through the
rest of his body.
If it hurts this much, Bryce thought, then I must still
be alive. He remembered the fall down the incline with
40
The Nightmare Dream
Toolpin and the insect creature, but little else beyond

that. He tried to rise, but was only able to manage sitting
up.
"Father Bryce, are you all right?" Toolpin asked. "I
was afraid you were going to leave me alone with these
terrible people."
"What people?" Bryce asked tentatively, looking
around to see where they were.
They were in a clearing at the bottom of the incline.
Toolpin was a few feet away, held fast by the insect
creature. Sitting on a rotting log beside him was a bald
man in black robes. He nodded to Bryce, and gestured
at the insect thing.
"Do you appreciate the amount of power it takes to
keep one chthon active, let alone four of them?" the bald
man asked.
"Is that what that thing is called, a chthon?" Bryce
managed to get the question out as he got his feet under
himself and stood up. He wobbled, but caught himself
and leaned on a tree for support. He hoped he didn't
have a concussion as he mentally checked off the
symptoms — headache, dizziness ...
The bald man ignored Bryce's question, instead
moving on to other topics. "The dwarf already identified
you as Father Christopher Bryce. As it is impolite for me
to know your name while you are ignorant of mine,
allow me to introduce myself. I am Wilfred Markham, of
the Royal Society of Exploration."
"How nice to meet you," Bryce said, casting about on
the ground for his cross. He did not see it. He feared he
lost it further up the incline, which meant it might be
gone forever. "What can we do for you Mr. Markham?"
Markham smiled. It was an evil smile, more like a
skull's perpetual grimace than a reaction to humor.
41
"You can give me the source of power you carry. Do not

deny that you have it. I have already identified it through
arcane means."
Bryce reached into his pocket and put his hand around
: shard of blue-red stone he carried. It was but a sliver
of its original self, its song nothing but a whisper now.
Any power it possessed, Bryce knew, was trapped with
the Gaunt Man in a perpetual cycle of creation and
destruction. Still, Bryce wasn't going to let the shard fall
into Markham's greedy hands.
Grim had said that the insect things — chthon,
Markham called them — reeked of necromancy. As
Bryce understood the term, necromancy referred to a
wizard who communes with spirits of the dead.
Apparently, in Markham's case, that included dead
insects.
"While my other chthons chase your companions, I
have narrowed my own search to you, priest," Markham
said. "You will give me the shard, whether of your own
volition or of mine."
The priest backed up a step, hoping that a solution to
this predicament would reveal itself. His cross was
gone, and he carried no weapons. All he had was the
shard of stone, and that had demonstrated none of the
abilities that the unbroken Heart of Coyote had
performed for him. Maybe he could find a heavy stick or
a rock, he thought, desperately searching the ground.
"Recover the shard," Markham ordered, and the
chthon dropped Toolpin and shambled after the priest.
Bryce hefted a fallen tree branch. It was solid, and he
decided it would make a serviceable club. However, he
was fairly certain that it would cause the chthon little, if
any, harm.
"Stay back," Bryce warned, but the chthon ignored
42
The Nightmare Dream
him. It continued forward at a steady pace, all of its dead

insect eyes fixed on him with hungry glares. He swung
the stick like a baseball bat, hoping to keep the monster
at bay.
"Hang on, Father Bryce," Toolpin called as he rushed
at the chthon's exposed back. He still had his battle
spike, and he smashed it into the chthon with all his
might.
"Toolpin, be careful," Bryce started to say, but his
warning came to late.
The chthon whirled on the dwarf, knocking him
senseless with the back of one chitinous claw. Toolpin
fell to the ground, landing heavily as he slipped into
unconsciousness.
"Enough of these distractions, priest," Markham said.
Give me the shard and I will let you and your
companions continue on your way in peace. But if you
try to thwart my will, I will use each of you as a host for
some foul entity. You would not like sharing your body
with something that is alien, Father Bryce."
The chthon stepped closer, looming over the priest
hke a mantis over some lesser insect. Bryce imagined he
heard thousands of dead insects grind thousands of
mandibles together in hungry anticipation. This close,
he could see the separate carcasses stacked to form the
chthon's humanoid shape. He could see his reflection in
a
thousand insect eyes.
No!" he screamed, shattering his stick across the
chthon's chest.
"You cannot harm the chthon, Bryce," Markham
explained. "How can you hurt that which is already
J
dead?"
In answer, a whirling sound emerged from the jungle.
r
yce looked up to see a massive war boomerang
Michael Annis (Order #13994246) 43

spinning through the air. It caught the chthon in the back

of the neck, actually staggering it.
"Who dares?" Markham demanded, spinning to look
into the jungle.
Bryce followed Markham's gaze, although he already
had a good idea where the boomerang came from. Sure
enough, a small black man with a white beard and a
patch of white hair walked into the clearing. He smiled
at Bryce with his missing-tooth grin, then turned to the
necromancer.
"We must leave now," Djilangulyip said solemnly to
the dark mage. "We have no desire to become hosts for
evil spirits, but we also have no desire to give you the
stone shard."
"You have no choice," Markham raged. "The chthon
will destroy you."
"Perhaps," Djil agreed. "But perhaps not." He started
to sing then, and though Bryce didn't understand the
words he somehow sensed their intent. It was a song to
the spirits of the dead insects, intoning them to return to
their rightful resting place.
"No!" Markham raged, and began making gestures
with his hands and arms.
Bryce could feel the hairs on his arms and the back of
his neck stand up as the dark mage gathered power. He
was preparing to cast a spell. The priest had seen Grim
make similar motions throughout this trip, but
Markham's exhibited none of the dwarf's joy or light.
These motions were dark and forboding, suggesting
evil intent.
The chthon staggered as Djil sang, the words and
melody striking the creature like blows from a hammer.
Toolpin was rising, but still looked dazed. Neither would
be able to protect themselves from Markham. It was up
44
The Nightmare Dream
to Bryce.
With a yell, Bryce ran at the dark mage. Markham
saw him from the corner of his eye and spun to meet his
charge. They locked hands, caught in an enemy's
embrace. Bryce could feel power emanating from the
man, but he also felt the gathering energy sîp away as
Markham lost concentration.
You are a brave fool, priest," the necromancer
proclaimed through clenched teeth. "You may have
interrupted my spell, but I have other weapons at my
disposal."
The two pushed back and forth, testing each other's
strength as they grappled. It was obvious to Bryce that
the mage was stronger than he, but not by much. But as
they struggled he could feel some of his own strength
sap away, seemingly swallowed by the blackness that
surrounded this man.
You are... evil," Bryce said, searching for the words
to express himself. This close, actually touching the dark
mage, Bryce could feel .the evil of the man as a tangible
thing. "You cannot have the shard, or us." Bryce pushed
then, throwing all of his strength into the action in hopes
of unbalancing his opponent.
Markham slipped, but caught himself before he fell.
/ This is not a battle you can win, priest," he warned.
Don't you feel your strength slipping away? Don't you
feel my darkness smothering your light?"
Markham shoved back, and Bryce went down hard.
Air exploded from his lungs as he landed. For a moment
he thought he was going to black out, but he fought the
tu
g of unconsciousness. He managed to roll out of the
way as Markham brought a booted foot down into the
dirt where Bryce had been.
The priest rolled back, catching the mage behind his

legs. Now it was Markham's turn to fall, and he did so

with no grace or style. He fell in a tangle of black robes,
hitting the rotting log he had been sitting on when Bryce
first saw him.
Bryce got to his feet, keeping his eyes upon the mage.
Markham also began to rise, and Bryce saw that he had
produced a gleaming dagger from out of his robes.
"I am not going to waste magic on you, Father Bryce,"
Markham said as he twisted the dagger. "I am going to
cut you and watch you bleed."
"That's not very nice," Toolpin said.
His voice surprised Bryce, who was so engaged with
the mage that he forgot the others. Apparently so did
Markham. He barely turned to look at the dwarf when
Toolpin's battle spike caught him across his bald
forehead. He collapsed without a sound.
Bryce whirled to see how Djil fared. The little aborigine
was standing in the middle of a puddle of dead insects,
sifting through them curiously.
"Djil?" Bryce asked, checking to see if the shaman
was all right.
"Insect spirits are not as stubborn as othdr spirits,"
Djil said, stepping out of the litter of carcasses toward
Bryce. "They decided to listen to my song and return to
their place of rest."
Djil reached into his pack and produced Bryce's
cross. "I found this," the shaman said as he handed it
back to the priest. "You should take better care of your
possessions."
"I'll keep that in mind, Djil," Bryce said, a faint smile
on his lips.
"What should I do with the necromancer, Father
Bryce?" Toolpin asked. He was standing over the mage's
still form, holding his battle spike at the ready.
46
I
The Nightmare Dream
"Leave him," Bryce decided. "Let's just get out of

here."
12
Mara led the way through the jungle, running only as
fast as the slowest among them. Behind her was Tom
O'Malley, Pluppa, and Grim. Gutterby, being the oldest
of the dwarves, was slightly behind his companions,
and Mara could hear his ragged breathing. At the end of
the line was Tolwyn, doing her best to keep Gutterby
moving. Mara deliberately chose her path through
bushes and thick patches of trees — anything that made
the going harder for the insect things chasing them.
She hated running as much as Tolwyn did, but fighting
appeared to be useless. The few blasts that she managed
to get off from her pistol had barely slowed the monsters,
and she didn t relish a hand-to-hand fight when she had
only one hand to fight with. She wondered how Bryce
and the others were faring, then she put the thought out
of her mind. Worrying about the priest and the others
would just get the rest of them killed. She couldn't afford
to mourn right now, because the others depended on
her to get them to safety.
Mara crashed through the brush and found herself in
a clearing. It was a road, much larger than the paths they
had been following, and it wasn't empty.
Tom emerged from the trees, gasping for breath.
Why have you stopped?" he asked.
Mara tipped her head toward the road. Tom looked
U
P, finally noticing the others. There were a dozen men
standing in the road, all wearing military-style uniforms
and brandishing old-style rifles. Pluppa pushed between
Mara and Tom so that she could see better.
Who are they?" Pluppa asked.
47
"I'm not quite sure," Tom began, "but they look like
British soldiers from the nineteenth century."
Tolwyn and the others bounded out of the jungle.
"Move," the paladin commanded. "The insects are ..."
She didn't get to finish. One of the insect things
smashed into her back, driving her forward. Mara started
to turn when she saw the soldiers lift their weapons and
take aim. She barely managed to grab Tom and throw
herself and the pilot to the ground when the soldiers let
off a volley. Bullets whizzed over their heads, thudding
into the insect things.
When the firing stopped, Mara looked back. The
monsters had fallen apart. Insect carcasses were scattered
all around them.
One of the soldiers stepped forward. He was an older
man, a little on the portly side, with a great white
handlebar mustache that drooped around his mouth.
He called to the group. "I say, would any of you happen
to be Tolwyn of House Tancred?"
Mara and Tolwyn exchanged glances, shrugged, and
turned to face the man.
"I am Tolwyn," the paladin said. "We thank you for
your assistance. How did you stop the insect things?"
The man laughed. It was a rich, good-humored sound.
"Blessed bullets work wonders against the things of
darkness," he explained. "I am General Wellington of
Her Majesty's Army. We have been sent to find you."
"Why?" Mara asked.
"We have been ordered to escort you out of this foul
jungle to a place of safety," the general replied.
"Ordered? By who?" Tolwyn demanded.
"Why, by Lord Salisbury, of course," the general
answered.
"This must be Thratchen's doing," Mara said in low
48
The Nightmare Dream
tones so that only her friends could hear.

"Should we go?" Tolwyn asked, seeking advice from
the others.
"If Thratchen wanted to kill us, he wouldn't have to
go through this kind of trouble," Tom said.
"I agree," Mara added. "I think he wants us to reach
Aysle."
Tolwyn nodded. "Very well, General," she called.
"We accept your offer."
13
Djil led the way, stopping often to talk to a tree or
study the rocks along the ground. He seemed to be
listening to them, hearing things that Bryce could not.
The priest would have laughed at such thoughts a few
months ago, but not now. He had heard the song of the
Earth itself, as sung by the Heart of Coyote. If the planet
had a voice, why couldn't the smaller components have
one as well?
"What's he doing, Father?" Toolpin inquired.
"He's scouting," Bryce said. "What's it look like he's
doing?"
"Talking to the plants," Toolpin said. "Hey Djil, what
are the plants saying?"
The aborigine turned to the dwarf with a toothy grin.
Plants have very little to say, Toolpin. They are boring,
only concerned with water and soil and sun. But this tree
limb tells me much."
Bryce and Toolpin edged closer, curiosity getting the
otter of them. "What's it say?" Bryce asked.
l^jil leaned close to the priest, his voice hushed to a
conspiratorial whisper. "The trees don't speak, Father
r
yce. I thought you knew that."
The priest reddened. "Then what are you doing?"

"Looking for signs of passage, and I found this," Djil

said triumphantly, holding aloft a piece of cloth.
"Hey," Toolpin exclaimed, "that belongs to Pluppa!"
"Then they came this way," Bryce joined excitedly.
"We're going the right way!"
Djil nodded. Then he pointed to the broken branches
further up the tree. "The chthon have come this way,
too."
A loud crashing sound echoed from the jungle behind
them. The trio watched silently for a moment, then
heard the sound again. This time it was closer.
"Something's coming," Toolpin warned.
"Let's get moving, Djil," Bryce urged. "I'm not sure I
want to see what else Markham has to throw at us."
14
Tolwyn felt uneasy around these people. They called
themselves Victorians, and they claimed to come from
Orrorsh. They were here in the jungles of this New
World hunting down the evil things they had
inadvertently released upon it, the general said, but
even though his tone was sincere thtere was something
about them that bothered the paladin.
The chaplain attached to the unit was a small, tired-
looking man who tried his best to bolster the soldiers
with fiery talk, but it came out weak to Tolwyn's ears.
The soldiers themselves seemed nervous, constantly
scanning the jungle for any signs of danger. When she
saw their darting eyes, Tolwyn knew why she felt
uneasy. These people lived their lives as hunted prey,
food for the legions of monsters that stalked Orrorsh.
She pitied them.
"Where are you taking us, General Wellington?"
Tolwyn asked.
50
The Nightmare Dream
The general gave her a suspicious glance, then smiled

jovially. "We have a vessel waiting for us on the coast.
With it, we will take you to the city called Singapore.
From there you should be able to find transportation out
of Orrorsh realm, as per Lord Salisbury's instructions."
"What about our friends?" Mara asked. "Are you
going to send anyone back there to look for them?"
The general shook his head sadly. "I do not have the
manpower to launch a full-scale search, and I do have a
time limit. I must get you on your way so that I can carry
out the rest of my duties."
They walked in silence for a time, with soldiers ahead
and behind them. Tolwyn wondered if they were being
protected, or if the soldiers were positioned to keep
them from running off on their own. The paladin noticed
Pluppa looking back the way they came. She had been
turning her head for the last few minutes, sometimes
even stopping as if to listen. Finally, she tugged on
Tolwyn's sleeve.
"Something is following us," Pluppa said. "It makes
no attempt to muffle its progress."
Tolwyn glanced back, but could see nothing through
the covering of trees. She looked at Pluppa again. The
dwarf was sincere. She did hear something.
"General Wellington," Tolwyn called to the front of
the column. "Something is approaching us from out of
the jungle."
"What?" the general exclaimed in surprise. "Are you
sure, woman?"
She's right, sir," one of the soldiers near the rear
said. "Something's coming this way."
Take defensive positions, men," Wellington ordered.
Chaplain, prepare your miracles."
I will take that," Tolwyn said, nimbly drawing a
51
sword out of one of the soldier's scabbards. He was

about to complain when three figures leaped out of the
brush.
"Don't shoot, general," Mara ordered. "Those are our
missing companions."
Tolwyn let relief wash through her body. There were
Bryce, Djil and Toolpin, looking ragged but otherwise
safe and whole.
"Not missing anymore, I'd wager," the general
laughed. "Now if that's all of you, we'd best be moving
on."
"I hate to ruin this reunion with bad news," Bryce
said quickly, "but there's something chasing us."
Tolwyn heard trees snapping further back in the
jungle as something large moved toward them. She
motioned Bryce and the others to get out of the way, and
they moved to a position behind the soldiers.
"Any idea what it is, mates?" (General Wellington
asked."
"No, but we're pretty sure it belongs to a necromancer
named Markham," Bryce replied.
"Wilfred Markham?" the general said in surprise.
"Of the Royal Society of Exploration? A necromancer? I
don't believe it!"
Soldiers all along the line gasped in horror. What
emerged from the jungle was a monstrosity, a walking
nightmare. It was a skeletal beast, perhaps three meters
at the shoulders, perhaps more. It walked on four skeleton
legs, and moved its skeletal jaws in mock roars. To
Tolwyn's eyes it looked like a huge tiger whose flesh and
organs had been stripped away. What remained was
cobbled together with the bones of other dead creatures
to form a dragon-sized monster.
"Fire!" Wellington ordered, and his men sent a volley
52
The Nightmare Dream
of bullets toward the monster.

The blessed missiles clattered off bone, ricocheting in
all directions. The monster let out another silent roar,
then continued forward. It had an awkward gait befitting
its haphazard construction, but it still looked menacing
— and very deadly.
It strutted into the first nest of Victorian soldiers,
jerkily dropping two honey feet forward, then following
them with its other two. The four soldiers tried to scatter
before the monster, but it was faster than its size and
awkward manner suggested. One of its front legs slashed
out, and honey claws sliced two of the men open. A third
was caught in its powerful jaws. It lifted the man into the
air, shaking him violently as its sharp teeth sank deeper
into his flesh. Fountains of blood gushed forth, and
presently the man stopped jerking and fell still.
"If you don't want to see more of your soldiers die,
general, I suggest you give the travelers to me," called a
voice from out of the jungle.
Tolwyn tried to see where the voice was coming
from, but its owner remained hidden. She contemplated
rushing at the monster, even though the bullets fired
from the soldiers' guns had had little effect. You needed
enchanted weapons to deal with skeletons and other
undead creatures, she knew, and the sword she borrowed
from the Victorian had no dweomer upon it that she
c
ould divine.
Still, she could not sit idle while others died trying to
protect her. That was not what T olwyn of House T ancred
Was
nil about. She started to move from her position
w
hen she noticed Grim also moving. He literally crackled
w
dh energy, and his hair and beard were standing on
end from the static. He had a spell upon him, one that
s e
had not seen before — at least as far as she
53
remembered.
Grim stepped out of hiding, waving his fingers at the
skeletal tiger. Then he spoke a word of power. To
Tolwyn, it sounded like thunder. The thunder rocked
her, and she gasped as a bolt of lightning flew from
Grim's outstretched fingers in response to the clap of
noise. The bolt found its mark, playing a frantic dance
along the naked bones of the monster. The skeletal
golem fell back a few steps, opening its jaws in its
familiar pantomime of a roar. The limp form of the torn
and bloody soldier dropped to the ground as its jaws
spread wide, but it didn't seem to care. It wanted only to
be free of the dancing lightning.
"Back to the depths of corruption, foul creature!"
Grim shouted, waving his fingers and firing another
bolt into the monster.
The second bolt struck its right shoulder,
disintegrating the bone in a sizzle of sparks. The skeleton
staggered, almost fell, then with great effort righted
itself and leaped toward the crackling dwarf.
The dwarf smiled triumphantly and made ready to
cast another bolt. Before he could speak the word of
power that would send it on its way, a glowing black
dagger of light shot out of the jungle and struck the
dwarf. Grim screamed, collapsing to the ground.
Meanwhile, the skeleton landed over the dwarf,
peering down at him with hollow eye sockets. It moved
even more awkwardly than before because of its ruined
shoulder, and it seemed slower since being hit by two
bolts of magic lightning, but it was still capable of great
destruction.
Grim was not yet helpless, however. He was
struggling to rise when another black dagger flew from
the jungle and sliced into him. It caused no visible
54
The Nightmare Dream
wound, but like its twin the enchanted missile seemed

to sap the very life from its target. Tolwyn traced its path
back into the trees and noticed a black shape partially
hidden behind a huge trunk. She grabbed a nearby
soldier and pointed into the trees.
For a moment, the soldier was confused. He did not
see anything. Then, following her finger, he nodded. He
raised his rifle to his shoulder, aimed down the length of
the barrel, and fired. The bullet struck the dark form,
and Tolwyn watched as it jerked and went down.
"Finish it, Grim," Tolwyn ordered as she charged
toward the tree line.
The dwarf, still on his back and sorely hurt, looked at
the skeletal monster looming over him. Then he fired his
last two bolts in quick succession. The twin bolts of
jagged lightning shattered the skull and rib cage of the
creature, and shards of bone rained down on the dwarf.
Tolwyn watched with satisfaction as the skeleton fell
apart. She reached the jungle a moment later, but the
dark form was gone. All that remained as proof of its
presence was a bit of trampled grass and a splatter of
still-warm blood.
She returned with her news. "The soldier's bullet
wounded the dark mage," Tolwyn reported, "but he
managed to slip back into the jungle."
"Then I suggest we move out," the general said. "I
Want to reach our ship and be gone from this accursed
island before any more monsters can be thrown at Us."
Tolwyn agreed, and the companions followed the
remaining soldiers toward the shore.
15
Wilfred Markham watched as the tall warrior woman
examined the spot he had recently occupied. He barely
55
had time to cast mage dark around himself and slip into
the hollow of an ancient tree before she arrived.
Curse them all! He couldn't remember the last time
he had suffered such wounds! Why, the dwarf had
actually knocked him senseless with a metal tool. The
lump over his left eye was a painful testimony to the
dwarf's act. Then, to make matters worse, one of the
Victorian soldiers had gotten off a shot. Luckily the
blessed bullet had passed through his body, but the
wound in his shoulder made his left arm virtually
useless.
If the damage to his own person were only the end of
it! No, these travelers from other realms had destroyed
four chthon and a skeletal golem with relative ease! It
must be the stone's doing, he decided. Somehow they
were drawing on the power of the eternity shard the
priest carried. It was the only explanation he would
accept.
The woman returned to the others, and after a brief
discussion they gathered their gear and started back
down the trail. How sure they were of their safety! How
arrogant!
Markham began to search through his robes for
components. He had to have a spell left to deal with
these bothersome wanderers. Eternity shards in Orrorsh
were hard enough to come by; he wasn't going to let one
that presented itself to him by accident slip away so
easily.
"Put away your magicks, Markham. These travelers
are not for you."
The voice startled Markham, and he spilled a few
pouches onto the ground. He looked around to see who
had penetrated his spell of darkness. There, standing
only a few feet away, was a tall man with jet-black hair
56
The Nightmare Dream
and pale skin. He wore a finely tailored suit and looked

all the world like an upstanding Victorian gentleman..
But he was draped in his own cloak of mage dark, and
Markham knew him for what he was.
"Victor Manwaring," Markham declared. "Or should
I call you Mantooth?"
"Call me what you like, necromancer," the vampyre
said in a calm, descending tone, "it matters not. But I
must warn you, these travelers you have been
persecuting have been given safe passage through this
realm by the Gaunt Man himself. If you intend to disobey
the High Lord's wishes, I will be forced to stop you."
Markham stared hard at the vampyre. Mantooth was
powerful, but Markham was no apprentice mage, either.
Finally, the dark mage laughed.
"I am a necromancer, Mantooth," Markham
proclaimed. "You are undead. I can command you, or
even destroy you if I so desire."
"Perhaps," Mantooth said in an even voice. "But you
are not at full power right now. Look at you, Markham.
How much power have you expended on your
shambling creations? And what is it costing you to stay
on your feet after the wounds you've sustained? You
cannot best me in this condition. If you try, I will simply
destroy you."
The dark mage was thoughtful. "There will be another
time, vampyre," he said at last.
"I am sure," Mantooth agreed. "Perhaps you would
care to take up this dispute with Lord Salisbury?"
Markham blanched at the mention of the High Lord's
Victorian identity. Then he lowered his eyes. "I did not
know this group was marked by the Gaunt Man."
Mantooth nodded. "I understand. Just be thankful
you did not cause any of them too much damage. The
57
Gaunt Man promised them safe passage, and he does

not like to go against his word."
With that, the vampyre faded into the jungle, gathering
his own darkness about him so that he could move
around beneath the light of the sun. Markham thought
about continuing his hunt of the travelers. Then he
decided against it. There would be other shards. He
sighed. Damn the Gaunt Man anyway! He picked up his
pouches and headed back toward his camp. He had
wounds to tend to and experiments to try — anything to
help him forget the last few hours.
16
Lord Angar Uthorion stamped across the battlements
of Castle Ardinay. He wore the body of Lady Pella
Ardinay, rightful ruler of the magical reality of Aysle.
He had inhabited her physical shell for five hundred
years, since sundering her spirit from its perch and
taking control of the cosm with the aid of his Darkness
Device, the obsidian crown named Drakacanus.
"I want news, Jean Malraux!" he demanded through
Ardinay's red lips. "We have heard precious little since
the ravagon brought us the news of the Carredon's
death at Tolwyn's hands."
Uthorion shuddered, sending ripples of anxiety
through Ardinay's body. The very name of Tolwyn of
House Tancred stirred such alien emotions in the High
Lord. Equal measures of hatred and fear warred within
Ardinay's breast, breaking likes waves upon the shore
of Uthorion's dark soul.
"You are letting the prophecy destroy you, Angar,"
Jean Malraux said, sipping calmly from his goblet of
wine.
The Antipope of Avignon, High Lord of the theocracy
58
The Nightmare Dream
Valerie Valusek

The Nightmare Dream
of Magna Verita, was an enigmatic figure. He professed

to be the Vicar of Christ on his world, yet he drew his
most awesome powers from a Darkness Device. He
urged his faithful to follow the laws of the Church and
not suffer a witch to live, yet here he was, communing
with a necromancer in a world where magic was the
way of life. He was a contradiction. If his followers ever
suspected the liberties he took with the faith, they would
burn him at the stake — as was the practice under their
medieval world view.
"Why are you still here, Malraux?" Uthorion asked
impatiently. "Don't you have a realm to conquer?"
"As do you, Uthorion," the Antipope replied
pleasantly. "I am here, at your invitation I remind you,
in order to complete my grand deception. To the people
of Magna Verita, I have transcended to Heaven to
receive the blessings of Our Holy Father. To the cattle of
Earth, I shall soon appear as’ the saviour they so
desperately need in their planet's time of trouble."
"Yes, yes, but when do you descend your maelstrom
bridge?" Uthorion pressed.
"All in good time, my friend," Malraux smiled, sipping
more wine. "Like a fine wine, you must let these things
breath. The effect is much more grand when you have
properly built the anticipation."
Uthorion walked to the edge of the tower ramparts
and looked down upon the Valley of the Sword and the
great Inland Sea. The sun was setting, descending into
the hole that led through Aysle's surface so that it could
bring day to the other side of the world disk. Already he
could see the rim stars rising, and he felt the presence of
his own star, the invisible entity star, as dusk covered
the land. This was the time of day Uthorion liked best,
and he said a silent prayer to his dark god, Corba'al.
59
"When do you descend, Uthorion?" Malraux asked.

Was there a slight hint of amusement in the Antipope's
tone? Uthorion could not be sure, but he did not doubt
it. All High Lords could be arrogant bastards when they
chose to be.
"I shall not descend until I have word that Tolwyn is
dead," the High Lord declared, brushing Ardinay's
golden locks out of her eyes so that he could see.
"Why not just enter the realm and finish it," Malraux
prodded. "Surely you don't believe that this paladin can
stand before your power?"
"I do not know what I believe anymore," Uthorion
sighed. "It all seemed so easy when I found Drakacanus.
The Gaunt Man even helped me establish my own cosm.
I was destined for greatness and power, I was sure of
that back then. Then that woman, that bitch from Duke
Bordal's litter, had the audacity to place a curse upon me
with her dying breath." He stopped, unsure of how
much of his innermost fears he should allow Malraux to
be privy to. They were allies now, certainly, but one
never knew when the tenuous treaties that High Lords
formed would be broken.
Uthorion turned Ardinay's body away from the wall
and signalled for the ravagon stationed atop a far
battlement. Once a trusted lieutenant in the Gaunt Man's
court, Uthorion knew that the winged demonkind served
as the High Lord of Orrorsh's eyes throughout the
cosmverse, but he also knew that they served important
functions for those who knew how to best make use of
their unique abilities.
The winged demonkind alighted beside Ardinay's
form, kept young all these centuries through the power
of Drakacanus. It tilted its head curiously, letting it hang
precariously atop its long, thin neck.
60
The Nightmare Dream
"Go down bridge, into Aysle realm on Earth, and

summon Delyndun to me," Uthorion ordered.
Without a word, the ravagon flew off in search of the
elven wizard.
"I do not trust the demonkind," Malraux commented
once the ravagon was out of earshot. "They are always
... watching."
"You do not have to trust them, Jean Malraux,"
Uthorion said as he returned to the battlement. Below, in
the courtyard, the combined races of Aysle let up a cheer
for the Lady of the Houses when they saw her beautiful
form. Uthorion twisted Ardinay's lips into a smile and
waved her slender hand in mock appreciation of the
masses.
"You only have to learn how to use them," he declared
as the Ayslish sent up a second cheer, and the sun
dipped beneath the lip of its path through the Boiling
Sea.
17
Andrew Decker joined Kurst in the slow walk to
outfitting. Neither wanted to be without supplies for the
hip they had ahead of them. The congressman still
remembered the flight from the weretiger called Scythak
back at the Twentynine Palms hospital complex. Decker
fought as hard as he could, with what few weapons he
bad, but the huge hunter from Orrorsh was too much for
him. Eventually Decker ran out of options, and Scythak
dosed in for the kill. That was when Kurst appeared.
"How did you get back here?" Decker asked for the
tenth time.
For the tenth time, Kurst answered him. "Through a
ate
§ — a portal between the marine base and the Gaunt
Man's manor in Borneo."
61
"How is that possible?" Decker asked. Even to himself

he sounded like a broken record.
"As I have explained before, Mara found a way to
utilize the power we have within us," Kurst said.
"The possibility energy?"
"Yes. The energy that brands us as stormers."
"Storm knights," Decker corrected, using the phrase
that Tolwyn had coined.
"Storm knights," Kurst agreed. "She focused the
combined energy of our group and opened a gate to you.
Tolwyn wanted to come, but I convinced her I was the
best choice for the battle I knew waited on the other side
of that portal."
Decker recalled how Kurst shifted into his werewolf
form and attacked the larger weretiger. He was losing,
falling beneath Scythak's greater strength, when
suddenly Kurst shifted into a new form. He became a
giant bear, a werebear, and with the surprise of his
transformation coupled with the bear form's superior
strength, Kurst killed Scythak.
"How did you gain a new form?" Decker asked as the
question came to his mind.
"I am not sure," Kurst admitted, "but I believe it had
something to do with you. While the Gaunt Man was
ripping possibilities from me with his sorting machine,
I felt your presence. I remember you pointing to a part
of myself I did not know existed. Later, when I saw how
Mara formed the gate, I figured out how to release that
part of me which the Gaunt Man had long ago
imprisoned. I remembered the form of the bear, and I
shifted into it."
Decker nodded. Although his time under the rune
staff induced coma was becoming a fading memory, he
did remember when the Gaunt Man called him to re-
62
The Nightmare Dream
pattern Kurst's possibilities. He left the bright glow at

the center of Kurst's being alone, for it was the destiny
that fate had originally set for the shapeshifter.
Kurst pulled a chain and pendant from his pocket
and regarded it carefully. It was the pendant that Scythak
had worn. "Jewelry was so unlike Scythak," Kurst said.
"This pendant stinks with Orrorsh sorcery."
"What do you think it is?" Decker asked.
"I don't know," Kurst admitted, "but I bet Thratchen
has something to do with it."
"Thratchen? Isn't that the thing chasing Mara?"
Kurst nodded. "He helped us against the Gaunt Man,
though. Not in overt ways, but subtly. It was he who
forced Mara to figure out how to use the gate power."
"For his own purposes, no doubt,' Decker finished.
The shapeshifter laid a strong hand on Decker's arm,
making him pause before they entered the supply tent.
"We have to talk about what we do next," Kurst said.
Decker looked surprised. "We're going to help defend
the storm front," he stated. "We've got to keep the
edeinos from crossing the boundary.
"There are others to do that," Kurst said. There is an
entire army here. Two more would make little difference
either way."
"Then what do you suggest, Kurst?"
"We must catch up with Tolwyn and the others. Our
destiny lies with them, and they will need our help for
the final battle."
"What are you talking about?" Decker asked. "What
battle? We don't even know where they are now. For all
we know, they could be on their way back to Twentynine
Palms even as we speak."
Kurst shook his head. "They are on their way to
Aysle, the magical reality."
63
"How do you know that? How can you be sure?"

"Tolwyn wants to find Angar Uthorion, the
necromancer that invaded her world five hundred years
ago," Kurst explained. "She also wants to find out how
her beloved Lady Ardinay still happens to be alive —
and why Aysle has become a dark and evil place. If they
defeated the Gaunt Man, which they must have done for
the rune staves to have fallen from your body, then
Tolwyn will convince them to go with her to Aysle."
Decker let the implications of Kurst's words run
through his head. Then he asked, "How do we find this
place called Aysle?"
"Leave that to me," the hunter replied, clapping
Decker on the shoulder.
They hurriedly entered the supply tent and began
outfitting for the journey ahead of them. Kurst suggested
taking low-tech items. He found a good blade —
polycarbide, the supply sergeant bragged — and two
bayonets that would make serviceable spears if mounted
properly. He took a rifle almost as an afterthought,
perhaps unsure of its utility. In the end he accepted the
weapon because it was made to carry the bayonet.
For himself, Decker took two pistols — a .45, and a
smaller .38 as a back-up. He trusted in technology.
Decker asked for canteens, but as they were preciously
guarded items, they received only one each.
"There is water where we are going, Ace," Kurst said.
"More water than either of us can drink."
Rations and walkie-talkies — the latest miniature
headset types—made up the rest of their supplies. They
thanked the sergeant and started out.
Outside the supply tent, Julie Boot was waiting for
them, her face set and still. "Planning on leaving without
me, Ace?"
64
The Nightmare Dream
Decker felt himself involuntarily straighten to

attention; he wondered if Kurst noticed. "It's not a
question of leaving without you. It's survival. You've
got valuable skills —"
"And you're going to save me from wasting them?"
she finished for him. "Who'll save you next time?"
Decker's mouth tightened as his jaw muscles bunched.
He searched for a soft reply. "After we do what we can
here, we're going to go find Tolwyn and the others.
Kurst thinks they need us, and I owe them more than I
can ever repay. Two of us is enough to risk, especially
since your skills could save many more than two if you
were here, with the hospital, with supplies ... You'll be
safer here."
"Look around, Ace," she said, her voice getting louder.
"Your definition of safe leaves a lot to be desired. You
need a medic, and I'm going."
Images ran through Decker's head, images of his
mental fight against the Gaunt Man. It was Julie's voice
that helped him find his way back, that helped him
make it through the doors the Gaunt Man threw into his
Path. He owed her his life. That much, in all of this
surreality of invasion, was crystalline sharp.
"She has a point," Kurst observed, "and an ulterior
motive."
She would not plead to be taken, but she did demand
!t. And, Decker admitted almost hopelessly, she was
adamant enough to risk following them. Alone. She had
saved his life. But it bit into him as deep as the runes had
°nce bit that he was bringing the woman he loved to a
^vorld where he could guarantee nothing.
He nodded once, sharply, and they turned as one to
the supply sergeant for another kit.
65
18
Major Charles Covent scanned the wall of rain and
lightning with a pair of high-powered binoculars. He
could see vague shapes gathering on the other side, but
as of yet nothing had broken through. He didn't like
waiting. He knew that the longer they waited, the more
likely the chance of the lizards getting enough of their
kind over here to flip the reality.
He had his forces ranged all along the front from one
end of the Sequoia National Forest to the other. He had
a division at the ready, but even so they were spread thin
to cover the forty miles of forest. Lanes of fire had been
established, but other units remained mobile in order to
respond to wherever the lizards broke through in
number. He had the entire line of trees on this side of the
storm rigged to explode into flame on his order, which
should create a wall of fire to hold them back. He
thought about what Kurst and Tal Tu had told them, and
it still seemed impossible. All the lizards had to do was
get twenty-five thousand of their people across the
storm front. Then, if the stelae had been set, this area
would become a Dead Ring. If that happened, all of the
soldiers would be slaughtered as their weapons
systematically failed.
A jeep pulled up beside Covent's station. Decker,
Kurst, Major Boot, Tal Tu and Paragon jumped out.
"I've got a couple of ideas for you to try, Charlie,"
Decker said as he walked over. "But we're going to have
to hurry if we want to accomplish anything before they
start moving."
"Why haven't they attacked yet, Ace?" Covent asked.
"I can see them through the occasional breaks in the
storm, but they're just standing there."
"They are waiting for sufficient numbers to flip this
Michael 66
Annis (Order #13994246)
The Nightmare Dream
reality," Tal Tu explained. "Baruk Kaah will not make

the same mistake twice. This time he will rush this line
of defenders with three or four times the number he
needs to activate the stelae."
Decker quickly outlined his plan. Covent nodded,
jotted down a few notes, then handed the written orders
to a sergeant for implementation.
"That should slow them down and maybe even give
them something to think about, but we need a more
permanent solution," Covent said.
"What do you have in mind?" Decker asked.
"We need to find the stelae," Covent declared.
"That will be difficult, major," Kurst responded. "Not
only will a stelae of this importance be well hidden, it
will also be well guarded."
"That's why I want to send you and Decker to deal
with it," Covent shot back.
Kurst and Decker exchanged glances. Then Decker
spoke. "I'm afraid we can't do that, Charlie. We'll help
you with the initial attack, but as soon as the confusion
is heavy, we're going through the storm."
"Are you crazy, Ace?" Covent exploded. "That's
suicide! Of what possible use can such an action be?"
"We're going to try to reach one of the maelstrom
bridges," Decker explained calmly, trying to reassure
the major. "We're going to travel up the bridge to find
some friends of ours. But we'll also bring enough
explosives to hopefully take the bridge down. That
should slow them down even more."
Covent wiped a hand over his face. "We'll talk about
this," he said at last. "But first let's look at the maps. I
want to try to pinpoint likely places to plant a stelae."

67
19
The pilot looked at the orders from Major Covent
with disdain. "They want me to do what?" he bellowed.
"Those are your orders," the crew chief said. "We've
already filled the bomb bay for you. All you have to do
is fly the damn plane."
"What's my cargo?" he asked indignantly,
"Rocks," the crew chief smiled. "Just fly over the
storm, pick a target, and open the bay doors."
"Rocks? Rocks don't explode! What good are rocks?"
The crew chief pushed up close to the pilot, impatience
screwing his face into an angry mask. "Bombs don't
explode past the storm front either, and rocks are a hell
of a lot cheaper for virtually the same effect. From the
height you'll be flying, those rocks will drive through
bodies like shrapnel. Now get a move on."
With plenty of reservations but no desire to go against
his orders, the pilot climbed into his cockpit and fired up
the engines.
"Remember," the crew chief called, "stay above the
level of the storm!"
The pilot nodded, but he already knew that. He had
even less of a desire to have his engines conk out over the
enemy.
"Rocks," he chuckled, then flew off to make his
delivery.
20
The map on the table was of California. There were
triangles drawn upon it that marked the Dead Ring,
those areas which already belonged to the edeinos.
Co vent, Decker, Kurst and TalTu leaned over the map,
estimating where the next apex would be positioned.
"They can place the stelae anywhere, as long as no
68
The Nightmare Dream
arm of the triangle is more than three hundred miles

long," Kurst explained.
"That puts it probable location here," Covent said as
he drew a circle with his compass.
Tal Tu leaned closer, studying the images on the map.
Decker had explained what the symbols were, and the
edeinos had quickly figured out how to interpret them.
He had advanced leaps and bounds since joining up
with Alder and leaving the Living Land.
The edeinos tapped the map with one clawed finger.
"Here is where the restan group has placed it," Tal Tu
said carefully. "It is in this place called Angeles National
Forest."
"That's still a big area," Covent said. "All right, I
guess that's where I'm going."
Decker look shocked. "You can't go, Charlie. You're
needed here. Y ou can't leave Colonel Matthews to handle
the troops by himself."
"What choice have I got?" Covent asked. "There's no
one else."
"I will go," Tal Tu replied. "I know what to look for,
what to watch out for. I am the best choice."
A sergeant entered the command tent. "Sorry to
interrupt, major, but I'd thought you'd like to hear.
Three planes dropped their rock payloads over the
storm. We don't know about all of them, but one
observation team noted that a large number of creatures
were killed by the falling rocks. They were lucky enough
to catch a break in the storm front at the moment of the
drop."
“Too little too late, I'd imagine," Covent sighed.
"Thanks, sergeant."
The sergeant nodded and took his leave.
"Your offer is generous, Tal Tu, but I can't put you in
69
charge of a platoon," Covent picked up where he left off.

"They just won't trust you, and that will put the mission
at risk."
The sergeant burst into the tent again, and Covent
spun on him angrily. "What is it now, sergeant?" he
demanded.
"The lizards are coming through the storm!" the
sergeant blurted.
"Set off the explosions," Covent ordered. "I want that
wall of fire up now!"
They all rushed out of the tent, the discussion about
who was going after the stelae forgotten as a more
immediate threat was revealed.
21
Quin Sebastian stepped off the transport and looked
around .Fora base so close to the battlefront, T wentynine
Palms was overly subdued. He was a soldier of fortune
who worked for whoever had the money — as long as
the job didn't go against his own moral standards. Of
course, being in the field of work he was in, his moral
standards did have some rather unclear borders. His
most recent job was for President Jonathan Wells, the
man he worked for when he had been a CIA operative.
Wells had asked him to go into the Zone of Silence, into
New York actually, to check into rumors that Wells'
predecessor, President Douglas Kent, was still alive.
The rumors suggested that he had not been killed during
the initial invasion, but was hiding out in the very heart
of the enemy's camp. Sebastian had accepted the job. He
made it as far as a relocation camp in Kentucky when the
call came for him to return to the farm. Instead of Wells
being on the line, however, it was Dennis Quartermain.
"Wells is dead, Sebastian," Quartermain had informed
70
The Nightmare Dream
him. "He's been assassinated."

Sebastian did not like Quartermain. In fact, he didn't
trust the man. Neither did Wells for that matter, and the
details of Quin's mission were never revealed to
Quartermain. Quin had decided to keep the mission
secret. He could always go back to New York. Right now
he had a more personal assignment. And his target,
according to Quartermain, was Congressman Andrew
Jackson Decker.
Two men in dark glasses were waiting for him when
he stepped onto the tarmac. He knew their type — God,
he used to be their type! — and he wondered what
agency they were assigned to. As this was the site of
President Wells' assassination, they were probably FBI
or Secret Service men.
He gave them his winningest smile, and said, Don t
bother with my luggage, just take me to see Colonel
McCall."
"Sorry, Sebastian," one of the men said, "but we have
different orders. Come with us."
They turned to go and actually took a half a dozen
steps before they noticed he wasn t following them.
They returned, and already anger was flaring behind
their dark glasses. Sebastian smiled. I guess I haven t
lost any of my style," he said. "Less than a minute and
I've pissed you fellows off."
One of the men made a motion for his shoulder
holster, but the other man stopped him. He composed
himself, then flashed a strange badge at Sebastian. The
badge was a stylized sun, radiating daggers instead of
beams of light.
"What's that?" Quin asked. "Your cloak-and-dagger
membership card?"
"We're with the Delphi Council, Mr. Sebastian," the
72
agent informed him coldly. "The director of the Council

is here and she wants to speak with you."
Delphi Council? Quartermain had mentioned
something about a new branch of the spy services back
in Houston, but he had dismissed it as nothing more
than a think tank. Now he wasn't so sure. He shrugged.
"Lead the way."
They took him into one of the buildings, eventually
leading him to a well-appointed office. Seated behind
the desk was a woman with raven-black hair. It was
styled short, and had the barest hints of gray.
"Please have a seat, Mr. Sebastian," she said, smiling
broadly.
"Thanks," he replied, "but I'll stand."
"Of course," she continued. "Let me get right to the
point. You will report to me on the matter of Andrew
Decker and his imminent capture. I will provide you
with ..."
Sebastian cut her off. "Don't take this the wrong way,
lady, but who the hell are you and why am I reporting
to you?"
"I am Ellen Conners, director of the Delphi Council,"
she explained, her eyes boring into him with frightening
power. He had heard of Conners, although he thought
she was still in the Senate. She had a reputation as Old
Lady Medusa, but she didn't look old. He imagined that
it wouldn't be hard not to waver under the strength of
her gaze, though.
"The investigation of President Wells' assassination
has been given over to the Council, and as you have been
hired to perform services concerning said assassination,
you will now report to me," Conners finished smugly.
"What does reporting to you entail?" Sebastian
pressed. He didn't think he liked the way this job was
72
The Nightmare Dream
shaping up, but he owed it to Wells to see it through.

"Very little, really. I will provide you with details
concerning the assassination, Decker's subsequent flight
from this base, who his traveling companions are, and
where he is most likely to be found. In return, you will
bring the congressman back here to me. I will be running
the Council from this location until the Decker matter is
behind us."
"Where's the catch?" Sebastian asked.
"Catch?"
"What else comes with this little deal?"
Conners laughed. "You are a bright man, Mr.
Sebastian. Perhaps when this is all over you would
consider becoming one of my Spartans. But you want an
answer, don't you? Very well. Agent Thomas King will
be accompanying you on your mission. Don't bother
Protesting. This is not a negotiable point."
Sebastian looked at the agent. It was the one who did
m
ost of the talking. Great! "We leave in two hours,
King," Sebastian informed him. "Be ready."
Then Quin sat down to get his briefing from the
director of the Delphi Council.
22
Sebastian checked his watch. The helicopter would
e
ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Conners' briefing
f°ok almost all of the two hours he had set aside for this
Vopover. He certainly didn't want to give Decker
Anymore of a head start, and Conners was adamant
® °ut riot calling any of the officers at the battlefront in
ear
°f tipping Decker off to their plans. Still, Quin
csperately wanted to speak to Colonel McCall to get
ls
version of what happened here, but the colonel was
nowhere to be found. The base was fairly large, and he
73
could be anywhere dealing with who knew what kind of

crisis.
As he wandered the hospital building, Sebastian
came across another Spartan. This one was stationed in
front of a door, standing guard. His curiosity aroused,
Sebastian went over to talk to the man.
"Get lost," the Spartan ordered.
"Take it easy," Quin said, flashing a smile. "I'm one
of you guys. Conners is sending me out to pick up that
Decker creep."
"You must be the mere," the Spartan responded.
"Quin Sebastian," he introduced himself. "What do
you have in there?"
"Just the kids who helped Decker. We're holding
them as possible accomplices."
"Mind if I ask them a couple of questions, just to
confirm some things Conners wasn't clear on."
The Spartan nodded, pushing the door open so that
Sebastian could enter. "Five minutes," he said.
"That's all I've got to spare anyway," Quin said, and
he entered the room.
The room was illuminated by a single lamp. It had a
single bed, of a style made famous in hospitals the world
over, and a single chair rested near the single window.
On the bed sat two boys. One could have been as old as
sixteen. The other was no more than fourteen, but
probably younger. The older youth looked up when
Sebastian entered, displaying a shining black eye for the
soldier of fortune to see.
"Who did that to you, boy?" Sebastian asked.
"Who do you think?" the youth sneered. "What are
you here for? Are you going to play good cop? Well,
don't waste your breath. I don't have anything else to
say to you people."
74
The Nightmare Dream
There were other marks on the youth's face. Sebastian

cringed. The Spartans had worked him over. Anger
flared in Quin's gut, but he held it back. After all, these
kids could be guilty. They could have helped Decker.
"I guess Decker left you two high and dry," Quin
said, testing the waters. "How does it feel to be assassins
before getting out of your teens?"
The younger boy leaped at Quin, slashing and kicking
as tears streamed down his cheeks. "Don't you hurt him
anymore," the younger boy cried. "Leave Coyote alone!"
Coyote and Rat, Quin remembered, that was what
Conners called them. He subdued the boy and gently
shoved him toward the bed. The older youth caught
hold of him and hugged him tightly against his body.
Through his sobs, Decker clearly heard the words the
younger boy spoke.
"Ace didn't kill nobody, Coyote," the boy cried. "Tell
him Ace didn't do it!"
"I'm not telling this guy nothing, Rat," the older
youth said sternly. "They only want to believe the bad
things, anyway."
Something wasn't right here, but Quin couldn't quite
Put it together. He was about to ask the boys a question
^hen the door to the room opened. He decided to finish
is act as the Spartan expected.
Crying won't do you any good," Sebastian shouted
jUtgrily. "We're going to catch Decker without your
e
P' and then he'll give us the evidence we need to put
you two away as well."
He hated himself for that, but at least the Spartan
■’Oerned satisfied. He nodded to the agent, then went off
0
rendezvous with the agent named King.

23
Decker watched the wall of fire burn, its orange
flames dancing wildly in the perpetual night. Some of
the edeinos had been caught by the explosions that
ripped along the forty-mile long storm front, but he
didn't think they got too many of them. Now the crackling
curtain of flame served as a boundary, preventing the
invaders from emerging out of the storm.
He wondered how long it would hold them off.
Decker returned to his jeep. Julie was asleep in the
passenger seat, Tal Tu was curled up on the ground
beside the vehicle. Covent, he knew, was off meeting
with Colonel Matthews, planning their next course of
action. He had no idea where Kurst or Paragon had
wandered off to.
Mounted on the back of the jeep was a heavy machine
gun. It was the relatively new Mark 19 Model 3 40-mm
gun. It fired high-explosive shells at a rate of forty
rounds per minute. He didn't know if he'd be able to
make it work on the other side of the storm, but it was the
kind of weapon he'd want to have in case a rampaging
horde of giant lizards charged his position. The ammo
rounds combined anti-armor-shaped charges with
antipersonnel fragmentation. He was confident the
shaped charge could penetrate the thickest dinosaur
hide.
Decker rested his hand on the weapon and thought
about his options at this juncture. He could go with
Kurst to help the people that had released him from the
Gaunt Man's slavery, or he could try to find the stelae
that was the linchpin in the coming battle. He hated no-
win situations that had no clear-cut solution.
Decker tapped the fingers of his left hand against his
leg, letting his old habit calm him, help him think. There
76
The Nightmare Dream
was so much that needed doing, and there was so little

of him to go around. He sighed, wishing the long night
would end, taking this dark dream they seemed trapped
in with its passing.
I think I know what you're thinking about,
congressman," Eddie Paragon said as he stepped out of
the night. "I'd like you to consider something before you
make any rash decisions, though."
Decker looked at the rock'n'roller solemnly. He still
couldn't figure the man out. He had actually escaped
from captivity in the Living Land, fought his way through
a
storm front on foot, for God's sake! Ace remembered
his own passage through the wall of storm back in
Pennsylvania and he shuddered. If not for the jeep they
ad been driving, he didn't think he would have made
to the other side. As it was, his driver was killed by the
maddening sights that shimmered between the
raindrops. Now this singer had agreed to come back to
I e battlefront to aid them in their struggle against the
orces of the primitive High Lord. He had more guts
han Decker had earlier given him credit for.
The stelae is still in our reality," Paragon said, voicing
oughts that seemed to just come to fruition. "Anybody
an deal with it. But to go into the Living Land again,
at
s going to take extraordinary people—people who
can maintain their reality even as the alien reality batters
e
m from all sides. From the stories I've heard, you're
a
man like that. Kurst, too."
What are you getting at, Paragon?" Decker urged.
Just this," the singer said. "You're the one who has
cross the storm front. And Kurst."
fir ^sie âra8on paused, stealing a glance at the wall of

p- a‘ * %ht was a beacon in the unending darkness.
%, he finished his thought.
77
"And me," he said.

Decker was surprised. "Why you, Eddie? Why do
you want to subject yourself to that again?"
"Because I can," he said quietly. "I realize that the
reason I didn't join Baruk Kaah was because my reality
was always with me. Sure, there was a time or two when
the urge to throw off my clothes and roll in the grass was
real strong, but I got through it. You need someone like
that if you're going to make it through, and I've already
been there once."
Impressed by the singer's decision, Decker grasped
his shoulder firmly. "You're sure about this?" he asked.
Paragon smiled. "Not on your life," he admitted, "but
I've made up my mind."
As an afterthought, Eddie added, "But if you want to
try to talk me out of it..."
24
Quin Sebastian sat in the helicopter, looking out into
the long night. Far ahead he could see the glow of a
massive fire. It filled the horizon, reflecting off the cover
of ash that hung low in the sky. Something wasn't right
up ahead. He hoped they weren't flying into a lost cause.
Beside him sat the Spartan agent, Thomas King. King
had abandoned his finely-tailored suit for a more
functional jumpsuit, but he still wore his dark glasses.
"Can you see out of those things?" Sebastian asked
him.
King ignored him.
The helicopter flew closer, and now Quin could clearly
see the wall of flame rising out of the forest. "My God,"
he exclaimed, "how are we going to find Decker in that
thing?"
"We'll get him, don't you worry about that," King
78
The Nightmare Dream
assured him.
"Conners* was telling me about the two kids,"
Sebastian said, hoping to learn something from the
Spartan. "What were their names?"
"Coyote and Rat," King answered, but his attention
was focused on the flames.
"That's right, Coyote and Rat. Strange names."
"Gang names."
"Do you really think they had anything to do with
Wells' death?"
King laughed. "Who cares? I got to knock the older
one around a bit, and that's always good for a laugh."
Sebastian laughed too, but it wasn't as full-bodied a
sound as the Spartan produced. Deep down, Quin felt a
wave of nausea. He had a feeling that before this mission
was over, it was going to get close to the borders of his
Personal moral standards. Dangerously close.
"Take us down here," King called to the pilot, and the
helicopter made the lurching dip that signalled its
descent.
25
The wall of fire was starting to lose its intensity by the
time Julie awoke and Kurst returned to the jeep. Covent
had returned as well, so the group was back together
a
gain. Perhaps, Decker thought, for the last time.
So far so good," Covent said. "The wall of fire
stopped their advance."
"For the time being," Julie observed, stretching to get
0ut
the kinks of sleep.
Kurst remained silent, watching the wall of fire
latently. Decker knew that look. It usually proceeded
s
°me kind of trouble.
Now what, Kurst?" Decker asked.
79
"Something is coming out of the fire," the hunter

observed.
"That's impossible," Covent stammered. "Even if the
intensity has dropped, those flames are still hot enough
to roast a man alive."
"What emerges are not men, Major Covent," Kurst
said.
Decker watched as the shapes pushed through the
flames. They were humanoid, whatever they were, and
they burned brightly as the tongues of fire lapped at
them. Once out of the burning wall, however, the fires
upon them died. That's when Decker noticed something
odd about the forms.
"They're carrying guns!" Decker shouted.
"Tal Tu said the lizards couldn't use our weapons,"
Covent said.
"They are not edeinos," Kurst replied. "They are
gospog."
Gunfire filled the night, and men all along the line
screamed as bullets tore at them. In a moment, the
soldiers began to return fire, but a stream of the creatures
were already through, and more were pushing forward.
"Take cover!" Covent ordered, for the group was in
the path of the first line of gospog.
Decker leaped into the back of the jeep to man the
machinegun. He fired a few test bursts, shredding the
nearest plant creatures before they could get off any
shots. Then he opened up, cutting a swath out of the
attacking horde.
The others joined in, but the smaller pistols didn't
pack the same punch as the heavy machine gun. Julie,
for example, had to empty her .38 into one of the
shambling creatures before it went down. They seemed
immune to ordinary pain, and even the fire hadn't
80
The Nightmare Dream
appeared to bother them once they got clear of its

burning center. They didn't fall until they were unable
to keep moving.
Decker fired more rounds at the creatures, blowing
apart wave after wave of the things. Then, as suddenly
as it began, the battle stopped. The remaining gospog
retreated back through the dwindling wall of flame,
leaving behind a fair number of dead and wounded.
"What the hell was that all about?" Covent asked no
one in particular.
It was Decker who answered him. "That was just to
get our attention, Charlie. We wasted ammunition, lost
some men, and had the spit scared out of us. I thought
you said Baruk Kaah didn't have tactics, Tal Tu?"
The edeinos tilted his head and peered at Decker with
one reptilian eye. "I said he had no tactics as you defined
them, no sweeping troop movements, no lines of battle.
Hut he does know how to fight an enemy. You are right,
Decker. This is only the beginning."
26
Quin Sebastian and Thomas King watched the
exchange from behind a cluster of trees. The man at the
eavy machinegun had been identified as Andrew
ec
ker, and he had made a good showing of himself
a
gainst the walking horrors they were fighting.
What were those things?" King asked, a hint of fear
ar
>d hysteria at the back of his voice.
I don't know," Sebastian admitted, "but they had M-
s
-1 thought the invaders used spears?"
I thought the invaders were lizard people," King
returned.
They observed the rest of the group, trying to
etermine what they would be up against if they tried to
81
arrest Decker immediately. There were a number of

people with him—two army majors (one male and one
female), two men in fatigues who looked nothing like
normal soldiers, and a lizard man. Decker had fought
beside them, and even now that the battle was over he
stood at the ready. To Sebastian, he did not look anything
like a man on the run.
"I don't think this is the best time for this," Sebastian
said, looking for a way to postpone the mission until he
could gather more facts.
"Nonsense," King exclaimed. "There's no time like
the present." The Spartan pulled out his pistol, checked
the clip, and started toward the group.
27
Once he saw that the immediate danger had passed,
Decker leaped down out of the jeep. Julie ran to him,
throwing her arms around him in an uncharacteristic
show of affection. Paragon stifled a giggle at Decker's
look of discomfort at so open a display, but the others
ignored them.
The congressman caught sight of Kurst's sudden
movement. "There is danger, Decker," the shapeshifter
warned, turning to face the darkness behind them.
"Don't any of you move," said the man stepping
toward them. He held an automatic pistol in his hand,
and wore a pair of dark glasses. As he approached, he
snapped the glasses off and pocketed them with one
fluid, obviously practiced motion.
"What's this all about?" Major Covent demanded.
"This is about law and order, major," the man
proclaimed. "And justice." He flashed a badge that none
of them recognized. "I'm an agent for the Delphi Council.
I've been sent here to detain one Andrew Jackson Decker
82
The Nightmare Dream
for the assassination of President Jonathan Wells." He

leveled his weapon at the congressman.
"That's ridiculous!" Julie exclaimed. "Ace didn't kill
the president. He tried to save him."
"You shouldn't tell lies to protect a murderer, major,"
the agent declared.
"What lies? I was there. I saw the whole thing."
"What do you have to say, Congressman Decker?"
another man asked as he appeared out of the darkness.
"I have nothing to say," Decker responded evenly. "If
you're here to arrest me, get it over with. The sooner I get
to talk to someone in charge, the sooner this
misunderstanding can be corrected."
"Misunderstanding?" the first agent gasped in mock
surprise. "I do believe you are attempting to resist
arrest, Mr. Decker. It appears that the American people
w
ill be denied a proper trial in this case, but at least
justice will be served."
The agent raised his gun and pulled back on the
digger. Ace's eyes went wide, but he could not move,
c
°uld not react. There was no time. He heard Julie
scream. He heard a shot go off. Then a second.
Then Decker heard nothing at all.
28
Father Christopher Bryce walked beside the Victorian
yjaplain as the combined group of companions and
lc
f°rians marched toward the sea. There had been no
Ur
an
ther incidents after the skeleton golem was defeated
d, for the most part, everyone marched in silence.
w
. Bryce, however, was trying to strike up a conversation
Th the chaplain. He desperately wanted to ask about
muacles and such from a man who seemed to be a
ristian — albeit one from a different reality.
83
"How do you bless the bullets?" Bryce asked again,

hoping to get the chaplain to answer.
Exasperated, the man said, "Through proper ritual,
of course." He eyed Bryce's cross. "Are you sure you are
a priest?"
"Yes," Bryce answered.
"Then why don't you know how to bless a bullet?"
Bryce started to say something but then stopped. This
was getting him nowhere, and if he kept at it he would
only become more confused.
Eventually the group emerged at a narrow stretch of
sandy beach. Two row boats were resting on the shore,
and further out in the water was a steam-powered ship
straight out of an old movie — or another world, Bryce
corrected.
"That's Her Majesty's best exploration vessel,
Victoria's Eyes," General Wellington stated proudly. "It
will take us out of these foul waters to the port city called
Singapore. But I must caution you, the place is a confused
babel at best. The horrors that we Victorians have been
facing for countless centuries are new to the natives of
Singapore, and they aren't dealing with the situation
very well."
The soldiers began to prepare the row boats for
travel, pushing them into knee-deep water. Then they
held them steady, looking expectantly at their charges.
"Come on," Wellington urged. "Into the boats with
all of you."
Bryce and the others started toward the boats when
a strange fog drifted onto the beach. It was a thick, gray
mist that was cool, damp. It was so dense that as it
obscured them it turned the bright day into dusk, cutting
off almost all of the sun's glare.
As they stood around gaping at the weird happening,
84
The Nightmare Dream

The Nightmare Dream
and as the soldiers made various motions to ward off

e
vil, a voice from behind them called out, "One moment
please, General Wellington."
Bryce turned to see a shape standing further back in
the fog. It walked closer, and he saw that it was a man in
a fine, old-fashioned suit. He had very black hair, which
Hst made his pale complexion even more shallow.
The general paled as well at the sight of the man, and
he stammered, "Mr. Manwaring? Is that you?"
The man bowed formally. "I am Victor Manwaring,"
he stated. "So good of you to remember me, general."
'What," Wellington stumbled over his own words,
w
hat are you doing out here?"
Manwaring smiled, and Bryce's blood chilled at the
^ght. “I have been sent to perform a service for Lord
alisbury, and for his humble servant, Thratchen."
Bryce and the others stiffened at the mention of the
ûgh Lord and his techno-demon, and each moved to
§rab their weapons.
as
k ^d êre 3 ^r‘ hiachi in your party?" Manwaring
He wasn't sure why, but every instinct Bryce
Possessed was screaming to run from this man. He tried
0
Warn Mara, but it was too late. She had already taken
®w steps forward.
,} am Dr. Hachi," she said. "What do you want?"
Pr h kr*n§ y°u a gift," Manwaring proclaimed as he
is a fUC6C *a bundled package from behind his back. "It
of. ,*nai display of appreciation from the masters of
bal
jsbury Manor."
her 6 toSseb the package to Mara, and she caught it with
brining hand. It didn't look too heavy to Bryce,
6 COu
she Was ^n't be sure. With Mara's cyber enhancements,
stronger than she looked.
85
"Fare you well, travelers," Manwaring offered with a

slight wave. "Take with you the master of Salisbury
Manor's gratitude, but remember that things will not be
the same if you ever decide to return here."
With that, Manwaring faded back into the jungle. The
mist followed him, rolling after him like some obedient
pet. Though the sun was back in all its intensity, Bryce
shivered.
"Let's get out of here, general," the priest said, turning
to board one of the row boats.
29
Andrew Jackson Decker opened his eyes to see Julie
leaning over him. She wore a worried expression, and
he tried to figure out why. Then he remembered the man
with the gun, and the sound of shots being fired. He
tried to sit up, and even if Julie hadn't placed a restraining
hand on his chest, his spinning head forced him back
down.
"A bullet grazed the side of your head," Julie told
him. "It left a nasty gash over your right ear, but you'll
live." She finished bandaging the wound, then helped
him to a sitting position.
Decker waited a moment for his head to clear, then he
looked around. Everyone was watching him, every face
a reflection of the worry that Julie had shown. "I'm all
right," he croaked, trying to reassure them. "What
happened?"
The second man that appeared was standing nearby.
Covent had his weapon trained on the man, but he
didn't look dangerous. He spoke. "The Delphi Council
has decided to pin the assassination of Jonathan Wells
on you, congressman," he explained. "I was sent to
bring you in for trial."
86
The Nightmare Dream
"Then why was I shot?" Decker asked.

"Because I was a bit too slow/' the man replied,
pointing at the other man lying in a pool of blood. "I only
realized he was here to kill you at the very last moment.
I dropped him, but he still got off his own shot, although
it didn't hit where he was aiming."
"I think you should explain this to me," Decker said,
"and start by telling me who you are."
The man met his eyes, searching for something in
Decker's gaze. With his eyes locked on Decker's, the
man asked, "First tell me something, congressman. Did
you kill Wells?"
"Will you believe my answer?"
"I'll know if you speak truthfully."
Neither man's gaze faltered. Decker spoke. "Wells
was my friend. I did not kill him."
Long seconds ticked by, then the man nodded.
"My name is Quin Sebastian," he said. "Let's talk."
30
Djil was discovering how little he liked riding on the
vast sea. It was much different than being on a river or
a lake. The ocean was violent, restless. It tossed the ship
from side to side and up and down, shaking up his
insides in very unnatural ways. The deck swayed under
his feet when he moved, and he could never quite
anticipate the next buckling, diving drop of the wood on
which he so precariously stood. The pit of his stomach
would not sit still. The pulse of his blood rolled and
dropped with the deck, making it hard to concentrate.
With the still-tentative steps of a landsmen's legs, Djil
walked softly to the front of the deck, and squatted
there. He dropped the blanket from his shoulders,
forming a nest against the wind and fine spray. It was
87
better out here in the wild air than in the close, warm
atmosphere below decks.
Though it fetched off the long sweeping flatness of
the ocean, this was a desert wind, moving in some small
dance or scurry, scented with one pervading odor. Here
it was the tang of brine. It was a balancing scent; a
cleansing one. It reminded Djil of the vastness of the
ocean and his own insignificance before it.
Djil could feel the spirits of the sea pushing and
prodding at him here, tasting this new intruder among
so many intruders, running deft fingers over his bones
and heart. When they were satisfied, they withdrew,
pleased. The aborigine wished he could be so pleased
with the shape of his journey, but there were still so
many things he was unsure of.
He sat quietly for a time, letting the air whip around
him and clear his mind. The soldiers had joined the
sailors already on this boat when they arrived, and they
were all busy doing the chores that kept the boat moving.
He ignored them. He looked around, catching sight of
young Mara. She was sitting against the wall of the
vessel, agonizing over two objects. One was the still-
unopened package the strange man had given her. The
other was too small for Djil to see. So, despite the
troubles he was having, Djil got back to his feet and
wandered over to Mara.
"What troubles you, Mara?" Djil asked, seeking to
bring her out of her funk.
Mara held up a small metal plate, about the size of a
credit card. She turned it over and over in her hand,
revealing the intricate designs that covered its shiny
surface.
"This is the virtual reality data plate I've been working
on," she said, holding the piece of metal so that he could
88
The Nightmare Dream
see it. "It contains all of my memories of Kadandra, of

my home."
What do you do with it?" Djil asked curiously.
Mara smiled. "I plug it into this slot behind my ear
and it lets me relive my memories. If I had access to the
Net, then I'd be able to jack in and actually interact with
my memories. While in the Net, my memories would be
virtually real."
"In some ways it sounds like the Dream Time," Djil
said.
"You've spoken about the Dream Time a lot. What is
it?" Mara asked.
Djil laughed, forgetting the discomforts of the rocking
boat as he spoke to the girl. "What is the Dream Time?
The Dream Time is the true world. When you dream,
you are seeing shadows of something real, projecting
out of the Dream Time and into the natural world."
"It does sound like the Net," Mara agreed.
"Similar, but not the same," Djil continued. "Every
land, every people, has their own Dream Time. They are
all connected, but they remain apart from each other. I
guess you would say there are two forms of time, two
parallel streams of activity. One is the world of our daily
objectives, this world. The other is the Dream Time."
Mara let her own laughter join the aborigine's.
'Sometimes you don't sound like a primitive native."
"I'll have you know I attended college in Sydney at
the request of a missionary. It was an interesting
experience, but I was glad to get back to the Outback
when my studies were complete."
"Tell me more about the Dream Time," Mara urged.
"My people look after the country," Djil explained.
"We are the custodians of the land. But there are so few
of us now. The young ones do not learn the ceremonies,

looking instead to the big cities for their lives. But I

remember. I guess that is why I heard the world's
frightened call for help.'
He paused, shifting into a more comfortable sitting
position. Then he continued. "The world has always
existed, but before the Dream Time it had no shape.
When the creator beings came out of the sea, they
formed the land and created life. This was the beginning
of the Dream Time."
"So the Dream Time was a period of history?" Mara
asked.
"Yes, although it was long before history as you mean
it. But it is also a parallel place. The Dream Time still is,
and through its power the world is kept whole."
"The Dream Time allows you to change the land?"
"If I wanted to, but that is not the way of the aborigines.
When the great hunter Mirragan drove his spear through
mountains in the Dream Time, the rivers, caves and
waterholes of the Blue Mountains were formed on Earth.
Now we simply seek to preserve."
"How?"
"So many questions, Mara! Through our art and
ceremonies," he said, fingering the intricate design of
circuitry etched into Mara's data plate. "The act of
painting, for example, connects us to the Dream Time. If
I perform the action correctly, it assures that what I paint
will always be in the Dream Time in abundance."
"And whatever is in the Dream Time is reflected in
the real world," Mara finished.
Djil nodded. "I would surely like to see your Dream
Time, Mara."
She held up her data plate. "I guess this is connected
to the Dream Time of my world."
"I believe that it is," Djil assured her.
90
1
The Nightmare Dream
"If nothing else, it's connected to my dream," Mara

said wistfully. "Triple damn, it is my dreams! There was
more I wanted to do to it, but without my hand ..." Her
voice trailed off, and Djil saw her depression returning.
"Mara, do not dwell on the loss. Instead look to the
future."
"We're on our way to battle another High Lord,"
Mara scorned. "What do you think I'll lose this time?"
The aborigine scratched his head, trying to think of
another tact to take in this conversation. Then it occurred
to him. "Open your gift, Mara."
She looked at the package in her lap. It was wrapped
in brown paper, tied off with ordinary string. It was
about the size of a large dictionary. No other markings
were upon it.
"It's from Thratchen," she said. "It could be a trap."
"We won't know until you open it."
Tentatively, she pulled the slip knot tied into the
string and the wrapping fell open, revealing a small
wooden box. With a deep breath, she lifted the lid. A
gasp escaped her lips and Mara tossed the box out of her
lap.
Djil followed its flight across the deck, watching as it
spilled its contents. There, gleaming brightly in the
sunlight, was a clawed, metal hand.
31
The young woman hurried through the crowded
streets of Singapore, carrying a sack of groceries. The
world had changed so much, she thought. The days and
n
ights lasted longer than ever before, and sometimes
none of the technological items worked. Worse, there
Were
rumors of monsters and other evil things stalking
the city. She didn't believe in such things, but she was

91
concerned about the safety of her family.

She turned a corner, pushing through a group of
shoppers waiting on line to enter a store. Everything
was in short supply these days, and very expensive. She
was lucky to have purchased the things she did. She
continued through the narrow street, getting farther
from the crowds. Her apartment was in the business
district, and since the problems began her neighborhood
was becoming less and less crowded. Few people had
any desire to do office work when there was no electricity
to run calculators and computers, and much of their
contact with the outside world had been cut off by
mysterious storms raging along the shore.
Footsteps echoed through the close street, and the
woman paused. The footfalls were heavy, like work
boots, she imagined. They stopped a moment after she
did, and she started to get nervous. She looked around,
but she saw no one behind her or ahead of her.
"Is anyone there?" she called.
No answer.
She started walking again, quickening her pace. All
she wanted to do was get home to her family .But before
she took a dozen steps, the echoing footsteps returned.
"Who is it?" she called, fear making her voice crack.
A man stepped out of the shadows ahead of her. He
was tall, with blond hair, and he had a tattoo on his right
forearm. The picture was that of a coiled cobra with
dripping fangs, captured forever as if poised to strike.
On his feet he wore heavy, metal-tipped work boots.
"Calm down, miss," the man said. "I'm not going to
hurt you."
He was American — at least she thought he was. He
had an American accent, full of bravado and arrogance.
Regardless of his words, he frightened her. He wasn't a
92
The Nightmare Dream
monster, not the kind with claws and fangs that the
people whispered about. But there was something about
him, something that reminded her of the cobra tattooed
to his flesh. She backed away.
"Now, don't try to run," he said, leaping forward
with a speed his size never suggested, catching her
wrist, engulfing it in one huge hand.
Groceries fell in slow motion, scattering across the
street. She tried to scream, but he twisted her hand hard,
nearly breaking it. She held in the shout, but the tears
came unbidden to her eyes.
"I need to show you something," the man said,
excitement filling his voice. He produced a large hunting
knife, twirling it before her face so that she could see its
sharp, serrated edge. "I want to show you my art."
As the knife plunged into her chest, as her life
splattered hotly onto the ground to join the spilled
groceries, she realized that not all monsters had claws
a
nd fangs.
Some were just ordinary people.
Those, she decided as death began to blacken her
vision, were the worst monsters of all.
32
The command tent was crowded with the smell of
coffee and sweat. Decker and Sebastian had been talking
for the last two hours. Covent had been in and out,
taking sure that the defenses were back in place after
foe last battle. Julie, Paragon and Tal Tu alternately sat
listening or slept fitfully. Only Kurst sat with them
throughout, listening but offering no words of his own.
When the conversation finally concluded, both men
came away knowing more about the world they were
n
°w involved with.
93
Sebastian, for his part, believed that Decker had been

set up. He didn't know why, but for some reason the
Delphi Council wanted to pin the assassination on
Decker, and then eliminate him to wrap up the matter
completely.
Decker, on the other hand, trusted the soldier of
fortune and believed that he was not sent to kill him as
the other agent had been. If Wells trusted him, then that
was good enough for Decker. An idea hit the
congressman as Covent walked back into the tent.
"Charlie, I think I know who should go with Tal Tu to
find the stelae," Decker said. He noticed that TalTu had
awakened as was looking at him intensely.
"Oh yeah?" Co vent asked. "Who?"
"Quin Sebastian."
"Me?" Quin exclaimed. "What ever gave you that
idea?"
"Because you can do it," Decker stated, "and because
it's important. Now, more than ever, it would be
impossible for me to return to more civilized areas. If the
Delphi Council sent one agent, then they're sure to send
a second and a third. I'll never reach the stelae if I have
to dodge both edeinos and government agents looking
to kill me."
Sebastian looked at the edeinos named Tal Tu. Then
he looked at Decker and the others. "Okay," he said at
last, "but tell me one thing. What the hell is a stelae?"
33
In the town that surrounded Salisbury Manor, in the
shadows of a dingy alley, a group of young roughs joked
among themselves. Their leader, an older teen, punched
one of the boys in the stomach, then laughed uproariously
as the boy doubled over in pain.
94
The Nightmare Dream
"Good one, Cutter!" another boy proclaimed, clapping

the leader on the shoulder.
"Look at Snipe cough!" still another observed. "Look,
he's turning blue!"
"If you thought that was funny, watch this,"
interrupted a new voice.
Cutter, the roughs' leader, didn't recognize the voice.
He spun to see who had dared disturb their hideout. He
barely made it all the way around when a fist caught him
in the jaw and sent him flying into the wall of the alley.
The rough slid down the wall, barely conscious. No
Hughs accompanied this sight, however. Instead, the
boys fell deathly silent. They all turned to see who had
dared strike Cutter. They gasped.
Standing at the mouth of the alley was a large
demonkind. He looked something like a ravagon, but
more man-like. However, he wore a black leather tunic,
and metal made up parts of his body. In particular, the
boys could see that the demon's right arm was metal, as
êre large sections of his wings.
"You'll die for that," Cutter said through lips that
w
ere already swelling. "You don't know who you're
dealing with."
"Obviously," the techno-demon said, "neither do
you."
The roughs started to shift then, revealing their
w
erecreature natures. The leader transformed into a
Werewolf, exposing sharp claws and pointed teeth. The
ot
her boys took on the shape of wererats. They chattered
excitedly at the prospect of feasting on the demonkind.
^ne/ a little more impatient than the others, leaped
acr
oss the alley, his fangs bared to deliver a deadly
strike.
He never made it.
95
The techno-demon splayed his metal hand and claws

shot out of each finger. He slashed at the wererat, cutting
the creature almost completely in half. Both portions
thudded to the ground, forming a steaming mess.
"Silver," the demon assured them, shaking blood
and flesh from his claws.
The werewolf roared at the sight of his pack member
so easily dispatched. He launched himself at the demon,
coming at him from the left in order to avoid the silver
claws. But the demon was fast, and very strong. He
gripped the werewolf around the neck with his natural
hand, pinning him to the wall.
"Unless you want to watch me gut your entire pack,
Cutter, I suggest you listen to me," the demon said,
waving his silver claws before the werewolf's eyes. "I
am Thratchen, and I am Lord Salisbury's regent. That
makes my word law in Orrorsh. Do you understand?"
The werewolf nodded, never taking his eyes off of the
claws.
"You met another werewolf a few days ago,"
Thratchen continued. "You called him something else
though, and refused to battle him. Tell me about that."
"You mean the dire wolf," Cutter said.' "I never saw
a dire wolf before, but I remember the legends."
"Tell me about the legends," Thratchen urged,
squeezing the werewolf's neck a little harder.
"Not much to tell. Dire wolves are big werebeasts,
very powerful. They used to lead the other werecreatures,
keeping peace between the races. That's all I know."
Thratchen stared at the rough, finally deciding that
he was too afraid not to be honest. If there was more to
learn, he would have to look elsewhere. He released the
werewolf, turning away before the beast even hit the
floor.
96
The Nightmare Dream
"Behave yourself, Cutter," Thratchen warned as he

departed. "And keep your pack in line. You wouldn't
want me to come back here."
Cutter shifted back into human form, rubbing his
sore neck to ease the pain. "That's for sure," he muttered,
Watching the demonkind exit the alley. When he was
certain the one called Thratchen had left, he slapped one
of the younger boys hard across the face.
"Don't just stand there," Cutter growled, motioning
toward the dead wererat, "clean up that mess."
34
Teth-Net entered the newly-completed Royal Palace,
making his way through the pillared corridors toward
the throne room. He was the Royal Marshall of the Nile
Empire, military advisor of Pharaoh Mobius. He was a
Tuiet man, more comfortable on the battlefield than in
the richly-appointed chambers of the Pharaoh. There
Wer
e times, however, when his own comfort had to take
a
back seat to the needs of the empire.
Music greeted the Royal Marshall as the court guards
opened the great stone doors to the throne room. It was
a
sensuous tune, reminding Teth-Net of the pleasure
°uses run by the gangsters in Cairo.
Come in, Teth-Net," a muffled voice ordered. It was
a
voice that the Royal Marshall knew well. It was the
v
°ice of Mobius.
The Pharaoh was seated upon his ornate throne,
^'earing the brown hood that obscured his features and
marked his origin as a villain in their home cosm of
e
rra. Here, though, his other heritage took center stage,
ere Mobius was Pharaoh of the Tenth Empire of Egypt,
ruler
°f all he surveyed.
Teth-Net entered, taking in the details of the room as

he strode toward the throne. There was no band playing;

instead the music issued forth from a record player. The
Pharaoh's Royal Escort, the lovely Clemeta, danced
provocatively before Mobius, mixing an ancient
ceremonial dance with the modern movements
associated with jazz. The effect, he had to admit, was
breathtaking.
"Isn't she exquisite, Teth-Net?" Mobius asked. "I
especially like the way she moves her hands."
The Royal Marshall agreed. He stood and watched
the woman dance for long minutes before Mobius broke
the spell she weaved out of sound and motion.
"She is hard to resist, Teth, but I'm sure you came here
for some other reason," Mobius said, the barest hint of
amusement in his tone.
"Of course, Pharaoh. I didn't want to disturb your
relaxation."
"Speak," Mobius commanded. "I can listen to you
while I watch Clemeta."
The Royal Marshall nodded, then began to update
the Pharaoh on the course of the wars of conquest.
Ethiopia, Israel, Libya, Sudan — these were the spots of
major conflict. Teth-Net described the situation in each
area.
"To conclude, Pharaoh, we are making marked
progress on all of our fronts," Teth-Net finished.
"Very good, Teth, but not good enough," Mobius
declared. "I can't worry about these wars when so many
other matters require my attention. Go back to your
soldiers and end these battles. That is all."
Dismissed, Teth-Net bowed and started across the
room. The woman danced around him as he walked,
trailing her silken scarf over his naked chest. He ignored
her, continuing forward to carry out the Pharaoh's
98
The Nightmare Dream
Bob Dvorak

The Nightmare Dream
orders. But while he showed no visible signs of

discomfort, his mind plagued him with images of her
curves, and the touch of her silk.
Even after he had exited, the smell of her perfume
stayed with him for a long, long time.
35
Decker and Kurst stood beside their jeep, watching
the dying wall of flame. Quin Sebastian and Tal Tu had
left about an hour ago, traveling by helicopter toward
the forest to the south to find and destroy a stelae.
Decker wished them luck.
"Paragon and Julie are coming with us," Decker told
Kurst. "Both of them volunteered, and neither of them
^vould take no for an answer."
"I know," replied Kurst. "In their own ways, each is
as
stubborn as you or me."
"What will we find out there?" Decker asked.
Kurst shrugged. "You've been through the shifting
reality within a storm front, and you've seen some of the
features of the Living Land. The maelstrom bridge will
be difficult for you, and Takta Ker itself is a hot, steamy
place. If we make it through that, then there's one more
bridge and we'll be in Aysle."
'Will we catch up with the others in time?"
It's hard to say," Kurst answered. "They have a
°nger trip, since none of them knows how to travel from
£°sm to cosm via the bridges. We should reach them
e
fore the battle is finished."
Paragon and Julie stepped out of the command tent.
ey carried packs full of last minute supplies. As they
Piled them into the jeep, Kurst shook his head.
We should only take as much as we can carry," the
u
nter said. "We will abandon the jeep as soon as we
99
reach the bridgehead."

"Until then, we might wind up needing some of this
stuff," Julie said.
Decker checked the packs. "Did you bring the
explosives?"
"Would I forget the explosives?" Julie mocked him.
"Of course I brought them. The timer and detonator,
too."
Covent approached, pulling his own jeep to a stop
beside them. "Good luck, Ace," he called.
Decker walked over to the major and grasped his
hand. "You too, Charlie," he said. "Hang in there and
we'll win this one yet." Then Decker turned serious.
"Promise me something, Charlie."
"Whatever you want, Ace," Covent assured him.
"When you're done here you've got to go back to
Twentynine Palms and make sure Rat and Coyote are all
right."
"You don't need to ask something like that, Ace,"
Covent said. "I was planning to do that the first chance
I got as soon as Sebastian said it. I don't know them as
well as you, but they seemed like good kids when I met
them."
"Thanks, Charlie," Decker said.
"Here they come again!" a soldier from a nearby
observation point called out.
Sure enough, the gospog were charging out of the
dying flames, and hordes of dinosaurs and lizard men
were behind them.
"This is it, Co vent," Decker said as he jumped into the
back of the jeep.
"Let's show those lizards how to conduct a real war!"
Covent yelled to them as he drove off.
"Punch it!" Decker commanded, and Julie hit the gas,
100
The Nightmare Dream
propelling the jeep forward. He gripped the handles of

the heavy machinegun, but decided to hold fire until
absolutely necessary. Once they crossed the storm front,
they would only have the ammunition they were
carrying. Decker didn't want to run short before they
had even progressed a few miles.
The jeep cut across the open field quickly, and then
the wall of flame was ahead of them. If they didn't get
shot by friendly fire, and if they didn't get incinerated,
then maybe they would have a chance at this wild stunt.
"Look out," Paragon shouted.
Ahead of them, emerging from the fire, were a handful
°f gospog. Decker studied their plantlike bodies by the
light of the flames, noting how human they also looked.
The gospog raised the guns they carried, doing their
best to take aim. Decker squeezed off a quick burst of his
own, and four of the creatures went down in a spray of
explosive shells. Julie rammed the other two, and the
jeep thudded over the falling forms.
"Duck!" Julie yelled out, not even slowing as she
drove the jeep through the flames.
Everything got very hot and very bright for a few
long seconds, then the jeep was through. Before Decker
could ask if everyone was all right, they were engulfed
by the cold, beating rain of the storm front. Immediately,
Decker's earlier trip through the nightmare region came
back to him. He remembered how his driver, a marine
Private named Rider, had died piloting his vehicle
through the alien landscape.
"Julie!" Decker screamed, but the wind and rain
ripped his voice away as soon as it emerged from his
mouth. Water soaked his clothes and filled his eyes, and
T took everything he had to hang onto the mounted gun.
be jeep bounced, but it kept on moving. Decker prayed
101
it was because Julie was all right.

He never noticed the gospog.
It climbed up from underneath the vehicle, from the
spot it had been caught on when the jeep ran over it. It
moved slowly, climbing with only its legs and one arm
to help it. The other arm had been lost, torn off when it
had been hit by the jeep. It grabbed Decker, capturing
his neck in the crux of its remaining arm. Then it squeezed.
God it was strong! Decker thought. Already he could
feel his windpipe closing shut. The arm smelled of roots
and rotting flesh, and dirt filled his mouth as he struggled
for air. He held on to the machinegun as he threw
himself from side to side, but the gospog continued to
strangle him. Lightning flashed, and he heard the
thunderous crack of opening ground somewhere near
the vehicle. The jeep jerked to the right, and Decker
almost lost his grip. Had he, he would have been thrown
from the jeep and left alone in the nightmare region. He
hoped that death would be quick if that occurred, and he
wondered how Paragon had managed to walk through
the storm.
Once the jeep was traveling smoothly again, the
gospog tightened its stranglehold. Decker felt himself
slipping away as unconsciousness descended. Then the
gospog was pulled off of him. He opened his eyes,
fighting to see through the pelting rain. There was
Kurst, in werewolf form, struggling with the gospog.
The battle did not last long. With a mighty heave, Kurst
tossed the creature into the storm. Then he grabbed hold
of the machinegun, and he and Decker held on as the
jeep raced on through the shifting landscape.
36
Christopher Bryce stood against the railing of the
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Michael Annis
I
The Nightmare Dream
steam ship, watching as they drew closer to the docks of

Singapore. Tolwyn was beside him. She held her crys
flower cupped gently in her hands, examining the
intricate patterns of red and blue color that weaved
throughout its odd-shaped petals. He remembered when
he first saw the flower, how it appeared against the stark
metal of the operating table when Wendy Miller —
Tolwyn — returned to life.
"It is still alive, Christopher," Tolwyn said, showing
him the flower. After all these weeks, it still looked fresh,
its colors still vibrant.
"I think it's a special flower, Tolwyn," he said honestly.
It means something. What do you remember about it?"
"Very little," she admitted. "Not all of my memories
are
complete as yet. I remember running through fields
of these flowers when I was a little girl, and I remember
lighting Uthorion's invaders in another field. Maybe it
Was
the same field. I do not know. They trampled the
flowers. They had no regard for their beauty, for their
meaning."
"What meaning?" Bryce asked, but Tolwyn's face
showed hints of frustration.
I do not know," she said. "The blood was terrible,
though. They cut a path through the defenders of the
alley of the Sword, and pellets of rich, red blood
splattered the crys flowers. The red mixed with the
crimson hues of the petals, just as it showed clearly
against the blue."
Easy, Tolwyn, don't let the images upset you."
She turned to him, her eyes begging for help, for
Understanding. "How can Ardinay still live,
hristopher?" she asked. "How could Aysle become the
ark place the dwarves have described if the Lady of
J
ght won the day? And more, how come Uthorion is

still in the land?"

Bryce shook his head sadly. He had no answers for
the warrior, no words of wisdom to make everything
better. He had only his presence and support, and, yes,
his love, for he did so love the woman from Aysle. But
it was a love he could never consummate, so he settled
for her friendship, and he freely gave her his.
37
Mara sat alone, her tools spread before her, her data
plate in her hand. Thratchen's gift rested nearby, once
again secure within its wooden box. As she worked and
planned, the dwarves wandered over.
"Mara, you should have seen it!" Toolpin exclaimed.
"They've figured out things to do with steam that not
even the great dwarven scientist Delvur could imagine!"
"Oh, they're clever, all right," Gutterby growled,
"but let's not go giving these humans too much credit.
By the Missing Makers, the steam engine isn't that
good."
"Gutterby's right," Pluppa agreed. "Give us a few
days and the proper tools and we'd have this vessel
humming like a dwarven mine cart!"
Toolpin scowled. "Now mind you that I haven't been
in the dwarven lands for a good many years, but as I
recall the mine carts made a terribly awful racket."
Pluppa whacked him on the head with her battle
spike. "Mind your elders, Toolpin, or I'll make sure you
get to see the mines for a good long time!"
"What are you doing, child?" Grim asked, noticing
the tools laid out around Mara.
She hesitated, not sure they would understand. Grim
seemed to sense her reluctance, and he motioned for
Pluppa to speak to her.
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Michael Annis
The Nighttnare Dream
"Now don't get like that on us, girl," the female dwarf
scolded. "If you don't want to tell us your business,
that's one thing. But if you deem us too stupid to
understand your fancy science, well that's another thing.
Just remember, we can take an airplane engine apart
and put it back together again."
"Yeah," Toolpin added indignantly, "and sometimes
it even works."
"Be that as it may," Pluppa continued after giving the
young dwarf another whack on the head, "we may be
able to help you."
"We do see things from a different perspective, after
all," Grim finished.
Mara smiled at the quartet. They were right, she
thought, and talking through the process might give her
an idea or two.
"This is a virtual reality plate," she said, holding up
a credit card sized object. "If I plug it into this slot behind
m
y ear, it lets me experience the memories of my world
in vivid detail."
The dwarves made appreciative, awe-filled noises,
and Toolpin tentatively touched the twin slots leading
1° Mara's built-in computers.
"So what's the problem?" Gutterby asked.
"I want to create a process that will let someone
experience the sensover memories without the aid of an
interface plug or any cyber enhancements," she said,
keeping the fact that it was to be a gift for Djil to herself
for the time being.
What's this?" Grim asked, lifting up a small pack. It
Was
about the size of the data plate, but it was thicker,
a
nd one side had a series of short, thin prongs protruding
from it.
Be careful with that. That's a jaz pack," Mara said.
105
"The stuffs illegal in Kadandra, but during the war

soldiers were supplied with it in case of emergencies. I
did some experiments with the stuff, but never on
myself. I brought it with me — just in case.
"What's jaz?" Pluppa asked.
"It's a drug that turns living tissue into a conductive
circuit. It makes synthetic nerve fiber and other cyber
implants unnecessary, but it can cause psychosis with
prolonged use."
Mara reached for a tool with her left hand, then
remembered it no longer existed. "Triple damn!" she
cursed. "How can I do this kind of work without two
hands?"
Her eyes went automatically to the wooden box
resting beside her. She looked at it longingly, then
turned her head away, launching into a theoretical
discussion with the dwarves.
But she couldn't help stealing furtive glances at the
gift Thratchen had presented to her.
38
Angus Cage watched Dr. Mobius hold court in the
Great Chamber of the Royal Palace in Thebes. Many of
the Overgoverners of the Nile Empire were on hand,
including the infamous Wu Han and the diabolically
beautiful Natatiri. The High Priest Ahkemeses was also
in attendance, and Rama-Tet of the College of
Mathematicians. Such an august assemblage could only
mean something of extreme importance was going to
take place. That made Cage's presence here even more
critical.
Angus Cage was a bounty hunter and a hero on the
world of Terra, an alternate Earth that was still locked in
the 1930s. Terra was the home cosm of Mobius, the
106
The Nightmare Dream
world where he had been Pharaoh of Egypt thousands

of years ago — and where he was recently reborn as a
master villain. Now, through some source of power that
Cage did not understand, Mobius had made himself
Pharaoh of a kingdom in this alternate reality. Cage and
a small army of Mystery Men — the costumed heroes of
Terra — had journeyed to this world via a weird science
device created by Dr. Alexus Brest in order to bring
Mobius to justice. The device self-destructed after it did
its work, however, and Cage and the others were trapped
on this world. They still had a vow to live up to, though,
and Cage was a man who stuck to his vows.
"Serving boy," the Royal Escort called from her place
beside Mobius' throne. "Fetch me some more wine."
Cage gritted his teeth, remembering the role he was
playing. Pie wore the simple garb of a palace servant,
and if he did anything unservantlike, he would blow his
cover and find himself in deep trouble. He hefted the
pitcher of wine and made his way to the royal party.
God, she was a stunning woman, Cage thought as he
Poured wine into her silver chalice. She had hair as dark
as the night sky, and skin the color of alabaster. There
w
as a playful smile upon her full, red lips, but her dark
e
yes hinted that the games she played were as dangerous
as they were exciting.
She let her fingers glide slowly across his hand as he
Poured, and he felt the electricity in her touch. He tried
recall her name, for it was on all of the servants lips
s
mce he had infiltrated the palace. Clemeta, he
re
membered, catching himself before he let the wine
overflow.
You do not act like a servant," Clemeta purred. "Do
ftiake you nervous, slave?"
Should you?" Cage asked, trying to remember what
107
he was supposed to call the Royal Escort.

"Should I what?" she teased, scratching his flesh with
her long fingernails.
"Is something wrong, Clemeta?" Mobius inquired,
finally noticing their exchange.
Cage locked eyes with Clemeta, trying to
communicate with her without making Mobius
suspicious. He desperately hoped she wouldn't draw
attention to him, but he had no idea what was going
through her mind. After a few heartbeats (during which
Cage held his breath), Clemeta tore her gaze from him
and called to Mobius is a sing-song voice.
"Wrong, my Pharaoh?" Clemeta asked. "What could
be wrong?"
She turned away, dismissing Cage without a word.
But Clemeta had left her mark. As she pulled her hand
away from his, she let her nails slide quickly down the
length of his finger. In their wake was a thin trail of
bright-red blood.
39
Thratchen stood at the bay window in the dining hall,
looking out into the long gray day that hung over
Orrorsh realm. Of the Gaunt Man's two great inventions,
only one was still operating. The stormers led by Tolwyn
of House Tancred had destroyed his possibility sorting
device, and with it the hopes of creating a reality pattern
free of the possibility of failure. But his second device,
the infernal machine, still continued its work somewhere
in the Indian Ocean. The machine was the reason the
Earth was slowing down. It was draining away the
physical energy of the planet and storing it for later use.
In the Gaunt Man's plan, the physical energy would
be infused into him along with the enormous amount of

J
The Nightmare Dream
possibility energy also provided by the Earth. Without

the physicaEenergy, he would literally burst from the
power of the possibility energy. Now Thratchen had to
figure out how to do the same thing with the mechanisms
still in place. If only he could find out where the Gaunt
Man hid Heketon, his Darkness Device.
There was a knock at the door to the hall, and the
man-servant Picard announced, "The Lady Sabathine
has arrived."
"Show her in, Picard," Thratchen ordered.
The ancient vampyre entered, and Thratchen caught
his breath. He knew that it was of unnatural origin, but
nevertheless, Sabathine was darkly beautiful. She wore
a flowing gown, and her hair fell loosely to frame her
alabaster face. She smiled at his reaction, offering her
hand for him to kiss.
He obliged.
"Do you like what you see, Thratchen?" she inquired,
letting her sensuous voice caress him.
"You walk in beauty like the night," he quoted, and
Sabathine laughed. "Come, sit at my table and let us
talk."
He took her arm and led her to the table, holding her
chair for her in a gentlemanly manner. She flashed him
a
grateful smile, and for a moment the image of a spider
a
nd a fly flashed through his mind. He had no idea
w
hich role either of them was playing.
Wine was poured, and Picard served dinner. Through
it all, their conversation was light, friendly, often
suggestive. Finally, pushing away his plate, the techno-
demon asked, "Do you need to eat food, Sabathine, or do
you do it just for enjoyment?"
The vampyre treated him to another one of her lilting
taughs. "Everything I do is for enjoyment, Thratchen. I
109
thought you knew that."

"Unfortunately, there are a lot of things that I don't
know, my lady," Thratchen admitted. "I am not a native
of this cosm. I only joined the Gaunt Man's court when
my master pledged the remains of our race to his service.
For example, I have recently heard the term 'dire wolf'.
Does it have any meaning to you?"
Sabathine looked at him with playful eyes, trying to
ascertain what kind of game he was playing. Good, he
thought, let her keep guessing.
"That's right," she said, "the dire wolves were gone
— well, just about — by the time you arrived in court.
Great, proud creatures they were, a high order of
werebeast. They haven't existed since shortly after the
Gaunt Man claimed Orrorsh as his own, and even before
that there were only a few packs of them. They hunted
where they would, and few could deny them that right."
"What happened to them?" Thratchen asked,
completely intrigued by her tale.
"The dire wolves joined together to oppose the Gaunt
Man's invasion," she continued. "They even appealed
to another cosm, a cosm full of the werecreatures, and
they resisted the Gaunt Man for long months. It would
have been called a war, if not for the way it ended."
Sabathine sipped from her wine, never taking her
sparkling, mischievous eyes from the techno-demon.
She ran her finger slowly along the lip of the crystal
goblet, then placed it to her lips so that she could lick the
liquid from it.
"How did it end?" Thratchen demanded. He was
totally captivated, which was dangerous when dealing
with a vampyre as powerful as Sabathine, but he didn't
care. He had to know how the story ended. His curiosity
demanded it.
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I
The Nightmare Dream
Sabathine smiled. "He destroyed them all. Every dire

wolf on Orrorsh, every one of them in that far away
cosm, wiped out. Even the memory of them was erased,
except in whispered stories like the one I'm telling you
now."
"They were all destroyed?" Thratchen sighed.
"No, not all," Sabathine admitted. "One remained at
court, serving the Gaunt Man as an example of sorts, but
his memory was wiped clean. He didn't know who he
Was."
"Kurst," Thratchen said.
"Yes, the Gaunt Man's hunter."
"Why was Kurst allowed to live?" Thratchen asked.
Why were his memories denied him?"
Sabathine rose and walked over to the demonkind.
She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Enough questions,
Thratchen," she said, her voice almost hushed. "Besides,
what you ask me I do not know. Ask your master when
he returns. There are other things I want to do right
now."
The demonkind looked at her, then he smiled. "Can
you love, Sabathine?" he asked.
"More questions, Thratchen?" she said, her eyes
nflame with merriment and dark desire. "Come learn
*-he answers."
Sabathine took his clawed hand and led him away
from the table. His mind flashed the image of a web, but
he dismissed it and followed her into the darkness.
40
The jeep emerged from the storm into a mist-filled
a
ndscape that was the world that Decker knew — but
yet
h wasn't. He made a quick check and saw that
everyone was alive, including Julie. She stopped the
111
vehicle, however, and turned to Kurst.

"You didn't say anything about fog," she screamed,
releasing the tension of the drive through the storm.
"Look at this stuff! It's as thick as pea soup! I'll never be
able to drive through this."
"Yes you will, Julie," Kurst said, returning to his seat
beside her. "I will guide you."
"Don't tell me you can see through this stuff?"
"No, but I have traveled in it before. There are certain
... tricks I know."
"I'll bet."
"Okay, let's not panic," Decker said calmly, trying to
ease the tension. "This stuff wasn't here the last time I
traveled through the Living Land. Maybe it'll blow
over."
Paragon shook his head. "No way, man. This is the
Deep Mist. Baruk Kaah had it brought down from Takta
Ker with miracles. It's here for the duration."
"Then we'll just have to make the best of it," he said.
The mist obscured vision. Ten meters past the jeep,
everything became shapes and vague forms. After thirty
meters, they couldn't see anything. Unlike the morning
mist Decker associated with cool mornings, this mist
was warm and humid. It was uncomfortable, and Decker
wasn't sure how long he'd be able to stand being in its
confining embrace.
Kurst tilted his head, the now-familiar gesture that
meant he heard something.
"What is it, Kurst?" Decker asked.
"Be very quiet, Decker, and maybe it will pass by us,"
Kurst said evenly.
Out of the mist galloped a score of black horses and
gray stags. On their backs, riding with wild abandon,
were armored warriors that appeared to be out of a
112
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The Nightmare Dream
Celtic myth. Some wore horned helmets, others

brandished heavy axes. Ravens flew around them, and
large wolf hounds ran at their sides and between the legs
of their mounts. Between them, lightning danced, and
every hoof fall was accompanied by crashing thunder.
From certain angles, when the lightning flashed at just
the right time, the riders' flesh appeared transparent
and he could see the gleaming white of their bones.
Then, as quickly as they had appeared, the riders were
gone.
“What...?" Decker tried to say, but an unnatural fear
gripped his heart, and he couldn't find the words to say.
“The Wild Hunt," Paragon said.
Kurst nodded.
“Get us out of here, Julie," Decker finally managed.
It feels like death just rode past us."
“It did, Ace," Kurst said. "And now it rides toward
Covent and his men."
“Don't even think it, Ace," Julie warned as she started
the jeep, letting it roll slowly forward. "We've got our
own agenda."
She hit the gas pedal and the jeep gained speed. "If
You have a trick, let me in on it, Kurst," she called. "Here
We go!" Julie, Kurst, Paragon, Decker and the jeep began
moving and were soon swallowed by the Deep Mist.
41
Claudine Guerault tried to stay to the shadows as she
made her way down the streets of Avignon, France.
Since the miracle had occurred, religious fervor had
swept the city. As far as she knew, the whole country
Vvas
awash in the religious revival. The Dark Ages had
mturned to France, and Guerault was trapped without
a
light to show her the way.
113
No street lights illuminated the sidewalks. No

automobiles raced through the avenues. Not even the
drifting sound of a radio turned up too loud greeted her
ears. The Church, which had gained unbelievable power
the past few weeks, had branded technology and the
tools of the modern world as evil. Guerault shivered at
the thought, and cursed herself for letting herself get
caught in the madness.
She leaned against the cool brick face of an old
building, taking a brief rest. Hiding was hard work,
dangerous work. She had seen too many horrors since
the miracle had occurred to let her caution falter. But she
was so tired. As she let her eyes drop closed — only for
a few seconds, she told herself — sounds came to her,
drifting on a light breeze.
It sounded like a party, she thought, full of excitement
and anticipation. When a cheer rose up, she opened her
eyes. She had been a reporter before the city changed,
always would be a reporter, she imagined. The cheers
made her curious. Suddenly she had a burning desire to
find out what was going on.
The sounds came from around the corner. She made
her way there carefully, staying to the shadows closest
the buildings. In the middle of the square, a large crowd
was gathered around a bonfire. Standing atop a platform,
cajoling the crowd to greater excitement, was a priest
dressed in simple parish garb.
What was he saying? Something about evil? She
listened, concentrating on his voice over the sound of
the crowd. "Throw away the instruments of evil, my
children!" the priest urged. "They do nothing for you
except blacken your souls and remind you of the
pleasures of hell! Yes, they provide amusement, but the
damned souls find little to laugh about in the eternal
114
J
The Nightmare Dream
flames!"
The crowd responded with shouts of agreement, and
more people joined the growing circle around the fire.
My God, Guerault thought, now they were burning
books! The very idea appalled her, and she forgot herself
and stepped closer to the crowd.
"Your souls have been weighted down by these foul
gifts of Satan," the priest continued. "And this is the
Worst of the lot!" He lifted a small, personal computer
over his head for all to see, and the crowd gasped. Some
even backed away, fearful of getting too close to such an
evil object.
Guerault would have laughed if they crowd wasn't
s
° serious. They weren't burning books. They were
burning appliances and office equipment!
"Now, my children," the priest urged, "let us give
these evil things back to the flames!" With that, he tossed
the computer into the fire. There was a loud crack as the
Plastic casing was consumed in the hot flames.
Suddenly the crowd joined him, throwing toasters,
televisions, telephones, video tapes—even a refrigerator
luto the fire. They danced around it as they did their
Vv r
° k, singing praises to God and the Church as cameras
an
d microwave ovens were fed to the flames.
Guerault was dizzy with the sight of it, sickened by
he level to which her countrymen had been reduced.
e
re these the actions of holy men? Were these even the
Actions of sane men? Suddenly she felt naked and
exposed so close to the crowd, and the fire made her
sweat. She backed into the shadows, then ran back the
Wa
y she came.
to gWh6nin,
^hide
auc ne
^she hlet the
Guerault finally
tears for her reached
people, aher
dark corner
country,
115
42
The Victorian steam ship let its passengers off at a
Singapore dock, then returned to the sea. Bryce, Tolwyn,
Mara, Djil, Tom, Pluppa, Gutterby, Grim and Toolpin
stood on the dock, watching the ship sail away. Tolwyn
glanced around the dock anxiously, and for a moment
Bryce thought he saw confusion in her eyes. Then the
look was gone, and her steely gaze returned.
"What now, Christopher Bryce?" Tolwyn asked.
Bryce wasn't sure, and he glanced at Mara and Djil for
assistance. But help came from an unexpected source.
Tom O'Malley stepped over and clapped a friendly arm
around Bryce's shoulders.
"Now we find an airplane," Tom exclaimed.
"Is that going to be easy in this place, Tom?" Mara
asked.
"Nothing is ever easy, Mara," the pilot smiled, "but
sometimes the trying is as fun as the doing."
Tom motioned for them to follow, and he led them
away from the dock and toward the place he planned to
find an airplane.
43
The black, rolling thundercloud stretched impossibly
high, billowing from the ground to reach into the ash-
filled sky of the beleaguered, slowing Earth. It was a sign
of storm without precedent, an omen of cataclysm. But
this towering cloud was not merely meteorologic. From
it bayed the hounds of the Wild Hunt. From it scratched
and shrieked the black ravens of death. From it, snorting
and trembling with their run, thundered the at-last-
slowing hoofbeats of the riders as their steeds once more
consented to control.
The Horn Master brought his pack to rein before the
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The Nightmare Dream
storm front that marked the edge of Living Land reality,

and led to the start of Core Earth. The armies of Baruk
Kaah had already begun crossing the boundary, but the
Earthers were holding them back with their weapons
and cunning. Even the gospog were not enough to turn
the tide. Baruk Kaah needed his own reality brought to
bear. To accomplish that, he needed the Wild Hunt.
The Horn Master let the pack wait anxiously, for that
would make their intensity even greater in the battle
ahead. He would help the Saar of the Living Land, even
though he disliked the High Lord, for Uthorion had
demanded it. The Saar was weak and foolish, however,
and the Horn Master's fealty would always be to
Uthorion.
He removed his great horn from the strap at his side
and hefted it toward his lips. When he sounded it, the
tower of cloud and thunder they traveled in would
break, raining death upon the Earthers. The Horn Master
s
miled. It would be glorious.
He sounded the horn, and the downpour of
destruction began.
44
Baruk Kaah wheezed with the effort of running,
glorious pain burning in his lungs. He offered his pain
to Lanala, gladly, ecstatically, aware of every ache as he
traveled toward the battle zone.
With every pain-lanced step and every whistling
breath, the edeinos knew he embraced life. His stride,
°nce smooth as his battle-trained body could make it,
now dragged. His lungs squeezed and drew like a
stalenger sailing a strong wind. His eyes doubled the
°ntlines of the landscape in which he ran, and every part
°1 his being focused on the fire that was his body.

"Lanala, feel my passion! Seize this offering, and

restore my strength so that I may help you feel again!
the High Lord prayed.
Each step pounded through Baruk Kaah's body with
the force of a hammer. His heartbeat ricocheted in his
ribs, and flame crawled his abdomen. His tail bones
shrieked with the effort to balance his weaving, jerking
body. Blood pounded behind his eyes, and the' world
tinged green with the effort of his run.
And then his sight began to clear. The rushing
jubilation of restoration filled his ears, surged through
his lungs, leapt the nerves and sinews of his limbs. The
pain seeped into a tingling, living pulse, and rushed in
rhythm with his stride. He felt exquisitely alive, feathered
by ash and sand crystals that whorled in the vortex of his
passing, warming in the exertion of his blood. He heard
the crunch of his feet and the slide of sand in his
footsteps, the renewed cry of insects no longer
overshadowed by his passage, and he was filled with
joy.
He stopped finally, gazing through the Deep Mist in
the direction of his warriors. He was still far from the
battle, but he could hear the sounds of conflict. What life
they must be experiencing! He wished that he had
traveled with them, led them as their Saar, instead of
staying behind. Rec Pakken had cautioned him from
joining the fray, but he had finally won out and broke
away. Let the Darkness Device worry like a lakten over
her young. Baruk Kaah was no newly-hatched hen who
needed protecting. He was Saar of Takta Ker, High Lord
of the Living Land! He would make the Earthers tremble
with his power.
In the distance far ahead, Baruk Kaah heard the
sounding of a horn. It was loud, thunderous. It signalled
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the arrival of the Wild Hunt. Soon, the next patch of land
would belong to him and Lanala.
He couldn't wait to join his people, to help them give
life to the dead of this world. With renewed energy and
burning anticipation, Baruk Kaah continued his run.
45
Julie kept the jeep moving through the mist, but after
a few minor collisions with fallen logs and rocks, she
kept the speed down to a crawl. They had been lucky so
far, and she definitely didn't want to blow a tire or
blunder into some hidden object that would do more to
the jeep than dent a fender.
"What are we following, Kurst?" she asked without
looking at the man beside her. She did not dare take her
e
yes from the road for even a split second, as visibility
Was nearly non-existent. "I don't see anything that you
could possibly be using for landmarks."
"I am not directing us by sight, Julie," Kurst explained.
"Then how?"
"I am following Scythak's scent," Kurst said. "He
traveled to Twenty nine Palms from a bridge in the
Living Land. We will trace his smell to that bridge and
tt^ke our way from there."
She wasn't sure if she believed Kurst, but since they
Were already hopelessly lost in the mist — at least as far
as
she could tell -— it made little difference which
direction they took. It was all the same within the gray
cloud that covered everything.
The change happened abruptly. One minute Julie
as
JJ straining to see beyond the glare of the jeep's
eadlights, trying to make out shapes past the reflective
anket of fog. The next minute the jeep emerged into a
c earing, and the headlights landed upon a huge edeinos

standing upon a slight rise in the ground.

The edeinos was larger than Tal Tu, broader, more
powerful in stance and bearing. His eyes reflected the
light cast by the jeep's beams, and Julie saw anger and
hatred in those alien eyes.
"Shoot it, Ace!" Julie screamed, trying to rationalize
her fear. It was only an edeinos, she told herself. Even if
it was an evil one, it wasn't some unstoppable monster.
But before Decker could snap off a single shot, the mist
engulfed the edeinos in a protective shroud, hiding him
from sight.
Julie turned to Kurst to find out which way to go and
she jumped, startled. He had transformed, and a huge
werewolf was sitting as best it could beside her in the
cramped space.
"Kurst?" she shouted, "Which way?"
The werewolf pointed toward the right, not taking
his eyes away from the billowing mist. She swung the
jeep around and gave it some gas.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but that thing
scared the hell out of me," Julie said, trying to make
conversation in order to break her mood.
"It should have, Julie," Paragon agreed from the back
seat. "That was Baruk Kaah."
46
He was here! The singer had returned! Oh, the
audacity of one he had given such trust to! Baruk Kaah
could not believe how much fortune his goddess had
bestowed upon him, and he literally shook with the joy
of it! Eddie Paragon had come back, marching up to the
High Lord like an old tra presenting itself to a pack of
tresirs for the kill.
There were others with the singer, though, and they
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The Nightmare Dream
carried dead objects from beyond the borders of the

Living Land. How dare the singer bring such things
here! Barak Kaah noted with a slight tinge of nervousness
that the dead things were working, for he heard the
unnatural sound of the dead beast they rode upon,
smelled the foul stink of its burning breath. He
remembered his attack on the Farther hard point, and
his subsequent loss against it. He had not been able to
force his will and reality upon it, and it had cost him
dearly. Could they have with them more such hard
points? No! That was unthinkable!
The High Lord peered through the mist, watching
them flee. There was a female and two males with
Paragon, and they all had the odor of stormers about
them. He glanced back into the mist, looking for a
messenger to carry his words to the ravagon. He made
the motions of command, and a young warrior
Approached.
"How may I serve you, Saar?" the youth inquired,
Positioning his body in the lowly shape of subservience.
"Find the ravagon," Barak Kaah ordered, adding
motions of speed and urgency to accentuate his words.
Have him join me here."
The warrior bowed, offered a quick prayer to Lanala
t° grant him speed, and took off into the mist. Then
Puruk Kaah turned toward the direction Paragon and
his companions had taken.
"Now you shall learn the powers of the High Lord of
akta Ker, singer," Barak Kaah vowed. "Now you shall
uow life in all its abundance. Take the knowledge with
Lou to Lanala when you die, and tell her you learned it
r
°m her beloved, Barak Kaah!"
121
47
Decker watched the rear, straining to see if anyone or
anything was following in their wake. The jeep bounced
over bumps and small obstructions in the road, and
every so often Julie cut the wheel hard to one side to
avoid some larger obstacle. The congressman was more
concerned with whatever the High Lord might decide to
throw at them, so he kept his attention focused behind
them. He did not share Julie's opinion that they had left
Baruk Kaah in the dust. Apparently, from the worried
glances that he kept making over his shoulder, neither
did Paragon.
Ace fingered the trigger of the heavy machinegun,
nervously keeping himself ready to fire at the least sign
of pursuit. He knew that Baruk Kaah would be powerful,
but he had faith that the weapon would be able to stop
the edeinos — or anything else they might run into.
"Damn it!" Julie yelled from the driver's seat, and the
jeep lurched hard to the right. For a moment, Ace
thought they would continue to spin completely around,
but a tree appeared out of the mist. The jeep smashed
into it with a jarring impact, and then caromed back. The
vehicle gave a shudder, then the engine died.
Decker saw that she had spun out trying to avoid a
crevice that cut across the road. Had she not gotten
around it, the jeep would have cracked an axle — or
worse.
"Shit!" she cursed, trying to get the engine to restart.
It coughed, but wouldn't turn over. "I bet there's not a
tow truck within a thousand miles of this place."
"We've got another problem," Paragon informed
them.
Stepping out of the mist was Baruk Kaah. He stopped
about fifty feet from them, but they could see him clearly
122
I
The Nightmare Dream
as the fog around him was dissipating. The edeinos

High Lord let out a terrible roar, then levelled his alien
gaze at Eddie Paragon.
"Singer," the High Lord said in a rasping, lizard
voice, "you have disappointed me. I offered you an
honored position at the Saar's side, and you betrayed
me."
"We're from different worlds, Baruk Kaah," Paragon
said. "I couldn't survive in yours. I'd wind up going
mad."
"Madness is still an experience, a sensation. Now you
will be left without experiences. Now you will just die,"
Baruk Kaah hissed.
"I don't think so," Decker called, pointing his
machinegun at the edeinos. He wasn't sure, but he
thought the High Lord was laughing.
"That will not work here, human," Baruk Kaah said
a
s he strode forward, intent on destroying the arrogant
humans with his bare hands. "This is my world, and the
Bead things of your world are nothing here."
Tangible waves of power emanated from the edeinos,
and Decker felt his resolve waning. My God, he thought,
how can I oppose someone with this kind of power? The
congressman's whole body trembled, his legs started to
go weak, and he felt like a small ship being buffeted by
an angry sea.
Kurst was beside him then, speaking to him in his
c
alm manner. "He is trying to impose his will upon you,
Ace. Fight it. It is your belief against his as to whether the
Weapon will work here. I believe that it will."
'So do I," Paragon added.
Of course it will work, Ace," Julie assured him,
adding her support. "You know it will."
'Yes," Decker admitted, watching as Baruk Kaah

123
closed the distance between them with wide, bouncing

strides, "I do."
He squeezed the trigger.
Baruk Kaah's eyes widened. His tooth-filled maw fell
open. His hands went up in a defensive gesture. But
none of those actions were in time. The heavy
machinegun added its voice to the others, and it sang
out with affirmation, a confirmation of belief punctuated
by the sound of high-explosive rounds bursting from
the barrel. The rounds carried with them Ace's belief in
his world and his reality. If you pulled the trigger in
Ace's world, then the gun fired. There was simply no
other choice. He believed that, and with the support of
Kurst, Paragon, and Julie he was able to block out the
doubts and fears projected by the High Lord. He
squeezed the trigger. And, as always, his aim was true.
The High Lord of the edeinos fell beneath a barrage of
explosive charges.
"I got it!" Julie exclaimed as she turned the key and
the jeep started.
"Get us out of here, Julie," Decker said, steadying
himself on the still-warm machinegun. "I don't want to
try that again."
48
Colonel Matthews and Major Covent sat together in
the command jeep, watching as the war continued. It
was not a pretty sight. There were no clear rules of battle,
no set positions to defend. All either side knew was their
own goals — the lizards and gospog wanted to walk out
of the storm, the American soldiers wanted to prevent
them from accomplishing that goal.
It was a bloody engagement. The lizards were virtually
helpless before the weapons the soldiers employed, and
124
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The Nightmare Dream
they were cut apart by automatic fire power. What they

lacked in weaponry, though, they made up in speed and
numbers. The soldiers were busy running from one part
of the storm to another trying to contain their advance.
The gospog were another matter. They could take much
more damage before they fell, so valuable ammunition
Was being wasted trying to bring them down. They also
had automatic weapons, captured from dead American
soldiers during earlier battles. The first bursts had come
as a surprise to the soldiers, slicing a wide path through
them before they could respond. Now they had taken up
defensive positions, digging in to wait out which side
Would run out of ammo first.
Waiting to see when their guns would stop working.
"I hope Sebastian and TaITu find the stelae in time,"
Covent commented.
"You put too much hope in these schemes, major,"
Matthews sneered.
"What else is there to believe in?"
Soon the sounds of battle lessened, and Covent could
See
that his men were holding the invaders at bay. While
they had been eager to rush headlong into the path of
heavy gunfire, there was a limit to their self-destructive
tendencies.
"We've got them, Covent!" Matthews exclaimed,
ßy God, I think we've stopped the charge!"
Covent was about to join him in celebratory
congratulations when a thunderous sound echoed out
°f the storm. It sounded like the worst thunderhead he
®ver heard, but it also sounded like the blare of Gabriel's
I°rn. It sounded like the end of the world.
It fell deathly quiet after the echo died down. Nothing
moved on either side. Covent rubbed his eyes, thinking
they were playing tricks on him. The wall of the storm
125
had broken off, sending a tower of black, lightning-

filled cloud rolling toward his soldiers. Then, as he
watched, the cloud bubbled away. In its place were
terrible, black-clad riders atop huge war horses. The
mounts galloped in place for a few seconds, showing
supernaturial discipline throughout the activity around
them, then the horn sounded again.
And the slaughter began.
49
Mobius sat at the great bench in his workroom,
tinkering with his latest invention. It was a mass of
tubes, resistors and wires, and it smelled of weird science
and arcane rites. Clemeta was beside him, gently
massaging his shoulders while he worked. Angus Cage,
still undercover in his role as a palace servant, carried a
tray of fruits and wine, and placed it before the Pharaoh.
Mobius, wearing the brown cowl that covered his
features and muffled his voice, did not even look up.
Clemeta, however, graced him with a smile that made
his heart melt.
He held his breath, trying to get her out of his mind.
He had never fallen for a woman this hard before (okay,
maybe once or twice), and never while on a job (although
there was that time in Germany...). The invention could
be important, but he decided not to take any chances this
time. He bowed, turned, and walked quickly toward the
door.
"One moment," Mobius called, and Cage froze.
Had he slipped up somehow? Was Mobius able to
pick up his thoughts about the Royal Escort through
some new gadget hidden within his cowl? His heart
raced, and he used every mental control he could think
of to calm himself.
126
The Nightmare Dream
Francis Mao
Vf

The Nightmare Dream
"Yes, Pharaoh?" Cage asked, keeping his head low in

a sign of fealty.
"You may take the tray back to the kitchens," Mobius
said. "We will not need it."
He retrieved the tray, trying not to watch as Clemeta
peeled a grape with her teeth. He made it to the door
without incident, but almost walked into the two men
that entered as he opened it.
The first was one of Mobius' special agents, for he
wore insignias that marked him as such. The second was
the hooded villain known as the Green Shroud. Cage
had gone up against the Shroud back on Terra. He
hoped the villain didn't recognize him. He bowed to the
Pair and pushed past them. They ignored him as they
moved into the room.
Cage waited a few minutes to see if they would come
right out. When they didn't, he moved back to the door,
Pushed it open a crack, and listened.
"I want the Gaunt Man's Infernal Machine!" Mobius
declared. "I want you two to find its location before this
Planet stops spinning and report back to me. It holds the
energy I need to become Torg, and with the Gaunt Man
°ff on one of his frequent side trips, this is the perfect
Opportunity for me to claim it."
“We shall not fail you, Pharaoh," the Nile agent
declared.
“I'll have my associates scour the world in search of
d, Mobius," the Green Shroud agreed.
Then do it!" the Pharaoh shrieked. "I want to surprise
Ihe Gaunt Man when he returns, and what a surprise it
Will be!"
The meeting concluded, Cage disappeared down the
c
°rridor before the two villains emerged from the
Workroom. He didn't know what any of this meant, but
127
he was sure Dr. Frest would know. All he had to do was

make contact with him without breaking his cover.
Piece of cake, he mused.
50
The ravagon found Baruk Kaah lying alone beside a
shattered tree. He cursed the arrogance of the High
Lord. First he thought he could stamp out a hard point
as big as Silicon Valley, then he decided to go one-on-
one against stormers with high-tech Farther weapons.
He did not deserve his Darkness Device!
Leaning close, he checked for signs of life. The Saar
still lived! That meant the ravagon was obliged to aid
him. The warrior who brought him the High Lord's
message was with him, staring in shock at his fallen
master. The ravagon slapped his wings across his body
and faced the young edeinos.
"Go gather the gotaks and bring them here," the
ravagon ordered. "The priests of the dead will know
what to do with Baruk Kaah."
"Will he live?" the young warrior asked.
"If you hurry," he replied, "and if they can get him to
Rec Pakken in time."
The warrior took off without another word, running
as fast as he could into the mist. The ravagon turned
back to the fallen High Lord.
"You had to attempt to take Paragon alone?" he
asked, expecting no answer. "Your pride has been your
undoing, High Lord of Takta Ker."
The ravagon spread black wings. He would not
confront the stormers by himself, but he would follow
them to see where they were going. They were dangerous,
and that meant they could pose a threat to his own
master, the Gaunt Man. He took one more look at the
128
1
The Nightmare Dream
High Lord lying beneath him.

"Pitiful," the ravagon scowled. Then, with a powerful
flap of his wings, he took to the air.
51
Thratchen stood before the Gaunt Man's ornate
mirror. The mirror still leaned against the wall in the
workroom beneath Illmound Keep, in the place it had
been since the Gaunt Man moved it from the tower. A
spider-web crack marred the reflective surface, radiating
from the spot Thratchen had punched on the night of the
Gaunt Man's demise.
The mirror, which the Gaunt Man named Wicked,
was a portal to other places, as well as a means to secretly
view those who were far away. Thratchen had shattered
it in order to keep Kurst from using its power to reach
Decker, to force Mara and the others to use their own
powers to send the werewolf — dire wolf, he corrected
— on his way. Now, looking at his own reflection in the
mirror, he hoped he had not destroyed the instrument.
"Wicked," Thratchen intoned, calling the mirror by
its name as he had secretly observed the Gaunt Man do,
"reveal to me Kurst."
Nothing. The demonkind's reflection remained, cut
through by the tiny cracks in the glass. Thratchen placed
his hands on the ornate frame. "Wicked," he demanded,
"show me the dire wolf!"
Was it his imagination, or was the spider-web crack
shrinking? Could the mirror heal itself? As he watched,
the surface shimmered, clouded over, and his own
image disappeared. Thratchen tried to back away, but
he could not pull his hands free. His fingers had somehow
Passed through the wood and were now trapped inside
the frame. Panic welled inside him, and Thratchen
129
screamed.
"What are you doing to me?" he shouted, hysteria
creeping into his voice. "Let go!"
The mirror held him fast.
It was draining him, taking vital energy from him. He
thought of Sabathine and their time together. While he
enjoyed the vampyre's company, he was never truly
comfortable, for in the back of his mind he could not stop
the image of her red lips kissing his neck, of her pure
white fangs breaking his flesh, of the sucking sounds,
from invading his thoughts. But none of those images
became real. Sabathine controlled herself. He had made
it through a night with a vampyre, his life intact. It did
not seem fair that he would now lose it to a vampyric
mirror.
"No!" Thratchen raged, gathering his will to use
against his captor. The crack was almost gone now,
retracing its way back to the place his fist had battered.
"Release me!"
With a final effort, Thratchen pulled his hands free.
He felt the wood let go, allowing his fingers to slip out
with only a soft plop. The mirror, still clouded over, was
whole again, unmarred. And though he knew some part
of himself had been taken, he felt that no lasting damage
had been done to him.
"Wicked," he said again, focusing his will into the
command, "let us try that again. Reveal to me Kurst!"
The surface shimmered, rippling like the surface of a
still pond after a pebble had struck it. When it again
calmed, Thratchen was looking at Kurst.
The hunter was riding in a motorized vehicle. It was
one of the primitive wheeled transports used by the
Earthers. He was with three others. One was Decker,
who showed no lingering damage after his long ordeal
130
1
The Nightmare Dream
with the rune staves. The others Thratchen did not

know. From their surroundings, he guessed they were
in the Living Land. He reached out with his mind,
projecting a question into the mirror.
"Who are you, Kurst?" he asked. "Who are you?"
The hunter looked up, staring directly into Thratchen's
eyes across the distance of the mirror. It was
disconcerting, as though Kurst was aware of this
intrusion, able to watch his watcher. That was impossible,
Thratchen told himself. Kurst did not possess such
powers, no matter what racial tag he claimed.
The mirror shimmered again, and Kurst was gone.
"No!" Thratchen shouted. "Bring him back!" His
mind reached into the mirror, probing, searching for the
connection back to Kurst. As he searched this unfamiliar
place, Thratchen felt the touch of another image.
Tentatively, he touched back, trying to determine if it
ivas Kurst or some other agent the mirror was attuned
to
- As he made contact, the techno-demon decided it
hasn't Kurst. There was too much darkness in this
image, and a disconcerting slice of madness.
The mirror's surface rippled, swirled, and the image
that Thratchen found took shape. It was the image of a
Bian, as seen through a blood-red haze. The man was
targe, with long blond hair. A tattoo adorned one forearm.
It Was a picture of a cobra, coiled and ready to strike. He
w
°re heavy, metal-toed work boots, and he carried a
l°ng knife with a serrated edge.
"Malcolm Kane," Thratchen gasped, remembering
w
hen he interrupted the Gaunt Man in the tower room.
The High Lord had been looking at the mirror, and he
Bad said the name of his Farther servant. But Kane was
dead! The stormers had killed him in the Grand Canyon!
had they? Thratchen remembered that the body was
Bot recovered.
131
The techno-demon watched the scene in the mirror.

In it, Kane was standing over a woman. Wet crimson
stained his knife, his hand. He had murdered, and
Thratchen knew it was not the first time. Or the last. He
studied the image, probing for other information. Then
he had it.
"He is in Orrorsh realm," Thratchen gasped. Why
had the man come here? "To find the Gaunt Man," he
realized as understanding dawned.
With a wave of his hand, the mirror returned to
normal. He was getting the hang of this, Thratchen
decided. He would come back to it later to learn what
other uses the mirror had. Right now he had to find
Cheltenham and send him after Kane before the man got
too close. It would not do to have him find the Gaunt
Man.
No, it would not do at all.
52
Malcolm Kane examined his masterpiece. The cut
was exquisite, better even than what the master artists
he had learned from could produce. He studied the
pattern the blood made on the still-warm body and the
surrounding area, looking for the answers he sought.
There were clues there, hints within crimson designs,
but no solid, all-encompassing knowledge to satisfy his
craving.
He leaned over the body and gazed into the dead
woman's eyes. This was the sixth pair of eyes he had
gazed into since arriving in Singapore, and the fading
light of life teased him with its secrets, but gave up
precious few revelations. Perhaps his next masterpiece
would be the one.
He cleaned off his blade and returned it to the sheath
132
The Nightmare Dream
hidden beneath his pants leg. Then, without another

look at the dead woman, Kane left the alley and joined
the crowds.
He had come to Singapore in search of the Gaunt
Man. The man owed him, and Kane meant to collect. He
remembered how the Gaunt Man had come into his
mind back in the United States. He had praised. Kane's
use of the art, and promised to reward him. He promised
him a Darkness Device. Kane did not know what a
Darkness Device was, but the images its name conjured
fascinated him. He did know that it was an item of great
power, and through it he could control this world.
If not for the priest and his group, Kane would
already have the Darkness Device. He met the priest in
New Jersey, on the night of his initiation into the art. At
the Gaunt Man's urging, he followed them across the
country, finally meeting them in the Grand Canyon for
the confrontation he had longed for. But things did not
go as Kane had planned. The priest and his companions
Were stronger than he thought, and they defeated the
s
mall army he had put together.
Kane reached up and touched his face, tracing his
fingers along the scar. It, like his damned memories, was
a
reminder of the events that haunted him. The woman
with the priest had cut him, leaving her mark upon him.
The woman named Tolwyn.
He was losing the fight, he remembered, but the
battle wasn't over. He would have won out, but the
Haunt Man had taken away his chance — and his prize.
The Gaunt Man sent a dragon to the group, and it
brought an offer. It promised them the Darkness Device
Kane's Darkness Device — if they would end their
quest and join the Gaunt Man. It was unfair, and Kane
bated unfairness.
133
So Kane left them, and began his quest to find the

Gaunt Man. He had left a trail of bodies behind him,
masterpieces of murder for the appreciative to fawn
over — and everyone else to fear. Each use of the art
brought him closer to his goal, for in the patterns of
blood he saw pieces of a map that only he could follow.
They had led him here, to Singapore, and he knew that
he was very close to his destination.
"Malcolm Kane?" a man asked.
The man was dressed in an old-fashioned suit, and
appeared to be in his early forties. He was standing in a
shadowy doorway, waiting for Kane to respond.
"I'm Kane," he said.
"I am Lord Cheltenham, and I have orders for you
from the Gaunt Man," the man said, remaining in the
shadows, keeping his distance.
"Go ahead," Kane told him, trying not to show anger.
How dare the Gaunt Man presume to order him! Perhaps
in the past, when they still had an agreement, orders
would have been tolerated, even welcomed. Now they
were simply laughable.
"You are to come with me to see a man named Kibos,
a sorcerer in the Gaunt Man's employ," Cheltenham
explained. "Aid Kibos in his work, and then the Gaunt
Man will grant you an audience."
"In person?" Kane asked.
"Of course," Cheltenham answered.
"Will this help me in my art?"
"I am certain."
"Then take me to this Kibos," Kane demanded, already
planning how he would learn what he could from the
sorcerer, then use that knowledge to force the Gaunt
Man to give him the Darkness Device.
Then the power would be his.
134
The Nightmare Dream
53
Angus Cage stood in a small alcove off of the main
audience chamber. The chamber was full of people.
They were there to hear the words of their Pharaoh, to
petition him for help or justice, and to take away whatever
knowledge he deemed fit to share with the masses. Cage
didn't know how, but Mobius had captivated these
People. He had charmed their reality away, and in its
place he set up his own twisted version of Terra on this
'vorld called Earth.
With Cage was the Guardian, another of the heroes
from Terra who came to Earth to end Mobius' reign of
villainy. The Guardian had left his mask and dark coat
elsewhere, but he carried his trademarked, diamond-
tipped cane.
"Are you sure we're safe here?" the Guardian asked,
falling silent as a young couple walked past on their way
t° the throne.
"As safe as anywhere. This is the only place I could
think of," Cage shrugged. "It's the only part of the
Palace you could get into without risking a break in, and
it allows me to stay in character."
The Guardian smiled. "Yes, how does it feel to pour
w
ine for Mobius? Do you have to peel his grapes, too?"
Cage said nothing, ignoring the barbs. There was too
little time remaining to waste it exchanging meaningless
hanter. He quickly explained what he had overheard,
leaving out no details of the conversation between
Mobius and his underlings.
When he was finished, the Guardian asked, "And
You have no idea who this Gaunt Man is?"
"Not a clue," Cage admitted. "I hope Frest can make
se
use of all this."
In the chamber beyond, Mobius was finishing his
135
address. Soon the crowd would be breaking up. The

Guardian clasped Cage's hand. "I should leave now,
while everyone's attention is still on Mobius."
Cage nodded.
"Good luck, Angus," the Guardian added as he turned
to go. "Don't take any unnecessary chances. Mobius is
dangerous, and apparently far more powerful than we
ever imagined. Don't try to take him down by yourself."
"You just don't want to be left out of the action," Cage
laughed.
"That, too," the Guardian admitted, and then he was
gone, disappearing into the crowd.
Cage looked around to see if anyone had noticed
them, but the crowd was caught up in Mobius' words.
He was an excellent speaker, Cage knew, persuasive
and charming when he wasn't cackling insanely. He
started to make his way out of the alcove when the scent
in the air finally registered. He breathed deep, letting the
smell fill his lungs. It was the fragrance of Clemeta's
perfume. He looked again, but he did not see her
anywhere. Could he be imagining it? Was he that
infatuated with the woman that he smelled her scent on
every breeze?
He walked forward, stepping out of the alcove. He
only took a few steps when he stopped short. There, on
the stone floor beneath his sandaled foot, was Clemeta's
silk scarf.
54
Andrew Jackson Decker studied the map with his
flashlight, realizing that the best he could do was make
a guess as to where they were. He figured they were still
in the national park lands, maybe as far north as Sequoia
National Park. The mist and the overgrown roads offered
136
The Nightmare Dream
few clues though, and Kurst was following his own

senses.
“There it is," Kurst said, pointing into the mist.
Decker and the others strained to see, but the mist
obscured their vision. Then it was before them, emerging
from the fog as Julie drove the jeep closer. It was an arch,
like the one in St. Louis, rising from the ground and like
a
n obscene bean stalk, or a bridge. It was definitely
living, this bridge, a green-clothed, entwined, multi-
frunked monstrosity that thrust into the ash-drifted sky.
"How far?" Decker asked.
"Soon," was Kurst's answer.
Decker thought about climbing up the vine bridge
joto another world. The plan was a reality now, in a way
J
1 could not have manifested before he had seen the
bridge.
"Fe fie fo fum," Decker said, recalling a fairy tale from
bis youth.
Nobody laughed, and Kurst wore a look of
Puzzlement at the strange words.
"Fe fie fo fum?" Kurst asked. "Are those words of
power?"
Julie began to laugh then, and Paragon too. Decker
%uored them all, staring intently at the fast-approaching
ridge to Takta Ker.
55
Decker, Julie, Kurst and Paragon said goodbye to the
leeP and shouldered as much of their supplies as they
c°uld. The jungle bridge loomed before them, an open
'Uvitation to another world.
It will resist you," Kurst explained. "The bridges are
r
° those from its corresponding reality. Others have a
uarder time of it."
137
"What could be harder than climbing that thing?"

Julie asked. "It looks as dangerous as trying to climb a
deadfall. What am I saying! It looks as dangerous as
trying to climb a million deadfalls!"
"Those from Baruk Kaah's world would find the
bridge solid beneath their feet," Kurst explained. "Gaps
would close as they passed, thorns would move aside.
But for us, every step will be a battle. The bridge between
realities is a hard bridge to cross."
"Then let's get started," Ace said.
Almost, Julie thought, it was like climbing a huge
gnarled apple tree. There was smooth bark in some
places, roped and whorled growths in others, and
branches overshadowed her. At times her face was nose
to trunk, and she was hanging on for dear life. At others
she stood for long moments, scanning for handholds to
grasp so that she could pull herself another yard along.
Kurst climbed in front of her, Decker and Paragon
behind, moving in tight sequence.
As soon as they stepped onto the bridge, dense green
foliage closed in around them, cutting off their view of
the land below. Kurst took care to stay only a few holds
ahead of Julie, but his foot ascending to the next branch
looked like it was moving yards away instead of simply
inches. When she looked back for Ace he seemed to lag
farther and farther behind. He had taken to reassuring
her by grasping her ankle every several steps, and even
though he seemed too far behind to reach her, he always
did.
"Why is the distance distorted?" she asked Kurst.
"As one reality curves away to another, time and
distance become almost meaningless," Kurst said. "I do
not understand it myself, but without this feature it
would take more than our lifetimes to walk across a
138
The Nightmare Dream
maelstrom bridge."
Her pack straps cut achingly into her shoulders as she
climbed. It had taken some time to get used to the height
and bulk of it, and she struggled to keep it from slamming
into the undersides of tree limbs as she moved upward.
"Where are the edeinos?" Decker called from below.
Kurst shrugged. "They only use the bridge to transport
large numbers quickly. These are not constantly used
thoroughfares like your highways. I assume all of the
edeinos in the area are at the storm front, fighting your
soldiers."
They climbed in silence after that, saving their strength
for the effort. Soon they reached the top, and the dense
foliage parted to let in the fog-filtered light of Takta
Ker's sun. Julie and Paragon dropped to the ground,
exhausted from the climb. But Kurst remained standing,
alert for any dangers. Decker, meanwhile, opened the
Packs that contained the explosives and timer. He set the
charge at the mouth of the bridge and pressed a switch.
Julie saw that a digital readout had flared to life,
counting down numbers with precise efficiency.
"That does it," Ace said, gathering his gear. "We've
Sot ten minutes to get clear and find cover."
"Terrific," Julie moaned, but she got to her feet and
followed the others into the new world.
56
Quin Sebastian ordered the pilot to make a third pass
°f the area indicated on the map. Time was running out,
an
d if they didn't find the stelae's hiding place soon, the
edeinos' primitive reality would wash over the battlefield
t° the north. When that happened, the soldiers would be
cut off from their weapons and easily slaughtered by the
izard warriors.

139
"There," Tal Tu said, pointing to a clump of trees on

a small hill.
Quin scanned the site, but saw nothing out of the
ordinary. "How can you tell?" he asked the edeinos.
"The restan is there."
Restan. It was an edeinos term. As Quin understood
it, a restan was a squad of edeinos charged with the
placement and protection of stelae. He saw nothing
below to indicate the presence of a restan, but he heeded
Tal Tu's advice.
"Take us down," he ordered the pilot.
The helicopter came to rest in a clearing some hundred
meters from the hill. Sebastian leaped out, landing softly
in the tall grass. He carried an uzi, a grenade belt, and a
.357 Desert Eagle. Tal Tu landed beside him, carrying
nothing more than a tool belt which was slung across his
chest.
Two other soldiers followed behind them, making up
the remainder of Quin's squad. Major Covent wanted
him to take more men, but he didn't want more than he
could handle just in case another Delphi agent was
hidden in the mix. They spread out, racing toward the
hill with heads down and guns drawn.
Quin and the others hit the ground at the base of the
hill, looking for any signs of resistance. Nothing moved.
He glanced at the edeinos hunched down beside him.
"Tal Tu?" he asked.
"They are here, Quin," the edeinos responded.
"Okay, move out," Quin called, "but watch
yourselves."
The first soldier, not seeing anything that looked
even remotely dangerous, ran forward. He was fast, and
he wanted to reach the top of the hill before the others.
He almost made it, too, when the ground exploded.
140
J
The Nightmare Dream
Shards of bone and bits of plant matter burst into the air,
burying themselves deeply in the surprised soldier. He
landed hard, rolled once, and lay still.
"A pain sack," Tal Tu said. "I should have warned
you."
"What else haven't you told us?" Quin yelled,
suddenly fearful that Tal Tu was a traitor.
Before the edeinos could answer, the second soldier
screamed. Flailing tentacles dropped from a tree above
him, wrapping around his neck and limbs. Quin fired
two bursts from his uzi, aiming for the foliage that the
tentacles emerged from. A moment after the machinegun
fire cut through the leaves and branches, a body fell to
the ground.
Sebastian ran over to the soldier and helped him pull
free of the lifeless tentacles. Once he assured himself that
the man was all right, Quin nudged the fallen body with
the toe of his boot. It was a starfished-shaped creature
w
ith a hole in the center of its five radiating arms. The
tentacles were attached to its underside. He gave it
Mother nudge, making sure it was dead.
"A stalenger," Tal Tu said. "The restan scout. There
s
hould be four more."
"Four more of those?" Quin asked, quickly looking
U
P in expectation of tentacles whipping out of the trees.
"No, four more in the group," Tal Tu clarified, "three
edeinos and a benthe."
They continued up the hill, alert for any other traps or
ar
nbushes. Tal Tu took the lead, not only because he
knew what to look for, but by being in front Quin was
a
ble to keep an eye on him. Even so, the next attack
surprised even the edeinos. The assailant was hidden
beneath a pile of grass and leaves, covered so well that
d blended in with the landscape. It was an edeinos,
141
roughly as large as Tal Tu, and it sprang from its hiding

place as they walked past.
"Lover of dead things!" the edeinos screamed as it
grappled with Tal Tu.
Tal Tu met the charge, getting his hands up to defend
himself by the barest margin. "What a strange name for
a gotak to call me," Tal Tu said quizzically. "Have you
given up your own heathen ways?"
"I am a gotak because it pleases Baruk Kaah," the
edeinos said. "For what reason do you commune with
the dead of this world?"
"Because it is wrong to impose our ways on these
folk. And because Baruk Kaah is an abomination to
Lanala and the Living Land."
The gotak broke free of Tal Tu's grip, catching him in
the gut with a clawed foot. As Tal Tu fell, the gotak
moved to finish him, but Quin was there. He brought the
uzi down in a vicious arc, catching the gotak on the side
of its beaked head.
"Tal Tu, are you all right?" Quin started to ask, but the
weight that fell on his shoulder cut off his words. It was
a flesh-colored amoeba, about a foot in diameter, and it
extended a pseudopod toward his face, touching the
exposed skin of his cheek.
Revulsion filled Quin as he tried to shake the blob
from him, but it was quickly replaced by a feeling of
friendliness. Why was he afraid of the creature? he
wondered. It wasn't hurting him. It was only touching
him, a friendly gesture, and its touch was warm and
comforting. In fact, it was so comforting that he felt like
sitting down to rest...
Suddenly the pacifying feeling was gone. Tal Tu
grabbed the blob in his clawed fist and squeezed,
crushing the life from it. He hurled the remains away.
142
J
The Nightmare Dream
"What was that?" Quin asked as he shook himself. "It

Wade me feel... things."
"That was a benthe, an emotions manipulator," Tal
Tu said. "The benthe can read emotions, and they can
a
lso control them to a limited extent. We should hurry,
Quin. There are still two defenders somewhere out
here."
The three started up the hill again. They were almost
to the top when a spear flew out of the clump of trees and
huried itself in the remaining soldier. When the shaft hit,
thorns sprouted from its previously smooth surface,
causing additional damage to the soldier. He fell without
eve
n a moan to mark his passing.
Sebastian, angered over the loss of the two soldiers,
Prepared to charge up the hill, but Tal Tu held him back.
That is what they want you to do, Quin," the edeinos
s
aid. "Instead we must draw them out so that we may
destroy the stelae."
"We don't even know where it is!" Quin screamed.
'There," Tal Tu said, pointing to the clump of trees on
We top of the hill. "They have buried it there and grown
fhe trees to hide it."
Grown the ...? Those trees are almost full grown!
There's noway ..."
Quin, the gotak can call on miracles just as any Jakatt
Ca
n. Plant growth is one of the more frequently granted
Sifts of Lanala. You must draw the two gotaks out of
'ding and keep them busy while I retrieve the stelae."
Sebastian agreed, and continued his charge up the
1
'• He made it only a few yards, however, when the
pass beneath him reached up and tangled around his
cet and ankles. He went down face first, and the uzi
c attered away as he tried to protect himself. He managed
0
get his arms in front of him, but he still had the air
143
knocked out of him when he hit the ground.

He lay still for a moment, not only to catch his breath
but to see if the gotaks would make an appearance. He
wasn't disappointed. Two edeinos emerged from the
cluster of trees. One carried a spear, the other had only
its claws. They advanced, and he slowly reached for the
.357 at his side. He closed his hand around the familiar
shape of its handle, then slowly drew it from its holster.
Two more yards closer, then Quin rolled to his knees,
ripping away the grass that still clung to his feet, and
fired three shots into the spear-carrying edeinos. Before
he could get off a shot at the other one, a wave of energy
rolled over him, knocking him back down. When he
pulled himself up, the gotak was much closer, almost
within arms reach.
"Did you feel that, dead one?" the gotak asked. "That
was the life of Lanala filling your worljd. Now your dead
weapon will not work. Your soldiers are finished. This
area now belongs to Baruk Kaah!"
Quin felt the savage call of the Living Land course
through his body. The gotak spoke true. They were too
late. The primitive reality was upon them, all because he
had been a little too slow. He turned the .357 around,
holding it like a small club so that he didn't have to face
the larger edeinos with just his bear hands.
"Quin!" Tal Tu called from the top of the hill. He held
an oval package made of vines and leaves above his
head. Waves of barely visible energy broke against Tal
Tu and the sack, seemingly drawn to the thing. Of
course, Quin realized, that was the stelae!
"A grenade!" Tal Tu called. "Quickly before the
reality sets!"
"No!" the gotak raged, turning away from Quin and
charging toward Tal Tu. Tal Tu threw the sack at the
144
1
The Nightmare Dream
gotak and leaped clear.

Quin, meanwhile, automatically reached for one of
the grenades hanging at his belt. He did not even give
thought to the possibility that it would not work. He
grasped it, pulled the ring, and tossed it.
Quin had barely hit the ground when he heard the
explosion.
57
At the storm front, Major Covent watched as the
glowing wall of energy rolled out of the boundary of
cloud and rain. It passed through his troops, and many
°f the weapons stopped spitting death at the edeinos. It
Passed over his position, and his jeep's engine conked
°ut. This was it, he realized. The primitive reality had
overtaken them. This was a Dead Zone now. He had to
get the troops out of here before they were cut down by
Ihe claws and spears and swords of their attackers.
Then, as suddenly as it came, Covent felt the wave of
energy roll back upon itself. Guns everywhere began
firing again, slicing through the ranks of confused
invaders. Sebastian must have done it, he thought! That
êant the lizards had no hope of winning this area, at
least not until they placed another stelae. The edeinos
realized it, too, and they were soon fighting each other
1° get back behind the wall of storm.
58
Eddie Paragon ran with the others, seeking to put as
rnuch distance as possible between themselves and the
explosives Decker had set. Running at the front of the
group was Kurst, pushing through the thick mist of the
edeinos homeworld like a swimmer through water,
ehind him was Julie Boot, struggling to keep the
145
shapeshifter in sight. Andrew Jackson Decker was beside

her, moving with the grace of a natural athlete. Paragon
envied his strength. Paragon himself was holding up the
rear, but already his lungs were heaving with exertion
and his sides ached. The climb had been hard, and now
they were running for their lives. Paragon always
considered himself in decent shape, but compared to
Decker and Kurst, he was an invalid.
Paragon paused, resting his hands on his knees as he
gasped for air. The mist was heavy, hot and thick with
water, and it made his chest hurt when he breathed it.
He looked at his watch. Five minutes had passed. The
bomb would explode in another five minutes, when the
timer reached zero.
Or would it?
The question struck Paragon like a bolt of lightning.
Would the bomb explode? They were in edeinos reality
now, in a world where nothing more advanced than
simple spears seemed to function, except for a select few
who were able to make higher technology operate —
like Kurst, Decker, and Julie. And himself.
Paragon turned back to stare into the mist. He willed
it to part, to allow him a clear line of sight back to the
bridgehead. But the wall of mist remained. Could
Decker's will or whatever it was about him that made
the technology of Earth work here in this primitive
realm reach across distance? Or had the timer stopped
as soon as they had left it, like the stalled automobiles he
had encountered on his trip across the country with
Baruk Kaah? There was only one way to be sure.
Eddie Paragon dropped his pack to the ground, then
started back into the mist.
146
I
The Nightmare Dream
59
The ravagon found the jeep at the base of the jungle
bridge. It had been abandoned, its occupants long gone.
With controlled rage, the ravagon ripped the metal
hood from the front of the vehicle and tossed it as far as
he could. He heard the satisfying thunk as it landed
some distance away. Then he forced himself to calm
down. If they had left the vehicle, then they were on foot
now. With his powerful wings, the ravagon would be
able to catch up with them easily. All he had to do was
determine the path they had taken.
The ravagon let his senses stretch out, seeking any
c
lue as to the direction the stormers had fled. After a few
moments, he had his answer. Despite the obviousness of
d, they had climbed the maelstrom bridge. How
Unimaginative, the ravagon thought. With a great flap
uf batlike wings, the ravagon flew up the bridge toward
Takta Ker.
What are you after, Eddie Paragon?" the ravagon
asked, trying to find motives to attach to the actions of
be Earth singer and his companions. "Why did you
Return to the Living Land? You were free, safe. You
mould have stayed that way."
At the top of the bridge, the ravagon sensed a device
at was alien to Takta Ker. He found it nestled within
e
vines and branches at the bridgehead. It had a
ls
play of numbers that were counting down, but he
ad no other clue as to what the device was for. He had
ev
en less of a clue as to why it was working at all. This
'Vas tbe primitive realm, and the axioms did not support
cchnology such as this counting device. The numbers
Cached zero as he watched, counting the seconds down
0
their end, but nothing happened.
Just what I figured," Eddie Paragon said as he
147
emerged from the mist some distance from the

bridgehead. He was panting, tired from running. His
clothes were drenched with sweat, and he looked used
up, finished.
The ravagon grinned. "It is good that you have come
to me, Paragon," the ravagon said, folding his wings
about his large chest. "I will end your life quickly. It will
be a much more merciful death than the one the edeinos
would offer you."
"You don't understand," Eddie said, wiping sweat
from his eyes and smiling back at the demonkind.
"Decker was able to get the timer to work, but without
him to keep the reality of Earth up, the second action
couldn't take place."
Puzzled, the ravagon tilted his long head and regarded
the singer. "What second action? What are you talking
about?"
"Simple," Paragon explained. "The timer has reached
zero. Now all we need is for someone to apply a little
Earth reality so the explosive reaction can be triggered.
I guess you don't come from a reality that can support
the complicated technology. Too bad."
"Explosive reaction?" the ravagon asked. "Is this
device some sort of bomb?"
"Bingo," Eddie said. "Give the ravagon a cigar. I
wonder how close I have to get to let it finish its job?"
Then, without any further conversation, Eddie
Paragon walked forward to find out.
60
"Ace, Eddie's gone!" Julie yelled as they ducked
behind a large boulder to protect themselves from the
coming blast.
The three had run the last distance in silence, not even
148
1
The Nightmare Dream
realizing that Eddie Paragon was no longer with them.

Now Julie, Decker and Kurst were hiding low behind
the boulder, hoping they were far enough from the
explosives to survive the expected explosion.
"Kurst, can you sense him nearby?" Decker asked
frantically as he checked his watch.
"No," the shapeshifter said. "But the mist plays tricks
even on my senses. It is the nature of the world. He could
he a few feet away, or he could be even farther."
"Damn," Ace cursed. "Where is he?" He checked his
^vatch, noting that the watch's timer he had set to
correspond with the bomb's timer had reached zero.
And where's the explosion? It should have gone off by
now."
The shapeshifter shook his head. "I should have
thought of this. The timer was only one of the mechanisms
associated with the bomb."
"Yes," Decker said. "Once it reached zero it would
frigger the explosion by setting off a small electric charge.
But what has that got to do with anything?"
"It has everything to do with it," Kurst growled,
grabbing Ace's arm. "You were able to set the timer in
Motion contrary to the laws of this world, but without
you to continue the contradiction, the second action did
n
°t occur. The bomb will not explode because according
1° this world's reality, it cannot."
Are you saying I have to go back there? That I have
to
Be present to set off the explosion?" Decker asked.
Kurst nodded.
Ace, no!" Julie protested, reaching for the
congressman. "You can't be seriously considering such
an
action. You'll be killed!"
We told Covent we'd cut off this pathway," Decker
Sa
id slowly. "We said we'd stop it from being used by
149
the edeinos."
"Someone from your reality must be present to
activate the explosives," Kurst said. "You carry your
reality around you, like a bubble. Just getting close will
provide the explosives with the ability to complete their
job."
"How close?" Decker asked.
"Oh my God, Ace," Julie said, clutching him tightly.
"Eddie ..."
"The fool!" Decker exclaimed as he realized what
Julie was suggesting. He pushed her toward Kurst and
started to leap over the boulder, scrambling franticly to
find purchase for his boots and hands.
He barely cleared the top of it when the explosion
threw him backwards into the mist.
61
At the bridgehead, Eddie Paragon calmly stepped
toward the explosive device. He didn't know why he
was taking this decision so well, but he knew it was the
right one. If he didn't do it, Ace Decker would try to play
hero and get himself killed. Paragon knew that Ace was
needed elsewhere. Besides, if he didn't do this now, the
ravagon would destroy them all.
Realizing what Paragon planned, the ravagon leaped
forward. There was a look in his alien eyes that reflected
Eddie's death back at him. But Eddie knew that death
would not come upon the sharp claws of the winged
demon flying toward him. He smiled in satisfaction as
he realized that this death was of his own choosing, not
of the ravagon's or Barak Kaah's. And more, he would
be taking the ravagon with him.
"Say goodnight, Grade," Eddie said as the ravagon's
claws reached him.
150
A
The Nightmare Dream
Then the world exploded in a burst of sound and fury

that obliterated Eddie, the ravagon, and the bridgehead
ln
a spectacular shower of fire.
62
Angus Cage, still dressed as one of the Pharaoh's
house slaves, moved down the corridor to the master
s
uite that served as Mobius' living chambers. He had
been summoned, and that made him nervous. Could
T>r. Mobius have discovered his charade? Absently, he
wished he had his tommy-gun with him. He never felt
complete without his tommy-gun or his beat-up old
fedora, and this job called for him to leave both behind.
He paused before the doors to the suite, noticing that
fhe guards were not on duty. That was strange. He
checked his disguise for any flaws, for any evidence that
be was not a lowly slave, and found none. Satisfied, he
Pushed open the door.
"Come in, slave," came the sweet voice of Clemeta,
fhe Royal Escort. She was lounging atop massive pillows
fhat had been arranged on the floor, a goblet of wine in
°Ue slender hand.
Cage entered the room as she bade him, feeling the
fug of her voice, her perfume. He closed the door behind
him.
"You have been a bad boy, slave," Clemeta teased, a
kicked smile playing across her full, red lips. "What
s
hall I do with you?"
Cage moved closer, taking in the sight of her. Her jet-
Hck hair hung loose, free of any adornment save its
Natural luster. She wore a loose-fitting night dress that
HI across her curves in the most delicious manner. And
er eyes! Cage looked into them and it was like looking
mt0
fhe deepest pool of night. How he wanted to drown
151
in that pool!
"How ... how can I serve you, mistress," he
stammered, trying to keep the words from tripping over
his suddenly uncooperative tongue.
"You are not a slave, are you?" It was more a statement
than a question, and Cage found that he couldn't resist
this woman. He didn't even want to.
"No, mistress," he managed, stepping closer to the
bed of pillows.
"But you want to serve me, don't you?" she asked,
running her finger across the lip of the goblet.
"Yes, mistress," he heard himself say, but the voice
wasn't his, not exactly.
It was as if he had become two people. One was
Angus Cage, adventurer from Terra who wanted nothing
more than to finally defeat the hated Dr. Mobius. But
this Cage was on the outside looking in, as though from
the other side of some transparent veil that made his
voice sound far away. The other, the one that was
dropping to his knees before the beautiful Clemeta, was
enchanted by the woman. That Cage could not disobey
her if he wanted to. And at the moment, Cage wasn't
sure if either of the two people that he had become
wanted to disobey her.
"Who are you, slave who isn't a slave? Clemeta
asked. Her fingers were now gently tracing designs
across his bare chest with their sharp, painted nails.
He could not resist her question. "I am Angus Cage.
"That name means nothing to me," she said, letting
her nails dig deeper. "Who are you?"
Cage tried to fight, to pull away, but he couldn't. Her
perfume filled his senses, clouding all thoughts save
thoughts of her, blocking out all sounds, save the
sensuous sound of her voice.
152
The Nightmare Dream
"I am an adventurer, one of the Mystery Men of

Terra," he answered, watching as her eyes went wide. "I
am here to stop Dr. Mobius."
She laughed, marking his chest with a deep swipe of
her nails. He felt blood well and drip from the long
gashes, but he made no move to wipe it away.
"You cannot stop Mobius, Angus Cage,"'she said,
fascinated by the rivers of red running down toward his
stomach. "He is Pharaoh. He is power."
She gripped his hair and pulled him close, causing
him to fall upon the pillows before her. So near, her scent
forced itself into every pore of his body. He shuddered
^dth desire for her.
"Your... per fume..." he said, and she laughed again,
still gripping his hair.
"Do you like it, my slave?" she asked. "And you are
my slave, a real slave, not a pretend slave as you were to
Mobius. The scent is a special blend I had made just for
me. It enhances my natural charms quite wonderfully,
don't you think?"
"Mobius ...?" Cage managed to ask, trying to force
rational thought through the haze of perfume. "The
guards?"
"Mobius is gone, out working on getting the infernal
machine you told your friend about. You shouldn' thave
done that," Clemeta scolded. "And I dismissed the
guards so that we could talk ... undisturbed. Now how
should I punish you? How should I teach you that
Clemeta is your mistress now?"
Cage tensed, tried to pull away. She held his hair
hght, pulled him closer. He could not resist. She kissed
him, and his body responded. Every part of him was
sensitive to her touch, and he felt as though he would
ex
plode with the joy of each brush of her hand or caress
153
of her lips. He kissed her back, and they fell into the
pillows in a passionate embrace.
"Yes," Clemeta purred, "you understand what I want.
And you want it too, don't you? Don't you?"
Cage, still kissing and fondling her, answered in
gasping sobs. "Oh yes, yes!"
"Yes, who?" she demanded, pushing him away with
sudden fury.
"Yes ... mistress," he choked, gasping for the return
of her touch, ashamed but unable to respond any other
way.
"Very good, my slave," Clemeta laughed.
Then she pulled him back down into the soft, fluffy
pillows and showed him how to please her.
63
Tom O'Malley had led the group to a small airport he
knew of outside the main city of Singapore. He reasoned
that they should be able to find an airplane that was
waiting to depart when the reality of Orrorsh had
replaced that of Earth. Luck was with them, and a small
jet was on the runway, fully fueled and waiting for
someone to provide it with the reality it needed to take
off. Tom was that someone.
Father Christopher Bryce, Tolwyn of House Tancred,
Dr. Hachi Mara-Two, Djilangulyip, Pluppa, Gutterby,
Grim, and Toolpin entered the plane with Tom. The
majority of the group took seats in the cabin and buckled
in. Mara, however, joined Tom in the cockpit and
strapped into the co-pilot's chair.
Tom let out a gratified sigh when the engines started
up. "The fuel tanks are full," he informed Mara as he
checked the instruments. "I guess this is going to work,
after all."
154
The Nightmare Dream
"You mean you had doubts," Mara asked.

Tom laughed. "After what we've been through, I
hasn't sure what was going to happen."
"But it works, Tom," Mara stressed. "That means we
c
an leave this awful place."
"Yes, and go on to another awful place," the pilot said
sadly. "Do you think this is such a good idea? Going to
A
ysle, I mean?"
Mara gripped Tom's hand with her one remaining
h
»nd and squeezed it tight. "Good or bad, Tom, it's what
a
greed to do. And yes, I think it was the right
decision."
Tom sighed. "I knew you were going to say that. All
ri
ght, let's get this show on the road."
The airplane lifted off without incident, and soon
hey were all on their way west, toward what was once
^reat Britain.
Toward Aysle realm.
64
No!" Baruk Kaah screamed, trying to pull free of the
ack vines that wrapped around his body and connected
lr
^ to his Darkness Device, Rec Pakken.
Please, Saar, you must lie still," the gotak named Dar
ts
s urged, trying to calm her High Lord,
th ^°U ofn0t
. e burst understand,"
strength leaving Baruk
him. HeKaah
wassaid, already
badly hurt,
Nured by the stormer that accompanied Eddie Paragon.
a
d it not been for the ravagon, the gotaks might not
9V
g e returned him to Rec Pakken in time to save him.
v
en now it might be too late, but he had no time to think
C
£• negative thoughts. "The bridge is ... gone," he
ished, trying to express what he felt deep inside
nimself.

Dar Ess looked at him, confused. "Which bridge, my

lord?" she asked.
"The nearest one," the High Lord said in frustration.
"The bridge that supplied troops to the storm front. It is
no longer open. I cannot feel the flow of energy that was
only recently sweeping down it. I cannot feel Takta
Ker."
"How can that be?" Dar Ess asked. She sounded
frightened. "How could the bridge be gone?"
"Paragon," Baruk Kaah cursed. "Somehow he and
his companions have severed the connection."
The black leaves of the dead forest ruffled, then
parted, as the Horn Master forced his way into the center
of the Darkness Device. "Why have you summoned the
Wild Hunt back from the wall of storm?" the Horn
Master demanded, forgetting that he was addressing a
High Lord. "First you send the Hunt to assist your
warriors, promising that the Earthers' reality would
soon be replaced by your own. Then, when that did not
occur and your own warriors fought to escape the
weapons of the Earthers, I ordered the Hunt forward to
destroy them for you. The Earthers could not stand
before the Hunt. But you called us back. I ask again.
Why?"
Baruk Kaah was near death. He was weak from
wounds he never expected to receive. But he was still a
High Lord, and the Horn Master, though powerful, was
not. Baruk Kaah's tail slashed out, striking the Horn
Master a deadly blow that sent him sprawling.
"Do not forget who you are speaking to, Horn Master,"
Baruk Kaah shouted, drawing strength from Rec Pakken.
"I have called you back because stormers have invaded
my world. Even now they are making their way across
Takta Ker for some unknown purpose. They have even
156 (Order #13994246)

Michael Annis
The Nightmare Dream
managed to sever a maelstrom bridge! I have called you

back to do what you do best! Hunt them down, Horn
Master. Let the Wild Hunt fly and hunt them down."
The Horn Master picked himself off the floor of the
black-stone forest, glaring at the High Lord with fiery
eyes. He stood before Baruk Kaah, visibly shaking with
r
age. Their eyes locked, and Baruk Kaah let his own
reveal the depths of his power. Even in his current
condition, he was a High Lord. He was the power of
Takta Ker personified. The Horn Master finally lowered
bis gaze.
"I will find them, Saar of the edeinos," the Horn
Master pledged.
"Find them, then destroy them," Baruk Kaah added.
The Horn Master nodded, then exited the black-stone
forest. Once he was gone, Baruk Kaah allowed himself
f° fall into a deep healing sleep as Rec Pakken sang to
birn of power.
He dreamed of conquest, of Lanala, and of his eventual
victory as the Torg.
157
Nightmares
They are the plots and schemes

of arch-villains. Madmen call
them dreams. The rest of us know
them for what they are — the
worst sort of nightmares.
— Dr. Alexus Frest
I have a dream, a vision that is the

cornerstone of my being. In it, I
come face-to-face wit Jr my dark
god. I meet the Nameless One.
And in that moment, I am
transformed.
— Thratchen of Tharkold

65
Thunder rolled across the sky like the gallop of a
thousand iron-shod horses, announcing the passage of
a tower of cloud and darkness that rumbled through the
air. Within that tower, the Horn Master rode his mighty
stag. Lightning slashed with every pounding stride the
stag took, filling the cloud with brief flashes of luminance.
The Horn Master held the great horn in one massive fist,
waiting for the moment when he would sound it and
call the Wild Hunt from its incorporeal sleep.
Ahead was the bridge, or at least what was left of it.
Baruk Kaah was right. Someone had severed this link to
Takta Ker. All that remained was a piece of the growing
jungle path, cut off as it jutted from the ground and
reached for the sky. It was huge, but still only a fraction
of its original size. The hole that it dropped from, the
opening in the storm above that once led to Takta Ker,
was gone. As the Horn Master watched, he could see
that the base of the jungle bridge was dying. Soon it
would be a rotting husk, a dead thing to mark what was
once a passage to a world of life.
This way was closed to them, the Horn Master knew.
The Wild Hunt would have to take another road to the
edeinos homeworld. That would make the hunt more
difficult, but not impossible. With a rush of anticipation,
the Horn Master raised the great horn to his lips and
sounded its call.
Lightning sliced through the tower of dark clouds,
revealing the black forms as they slid out of the mists
and took shape. Cloud flowed into shadow, which then
solidified into either raven or dog or mounted huntsman-
The Wild Hunt swirled around their leader, adding
their caws and barks and voices to the thundering call-
"We have prey to hunt, my companions," the Horn
160
The Nightmare Dream
Master shouted, his voice like a storm raging in the

night. "Examine this area. Pick up their scent."
The Hunt obeyed, galloping out of the cloud to ride
a frenzied circle around the remains of the jungle bridge.
When they reached the jeep, parked beside the bridge's
base, they swarmed over it. Black wolf hounds
scampered over its seats and hood, sniffing at the steering
wheel and the heavy machinegun mounted on the back.
The ravens lighted upon it, picking at hairs and threads
of clothing that the prey had inadvertently left within it.
The horses, spurred on by their terrible riders, galloped
around the vehicle so that their masters could study foot
prints and other signs of passage. Then the Hunt returned
to the tower of cloud and darkness.
One of the ravens, a huge, black, bloated bird, landed
upon the Horn Master's shoulder. It offered him a
length of hair, holding it fast within its serrated beak.
The Horn Master took the strand, rolling it in his fingers.
Then he sniffed it.
"Paragon," he spat, tossing the hair away. It
disappeared, carried aloft by the swirling wind within
the towering cloud formation.
"We have the scent," the Horn Master called. "We
know our prey. Let the Wild Hunt ride!"
The riders turned their mounts toward Sacramento,
where another bridge led to Takta Ker, and the Wild
Hunt galloped forth like a thundering storm, lightning
Marking its passage with frightening bolts that cut the
sky.
66
After the airplane cleared the storm that surrounded
Singapore and the craft was safely flying over the Indian
Ocean, Mara gave up her seat to Father Bryce and went
161
to sit in the rear of the cabin. Once there, she pulled the
jaz pack, her data plate, and her tools out of the many
pockets in her jumpsuit. The tools weren't as refined as
the ones that had been built into her hand, but now that
it was gone they were all she had to work with.
She studied the pack carefully, remembering the idea
she and the dwarves had come up with. Then she lifted
the data plate. It was full of memories, and just touching
it made Mara long for the world she left behind. She ran
the fingers of her remaining hand over the intricate
circuitry patterns, remembering how she had worked to
inscribe each one.
"You are an artist," Djil had told her, "like my people.
Your artwork connects to your Dream Time, assuring
that the things of your land will always be there."
Remembering the aborigine's words, Mara felt a
wave of gratitude for the shaman. Djil had made her feel
better, and she wanted to let him see her land, to
experience it via sensover. But he had no ports to plug
the plate into, no cybernetic circuitry to process the data.
She had her world in the palm of her hand, but no one
except her was able to experience it. Unless she was able
to accomplish a minor technological miracle.
"That's what I've always done," she whispered to
herself. "That's what I'll do again."
Holding the jaz pack with her knees, Mara began to
modify its connectors, using her one hand to manipulate
the delicate tools. But the work was maddeningly slow
with only one hand. She had to continually stop one
action to reach for another tool or to reposition the pack.
At a critical juncture of the work, Mara reached for the
data plate with her nonexistent hand. She cursed when
she realized what she was doing, and the break in
concentration threw off her realignment of the connection
162
The Nightmare Dream
pins. She would have to start again.

"Can I help?" Toolpin asked quietly.
Mara looked up at the young dwarf. She had not
heard him approach, and didn't know how long he had
been standing beside her. She glanced at the seat across
the aisle from her. The package that Thratchen's emissary
had given her rested there, patiently waiting to be
opened again.
"Yes, Toolpin, you can help me," Mara said. "Bring
me that box."
67
When Decker, Kurst and Julie reached the bridgehead,
they found the remains of the growing path. The
explosives had done their job, severing enough of the
bridge to collapse the opening between worlds.
"That's it, then," Julie said, "we're trapped here."
"We were not going to return this way, Julie Boot,"
Kurst explained. "There are other openings between the
cosms for us to exploit."
Decker found the remains of Eddie Paragon and the
ravagon. There was not much left of either of them. The
blast had been powerful, and already the decomposing
elements of this world were working to return the
bodies to the soil.
Julie saw them, then buried herself in Decker's arms
and cried. She wept for the man named Eddie Paragon,
and for the sacrifice he made for them and Earth.
"Shouldn't we bury him?" Julie asked.
No," Kurst said flatly. "Takta Ker is already working
on the remains. Soon nothing will be left to bury."
"Then let's get out of here," Decker said. "I'm sure we
still have a long trip ahead of us."
Kurst nodded in agreement. "The trip will be long,

but there are ways to make it easier. Let's go find some

transportation."
68
Angus Cage awoke nestled in pillows, lying beside
the Royal Escort, Clemeta. She was beautiful, even in
sleep, and his heart ached at the sight of her. He
remembered their night together, and though it was
wonderful, he shuddered at the way he behaved. It was
as though his will was gone. He was her slave, just as she
had told him, and part of him found that exciting.
Another part of him, the one that was awake now, was
disgusted with himself.
He got up carefully, trying not to wake Clemeta, and
dressed. He was strapping on his sandals when Clemeta
rolled over and sat up to look at him. The thin sheet that
covered her fell away with the motion, and Cage gasped
as her succulent flesh was revealed. Clemeta took no
notice of his discomfort, made no attempt at modesty.
She simply smiled.
"Good morning, slave," she said cheerfully. "I take it
you slept well?"
"What sleep I got was bothered by dreams of you,
Clemeta," Cage admitted. "You have cast a spell over
me, reduced me to a fawning pup with your fragrance
and your touch."
"Yes, I see that I have," she laughed, and her eyes
twinkled mischievously. "But you have cast a spell of
your own, Angus Cage. You have made me betray my
Pharaoh's bed, and I long for another taste of betrayal."
Clemeta crawled across the pillow, reaching for Cage.
He backed away from her touch, however, knowing
that even a glancing caress would render him helpless
before her. He had to hold on to what little control he
now maintained.
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"Clemeta," he began carefully, searching for the words

he needed, "you must help me."
"Come here, slave, and I will help you over and over
again," she smiled slyly.
"No, though you do tempt me," he said. "You must
get me into Mobius' workroom."
Clemeta backed away as though slapped. "You ask
much for a slave," she said, turning from him.
"But I am not a slave," he said, moving closer to her.
"You know that. The only thing that I am a slave to is
your touch."
She turned back, smiling. "That is true. You are an
adventurer, and you are my slave. What is it you want
from the Pharaoh's workroom?"
"I need to know what he knows about the infernal
machine," Cage said. "The fate of worlds could depend
on that information."
"Is this machine an instrument of power?" Clemeta
asked. She sounded like a child at Christmas, fawning
over some as-yet-unopened present.
"If Mobius wants it, then you can be sure he is after it
to increase his personal power," Cage explained.
"Clemeta, he has destroyed at least six worlds since
leaving Terra. Perhaps more. This world is next, unless
you help me."
Clemeta rose from the pillows, draping the sheet
around herself like a tunic. She tossed back her shining
black hair and stood before Cage. This close, he felt his
will weakening again. If she ordered him to kill himself,
he would die happily at her feet, he realized. This
woman was dangerous! Had she worked similar charms
upon Mobius?
"I will help you, Angus Cage," Clemeta declared.
Then she smiled. "Then you shall help me."

69
The workroom was empty of people when Clemeta
showed Cage in through a secret passage. Weird science
gizmos of indescribable purpose were everywhere. Some
were complete; many more were in various stages of
construction. Astronomical charts were scattered acrpss
tables and hung from walls, and blueprints for devices
were haphazardly displayed. It was a mad scientist's
dream come true. It fit Mobius quite well.
"Hurry about your business, Cage," Clemeta urged.
"I do not know when the Pharaoh will return."
Angus Cage nodded, then began to leaf through piles
of papers that littered the work tables. Beside a map of
Earth he found what he was looking for. It was a scroll
from the Green Shroud, informing the Pharaoh of what
he found.
"This is it," Cage declared as Clemeta joined him. "It
says that the device that will help Mobius become the
Torg is located in the Indian Ocean, just north of
Christmas Island."
Clemeta looked puzzled. "Mobius has mentioned
that word on more than one occasion," she said. "What
is the Torg?"
"I'm not sure, but if Mobius wants the title then I have
to prevent him from getting it," Cage said. "These
papers list the locations of Mobius' strike teams, the
ones he is preparing to send after the machine. Come on,
it's time to go."
"Go? Go where?" Clemeta demanded.
"We have to get word to the Guardian," Cage said,
grabbing her hand and leading her out of the workroom.
70
They had trekked through thick fog for over three
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hours when Kurst called them to halt. He had found a

cluster of trees that formed a protective shelter, and
Decker and Julie gratefully collapsed to the grass-covered
floor beneath the hanging branches.
Wait here, Kurst said. "I will scout the area and try
to find a creature we can ride."
"Do they have horses here, Kurst?" Decker asked.
"No," Kurst said, "but there are other beasts to ride.
I will return shortly."
Kurst stalked the mist-shrouded land, hunting not
for prey but for transportation. He found evidence of
lakten and udatok, but nothing that suggested any were
still in the vicinity. The area had been cleared out. It
appeared that most of the beasts that inhabited this
region had traveled down the maelstrom bridge to the
realm on Earth.
Kurst made another circuit, checking for any signs he
might have missed, when his senses suddenly screamed
an alarm. He whirled, ready to shift into wolf form at the
first sign of danger. Wolf form was still the easiest for
him, the most comfortable, though he would have to test
the range of his shapeshifting abilities in the future. A
branch cracked, but whatever caused it was hidden by
the mist that permeated everything. Kurst tensed,
waiting for whatever it was to show itself.
A shape moved in the fog. It was an obscure shadow,
and it was heading right toward Kurst. The shapeshifter
felt the wolf within him struggle to emerge. He let it free.
With an ease built of long years of practice, Kurst's
human shape melted and twisted, then shifted into the
form of the demon wolf. The wolf was huge, larger and
more massive than Kurst's human form. It stood on two
legs like a man, but it was covered with coarse hair.
Sharp claws dripped from its padded, pawlike fingers
167
and toes, and its long muzzle was full of pointed teeth.
It growled a warning, then leaped at the obscured
shape.
Before the wolf could strike, however, metal claws
flashed. Kurst felt the blow smash across his face, and he
howled in pain as he fell to the ground. Ignoring the
burning sensation where the silver had touched him,
Kurst rolled to his feet and warily prepared to engage
his opponent. As he watched, the mist parted and a
winged being stepped out of the fog.
"Is that any way to greet an old friend, Kurst?"
Thratchen asked, a smile dancing across his thin lips.
"Sheath your claws. I did not come all this way to fight
you."
"Why did you come, Thratchen?" Kurst asked,
remaining in a ready stance.
Thratchen regarded the hunter for a moment, then
sat down upon a moss-covered rock. "I need information,
and it seems only you can provide me with it."
"Always a slave to curiosity," Kurst growled. "I'm
sure you know more than I do about whatever it is you
seek."
"If only that were true, shapeshifter, but alas, I do
need your help," the techno-demon shrugged. "Perhaps
the Gaunt Man could provide me with answers, but he
is ... indisposed."
"Indisposed?" Kurst asked curiously.
"Yes," Thratchen answered, "thanks to your friends.
Mara is quite clever, you know."
"Still, what do you want from me," Kurst demanded,
"and why do you think that I will help you?"
"You have no choice, dire wolf," Thratchen
proclaimed as he produced a pendant from the folds of
his tunic.
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It was a twin to the one that Scythak wore, the one that
was safely tucked into Kurst's pack, back in the shelter
of trees. When it caught the faint light of Takta Ker's sun,
it magnified it a thousand fold, reflecting it into Kurst's
eyes. The light caught him like a deer was caught by a
hunter's light, and the name that Thratchen called him
bounced within his head.
Dire wolf.
Thratchen stepped closer, holding the pendant so
that it remained locked within Kurst's gaze. "You are a
dire wolf, aren't you Kurst?" the techno-demon asked.
The shapeshifter felt himself slipping into an hypnotic
trance, but he could do nothing to curb the slide. Instead,
he heard his own voice answer the techno-demon. "Yes,"
he said, "I am a dire wolf."
"You are the last of the dire wolves!" Thratchen
screamed. "And I want to know why the Gaunt Man
saved you!"
"I... do ... not... know ..." Kurst answered slowly.
But he did know. He did! He just couldn't remember.
"There are blocks in your memory," Thratchen
explained, "placed there by the Gaunt Man. I can help
you break through them."
The pendant spun before Kurst's eyes like a miniature
sun, its light cutting through his soul. Thratchen spoke
a word of power, showing his ability with Orrorshan
sorcery. Then he spoke words that Kurst could
understand.
"Who are you, Kurst?" Thratchen asked. "Who are
you? Who are you?"
Kurst struggled. Not against Thratchen and his
sorcery, but against his own mind. He wanted to know
the answer to that question as much as Thratchen did.
Didn't he?
169
"I ... do not know," Kurst said, forcing the words

through his clenched teeth.
"Who are you, Kurst? Who are you? Who are you?"
"I... do not... remember!"
"Who are you, who are you, who are you, who are
you?"
"I... do ... not... remember!"
"Whoareyouwhoareyouwhoareyouwhoareyou ..."
The question became a chant, bouncing within his
mind like a ball trying to burst free. Kurst stared into the
glowing pendant, but he did not see it. Instead he saw
images from his past. He saw the Gaunt Man strip away
his possibilities, felt his identity tear away like wings
from a fly. The ball bounced against a wall. It blocked
him from going further back into his mind. But Kurst
was determined, and he helped the ball with his own
strength of will, bouncing it harder and faster against
the wall the Gaunt Man had erected.
With a force that sent jagged pain through his head,
Kurst hurled the ball with all his might. For a moment,
he thought the wall was going to hold. Then, with a
resounding crash of memories, the wall shattered.
"I am ... Daroga!" Kurst screamed in defiance to the
years he spent as the Gaunt Man's slave, screaming the
words as they welled up out of the depths of his mind.
"I am the last of the dire wolves!"
Thratchen backed away at the power of Kurst's
declaration. What had he unleashed, he wondered.
Perhaps the Gaunt Man had sealed away this knowledge
for good reason. Still, he had taken it this far. It was time
to push all the way.
"Who is Daroga?" Thratchen asked. "Why is he the
last of the dire wolves?"
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Kurst's features twisted into a grimace of pain as the

memories echoed up from the dark recesses in which
they had been lodged. They were feelings, really, nothing
more. He did not fully understand them, but they rocked
him to his very core with the strength of their emotions.
"My ... people ..." Kurst cried, "... he killed my
people!"
"Who did?" Thratchen urged, trying to understand
what Kurst was telling him.
"The Gaunt Man," Kurst wailed. "He killed them all.
The hunters ... the cubs ... even the old ones
slaughtered by the millions."
"Why?"
"Because I would not submit to him!" The anguish in
Kurst's voice moved the techno-demon, and he felt the
pain as it reverberated from the werewolf. "My children
on Orrorsh called to me for help, and I gave it. I would
not bow down to the Gaunt Man! Never would I yield!
And for that, he killed them all." Kurst's voice trailed off
into sobs. It was like listening to a voice from the past —
his voice, Kurst knew. The person he used to be.
"Who are you, Kurst?" Thratchen asked again.
"I am Daroga! I am the last of the dire wolves! I am
High Lord of Kantovia!"
With that, Thratchen clasped his hand over the
swirling pendant, cutting off its spell. Kurst fell to his
knees, spent by the draining activity and battered by
long-forgotten guilts and emotions.
"I am sorry you had to go through that, Daroga,"
Thratchen said quietly, "but I had to know your secrets."
Kurst turned to the techno-demon, a snarl upon his
lupine features. "I am not Daroga, at least not anymore.
That name is but a memory to me, as are the events I
spoke of. They have no substance yet, no reality. I do not
171
know what any of it means. And until I do know, I am

simply Kurst."
Thratchen nodded. "At least now I know how you
were able to inflict such wounds upon the Gaunt Man.
Will you oppose me for his Darkness Device?"
Kurst looked at the techno-demon and laughed. "If I
was once a High Lord, it is obvious that I am one no
longer. I am a storm knight now, and the only reason we
will come into opposition is if you intend to continue the
Gaunt Man's plans."
"Then we have nothing to worry about, Kurst,"
Thratchen said amiably. "For whatever plans I have are
beyond even the Gaunt Man's feeble desires."
That said, Thratchen disappeared back into the deep
mists of Takta Ker.
71
Teth-Net, the Royal Marshall of the Nile Empire,
walked purposefully through the corridors of the palace,
carrying with him the latest progress reports on the
border wars. As he approached an intersection that led
off to two side passages, he heard whispered
conversation. He paused to listen, but could make out
only a few words. He had to get closer. Moving with
quiet agility, he stepped over to the corner.
"The machine that Mobius is looking for is located in
the Indian Ocean, just north of Christmas Island," a
hushed voice said. It was a male voice, and one that
Teth-Net did not recognize.
"You say he is seeking some mysterious title?" a
second voice asked. It was also male. "What did you call
it? The Torg?"
"Yes, that's right," the first voice responded.
"Good grief, Angus, this all sounds like something
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out of the pulps!" the second voice declared.

"Keep your voice down, Guardian!" the man named
Angus hissed. "You'll have a platoon of shock troopers
on us if you keep shouting!"
"Who's shouting?" the man called Guardian asked
indignantly. "I'm just trying to understand what this is
all about."
"That's just the point," Angus said, "I don't know
what it's about. I just know that Mobius 'has to be
stopped. He's preparing an airplane at this airfield
outside Qina. You have to stop that plane from leaving."
"If you two have finished your discussion, we really
must break this up," a third voice interrupted. It was a
woman's voice, light and airy. And it was definitely
familiar. Teth-Net carefully peeked around the corner.
There, standing in a shadowy alcove, were two men
and a woman. The first man was dressed in ordinary
palace slave garb, but his bearing suggested more than
his uniform hinted at. The second man was dressed in a
black coat and hat, a dark mask covered his eyes, and he
carried a diamond-tipped cane. The last figure was that
of the Royal Escort, Clemeta, and she was decked out in
palace finery.
Teth-Net began to reach for his pistol when another
thought occurred to him. He would let these conspirators
go about their business. Mobius would want to deal
with Clemeta and her slave anyway, and the Guardian
could be used to lure other Mystery Men into an elaborate
trap. He watched as they let the Guardian out through
a secret door, running his plan over in his mind. They
departed a moment later, running hand-in-hand down
the corridor and out of sight.
173
72
Andrew Decker and Julie Boot sat side by side within
the shelter of the clump of trees that Kurst had found.
Julie prepared a lunch from the supplies they brought
with them, while Decker simply sat quietly. Julie noticed
that he was looking at Paragon's pack. They had found
it along the path on their way toward the bridgehead,
and Decker had insisted on bringing it along.
"A penny for your thoughts, congressman," she said,
removing plastic wrap from one of the dinner trays.
He turned to her, offering a slight smile. "My thoughts
aren't worth that much, Julie. I was just thinking about
everything that has happened. I can't believe they want
to blame me for Wells' death," he said. "And I can't
believe that Eddie Paragon is dead."
"You liked the rock'n'roller, didn't you, Ace?" she
asked, setting the dinner trays aside.
"Actually, at first I couldn't stand him," Decker
laughed. "Do you know he didn't even like baseball?"
"Sacrilege," Julie agreed in mock indignation.
"But he did grow on me," Decker admitted. "He was
a brave man. He shouldn't have died like that."
"Nobody should die like that, Ace," Julie said, moving
closer to him. "But take it from Nurse Boot, whether
they should or shouldn't, people die. Some of them go
quietly, others go violently, but eventually everybody
does die."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better, Julie? If it is,
you should polish up on your bedside manner."
Julie was pressed close to him now, stroking his hair
with her hand. "What do you know of my bedside
manner, Ace? You were unconscious through most of
my work with you."
Decker took her hand, stroking it gently. "I'm not
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Michael Annis
The Nightmare Dream
unconscious now/' he said, his eyes locked on hers.

"You're not, are you," she said nervously. But it was
a good nervous. It was the nervousness of first love.
"No," he said, taking her into his arms and kissing her
with an urgency that scared him. He paused. "If you
want me to stop ...?" he started to ask, but she silenced
him with another kiss.
"Ace Decker," she said between kisses, "when I want
you to stop, I'll let you know."
Decker murmured an agreement as he returned her
kisses and they embraced. They fell upon the soft grass
and made sweet, uncompromised love beneath the
shade of the canopy of leaves.
73
Mara looked at the hand that now was attached to her
left arm. She flexed it, watching as the fingers curled into
a fist. The hand was metallic and clawed, like Thratchen's
hand. It was a Sim hand, made to fit a Kadandran. She
shuddered, but was also grateful that she was once
again whole.
Toolpin stared at the hand, then shot her a troubled
look. "I don't know about this, Mara," he said nervously.
"It doesn't suit you at all. It's kind of ... evil looking."
"That's your imagination, Toolpin," she said, but his
words echoed her own feelings. "At least with another
hand I'll be able to finish the modifications on the jaz
pack."
Toolpin still looked unconvinced. "I hope you know
what you're doing."
She waved him away. "Go bother someone else,
Toolpin," Mara said. "I have work to do."
"Bother?" Toolpin said indignantly. "Someone else?
Well, if I'm a bother to you I'll just go elsewhere. It's a big
275
plane, you know. I don't need to be told twice. I can take

a hint. I don't need a ton of bricks to fall..."
"Toolpin?" Mara asked sweetly.
"Yes, Mara?" Toolpin asked back.
"Go away, please."
"Of course. Maybe I'll go see what Father Bryce is
doing up there in the cockpit."
"Good idea."
Toolpin left with a whistle on his lips, skipping
happily toward the front of the plane. Mara smiled, then
bent to continue working on the jaz pack. She lifted a
tool in her new hand, ready to adjust one of the connecting
pins, when the hand began to shake violently. She
watched it quake, her eyes wide.
"Stop that," she whispered. "Please stop."
After a moment, the hand calmed and she again had
control of it. Perhaps it was only a reaction to the newly
opened pathways between it and her brain. Or maybe
she was just tired. Yes, that was it, she decided. She was
just tired. She promised herself she would get a few
hours of sleep after she finished the minor adjustment.
She worked on through the long plane trip, soon
forgetting the incident as she buried herself in her work.
74
On the continent of Jister, on the world of Takta Ker,
a tribe of Jakatts were camped at the base of a huge
jungle bridge. The bridge was a wide path of growing
vines, thick branches, and twisting roots. It was a main
thoroughfare, leading from Jister to the Living Land
realm on the world called Earth. The Jakatts, faithful
followers of Lanala and their Saar, Baruk Kaah, waited
for the signal that would call them down bridge to the
conquered realm.
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The Nightmare Dream
Edeinos were, engaged in rituals, preparing for the

coming battles they would be called upon to fight. Some
were storing up animal rage that could be released in the
heat of combat. Others performed ritual dances to ensure
heightened dexterity, hearing, sight, or strength. As the
edeinos prayed, benthe mingled among them, helping
them build their emotions to a fevered pitch. Even the
stalengers were involved, using their ability to fly to
herd the dinosaurs into controllable groups. It was a
wonderful day, filled with intense sensations and the
anticipation of even stronger feelings.
Then the storm began.
It started as a dark shadow moving up the jungle
bridge at frightening speed. Lightning heralded its
approach, and thunder announced its arrival. It moved
with purpose, in direct opposition to the usual flow of
weather from cosm to realm. What the Jakatts saw went
against the natural ways, and so they became afraid.
It was a tower of black clouds, riding up the bridge on
winds of fetid air. Illuminating streaks of jagged light
danced across the surface of the cloud formation, and a
deep, rolling thunder sounded from within its black
interior.
Edeinos looked to the optants, shaking with excited
questions. What sensations did this ominous storm
hold, they wondered. What would the black rain feel
like as it splattered across their scales? What would it
taste like as they tilted their heads back to drink? They
were afraid, but they reveled in the emotion. Fear was a
rare treat for them, and they were willing to experience
it to the fullest.
"Listen to the thunder!" a young edeinos yelled above
the increasing wind.
"Do you smell that?" another asked. "What is that
smell?"
177
An optant lifted her head, sniffing the air to catch the

scent. A shiver went through her body. "It smells like
death," she yelled.
A great horn sounded, echoing out of the rolling
cloud like distant thunder. As the horn continued to
resound, the cloud touched down upon the top of the
bridge and split open with a lightning-accentuated whip-
crack of noise. Swirling eddies of cloud dislodged from
the main formation, and these quickly shifted into the
ravens, wolf hounds, and horse riders of the Wild Hunt.
Caught up within its own frenzied current of
destruction, following the raging scent of the hunt that
drove them mad, the huntsmen and their beasts tore
into the Jakatt tribe with unrestrained fury. Swords,
claws, teeth, hooves, and serrated beaks ripped at the
edeinos, slicing them apart as the storm swept through
their camp.
When the tower of cloud moved on, it left a terrible
pile of bodies in its wake. Edeinos, stalenger, benthe —
none could stand against the Wild Hunt's fury. Even
udatok, baragon, tressir, the beasts of the land, fell
before the savage rage of the storm riders.
It was a truly glorious, experience-filled way to die,
and the Jakatts met their fate happily, thanking Lanala
for granting them such sensations.
75
Angus Cage worked in the Royal Library, dusting the
tables where the court scholars unrolled scrolls and
studied tomes of ancient knowledge. It had been almost
twenty-four hours since he had given the information to
the Guardian, and while he wondered how the Mystery
Men were faring, he found himself wondering more and
more about Clemeta. Whenever his mind started to
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The Nightmare Dream
question the strange hold she had over him, he would

instead find himself thinking about her eyes, or her lips,
or the curves of her body. He was so caught up in the
memories of their night together that he didn't notice
the activity around him. Not at first.
He became aware of the shocktroopers after they had
ranged out around the chamber, cutting off all exits.
They were traditional Nile soldiers, bare chested, wearing
white skirts and colorful, stripped headdresses. They
carried Nile Schmeissers, and there were at least two
squads of them. Cage, on the other hand, was only one
man, and an unarmed man at that.
"Is there some problem, masters?" Cage asked, trying
to appear as harmless as possible.
One of the soldiers, whose headdress marked him as
an officer, laughed, "No problem at all as far as I can see.
And they told us to be careful, that you were one of the
famed Mystery Men. Ha!"
Cage flashed them a winning smile. "A Mystery
Man? Now whoever gave you that idea?"
Cage moved then, faster than the soldiers anticipated.
He grabbed the machinegun of the nearest shocktrooper,
using it to batter the man senseless. Then, before the
others could react, he fell backwards, rolled behind one
of the massive study tables, and came to his feet firing.
The machinegun cut down five of the shocktroopers
before one of them rushed up behind Cage and smashed
the butt of a Schmeisser into the back of his skull.
The blow caught him by surprise, and wild colors
exploded before his eyes as the pain registered. He
started to fall, and the colors muted to gray. Then to
black.
Angus Cage was unconscious before he hit the floor.
179
76
Clemeta had seen the Royal Marshall issuing orders
to two squads of shocktroopers in the main hall, and she
had become deathly afraid. She had been too far away to
hear the exact nature of the orders, but something deep
within her told her that they had to do with Cage.
Now she was hurrying through the back corridors
usually reserved for the servants, running to find Cage,
to warn him before the shocktroopers caught up with
him. As she approached the Royal Library, several
slaves ran passed her. She stopped a young maid,
grabbing the girl by the arm and spinning her around.
"Speak, girl," Clemeta demanded, "what are you
fleeing from?"
"Shocktroopers, my lady," the young girl stammered.
"They have entered the library with guns drawn!"
Clemeta released the girl's arm. Not waiting to be
dismissed, the maid bowed and ran down the corridor,
away from the library.
Clemeta stood for a moment, considering her options.
She could walk away now and leave Cage to his fate. He
was an adventurer and all. He knew the risks involved
in the game he was playing. Or she could go forward.
Perhaps she could use her station and authority as Royal
Escort to trick the soldiers into releasing Cage into her
custody. Then the two of them could flee the palace and
disappear into the streets.
She started forward, telling herself that the path to
true power would be easier to follow at Cage's side
rather than with Mobius. After all, how long did she
think she would be able to manipulate the Pharaoh with
only her natural charms. He was immune to the effects
of her perfume, unlike Cage. She told herself all of these
things, but she couldn't quite understand why she was
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worried about the man called Angus Cage.

She heard shouts now, and the sound of machinegun
fire. Quickening her pace, she pulled a pistol from the
folds of her dress. Reaching the door, she watched as
Cage was battered to the floor.
"How dare you!" Clemeta screamed, taking aim with
the pistol at the shocktrooper standing over Cage.
Before she could squeeze the trigger, however,
powerful arms wrapped around her from behind. They
were too strong for her, choking the life out of her. After
a moment, she ceased struggling and let the pistol fall
from her hand.
"Bring her here," the Royal Marshall said, and the
man holding Clemeta forced her into the chamber.
She was shoved to the floor, falling beside Cage. She
glanced at him, saw blood above his eye where his head
hit the stone floor, but also saw that he was breathing.
Then she turned a fierce look upon Teth-Net.
"How dare you handle me like this!" Clemeta raged.
"Do you know who I am?"
"You are the Royal Slut," Teth-Net said, offering
Clemeta a mocking bow. "And you are a traitor to the
Empire."
Clemeta could barely contain herself. She tried to
rise, but a sandaled foot pushed her back down. "When
the Pharaoh hears of this, he will..."
Teth-Net cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Save
your threats, my lady. The Pharaoh is already aware of
the situation. He returned this morning and I informed
him of your little meeting with the Guardian. It was the
Pharaoh who ordered this operation."
Clemeta swallowed hard, trying to maintain an air of
indifference to the Royal Marshall's words. "So what
happens now?" she asked.
181
"That is up to the Pharaoh," Teth-Net smiled coldly.

"Take them to the Audience Chamber."
77
The Guardian watched the airfield through a pair of
binoculars. It was a small base, consisting of a number of
pre-fabricated metal buildings surrounded by a barbed
wire fence. He saw a number of guards stationed about
the fence; others walked the interior of the base.
Workmen, armed with belts full of tools, entered and
exited the buildings at a regular pace. The largest building
stood open. It was built at the head of a canal, and a PBY
seaplane waited within, rocking quietly upon the water.
He lowered the binoculars and turned to the rest of
his strike team. The first member was Rocket Blue, one
of the famed Rocket Rangers of Terra, wearing the battle
armor of that elite corps of soldiers. Although he had
never seen Rocket Blue out of the armor, and even
though the soldier's voice was heard through a distorting
microphone, he was quite sure that Rocket Blue was a
woman. But whether the Rocket Ranger was male or
female, Rocket Blue was someone to have around when
the going got tough. The Guardian had an idea that this
mission was going to be as tough as it got.
Second was the Golem, a super-strong giant of a man
whose body was covered in protective rock. Unlike
Rocket Blue, however, the gray stone was not a
mechanical device. Somehow, the Golem was actually
able to transform his flesh into stone.
The third member of the team was a super-fast
speedster who called himself Wind Whirl. He was young,
with a sharp tongue and a quick wit. He fancied himself
a comedian. The Guardian considered him a fool, but
Dr. Frest had assigned him to the team. Until proven
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The Nightmare Dream
incapable of helping them, the Guardian would give

him the benefit of the doubt.
The fourth team member was Raven Wing, dressed
in a black outfit that revealed more than it covered. Her
powers included flight and a billowing cloak of darkness
that could spread out to obscure a limited area. She was
also an expert at hand-to-hand combat, which made her
good looks even more of an anomaly. Heroes should net
be cover girls, the Guardian thought. It somehow
tarnished their images.
The fifth member of the team was Earthwave, who
was able to manipulate solid ground in some amazing
ways. The Guardian wasn't sure if this ability sprang
from the gadget-covered costume that Earthwave wore,
or if it was a natural ability, or some combination of the
two. He decided it was the latter, for he had seen
Earthwave cause concentrated quakes, ride waves of
flowing rock, and even erect walls of dirt in front of
fleeing bad guys. His powers would come in handy in
this operation.
Finally there was the Guardian himself, dressed in
black coat and hat, wearing a black mask. He carried a
diamond-tipped cane, his trademark and a weapon to
be reckoned with. In addition, he was stronger than
most normal men, and he was an excellent fighter. But
more, he was a leader, and that put him in charge of this
team of Mystery Men.
"The base appears to be quiet, just going about its
regular business," the Guardian told them. That will all
change once we arrive. There are twenty guards from
my count, but that does not include any that may be
within the buildings. Before we take this place apart, I
want to get a closer look at that seaplane."
He looked over the group, then issued orders. "Rocket
183
Blue, take the Golem and wait near the main gate for my
signal. When you get it, take down the generator building.
Earthwave and Raven Wing, station yourselves at the
south fence. When you get my signal, I want you to trash
those guard barracks before the general alarm can be
sounded."
"What about me?" Wind Whirl asked. "I didn't come
all this way just to watch."
"I wouldn't dream of leaving you out of the fun and
games, kid," the Guardian said lightly. "You're coming
with me."
78
Father Bryce dozed in the co-pilot's chair, snoring
softly as the airplane continued its trip over the Indian
Ocean. A patch of turbulence rocked the plane, however,
and Bryce sprang awake.
"What was that?" he asked, startled by the jolt.
"There's another storm front ahead of us, Father,"
Tom said as he fought to keep the plane level.
"Another front? Have we reached Great Britain
already?"
Tom shook his head. "No, we're just off the coast of
Africa. I've got to set us down for fuel."
"Africa? Then what does that storm mean?" Bryce
asked nervously.
"It means there is another realm out there, beyond the
storm," Tolwyn said as she entered the cockpit. "They
have sliced up your world, Christopher, carving out
chunks in which to set their own reality."
"Another realm? Baruk Kaah, Uthorion, the Gaunt
Man ... weren't they enough?" Bryce felt himself losing
it as the full impact of the meaning of the storm hit him.
He bit down on his tongue, forcing the madness from
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The Nightmare Dream
taking hold of him. Then, once he felt he had control of

himself again, he asked, "Can't you go around it, Tom?"
"I could try, but we're very low on fuel," Tom said. "I
need to get us to an airfield."
"Do you know of any in this part of the world?"
Tolwyn asked.
"There's one outside of Qina, in Egypt. That's the
place I usually stop on hauls along this route. It's as good
a place as any to try. Now hang on, I'm going through
the storm."
Bryce crossed himself, offering a short prayer for his
companions. He was beginning to hate traveling through
the storm fronts between realities. As a matter of fact, he
didn't think he'd ever like rain and thunder and lightning
ever again.
The front was before them, a looming wall of raging
rain water and streaks of lightning. Bryce had a moment
to examine the wall, to remember his previous trips
through similar obstructions. Then the airplane flew
into the storm.
79
The Guardian and Wind Whirl carefully made their
way over the barbed wire fence to the back of the hangar.
No one had noticed them yet, and everything was
proceeding according to the Guardian's plan.
"There is a door around the side, but we'll have to go
through the water way to use it," the Guardian
whispered.
"Let's do it, then," Wind Whirl said impatiently. "I'm
a man of action. I'm used to speed. This sneaking around
is cramping my style."
The Guardian grasped the young hero by the throat,
moving with a blinding speed of his own. He squeezed,

185
cutting off Wind Whirl's air. "Your style means nothing

to me," he hissed angrily. "If you do anything to hamper
this mission, I will kill you. Do I make myself clear? Nod
once if you understand me."
Wind Whirl nodded.
"Very good," the Guardian said, releasing the young
man. "Now follow me."
The Guardian could feel Wind Whirl's hate-filled
eyes boring into his back, but he didn't care. Let the
youth think of me however he pleases, the Guardian
thought. All that matters is that we complete our mission.
He reached the corner of the hangar and peered
around it cautiously. He saw two shocktroopers standing
on the other side of the water way—too far away to take
out quietly. He backed up behind the hangar and turned
to whisper to Wind Whirl.
That way is not open to us," he said in a hushed tone.
"We will have to make our own entrance."
Wind Whirl looked confused. "How?" he whispered.
"Neither of us have the Golem's strength or ..."
The Guardian cut him off. "We have this," he said,
holding up his diamond-tipped cane.
The diamond tip was extremely hard and strong, and
it was pointed to a cutting edge. The Guardian put all of
his muscle behind it, slicing a deep cut into the metal of
the hangar wall. He repeated the process, cutting at a
cross angle from the first slice.
"Luckily," he said as he pulled back on the sliced
metal and bent it open, "this pre-fabricated material
isn't very thick."
They entered the hangar quickly, looking for any
guards that might be around. All they saw was the
seaplane, and a deep green shadow against the far wall.
Well, look what we found," Wind Whirl sneered,
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The Nightmare Dream
"absolutely nothing! Maybe this whole mission is a

bust, Guardian, Did you think of that?"
The Guardian ignored him. Something about the
quiet of the hangar disturbed him. Something about —
"The green shadow!" Guardian yelled. "Wind Whirl,
watch out for the shadow!"
The warning came to late, however. Machinegun fire
exploded out of the green mist, for that was what it was.
The Guardian could see that now. Round after round
emerged from the mist, cutting Wind Whirl apart in a
macabre dance of bullets and blood. Of course he would
be their first target. If they gave him a chance, his speed
would allow him to dodge the bullets. He never got a
chance to prove that, however.
When the firing stopped, Wind Whirl fell to the floor
of the hangar, his body torn to pieces by the bullets. The
Guardian, furious that someone in his team should be
cut down like that, started to move forward, but a voice
stopped him.
"Take another step and we will open fire," the voice
called out.
The mist faded, revealing a dozen shocktroopers and
a green-cloaked figure.
"The Green Shroud!" the Guardian gasped.
"I am flattered," the Shroud said, "you remember
me!"
"What is this all about, Shroud?" Guardian demanded,
stalling for time as he tried to think of a way to take out
the twelve machineguns pointed at him.
"What does it look like? We discovered your spy and
moved the operation to a more secure area. Then we set
this little trap for you and your friends."
Images of Angus Cage in the hands of Mobius,
undergoing extreme tortures, flashed through the
187
Guardian's mind. Then he saw the rest of his team, still

unaware of the danger they were in. He turned to look
out of the hangar, hoping to see some sign that they had
reacted to the machinegun fire.
"I wouldn't worry about your teammates right now
if I were you, Guardian," the Green Shroud said
pleasantly. "I'd worry about myself."
The Guardian turned back to regard the villain with
a cold stare. "I'd worry about you, too."
"Bravado to the end, is that it?" the Green Shroud
asked. "Bah! Take him!" he ordered, and the
shocktroopers started to move.
80
Rocket Blue heard the machinegun fire. It came from
inside the hangar, where the Guardian and Wind Whirl
were heading. Round after round sounded from within
the metal building. It sounded like they were emptying
full drums of ammunition into their targets. She
shuddered, knowing that the reaction could not be seen
because of the battle armor she wore.
"That sounds like trouble," the Golem said.
The two of them were watching the main gate, but
they saw no activity that suggested the base was on
alert. The guards at the towers along the fence continued
to talk or shuffle in obvious boredom, as though they
could not hear the gun fire.
"Golem, I'm going in," Rocket Blue informed him.
"Follow after me and take down those guard towers."
"You got it," the Golem said, but he doubted the
Rocket Ranger heard him. She was already airborne,
flying on great jets over the fence and toward the hangar.
Rocket Blue only got a short distance when the next
portion of the trap was sprung. Electrified cables burst
188
The Nightmare Dream
from a hatch in one of the towers, hurling themselves

directly at the Rocket Ranger. They wrapped around her
battle armor before she could react, sending volts of
disrupting energy through her suit. The jets immediately
conked out, and Rocket Blue plummeted to the ground,
landing hard. She remained where she fell, unmoving.
Golem, screaming his rage, tore through the barbed
wire like it was string. He ignored the shocktroops
rushing toward him, ignored the guards in the towers.
He was heading directly for Rocket Blue.
Before he reached her, however, a huge figure stepped
out from behind a building. It was taller and broader
than the Golem, and it wore a battle suit that seemed
patterned after the Rocket Rangers' suits.
"Allow me to introduce myself," the armored villain
said. "I'm Tank."
Then he swung a massive, armored fist at the Golem.
It landed with a jarring thud, and everything went
black.
81
Raven Wing heard the commotion on the other side
of the base and immediately saw it for what it was. "This
whole thing is a set up," she told Earthwave, "a trap."
Earthwave pointed his hands at the ground, directing
his energy at the earth. Suddenly a mound of sand rose
up under him, giving him a better view of the base.
"What should we do?"
"I would suggest that we —" but Raven Wing didn't
get a chance to finish. Two figures appeared on the other
side of the barbed wire fence. They were dressed in
mirror-image uniforms, covered with the same designs
only inversed one to the other.
"The Rage Brothers!" Earthwave shouted, ordering
189
the mound of sand to propel him forward. It rolled

across the ground, and Earthwave rode it like it was a
surfboard.
"Earthwave, wait!" Raven Wing called, but he ignored
her. The Rage Brothers were two of his most notable
enemies, and he couldn't be reasoned with when his
mind was made up. In some ways, Earthwave was as
slow and dense as the elements he manipulated.
She started to move forward to help him, when she
heard an airplane engine. Raven Wing looked up to see
a plane coming in. By the way it was listing, she didn't
think this was a scheduled stop for it. Also, it had no Nile
markings.
She turned back to Earthwave in time to see him
collapse. The Rage Brothers had gotten on each side of
him and pounded him with their beams of anger. They
were able to turn rage into a tangible weapon, and
Earthwave had blundered into their trap.
"Discretion is the better part of valor," Raven Wing
told herself. "It will serve none of them any good if I get
captured too."
Her mind made up, Raven Wing turned and flew
back into the desert.
82
Tom O'Malley fought the controls of the plane, trying
to keep it in the air. He heard the engines sputter from
lack of fuel, felt them cough as they fought to process the
last drops of the precious liquid. The storm had been a
hard one to pass through, but Tom had gotten them to
the other side. Now he had to get them on the ground in
one piece.
"How long can you keep us in the air, Tom?" Father
Bryce asked.
190
The Nightmare Dream
Tom looked at the fuel gage. The indicator dipped

lazily past the E. "Not long at all, Father," he admitted,
looking out the windshield. "But I won't have to. There's
the airfield up ahead."
"Airfield?" Bryce said. His tone suggested confusion.
"That doesn't look like any airfield I've ever seen. It
looks more like an armed camp!"
Tom saw that the priest was right. The familiar airstrip
that he expected had been replaced by something much
different. "It doesn't matter what it is, Father," Tom
called. "That's where we're going. Hang on, everyone!
I'm taking us down!"
83
"Wow, look at the wizard," Toolpin gasped as he
stared out the window of the airplane.
"That's no wizard," Pluppa scolded. "That's a harpy."
"Then where are her feathers?" Toolpin asked.
Mara, intrigued by the conversation, moved across
the aisle to see what they were referring to. For a
moment she didn't see anything unusual. Then she saw
the flying woman. She had long, flowing hair that was
the color of a raven, and she wore a matching black body
suit that clung to her curves like it was painted on. A
billowing cloak the color of the darkest night completed
her outfit, and she appeared to be flying without the aid
of any kind of mechanical device.
The woman saw Mara, smiled, and pointed away
from the airfield they were approaching. Then, with an
amazing burst of speed, she flew out of sight toward the
front of the plane.
Mara ran to the cockpit, pushing past Tolwyn so that
she could see through the windshield. There, flying in
front of the plane, was the woman in black.

"Tom, you must follow that woman," Mara said

urgently.
Tom looked up, but did not react in any way to the
flying woman. Father Bryce gasped, and Tolwyn
mumbled something in what Mara assumed was the
Ayslish tongue. Tom continued to work the controls,
moving with the grace of a concert pianist.
"She better know of a place to set us down," Tom told
Mara as he turned the plane to follow the flying woman.
"And it better be very, very close by."
84
The Guardian was strapped into a metal chair in one
of the smaller buildings on the base. The chair, in turn,
was bolted to the floor. Also in the room with him were
Rocket Blue, the Golem, and Earthwave. Each was
trussed up in bindings that hampered their powers.
Rocket Blue was wrapped in electrified cables that short-
circuited her battle armor, trapping her within the
immobile metal suit. The Golem was bound with heavy
chains that were made of an extremely tough metal, and
he was fitted with a mask that circulated a gas that
rendered him unconscious. Earthwave was suspended
from the ceiling by shock-resistant restraints, and the
metal floor separated him even more from the earth that
responded to his commands. Raven Wing wasn't among
the captives. He hoped she didn't suffer the same fate as
Wind Whirl.
Once he was secured, the shocktrooper stepped away
and Guardian could see his true captors. Besides the
Green Shroud, there was the armored villain called
Tank and the twin dynamos, the Rage Brothers. Four
super-powered criminals and a few squads of
shocktroopers had been able to bring down six Mystery
Michael 192
The Nightmare Dream
Men. It was a sad day, the Guardian thought.

"You are probably wondering what will become of
you, Guardian," the Green Shroud said. "Alas, I cannot
give you any firm answers. But I do know that Dr.
Mobius has asked me to detain you until he can come
deal with you personally. I don't think you'll like what
he has in store for you, though." The Green Shroud
laughed, leading his associates out of the building.
The Guardian heard the heavy door close and bolt,
locking automatically. The sound had a terrible ring of
finality to it.
85
Tom landed the plane where the flying woman
directed him, placing it down in the desert sand as
gently as he was able. It wasn't his smoothest landing,
but it was far from his roughest.
"Is every one all right?" Tom asked, unstrapping his
safety restraints.
"You did a wonderful job, Tom," Mara said. "Now
let's go find out who the flying woman is."
"Mara," Father Bryce called softly, "you attached the
hand."
She looked down at the metal appendage that
Thratchen had given her. "Yes," she said. "I need two
hands to finish some delicate work I am doing."
Before there were any additional questions or
comments, something tapped on the airplane's hatch. It
was an insistent rapping, like a salesman who knows
you are home and won't leave until you've heard his
sales pitch.
"I'll get it!" Toolpin yelled delightedly.
"No, I will get it," Tolwyn said, pulling the young
dwarf away from the hatch.

Djil moved to stand beside Tolwyn, but by his smile

it appeared that he sensed no danger from the knocker.
Tolwyn opened the hatch.
The flying woman — now standing on the ground —
stood below the hatch with hands on hips and a scowl on
her face. “What took you people so long?" she asked.
"Do you think I've got all day?"
"Who are you?" Tolwyn asked cautiously, her hand
going to the hilt of the sword she had taken from the
Victorian soldier.
"I'm Raven Wing," the woman said, "one of the
Mystery Men. Perhaps you've heard of me?"
The companions were all in the hatchway now, and
they looked at each other to see if anyone knew what the
woman was taking about. They all shook their heads in
a negative gesture.
"I see," Raven Wing said sternly. "No matter. Are
you of good or evil inclinations?"
Again the companions gave each other puzzled looks.
Tolwyn drew her sword and pointed it at the stranger.
"Are you questioning my honor, woman?" Tolwyn
demanded. "Tolwyn of House Tancred has never
followed any path other than the lighted one."
"I have no doubt, my lady," Raven Wing agreed,
backing away from the sword point, "but one cannot be
too careful in the Nile."
"The Nile?" Father Bryce asked. "Are we in Egypt?"
"You are in the Nile Empire," Raven Wing explained.
"I take it by your looks that you are not from this area of
the world. That explains your strange vehicle. How
does it fly without propellers?"
"It uses jet engines," Tom O'Malley explained. "You
don't know what jet engines are?"
"I have little understanding of weird science," Raven
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The Nightmare Dream
Wing admitted, “but since I did see you flying, I guess

these 'jet engines' work."
"Speaking of flying ..." Mara began, but Tolwyn cut
her off.
“Enough questions!" Tolwyn shouted. "We need
transportation to Aysle and we need it now!"
Raven Wing smiled broadly, like a cat about to catch
a canary. "Then I guess we're both in luck."
"Explain yourself," Tolwyn demanded.
"That base happens to have a seaplane that I'm
willing to let you and your friends have," Raven Wing
said, "if you help me with one little problem."
"What might that be?" Mara asked cautiously.
"It seems my companions have gotten themselves ...
captured by the nasty gentlemen who run that base. If
you help me free them, then the plane is yours."
"Now hold on," Bryce said. "We've got enough
problems of our own without getting mixed up in ..."
"Very well," Tolwyn stated.
"Good," Raven Wing clapped. "Now that that's
settled, here's my plan."
"Settled? Is something settled? I don't think it's
settled!" Father Bryce shouted. "She was flying, for
goodness sake!"
Djil quietly took the priest's arm and lead him beneath
the airplane, into a patch of shade. The others, meanwhile,
listened to the rest of what the mysterious woman who
called herself Raven Wing had to say.
86
The gospog stood guard in the tower beside the main
gate of the airbase, staring blankly into the desert through
cold, dark eyes. It was of the second planting, not as
primitive as the plantlike first planting variety. Instead,
195
the gospog of the second planting resembled regular

shocktroops, even wearing a uniform over their undead
flesh. But the gospog was also mummylike, and it
smelled of fetid graves.
Its orders were to watch for humans, and to be
especially alert for costumed Mystery Men. It was not
told to concern itself with deep shadows that moved
along the fence, so it ignored the anomaly and continued
to stare toward the horizon.
When the commotion began at the other end of the
base, the gospog stood still. If it was needed, it would be
summoned. Otherwise, it had other orders to occupy its
time. It watched as the shadow extended itself, reaching
dark tendrils up to the base of the tower, but it made no
move to raise the alarm. Shadows were not threats.
Shadows were ... insubstantial. When the metal spike
flew out of the shadow and buried itself in the gospog's
chest, it felt some small surprise, but no pain. It started
to raise its Nile Schmeisser, ready to defend itself against
this unexpected attack, when another attack ended its
undead existence.
The sword flashed out of the shadow, slicing three
times in quick succession before the gospog could react.
In the wake of the attack, its head bounced once on the
tower platform before rolling off the side toward the
ground below. The body fell to its knees as the shadow
receded to reveal Tolwyn, sword in hand, and Pluppa.
The dwarf retrieved her battle spike as Tolwyn leaned
over the side of the tower and yelled down to Raven
Wing that the way was clear.
"Then let's go get them out of there," Raven Wing
said as she ran toward building with the heavy metal
door.
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The Nightmare Dream
Bob Dvorak

The Nightmare Dream
87
Mara, Grim, Toolpin, and Tom were doing there best
to attract the attention of the airbase. They were on the
opposite end of the base, far from the tower that was the
other group's objective. Bryce, Djil, and Gutterby were
back with the airplane, standing guard in case something
went wrong with Raven Wing's plan. Frankly, Mara
couldn't see how anything could go right with it.
She used her laser to blast away part of the wire fence.
Tom fired his pistol into the air, adding to the noise.
Grim, meanwhile, wove an intricate illusion of a dragon
attacking the base. Toolpin did his part by making fierce
dragon calls from behind a sand dune.
Nile shocktroopers came running, followed closely
by a handful of second planting gospog. The dragon had
the desired effect, causing the human soldiers to back
away in fear. Only the gospog stood their ground, firing
at the illusion with their machineguns.
"Cease fire!" a man in a green hooded cloak shouted.
"It is some kind of trick!"
With him were two costumed men and a robot of
huge size. They forced their way to the front of the fence,
pushing past shocktroopers and gospog alike.
"My radar doesn't pick up anything, Shroud," the
robot said. "There's nothing there. It must be a visual
illusion."
"Rage, circle the area," the one called Shroud ordered.
Find the cause of this image and destroy it."
The two costumed men flew into the air. They looked
like mirror-images of the same man, one wearing a
costume with a angry pattern of color on the right side,
fhe other with the same design on the left.
"I was hoping it wouldn't come to this," Mara
grumbled. Using the illusion to hide her, she sprinted

toward the fence. When she was close enough, she

sprang onto the barbed wire and leaped into the air. Her
boots protected her feet from the cutting wire, and the
leap gave her just enough height to catch hold of one of
the men called Rage.
She emerged from out of the image of the dragon,
surprising the costumed villain. Her metal hand grasped
the front of his uniform, dragging him back to the
ground as she fell. Before he could catch his balance and
fight back, Mara struck him with a deadly chop to the
side of his neck. She followed that blow with a knee to
his stomach, and he crumbled without protest.
The other man had a trick of his own, however. He
fired a wave of concentrated energy from his hands. The
wave slapped into Mara, knocking her backwards. Rage
spun in the air to take another shot, but the crack of a
pistol sounded and a red stain spread across the villain's
chest. He plummeted to the ground like a wounded
bird, landing hard. Tom, his pistol smoking, ran to
examine Mara.
"Tank, go help the brothers," the Green Shroud
ordered.
"Oh, Tank," came a chorus of voices from behind the
armored warrior. "Could we have a word with you?"
Tank turned to see the Golem and Rocket Blue
standing behind him, their arms pulled back to deliver
crushing punches. The duo struck the armored villain as
one, sending him crashing into the fence, shattering
parts of his armor. They were on him before he could
right himself, pounding away with unrestrained fury.
Tank's suit, as powerful as it was, could not withstand
the strength of the two heroes.
"I'd say it's your turn, Shroud," the Guardian declared.
Beside him were Raven Wing, Tolwyn, and the dwarf
Pluppa.
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The Nightmare Dream
Even with the shocktroops and gospog to help him,

the Green Shroud could not stand against the Mystery
Men and the companions. The fight was over before the
Shroud could think of anything to say.
88
Angus Cage awoke with a splitting headache and a
mouth as dry as the Empire's deserts. He found himself
on his back, lying on a cot, locked within a damp, dark
cell. The last thing he remembered was grabbing a
machinegun away from one of the shocktroopers and
blasting away at the others. He was sure he got five or six
of them before the lights went out. He tried to touch his
head and discovered that his hands were manacled
behind his back. They were taking no chances with
Cage.
How had they discovered him, he wondered. Had he
slipped up in his act as a slave? Had he been overheard
during one of his meetings with the Guardian? Or had
Clemeta betrayed him? He didn't want to consider that
possibility, but it made the most sense. She was, after all,
the power-hungry mistress of the Pharaoh of the Nile
Empire. Why should he think she would change because
of some meaningless fling with an aging adventurer?
He had to stop being a romantic. He was beginning to
think the same way that the pulp writers portrayed him
and the other Mystery Men.
Cage looked up when he heard the bolt on his cell
door get thrown back. It opened with a loud creak,
revealing a hooded priest of Khem, the religious fanatics
that did Mobius' warped bidding without question.
"Hi," Cage said, surprised by the way his voice
cracked when he spoke. "Come here often?"
The priest did not respond. Instead, he walked over
399
to the cot and grabbed Cage by the arm. He helped the

adventurer stand, then motioned for him to walk out of
the cell.
"Oh good," Cage said sarcastically, "we're going for
a tour of the facilities. Once around the park, then take
me home, James."
The priest shoved him hard, and Cage almost fell. He
was still fairly weak, and the smash to the head left him
dizzy. He stumbled through the cell door, into the
waiting arms of another priest. He steadied Cage, then
indicated that he wanted him to walk forward with a
stern wave of his hand.
The two priests led him to a pair of sliding stone
doors. Intricate hieroglyphics covered the doors, forming
a striking design. As they approached, the doors parted
to reveal a small chamber.
"An elevator!" Cage declared as they ushered him
into its padded interior. "Next floor, torture devices,
animal pits and sacrificial altars. Going up!"
The doors slid closed. One of the priests pressed a
button, and Cage felt the elevator begin to move. He was
still too disoriented to tell if it was descending or
ascending, but he knew that it was going somewhere.
The priests, positioned on each side of him, remained
silent for the length of the trip. He examined them as best
he could without being too obvious, but he could spot
no weapons. The priests of Khem, however, were said to
have terrible powers, needing no weapons to protect
themselves. The way he felt, Cage was sure that even if
they didn't have powers they would have no trouble
keeping him in line.
The elevator came to a jarring stop and the doors
opened on a large, open chamber. If they were still in the
palace, they were in a section that Cage had never seen.
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The Nightmare Dream
The center of the chamber was dominated by a circle of

seven stone platforms. Resting on each platform was an
open sarcophagus, tilted so that you could see into its
stone interior. Richly dressed mummies occupied each
of the sarcophagi. The amount of gold and finery
suggested that these could be nothing but the remains of
past pharaohs. The seventh sarcophagi was empty.
In the middle of the seven platforms, perched atop a
taller platform of its own, was an obsidian statue. It was
a crocodile-headed Egyptian god — the god Sebek.
Cage knew what that statue was, for he was familiar
with the legends associated with it. It was the Kefertiri
Idol, the object of legend that Mobius sought and
supposedly disappeared while trying to find.
"Do you like my decorations, Cage?" Dr. Mobius
asked. "It's a very symbolic design of my own creation."
Cage finally noticed the Pharaoh. He was seated in an
ornate throne, identical to the one in the Audience
Chamber, overlooking a stone table. At the Pharaoh's
side was Teth-Net, the Royal Marshall, and Ahkemeses,
the High Priest of the Nile. On the table, strapped at her
hands and ankles, was the beautiful Clemeta. A smaller
table, full of bubbling vials and sharp instruments, was
positioned near her head.
Did you hear me, Cage?" Mobius asked again.
'Really, if you are going to be rude I won't let you watch
what we're going to do!"
"You're a madman, Mobius!" Cage exclaimed,
remembering the last time they met so many years ago.
"You will be brought back to Terra to answer for your
crimes!"
"Crimes? I have committed no crimes. Is it a crime to
use the powers I have been granted? To exercise my
divine right to rule? I think not, Cage!" Mobius answered.
201
"As for returning to Terra, I shall do that when I am good

and ready, and I shall return to finally conquer the
world that created me."
Clemeta looked at Cage with large, frightened eyes.
It hurt him to see her this way, tied down like some
sacrifice for Mobius' dark gods. She needed him, but he
had no way to free himself, no way to take the battle to
the mad Pharaoh at this moment in time.
"You like my dear Clemeta, Angus?" Mobius asked
in a mocking voice. "I know what you and she were up
to. How dare you soil the Royal Escort! You are nothing
but a... a commoner! You will pay for your transgressions
against the throne, Cage. You will pay dearly."
Ahkemeses stepped away from Mobius' side and
took his place at the small table. He quickly checked the
instruments and vials, like a surgeon examining his
tools. He found them to his liking, and nodded to
Mobius that he was ready.
"Angus Cage, as a tribute to our long association as
opponents, I am granting you a rare treat," Mobius
declared, and Cage could hear the insane laughter in his
voice. "I am going to let you witness the preservation of
dear Clemeta's beauty for all time. Of course, what we
are about to do is usually done after a person has passed
away, but what good is tradition if you don't go against
it every so often? Yes, you guessed it, Cage. We will
watch as Ahkemeses mummifies her — while she is still
alive!"
"No, my Pharaoh!" Clemeta pleaded. "I did nothing
to betray you! Angus Cage was nothing more than an
amusement, an entertainment! Do not do this to me!"
"Dear Clemeta," Mobius said soothingly, "do not lie
to me. You are very much like the Clemeta of my youth.
She paraded her beauty, teasing me with it. But when I
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finally approached her, she betrayed my love! She

claimed that she could not love the man who murdered
the heir to the throne of the Nile, that she would stay true
to the memory of her beloved Toth! But she learned her
lesson! When I took the throne away from my father,
Amat-Ra, I had both he and Clemeta mummified alive
— and this Clemeta betrays me in order to carry on the
tradition!"
The Pharaoh's rage rocked the chamber, and Cage
felt the heat of his madness radiating from him like a sun
giving off warmth. Even the Royal Advisers shrank
away from Mobius' stinging words. For a moment, it
was as if the Pharaoh was reliving some long-forgotten
past. Then, as abruptly as the tirade began, it was over.
"Enough of these fond recollections," Mobius said
cheerfully, "Ahkemeses, begin the entertainment."
Cage struggled with the two priests, but they held on
to him tightly. He could do nothing to save Clemeta,
nothing to save himself. All he could do was watch as
Ahkemeses worked his arcane arts.
The High Priest placed the pointed end of a syringe
into one of the bubbling vials. He pulled back the
plunger, and the steaming liquid was drawn into the
syringe. He tested it, squirting a stream of the foul brew
from the needle-tipped top of the instrument.
"Any last words, dear Clemeta?" Mobius asked.
"I'll always love you," Clemeta said, but the words
were not directed at the Pharaoh. She was looking at
Angus Cage when she said it, fixing him with her large,
dark eyes. "Always," she said again, and Cage heard her
voice break as the tears began to come.
"And I will love you," Mobius declared, oblivious to
the scene being played out by the two prisoners. "But
enough of this sentimental garbage. Get on with it,
Ahkemeses!"
203
The High Priest jabbed the needle into the soft flesh
of Clemeta's upper arm, sticking it directly into a vein.
She hissed as the plunger descended and steaming
liquid flowed into her blood stream.
But she did not scream.
She looked at Ahkemeses with questioning eyes.
"Will it hurt?" she asked.
"Most assuredly," he answered.
"Cage, help me!" she cried as the liquid burned its
way into her system.
"I'm sorry, Clemeta," he whispered. "I'm sorry... my
mistress."
"No!" Clemeta screamed as her body began a series
of agonizing convulsions.
"What is it doing to her?" Cage demanded, again
struggling against the priests but to no avail.
"It is working its way through her organs, drying
them up within her so that we can remove them later,"
Ahkemeses explained. "The process is actually quite
fascinating, as it allows us to perfectly preserve a person
for thousands of years. If I add the necessary magicks,
we can even turn her into a walking undead. Would you
like her that way, Cage?"
Angus refused to answer, instead directing his love
and support through his eyes to Clemeta's. But he could
see that she was losing the battle against the serum. As
he watched, her flesh began to shrivel and dry out, like
she was aging a year for every second that passed. Her
expression told him of the pain she was enduring, and
her eyes begged him to help her, to end the pain.
"Stop this, Mobius!" Cage yelled. "No one deserves
to die like this!"
"Does it hurt you to watch this, Angus?" Mobius
asked. "Good. That is what I intended. Now stop
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The Nightmare Dream
complaining and enjoy the show. I know that I am."

Clemeta's flesh pulled taut against her bones, giving
her a skeletal appearance. She convulsed once more,
then her chest stopped moving, her spasms ceased!
Clemeta was dead — preserved as a dried out husk.
"No!" Cage screamed, and then he started to weep.
"Now, now, Angus," Mobius said with mock sincerity,
"once Ahkemeses has removed the internal organs, he
will apply balms and potions that will restore much of
her robust fullness. Then he will wrap her in cloth and
place her in the tomb I have dedicated to her. It is a
wonderful tribute for one who has betrayed me, much
more than she deserves, really."
"And now what? Are you going to put me on the
table and mummify me?"
Mobius laughed. "Of course not, Cage. You aren't
even Egyptian! No, I have a more fitting end in store for
you. But we'll get to that. Right now, I want you to watch
as Ahkemeses slices Clemeta open. He is really very
good with the scalpel."
Cage saw the lantern light reflect off the sharp metal
edge of the blade in the High Priest's hand. When it
sliced into her dried flesh, there was no blood. It cut like
brittle paper.
And Angus Cage was forced to watch the whole,
macabre demonstration.
89
Andrew Jackson Decker walked beside Julie Boot,
enjoying the closeness of her. He was falling in love with
her, he knew. No, he was already in love with her. That
had happened almost from the moment he opened his
eyes back in the Twentynine Palms base hospital. She
had been the first person he saw after awakening from
205
his ordeal, and in some way she had helped him through
it. He still loved his wife, but Vicky was dead and it was
time to start a new life. He just wished the circumstances
they found themselves in weren't so deadly.
They walked through the mist-shrouded jungles of
Takta Ker, homeworld of the invading edeinos. Kurst
ranged slightly ahead of them, and he had been unusually
quiet since returning from his last scouting mission.
Decker felt that something had happened to the hunter,
but was reluctant to push him into talking. Kurst would
open up when he was ready, wouldn't he?
A roar emerged from the deep fog, startling Decker.
He saw Julie jump as well, but Kurst merely tilted his
head to one side to listen.
"What is that, Kurst?" Decker asked, reaching for his
rifle.
"It is a hunter of some sort," Kurst explained, but his
voice was strained, distant. "It is large, and it is
announcing its presence."
"What does that mean?" Julie asked.
"It means that it has found its prey and is beginning
to move in for the kill. Follow me, and be quiet about it."
Kurst led them a few feet into the mist, then motioned
for them to stand still. He took a few more steps, then
crouched to wait. Decker heard stampeding feet echo
around him, the sound seeming to bounce through the
thick air. Then the shape appeared in the mist ahead of
Kurst. It was a large shape, quickly growing larger as it
moved closer. It emerged from the mist with a frightened
caw, sounding like some impossibly large bird shrieking
in the night. But it was no bird.
The creature was a huge lizard, built low to the
ground and incredibly stocky. It was as tall as a horse,
but wider and longer, and its tail dragged behind it,
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The Nightmare Dream
cutting a path in the soil. It was obviously fleeing some

other creature — the one who roared? — for it did not
seem to notice Kurst crouching low in front of it.
"Kurst!" Julie screamed. "Get out of the way!"
The hunter ignored her, waiting in position as the
beast stamped closer. Then he sprang, uncoiling like a
loaded spring directly at the beast. Decker was reminded
of a rodeo bronco buster, for that was what it looked like
Kurst was doing. He leaped onto the lizard's thick neck,
then rolled into a sitting position on its back. It bucked
and shook itself, trying to dislodge its unwanted
passenger, but Kurst held on. The beast ran into the mist,
disappearing from sight, only to emerge a moment later,
Kurst still riding it like it was a horse.
Finally, after a few circuits through the mist, the
lizard seemed to resign itself to its fate and slowed to a
trot. Another roar shattered the stillness, however, and
the lizard let loose another birdlike shriek. Decker only
caught a glimpse of another shape in the mist. It was
terribly huge, standing as tall as three men. The ground
quaked as it passed by, and its roar hurt his ears. Then
it was gone, swallowed by the fog as though it had never
existed.
"Hurry," Kurst called, "climb atop so that we can get
moving."
"What is that thing?" Julie asked as Decker helped
her up.
"It is a tra," Kurst explained. "The edeinos use them
as mounts or as food, depending on the greater need.
This one escaped the jaws of the predator, but will serve
as our transportation to the next bridge."
Decker climbed up behind Julie, settling himself atop
the lizard's broad, slightly curved back. He was surprised
at how smooth its skin was, not slimy or scaly the way
207
he expected. And it seemed docile enough, now that

Kurst had broken it.
"We have reached an agreement, this tra and 1/
Kurst said. "It will take us as far as we wish to go as long
as that is away from the predator."
"That sounds like a fine deal to me," Decker agreed.
Kurst nodded, then he dug his boots into the lizard's
sides, directing it like it was a horse. It trundled into the
mist, going along the path that Kurst pointed it toward.
90
"Again," Tolwyn demanded, slamming her fist into
the back of the padded seat in front of her.
They were aboard the PBY seaplane, flying out of the
Nile Empire north toward England. Raven Wing and
her associates gladly gave them the aircraft, thanking
them for the assistance they provided against the Nile
soldiers. Tom had complained that the craft was primitive
compared to what he was used to flying, but he said he
could handle it. Now he and Father Bryce were in the
cockpit, Mara was sitting in the rear working on her
mechanical devices, and Tolwyn was sitting with the
dwarves, discussing matters concerning Aysle. Djil sat
quietly nearby, listening but not intruding on their
conversation.
"But Lady Tancred," Gutterby moaned, "I've told
you all that I know."
"Again!" Tolwyn ordered.
"Very well," Gutterby said, launching into his tale for
the third time since leaving the Nile airfield. "I remember
how everything got deathly quiet after the Carredon
finished off the Knight Protectors. I stood shoulder to
shoulder with the rest of the Vareth clan, ready to die if
need be when the dragon turned our way. But something
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The Nightmare Dream
else happened first. The balcony doors of Castle Ardinay

flew open, and standing in the darkened frame was the
Lady of Light herself. She raised her hands to the sky
and yelled out one word. It cheered us, bolstered our
spirits. She said, 'victory/ and she showed us the body
of the evil Uthorion as proof of her triumph. Then she
used her strength to drive off the Carredon and the other
dark creatures, forcing them back across the bridge of
twisted souls. We had won the day, but we had lost the
greatest sons and daughters of the Houses."
"But how can this be?" Tolwyn asked. "If Lady
Ardinay won out, why has the land become dark and
foul? Why is she joined with these invaders, taking
world after world for some dark purpose?"
Gutterby shook his head sadly. "I cannot answer that,
my lady," he said softly. "All I know is that something
happened to the Lady of Light. She changed after that
battle, but not in any way that we could point to. She is
the same woman she always was. There is no corruption
in her soul."
"I do not believe this," Tolwyn said. "The Pella
Ardinay that I remember was against conquest and
slavery. She believed in the ways of honor. What you
describe is a soul twisted with corruption, no matter
what you detect."
"Be that as it may," Gutterby assured her, "there is no
mark of corruption upon Lady Ardinay's soul."
91
In the Soviet Union, Captain Nicolai Ondarev waited
for the elevator that would take him to the secret offices
far below the Kremlin. It had been long weeks since he
had helped stop the invasion of his country, but he knew
of the reports that continued to filter in from the United
209
States, Indonesia, and the Middle East. Great Britain and

France were also experiencing strange happenings, and
certain actions by the Japanese made him wonder about
their role in all of this. But at least the Soviet Union was
safe — for the time being.
The elevator car arrived and Ondarev entered its
small interior. He used his key to access a stop not
marked by any buttons, and the elevator started to drop.
As it descended, he thought about his new role in the
military. While to the general public he was still part of
the armed forces, his true position was as director of a
new branch of military science. He headed the Bureau of
Psychic Research, now under the jurisdiction of the
armed forces as opposed to the Party.
The elevator finished its descent and the doors slid
open to reveal a nondescript reception area. The soldier
behind the desk nodded at the captain, and Ondarev
walked past him and into the complex proper.
A young boy, perhaps twelve years old, ran up to
Ondarev as he entered. The boy's name was Piotr, and
he was perhaps the Bureau's most promising find —
aside from Nicolai's assistant director.
"Captain Ondarev, you must come quickly!" Piotr
exclaimed, grabbing the soldier's hand firmly.' She has
been calling for you for over three hours, and I am very
worried about her."
"Take me to her, Piotr," Ondarev said gently.
The boy led him through corridors, past rooms where
doctors worked with gifted individuals to test the extent
of their burgeoning abilities. It was like the seeds had
always been here, lying dormant beneath the soil until
the sun's life-giving rays caressed them, until the rain
water arrived for them to drink hungrily. Then the
flowers of psychic power bloomed, and suddenly the
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The Nightmare Dream
world was a very different place.

But the rain that started this explosion of growth was
not cool, clear water that fell from pure white clouds. It
was the foul water that fell from the black, bloated
clouds of the storm that engulfed the Earth. And so the
powers that appeared like gifts from beyond were
growing under the dark pall of the storm they had
named Torg, and that saddened the captain.
Piotr brought him to a closed door at the end of a long
hall. The boy looked up at him with pleading eyes.
"Help her," he said beseechingly.
"I will try," Ondarev answered.
The boy nodded, squeezed his hand once, then turned
and ran back down the hall, leaving him alone outside
the closed door. Ondarev turned to the door, wondering
what was happening within that scared young Piotr so.
He placed his hand upon the wood, then drew it back
quickly, placing his hand in the hollow pit under his
arm. The door was cold! So cold that it had burned him.
Fear begin to prickle the back of his neck, raising small
bumps that throbbed with sensation.
"Katrina?" he called, shouting her name through the
door.
There was no answer.
Now frightened for the young woman who he had
first seen in a small hospital room in Moscow, he kicked
the door. She had been the culmination of Project Omen,
a top secret project to determine the possibility of
predicting the future. She had seen the future all too
well, predicting the coming invasion of Earth.
"The storm has a name, Captain Nicolai Ondarev,"
the young woman named Katrina Tovarish had told
him, looking at him with her sightless eyes. "It calls itself
Torg."
211
Even the memory made his sweat run cold, and

Ondarev blocked it out so that he could concentrate on
the job at hand. He kicked the door a second time and
was rewarded with the sound of splintering wood. It
swung open, and a burst of cold air emerged from the
darkened room.
"Katrina?" Ondarev called again, stepping carefully
into the room.
His breath puffed out before him in billowing clouds,
reminding him of the drastic drop of temperature in this
part of the complex. How could it be so cold? He
fumbled for the light switch, finding it against the ice-
covered wall. He flipped it up, and a dull light filled the
room. He did not like what he saw.
Katrina floated in the middle of the room, a sun
around which tables, chairs, and books orbited. She was
the center of the swirling objects, her head bent low as
though in sleep, her long blonde hair spread upon the
air like a hallo around her. He tried to move closer, but
the circling objects prevented him. They were moving
very fast, and if he were to be hit with a speeding table,
he could suffer a concussion — or worse.
"Katrina!" he called again, suddenly wishing he had
a warmer jacket. "Katrina, can you hear me? It is me,
Nicolai!"
At the sound of his voice, one of the objects circling
the young woman stopped, spun around, and flew
directly at him. It was a tape recorder, the one on which
Katrina made notes and listening to recorded books. He
barely managed to duck as it came screaming toward
him, smashing into a dozen pieces as it shattered against
the far wall.
Katrina slowly raised her head, looking dazed, tired.
She tilted it slightly, in the gesture he now recognized as
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The Nightmare Dream
her way of seeing what she could not see, of using senses
other than sight to find out what was around her.
"Be careful, Nicolai," Katrina said, her voice even
more haunting in this strange setting. "You cannot help
me."
"Help you?" Ondarev said in disbelief. "What is
happening here, Katrina?"
"They have found me, Nicolai."
"Who? Who has found you?"
"The alien things. The thing with wings and claws
that I killed in the field when we searched for the stelae,"
Katrina explained. "There are still a few of them here,
and they are going to try to open the sky again, but they
want to destroy me first."
Ondarev could not believe what he was hearing,
what he was seeing. "How can they do this? There is no
one here but you!"
"You are wrong, Nicolai," she said softly, her voice
barely a whisper over the wind of the swirling objects.
"Do you not feel the cold of their presence? Do you not
see the force of their will in these items they have turned
into weapons? I can hold them off for a time, but there
are many more of them than there is of me. I am growing
weaker, and they have lost none of their strength."
Ondarev moved forward, looking for an opening
through which he could pass. He dodged another object,
a book that hurtled toward his head, then decided to
charge directly into the center of the room. He only took
three steps when a chair smashed into his back and
knocked him to the floor. He tried to rise, but another
object caromed off his forehead, cutting a gash in his
flesh. Blood dripped into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly
to clear them. More objects battered him, hitting him
with terrible force. Ondarev slipped, went down on one
213
knee, tried to lift himself up, and another large object hit
him squarely in the back. He fell, and the knowledge
that by falling he was lost caught in his mind like bile. It
was a bitter realization, for it meant that he had failed
Katrina when she needed him most.
The swirling objects smashed into him, pressing him
down into the floor. They were going to crush him!
Panic started to rise within him, and he struggled to
relieve the terrible pressure that the objects exerted. It
was no use though, he was not strong enough to free
himself. He tried to breath, but the force constricted his
chest. He felt suffocation coming; he would die from
lack of air before the objects could crush him, and he
thought that that was a better way to die.
Then, as suddenly as it started, the pressure eased.
The objects fell away with a clatter, and Ondarev pushed
himself off of the ground. He wiped blood from his eyes
and looked around. All ready the room was warming
up, and the objects that had been circling the room or
attacking him were scattered across the floor. Standing
by the doorway were the six members of Ondarev's
initial class of psychically-gifted people. They were
holding hands, their faces twisted in concentration. In
the middle, apparently directing their activity, was young
Piotr.
"Nicolai?" Katrina asked, a tinge of fear in her voice.
"Here, Katrina," Ondarev said, taking hold of the
young woman. She threw her arms around him and
hugged. This was a good pressure, he decided. He liked
this much better than the other.
Katrina, still holding onto Ondarev, raised her head.
"Thank you, Piotr," she said sincerely.
Piotr opened his eyes. When he saw that both Ondarev
and Katrina appeared to be all right, he smiled. "I'm
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The Nightmare Dream
glad we were able to help."

"What did they do, Katrina?" Ondarev asked.
"They blocked the invaders, cut off the path that their
energy was using. They will be back, but not for a little
while, I think."
Ondarev held her tightly, suddenly afraid that his
beloved country wasn't as safe as he had thought.'
92
The tra moved across the rocky ledge like a mountain
goat. It was a sure-footed, agile lizard that was also very
stabile. From the high vantage point, Julie was able to
look down upon the valley they had climbed out of.
There was a rare break in the mist, and she was able to
see for a long distance. It was really a beautifully lush
world, full of all kinds of exotic plants. Only the mist
obscured the picturesque view, and the humidity.
"It's not the heat, it's the humidity," Julie said, and
she gave a small laugh.
Decker looked at her strangely, but she did not explain
herself. It's good to keep them guessing, she thought. As
she remembered their brief time together in the clump of
trees, she smiled. He was a tender, passionate lover, and
she found that she wanted to feel his touch again. There
would be time enough later, she decided. They would
survive this trip and then they would leave the battle to
others and go somewhere to be by themselves. They had
done their share, especially Ace, and they deserved
whatever happiness they could find in this dangerous
world.
"I love you, Ace Decker," she said spontaneously,
turning slightly to kiss him.
He returned her kiss and smiled. "I love you, too,
Julie Boot."
215
"Let's forget all this saving the world stuff and run
away together," she said half-jokingly. But a part of her
was very serious.
He gave her a stern look. "Julie Boot, what would
Kurst say if we got off this tra and went into the jungle
to set up a cave together?"
"He would say to beware of roprajes, for they like to
lair in caves," Kurst called from his place at the front of
the lizard.
"Well thank you very much, Mr. Kurst," Julie scolded.
"And I was going to suggest that you be Ace's best
man."
"Julie?" Decker asked. "What are you suggesting?"
"I'm not sure exactly," she admitted, "but I know I
don't want to live without you, Ace."
He smiled. "Let's wait until this is over before we
make any promises."
She turned back to look at the valley, and a dark bank
of clouds caught her eye. It was a towering formation
that sparkled with flashing lightning. It was far off, but
she could tell that it was moving very fast. And it
seemed to be on a direct line for them.
"Kurst, what is that?" she asked, pointing at the
horizon.
Kurst stared at it for a full minute, then he slapped the
lizard, making it pick up speed.
"Kurst, what's the matter?" Julie asked again.
The hunter did not face her as he spoke, instead
keeping his eyes on the path ahead. "That is the Wild
Hunt, Julie," he explained. "That is the thing Paragon
warned us of."
"But what's it doing here?" she asked frantically.
"It's hunting us," Decker said, realizing that that was
the only possible answer.
216Annis (Order #13994246)

Michael
The Nightmare Dream
93
Dr. Hachi Mara-Two worked through the long trip,
busily connecting the data plate with her memories of
Kadandra to the modified jaz pack. She double-checked
all of the circuits and pins, adding a minute adjustment
here, a slight realignment there. Then she held it before
her and concentrated her left eye upon it. Built-in scanners
and image enhancers magnified the circuits and checked
for flaws while she held her breath. In a few seconds, her
diagnostic computer gave her the answer she waited
for: the circuits were flawless. She let out a deep sigh.
Mara had done it! The jaz pack could be attached to
anyone, even someone without any cyber enhancements
at all, and that person would be able to experience the
sensover images of Kadandra. Excitement raced through
her blood at the accomplishment, and she felt like
shouting. It was the same feeling that coursed through
her system when she discovered the cosmverse, when
she looked upon her first alien cosm, when she built the
transference cylinder.
These thoughts led to the dark results of each of her
triumphs, and Mara wondered what evils this new
invention would lead to. Then she dismissed the notion.
"Don't be ridiculous," she told herself. "Aren't you
carrying around enough guilt for one sixteen-year-old?"
Mara held the jaz pack in her right hand
(never in the left one)
and got out of her seat. She walked down the narrow
aisle between the seats in the seaplane and sat down
next to Djil. The aborigine smiled when she approached,
flashing his missing tooth with unselfconscious ease.
"How are you doing, young Mara?" Djil asked
pleasantly. He held the knotted rope in his hands,
running his callused fingers over the six knots.
217
"I'm doing fine, Djil," she smiled back. "What about

you?"
He held the rope up for her to examine, taking care to
show her the two knots on the end. Decker and Kurst
are closer," he told her. "They are going to meet us in
Tolwyn's world."
"How do you know that, Djil?" Mara asked.
The aborigine shrugged. "I have seen their dreams.
But there is something dark and terrible behind them,
rushing like a storm to catch them. They must stay ahead
of this storm, or we are all lost."
Mara did not know how to respond to the shaman's
claims, so she held up the jaz pack. "I've got something
to show you, too," she said, a smile suddenly brightening
her face. "It's my data plate, but I've rigged it so you can
see my world. Isn't that fantastic, Djil?"
Djilangulyip looked at the jaz pack, cautiously
touching it with one outstretched finger. Then he shook
his head. "That is for someone else, Mara," he told her
firmly. "It's not for me."
"What are you talking about?" she complained. "I
worked hard on that, and I did it because you wanted to
see my world."
The aborigine took her hand
(the right one, never the left one)
and said gently, "I do want to see your world, Mara,
and your Dream Time. But you built that device for
someone else, someone you don't even know. It is very
important that you save it for that person. Very important.
Do you understand."
Mara shook her head. "Not a word. How could I have
built this for someone I don't know? That's impossible!"
Djil said nothing. He simply smiled at her and
squeezed her hand.
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The Nightmare Dream
"I give up!" she said, exasperated. "All right, Djil, I'll
put the pack away for now. But if you figure out who this
person is before I do, I'd appreciate it if you gave me a
hint."
"Of course," Djil said, returning his attention to the
knotted rope.
94
Angus Cage found himself tied to the bottom of a
gigantic metal sphere. After they finished mummifying
Clemeta, Mobius had Ahkemeses knock him out with a
chemical-soaked rag. He didn't know how long he had
been unconscious, but he was getting tired of waking up
with a headache.
He examined his surroundings and found himself
hanging by his wrists in a vertical, framework-filled
shaft. His wrists were strapped to the bottom of the
rivet-covered metal sphere, and his feet were tied
together to keep them from flailing around.
"So you have finally awakened, Angus," Dr. Mobius
said. He was standing upon an observation platform
directly across from where Cage was hanging. With him
were Teth-Net and the two priests.
"What's this, Mobius, some torture device?" Cage
asked trying to put on a brave front.
"Oh, nothing so crude, Angus," Mobius declared.
"You are hanging from the bottom of an artificial sun of
my own creation. It is set to rise some fifteen minutes
from now. You will rise with it. When it reaches its
position in the sky, it will glow with light and heat,
enough to provide the realm with ample quantities of
both. Unfortunately, you're going to be a little too close
to appreciate the wonder of it."
Mobius was going to fry him alive! Cage tried to
219
struggle out of his bonds, but he had no leverage hanging

as he was, and they were tied very tightly.
"I'll leave you now, for I have very important business
elsewhere," Mobius informed him. "Wish me luck,
Angus, for when I return I shall be the Torg, ruler of the
entire cosmverse!"
"I hope you choke," Cage shouted.
"Charming to the end," Mobius sneered, then turned
and exited the observation platform, taking Teth-Net
and one of the priests with him.
The remaining priest stood in place, watching Cage
struggle with the ropes that held him. Cage twisted
every way he could, but the ropes held. Then, with a
jarring shudder, the sphere began to roll up the
framework track.
"Mobius!" Cage screamed, and the hated name echoed
within the shaft.
As the sphere rose through the wooden and metal
framework track, getting closer to an opening far
overhead, Cage was able to see that it was covered in
gold plating. He tried desperately to think of a way out
of the diabolical trap that Mobius had placed him in, but
nothing came to mind. It cleared the lip of the shaft,
continuing to rise, a golden ball hovering above the city
of Luxor. Cage could see the nearly complete Grand
Temple of Ra falling away below him, next to the
monolithic shaft the golden sphere emerged from.
Higher it flew, until the ground below was nothing
but a miniature vista. Cage continued to struggle, but
the ropes would not give. Then, to Cage's horror, the
sphere began to glow, giving off light like a small sun.
And, like a sun, the light was hot. Within seconds he
began to sweat, and his flesh turned red from the baking
heat. Soon it would reach temperatures that would
220
The Nightmare Dream
knock him unconscious as his blood began to boil. He

wondered if he would die before his flesh began to melt.
Hotter still, and Cage could no longer look directly at
the sphere. Hotter, and his brain felt like it was on fire.
Hotter, and one rope burned away from the rivet it was
tied to. Cage found himself hanging by one arm, but he
barely was able to register the change as the heat became
unbearable.
Then, just before he passed out, the second rope
snapped. Cage registered the rushing air, thankfully
cool against his blistered flesh, as he began to fall.
It was the last thing he remembered as the ground
came rushing to meet him.
95
Angar Uthorion sat upon the throne in Castle Ardinay,
wearing the body of Lady Pella Ardinay. The High Lord
of Magna Verita, Antipope Jean Malraux I stood at the
window, looking out upon the Valley of the Sword.
"Where is that damn elf?" Uthorion cursed, and the
words sounded foul and harsh coming from Ardinay s
mouth.
"Patience, Angar," Malraux advised. "Good things
come to those who wait."
"Spare me the sermon, Malraux. Time is getting very
short, I can feel it. It is slipping away like sand through
my fingers, and when it is gone ..."
"What?" Malraux laughed. "What will happen when
your precious time runs out? Do you know, Angar?
Have you become a prophet now as well as a woman?"
Uthorion started to rise at the High Lord s insult, but
the arrival of Delyndun banished his anger. The elf
mage entered the chamber, followed by a huge Viking
warlord who, despite his size and strength, appeared to
221
be very nervous.
“\ have brought Thorfinn Bjanni as you requested,
Lady Ardinay," Delyndun announced, slipping into the
charade they perpetuated for the people of Aysle.
"Welcome, warlord, to the castle of Lady Pella
Ardinay," Uthorion said. "I am glad you were able to
come on such short notice."
The Viking bowed, eyeing the Antipope suspiciously.
Then he turned to the High Lord of Aysle. "My fleets are
ready to strike out down the water bridge upon your
word, my lady," Thorfinn said. "The entire Viking
nation has joined beneath my banner for this campaign."
"As I knew they would, Thorfinn," Uthorion
proclaimed. "We follow the plans and teachings of Lord
Angar Uthorion, for it was he who showed me the true
road to power."
"It is a road I gladly follow, my lady," Thorfinn
agreed.
"Then I give you my blessing for the coming battle,
and I give you the word," Uthorion said. "Let the sails
unfurl and may the wind be at your back!"
Thorfinn bowed again, then turned to leave the
chamber.
"One more thing, Thorfinn," Uthorion called. "Your
dagger. Give it to me."
Uthorion held out Ardinay's slender hand to receive
the weapon, but Thorfinn hesitated.
"Why, my lady?" he asked.
"Do you question the voice of Uthorion in Aysle?"
Uthorion demanded sternly.
"Oh no, my lady," Thorfinn stammered, reduced to a
mound of jelly before the beautiful and extremely
powerful Lady of the Light. "It is just that this dagger
has been in my family for more than three generations.
222
The Nightmare Dream
Valerie Valusek

The Nightmare Dream
It is a personal thing."
"Then you would say it is almost a part of you?"
Uthorion pressed.
"Yes, my lady, it is."
Uthorion smiled, and Ardinay's lips turned up in a
dreadful grin. "Then give it here, my warlord," he said
softly. "I shall hold it as a badge of honor until I join with
you in Aysle realm!"
Thorfinn smiled. He slid the ornate blade from its
sheath and presented it, hilt first, to the Lady of the
Houses. Uthorion took it gratefully.
"This means more to me than you can realize, my
warlord," Uthorion said, and Thorfinn exited the
chamber proudly.
"What was that all about, Angar?" Malraux asked,
trying to understand the games that the necromancer
played.
"Insurance," Uthorion said mysteriously, "nothing
but insurance."
96
"Damn you, Angus Cage, don't you die on me!"
called a far away voice.
"Wake up!" it called again.
It was really very rude, trying to make him respond
when all he wanted to do was die in peace.
"Cage!" the voice screamed again, this time much
louder.
Cage opened his eyes, immediately regretting the
simple action. Even his eyelids were sunburned, and he
let a little scream escape his parched lips.
"That's a boy, Angus," the Guardian said, leaning
over to look at Cage. "I knew you weren't a quitter!"
"What ... happened?" Cage asked, but he didn't
223
think the words came out above a whisper.

"You were almost turned into a french fry by Mobius'
artificial sun," the Guardian explained. "It looks like the
ropes burned away before you did. You fell quite a ways
before Rocket Blue caught you."
Cage turned his head slightly, grimacing at the
agonizing pain the simple movement caused him, and
saw the familiar battle suit of a Rocket Ranger. The
Ranger gave him the thumbs up sign, and he groaned
loudly.
"Did you stop Mobius?" Cage asked.
The Guardian shook his head. "They were on to us,"
he said. "There was a trap waiting for us at the airfield.
We managed to get away with a little help from some
passersby, but we couldn't figure out where Mobius
moved the operation to. So we decided to high-tail it
back here to see if you needed any help."
"Thanks," Cage managed, motioning for the Guardian
to help him sit up.
Clemeta was dead, and Mobius was on his way to
become the Torg. Cage had failed on both counts, but at
least he was still alive. He promised himself he would
make Mobius pay for his crimes.
He ran his fingers over the long, thin scars on his
chest, remembering Clemeta, remembering the
electrifying touch of her long, red nails. He didn't think
he'd ever forget her.
97
Tolwyn sat brooding, staring out the window of the
seaplane. She was at a loss to explain the changes in
Aysle since her death, and she had no idea what was
wrong with Lady Ardinay. She was sure that something
was wrong, however, despite Gutterby's assurances
224
The Nightmare Dream
that she had not been corrupted. Honor and corruption

were tangible things in Aysle, she remembered now that
her memories had almost all returned. Both were
reflected in the folk, and the more of either that marked
a soul, the more easily it was to identify it. Truly evil
beings looked twisted and corrupted, while the most
honorable stood proud and noble against the darkness.
So, if Ardinay had somehow fallen into corruption,
why had Gutterby been unable to detect it? Tolwyn had
no clue, and that infuriated her.
Djil quietly took the seat beside her, concern etched
into his dark features.
"Do not worry about me," Tolwyn told him. "I am
just thinking."
"Thinking is good," Djil agreed somewhat hesitantly.
"Sleep is good, too. And dreaming."
"What are you talking about, shaman?" she
demanded, suddenly tired of his endless riddles.
Djil touched her hair, brushing it away from her
emerald eyes. "You need to sleep before we reach your
land, Tolwyn," he said quietly, soothingly. She felt her
eyelids suddenly grow heavy, and a yawn escaped her
before she could stifle it. "There is one more dream you
must have, one more question you need answered."
Tolwyn listened to his voice move farther and farther
away, and she tried in vain to keep her head from lolling.
She failed, and it hit the back of the seat with finality.
And then Tolwyn dreamed.
98
Angar Uthorion left Malraux in the throne room and
entered the bed chamber. He was tired, and he needed
to sleep before he could solve the last of his problems.
"Damn Tolwyn and her curse," he muttered through
Ardmay's lips. "Where is she?"
225
He collapsed upon the huge bed, letting Ardinay's

head hit the thick pillows. He suddenly felt even more
tired than he had a moment ago. All of the recent events
were catching up with him, and he desperately needed
to close his eyes.
But what if the dream returns, he thought. What if I
have the nightmare again? Too late, he realized as sleep
took him, it was too late. He could hear the nightmare
prowling in his mind, waiting for him to join it in sleep.
And then Uthorion dreamed.
99
Tolwyn and Uthorion dreamed ...
... It was the darkest day in Aysle history, when

invaders from another land marched toward the sacred
Valley of the Sword. It was in this beautiful valley that
the hero that was to become a god brought his enchanted
blade, Aurel. He was Dunad, and his people were
enslaved by the savage giants of Lower Aysle. But
Dunad had gone on a quest to find something to aid his
people. He finally returned, carrying the enchanted
sword. It had the power to unlock the very essence of
Aysle, to allow the person who wielded it to call on
magic! Dunad knew that he alone could not stop the
giants, so in the valley that was to become a sacred place,
he shattered the weapon and released the skills and
knowledges it contained for all to use.
And so magic finally became a tool for all folk, human
and giant, dwarf and elf.
That, however, was a long time past, and now a new
danger threatened the folk of Aysle. Lady Pella Ardinay
stood upon the highest rampart of her castle, watching
as the streaming armies of undead shambled ever closer.
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The Nightmare Dream
The invaders came across a bridge of twisted souls that

spiraled down from the sky to crash to the ground
beyond the Inland Sea, behind the jagged peaks of the
Kelor Mountains. With its arrival, the land changed.
Where the monsters passed, the land became dark,
poisoned by their foul touch. Trees blackened and
withered. Water turned murky. The ground cracked
like dried skin, and black ooze flowed from the wound
like blood. And now the monsters were almost upon the
defenders of Aysle, bringing their decaying touch into
the most holy of places, the Valley of the Sword.
"We will make our stand here," Ardinay told the six
men and women beside her. "Here, in the valley where
Holy Dunad made his own stand so long ago. In this
castle, where the Speakers of the Houses meet with the
Speaker for the People to decide laws and policies. This
is where we will defend our land."
The Knight Protectors nodded solemnly, making
ready to go below so that they could take command of
their armies. They were the sons and daughters of the
House Dukes, heirs to the seats of power in Aysle: Kwev
of House Daleron, the handsome swordsman who was
perhaps the best fighter in the land; Abonon of House
Gerrik, a mighty mage; Sens of House Liandar, the red-
haired woman who laughed hard and fought harder;
Hogar of House Vareth, a dwarven genius who carried
two huge battle-axes across his back; Caudal of House
Bendes, the archer; and Tolwyn of House Tancred,
paladin of honor who commanded both the Knight
Protectors and the combined armies of Aysle.
The young warriors started toward the stairs when
Lady Ardinay called, "Tolwyn, wait a moment, child."
The Lady of the Light was radiant, standing proudly
before Tolwyn. The warrior woman loved Lady Ardinay
227
with all her heart, the way she loved her father, the way
she loved the land.
"This place stands for everything I have fought for,
child," Ardinay explained, "everything the people of
Aysle believe in. It is the home of the Delegate Legacy,
a government I am proud to have helped found. I will
die before I see it defiled by these invaders."
"You will not die, my lady," Tolwyn pledged. "We
will drive these creatures back to their bridge, back to
whatever terrible world has spawned them."
Below the tower ranged the forces of the Houses, the
armies of the Knight Protectors. Ardinay sighed as she
looked upon them. "They are my friends, Tolwyn," the
Lady said, "the best warriors this continent has to offer.
Much blood will spill this day, I fear. I hope I do not have
to bury too many of my friends."
The column of abominations moved relentlessly
forward, drawing closer as the sun began to set. "They
will attack at dusk," Ardinay said, suddenly realizing
the invaders' plan. "They will attack at the Entity's
Hour."
At the head of the column Ardinay could see a huge
dragon, somehow related to the great beasts of Aysle
but made different by its inherent wickedness. Upon its
back was a man in dark robes, wearing the symbols of
necromancy. He was the leader of this terrible force of
evil. He was Uthorion. He was death.
The sun hit the rim of its path through the world, and
vibrant colors exploded across the sky. Once the bright
reds and oranges faded, the monsters would attack.
Until then, they waited behind the Carredon and its
master, neither eager nor sullen. They simply waited.
"Remember the land, Tolwyn," Ardinay said,
brushing her fingers gently across Tolwyn's brow. "The
228
The Nightmare Dream
land is important. It is what makes Aysle so special."

Tolwyn listened intently as the blazing colors of the
sky went through their cooling process and darkness
began to spread across the world disk with casual
strides. Ardinay hoped the plan she was implementing
never had to be used, but she would put it in place just
in case. She hoped Tolwyn would forgive her.
"Dunad," Pella Ardinay prayed, "show us the way to
banish these things of darkness. Show us how to preserve
the land."
A glowing ball appeared in the Lady of Light's hands.
It was warm and bright, and it felt very good to Tolwyn.
The Lady stretched out her hands to Tolwyn.
"This is the land, Tolwyn," Ardinay explained.
"Dunad has helped me gather it. Place it in your heart
and remember it always."
The ball drifted into the warrior's hands, and she was
suddenly filled with the sights, sounds, scents, and
tastes of Aysle. The ball began to shrink, its glowing
brightness becoming a swirl of crimson and turquoise as
it formed into a crys flower. Then the flower disappeared.
"I have done all that I can, my warrior," Ardinay said
with sadness and hope. "Now you must do what you
can."
Dusk took the countryside, throwing the Valley of
the Sword into deep twilight. The Carredon stretched its
foul wings, announcing that it was about to move. "I will
do what I must, my lady," Tolwyn declared. Then she
leaped over the rampart to face the evil dragon.
Ardinay prepared herself for her own battle as she
heard the dragon cut through the ranks of defenders.
She also heard the Knight Protectors begin a prayer of
sending, just as she had asked them to do.
"Remember the land," Ardinay said once more. "And
229
die well, my cherished knight."

"I will see you dead, Uthorion!" Tolwyn's strong
voice called out from far below. "Whether in this life or
another, you will one day have to face my blade!"
There were more shouts, but Ardinay blocked them
out as she gathered her magic about her. She would
need every bit of strength she could muster to battle the
dark one, and even then, she knew that victory was
uncertain.
"I am here," Lord Angar Uthorion of the Dark
announced as he entered Castle Ardinay.
"As am I," Lady Pella Ardinay of the Light answered.
Necromancer and mage drew their magicks into
defensive cloaks, and the air crackled with energy.
"It is the Hour of the Entity," Uthorion said, "the time
of those beings that do not belong to the world of folk.
It is the hour of my victory."
Then the battle was joined, as mage threw lightning
and fire, and necromancer countered with twirling bones
and the grave cold touch of gathered spirits.
It was a short war.
As powerful a mage as Ardinay was, she could not
stand against Uthorion and the powers he drew from his
Darkness Device. Before the Hour of the Entity passed,
Uthorion cast his most devastating spell.
"With this object that belongs to you," Uthorion
declared as he held a small mirror in one hand, "I sunder
your spirit, separating it from your physical form and
banishing it to the realm of entities!" The words of
power spoken, Uthorion touched Ardinay, and a crackle
of arcane might was released.
Lady Ardinay screamed as pain wracked not only her
physical form, but her soul as well. It was the pain of
forced separation as her spirit was wrenched from her
230
The Nightmare Dream
body and cast into the nether dimensions of Aysle. As

her body fell to the floor, Uthorion cast his second spell,
possession. With the words of power spoken, his body
too collapsed as though struck.
A moment later, Ardinay stood up, but it was Uthorion
who looked through her clear blue eyes. He glanced
down at the necromancer form, the body that he had so
recently occupied, and drew Ardinay's enchanted
Lightblade from its scabbard.
"Now this reality shall be mine," Uthorion said in
triumph through Ardinay's red lips. Then he plunged
the sword into his old body so that he could display it to
the masses of Aysle.
With body in hand he stepped out upon the balcony
overlooking the Valley of the Sword. He cast the dead
Uthorion flesh over the battlements, tossing it to the
crowd below. Then he shouted one word with Ardinay's
voice.
"Victory!" he proclaimed, and what he meant was far
different than what the folk of Aysle heard.
100
The dream
(nightmare)
ended, but neither of the dreamers awoke.
101
Tolwyn had dreamed of the day she died, but it was
as if she was seeing it from another perspective, from
another person's point of view. And now, floating in a
dreamscape of muted colors, unable to wake herself
from her slumber, Tolwyn felt another presence. She
tried to locate the source of her feeling, but it was as if the
presence was hiding. She turned one way (if direction
231
could have any meaning in a dream) and was bombarded

with waves of terror, as though the other dreamer (for
that is what she suddenly knew the presence to be) had
been locked in a nightmare and was even now attempting
to dispel the fear from his memory. She turned another
way, trying to catch a glimpse of the darting form, and
waves of deep hatred crashed upon the shores of her
consciousness, attempting to overwhelm her. It was
then that she realized who the other dreamer was.
"Uthorion," Tolwyn said, making the name sound
like a curse. "Show yourself."
The muted colors parted like a curtain, and Lady
Pella Ardinay emerged from the darkness behind them.
But it was not Ardinay, not exactly. Tolwyn watched her
walk closer, and if she strained she could see another
form superimposed over the Lady of the Light. She
knew that form.
"Uthorion!" Tolwyn said again, but this time it was
an exclamation of surprise.
"You have been in my nightmares for five hundred
years, paladin," the combined Ardinay/Uthorion said.
It was disconcerting seeing the Lady of the Light move
her mouth and hearing the Lord of the Dark's voice
emerge. "But I sense that this is not a nightmare, not
exactly. You are actually in my dreams this night, Tolwyn.
How have you accomplished this?"
They were close to each other now, floating just out of
arm's reach. Tolwyn stared at Ardinay, but sensed that
she was not within that form. Ardinay was gone, replaced
by Uthorion. She wanted to attack the necromancer, to
destroy him. He had made a mockery and abomination
out of Tolwyn's memories, and for that he deserved no
mercy. She started to will her dream form forward, but
a powerful tug kept her back. She whirled to see who
232
The Nightmare Dream
dared stay her hand, and saw the small aborigine. He

was not smiling.
"Not here, Tolwyn," Djilangulyip cautioned, "not
this way. We will reach this monster soon enough, and
then there will be a reckoning."
"Yes, paladin!" Uthorion shouted. "Come to me so
that we may finally finish what was begun so long ago.
You do not know how I have longed for an end to your
prophecy."
Tolwyn glared at the hated double form. "I am coming,
Angar Uthorion. Prepare yourself."
"And what will you do, Tolwyn?" Uthorion laughed.
"Your mighty Lady Ardinay could not defeat me. You
do not have a chance!"
"Then why are you afraid?" Tolwyn asked simply,
then she felt Djil drawing her back, drawing her out of
sleep.
For a moment, she felt a second presence. It was full
of light and goodness, but it was very tired. She tried to
focus on it, to contact it. But then the dream was over,
and Tolwyn opened her eyes.
102
Pella Ardinay's body sat up from the bed, but it was
Uthorion's eyes that looked out of her face. They darted
back and forth, and sweat dripped from Ardinay's
forehead. He remembered his dream
(nightmare)
clearly, and he knew that it was more than his
frightened mind playing tricks on him. Somehow,
Tolwyn had invaded his sleep, had accompanied him
on his dream of the conquest of Aysle. If that were the
case, then she knew his secret. She knew that Ardinay
was in fact Uthorion. For that, and for a thousand other
233
nightmares she had caused him, Tolwyn would have to

die again. And he would enjoy the killing.
Then why are you afraid?
Her voice burst into his mind like a fireball, mocking
him with its intensity. And the truth was, he had no
answer to give her. His fear was not rational. He was a
High Lord! He wielded the Darkness Device called
Drakacanus! No single stormer, no group of stormers,
no army of stormers, could stand against him.
Then why are you afraid?
103
Decker, Julie and Kurst rode the tra as fast and as hard
as they could, but it gave out before they reached the
bridge. Decker began to grab the packs from the dying
lizard's back when Kurst grabbed his shoulder.
"Leave them, Decker," Kurst commanded. "We must
move quickly, and the weight will only slow us down."
"I wish this fog would lift," Julie said in frustration.
"We don't know how close that storm is."
They hadn't seen the tower of clouds since leaving
the edge of the valley. Once they were back in the
interior of the jungle, the fog thickened and visibility
was almost nonexistent.
"They are close," Kurst said, sniffing the air. "But not
upon us yet. Hurry. Follow me."
Kurst led them into the mist. He was holding Julie's
hand, pulling her along behind him. Decker held her
other hand, and the human chain ran through the mist
as fast as it could. The tra had gotten them closer than
Decker had hoped, though. After ten minutes of running,
the mist opened into a large clearing.
"There it is," Kurst informed them. "That is the
bridge to Aysle."
234
The Nightmare Dream
Above them, climbing high into the sky, was another

living bridge of trees, vines, and thorned plants. Julie
laughed, and Decker squeezed her hand. Maybe they
were going to make it after all.
A clap of thunder startled them. It sounded like it was
close, as though it were directly on top of them. Decker
looked to Kurst for direction, because he knew that he
was out of his league.
"Sound carries funny in the mists of Takta Ker,"
Kurst said. "The storm is probably miles behind us. But
we should start climbing."
Decker agreed, because even though Kurst's words
were reassuring, his eyes held a haunted glaze. So now
the hunter knows what the hunted feel, Decker thought,
following Kurst and Julie onto the jungle bridge.
104
In the Indian Ocean, off the coast of Christmas Island,
a vortex of energy whirled. It looked like a massive
tornado, rising up out of the ocean to disappear high
into the sky above. The demon Gibberfat, guardian of
the Infernal Machine that rested at the ocean floor,
watched the vortex with amusement. It was eighty-five
days since the Gaunt Man dropped his bridge of twisted
souls into Borneo, eighty-five days since he turned on
his machine and began sucking the physical energy of
the Earth into his storage cells. And now the climax was
upon them, and only loyal Gibberfat was here to see the
show.
For, as Gibberfat watched, the Earth finally stopped
its spin, slowed to this point by the sucking vortex.
Darkness dropped over Indonesia and the rest of this
side of the planet, and the night that would never end
had begun. Half a world away, the demon knew, day
235
had settled, and soon the people of America would

curse the burning sun and beg for night that would
never come.
Gibberfat laughed with hellish glee. Now the Gaunt
Man could achieve his dream. He could become the
Torg! Then the nightmare would truly begin, the demon
thought.
And the reality.
236
Reality
We bring new experiences to the

Dead of this world. We show
them what Life is. Then we kill
them.
— Baruk Kaah
Faith is for the masses. Power is

for those who provide the faith.
— Jean Malraux I
This world shall be mine! That is

the only reality you need concern
yourself with!
—Pharaoh Mobius

105
Tom O'Malley was getting used to the shifting
panorama within the storm fronts. Some of the sights
were still disconcerting, and many times he felt his mind
teeter on the edge of a deep abyss when reality made a
particularly staggering change, but he had learned certain
tricks for pulling away from the brink of madness and
these had served him well. He piloted the ancient PBY
through the Nile's border of storm and out over the
Mediterranean Sea. From there he turned the plane
northwest, flying through Italian airspace toward
England.
Another wall of storm loomed across the western
portions of Italy and Switzerland, suggesting that another
invading realm was centered around France. Tom
decided not to take any chances, so he swung the plane
around the storm front, flying through Germany and
Belgium. Then they were approaching the English
Channel, and Tom saw that two storm fronts were
battling for control of the waterway.
"Mara, come up here," Tom called. Father Bryce
vacated the co-pilot's chair, and Mara slipped into it.
"What do you make of that?" Tom asked, directing
her attention to the clashing storms.
"Giga-rad," Mara said, offering her highest praise.
"That's some display. My guess is that the storms are
holding in two different realities, and Earth's reality is
caught in the middle. I wouldn't give us very good
chances of making it through that area. Who knows how
many directions the winds of change would pull us in?
We'd never make it through in one piece. Can you go
around?"
Tom nodded, angling the plane into the North Sea.
There was only one storm front there, the one blocking
the way into Britain. He leveled the seaplane, then
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The Nightmare Dream
opened the throttle all the way.

"Next stop, Aysle," Tom declared, and the seaplane
made its final trip into a wall of storm.
106
Decker climbed over jagged branches tipped with
points sharper than a polished sword. He bent low to
scurry under hanging vines that dripped foul, poisonous
syrup. He pushed through clumps of thorn bushes that
shredded his pants legs and tore at his flesh. He walked
a maelstrom bridge.
Kurst and Julie were in front of him, picking a path
through the thick-growing jungle that formed the
passage between Takta Ker and Aysle cosms. They had
reached the apex of the curved arch, passing into the
holeintheskythatthebridgeledto.Withinthisbetween
space, distance took on a new meaning. It was like
walking within a fun house mirror, for the bridge they
walked on, themselves, everything around them, was
longer or shorter or wider or thinner than it usually
appeared. Decker looked behind him, and the bridge
stretched back farther than he remembered climbing. It
was impossibly long, and he could see impossibly far.
The bridges warped time and space the way the invaders
warped reality, and Decker suddenly hated them and
their tools that he was forced to use.
Far below him, where the jungle bridge touched
down on Takta Ker, Decker saw the arrival of the storm.
It rolled into view without fanfare, and it was too far
away for him to hear the peals of thunder he knew
surrounded it. But he could see the lightning, striking
like glowing cobras within the black cloud.
He turned back to catch up with Kurst and Julie,
ignoring the cuts he suffered as he pushed through
239
another patch of thorns.

"The storm has reached the bridge," Decker informed
Kurst.
"We still have an advantage," Kurst commented.
"We have a slight lead and I don't intend to lose it. Now
hurry, both of you," he said to Decker and Julie.
Decker took one more dizzying look down the curving
arch they had climbed. The storm looked closer still, and
Decker thought of the message on the sideview mirror
of his car back in Washington. "Objects in this mirror are
closer than they appear," the message read. He hoped
that such optical illusions did not also apply to maelstrom
bridges, because the storm that Kurst called the Wild
Hunt appeared very close indeed.
107
Parok, warlord of the ravagons, walked the Core
Earth lands of the Soviet Union, following the stench of
another reality. He had been sent on this mission by
Thratchen, who was running Orrorsh in the Gaunt
Man's absence. Parok still had doubts about the sincerity
and loyalty of the Tharkold demon, but he did not want
to go against some intricate scheme the Gaunt Man was
unfolding. If he found out that Thratchen was working
against his High Lord, though, there would be a
reckoning.
The ravagon was in a rural part of the country,
walking through fields of crops that were dying in the
sunless cold of the still planet. The Soviet Union was on
the side of the globe that was trapped in perpetual night,
and if the Gaunt Man's plans worked out, it would never
again see the light of day. Ahead of him was a farmhouse,
lying quiet beneath the dark, ash-filled sky. Parok sensed
others like himself within the farmhouse, others who
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The Nightmare Dream
held realities far different than Earth's around their

alien forms.
He entered the silent farmhouse cautiously, listening
for any signs of the beings he knew were there. They
were not showing themselves, however, and Parok
considered announcing himself with the greeting
recognized by all servants of the Darkness Devices. He
stepped further into the dark interior of the dwelling,
folding his wings about him so as not to brush against
the walls and ceiling that were entirely too close for his
liking. He knew he passed through an alarm net as he
walked into the large living room, because he could feel
the static charge of energy bounce off his body.
"You know that I am here, Tharkolds, the ravagon
announced. "If you did not spot me earlier, then you
obviously were informed by your technological
watchdog as I stepped through your net. Show
yourselves, for I bring greetings from Orrorsh.
Parok, his eyes now adjusted to the darkness within
the house, saw three large globes sitting in the room. The
globes looked like heavily crusted seed pods, and sharp
ridges jutted from their rough surfaces. He fingered the
hilt of his battle sword, just in case they did not want
visitors. A second later, light appeared along the center
of each globe, a thin line of brightness that indicated the
pods were opening.
The top half of the pods separated from the bottom
with a sickly wet sound and extended toward the ceiling
on telescoping metal rods. Light burst from the interior
of the globes, casting eerie shadows throughout the
room. Thick mucus stretched with the rising pod shells,
forming a curtain of slime within the space between the
top and bottom. The slime made plopping noises as it
stretched past its limit and broke, dripping back into the
241
bottom half. Wings unfolded from the mucus, wings

much like Parok's own, but also very different.
Intermingled with the leathery flesh were pieces of
metal, printed circuitry, and plastic — supposed
enhancements that the techno-demons loved so well.
Then three heads tilted up to stare at Parok, three heads
to match the three sets of wings in the three mucous-
filled pods. The heads, like the wings, were patchwork
constructions of flesh and metal, and mechanical and
natural eyes combined to examine the ravagon that had
invaded their resting chamber.
The three techno-demons stepped from the open
pods, never taking their eyes off of the ravagon. As they
exited the pods, Parok noticed that the mucus that clung
to them evaporated. In moments it was gone, its steaming
vapor dissipating like mist from their bodies. They
stood, framed by the light from the globes, and regarded
the ravagon with undisguised disdain.
"What do you want with us, ravagon?" one of the
techno-demons asked.
"Why have you come to us?" another added.
Parok returned their examining stares, making them
wait before he answered. Then, when he could see
flashes of anger in their eyes, the ravagon said, "I bring
orders from the Gaunt Man's regent in Orrorsh."
The techno-demons looked at each other, then turned
back to the ravagon. "We are of Tharkold," the first
techno-demon proclaimed. "We do not take orders from
Orrorsh — not from its regent, and not from its High
Lord."
The ravagon almost drew his sword to teach the
arrogant Tharkold a lesson, but he controlled himself.
Battle would not serve Thratchen's purpose, and he
wasn't certain he could defeat three Tharkold warriors
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The Nightmare Dream
without suffering damage of his own. If they could call

upon their reality, they would have weapons that were
beyond the capabilities of his Orrorsh powers to deal
with. He would have to rely on superior strength, and
that wasn't enough to fall back on just to teach a Tharkold
respect. He would try another tact first.
"You seem to have done very well here following the
orders of your High Lord," Parok sneered. "Sleeping in
mucus while the rest of the invasion continues around
you, no thanks to Tharkold. Have you decided to hide in
your pods until the rest of us finish the conquest?"
One of the techno-demons stepped forward, metal
claws extending from housings in his wrist, but another
motioned for him to wait. Reluctantly, the claws snapped
back, disappearing into the demon's wrist.
"We have just finished locating the stormer that
caused our master's failure," the first techno-demon
explained. "We were restoring our energy after a failed
attack so that we could try again."
Parok noticed the sorcery symbols painted on the
walls and floor of the room now. He had failed to see
them before in the darkness, and then his attention
shifted to the opening pods. The symbols screamed of
sorcery mixed with technology, and Parok balked at
such an abomination. No wonder the attempt had failed!
"And what of the Tharkold bridge?" Parok asked.
"We have enough stelae to try another connection,
but these have not all been placed as yet, the techno-
demon answered. "We do not have as many agents
available, due to other ... setbacks our master has
endured recently."
"You are to postpone your plans here and accompany
me to Orrorsh," Parok commanded. "These are the
orders of the Gaunt Man's regent."
243
"Who is this regent to issue orders to us?" one of the

Tharkolds demanded. "We serve only our High Lord."
"What of your High Lord's lieutenant?" Parok
sneered. "Don't you also follow his orders?"
"Which lieutenant?" the first techno-demon
demanded. "No Tharkold of such rank is on this world."
"Thratchen is," Parok snapped, "and he now serves
as the Gaunt Man's regent. He has ordered you to come
to him, you and any others you are in contact with."
The techno-demons bowed their heads at the
ravagon's words. They had no choice. They had to obey
the orders of a lieutenant of their High Lord. "Very
well," the first demon finally said, "we will come with
you. But one of us will remain here, to complete the
process we have started."
Parok shrugged. Thratchen did not say to bring them
all back to Orrorsh, only those that would come. If one
of them wanted to remain to deal with a stormer, that
was not his concern. "Then let us be off," the ravagon
declared, stepping back out of the room the way he
came.
Two of the techno-demons followed him into the
constant night of the still world, leaving the other to
carry out the work they had been doing.
108
The last storm front was the worst they had been
through thus far, and Tom O'Malley and Mara battled
the controls to keep the seaplane flying. The World War
II vehicle was not built to withstand the pounding
winds and rain within the unnatural storm, and Tom
could feel the craft breaking up around him. He hoped
it would hold together long enough to make it out of the
obscuring weather so that he could find a place — any
244
The Nightmare Dream
place — to set the plane down.

"Tom, we'te losing altitude," Mara yelled over the
howling wind and the noise of the plane's propellers.
"Nothing to be done, girl," Tom snapped. "Just help
me get us out of here."
Rain turned to daggers, and they were flying into a
hailstorm of sharp metal. Daggers clanged off the plane's
nose, filling the craft with echoing pings. They ricocheted
off the windshield, forming dozens of small cracks that
threatened to rip through the glass, but it miraculously
held together. Tom heard the shriek of metal as even
more daggers were pulled through the spinning
propellers. He was sure one or both of the engines
would fail under this punishment, but they continued to
turn, and then the rain was again just rain.
"We're losing fuel, Tom," Mara called, tapping the
gauge to coax more pressure out of the needle.
"One of the daggers must have sliced a line," he
called back. "We don't have much time left."
Now the plane was entering a lightning filled cloud,
and stark flashes hurt Tom's eyes. He contemplated
trying to fly out of the cloud, but he feared that if he
didn't stay to a straight course they would get lost
within the storm front. They were losing fuel too rapidly
to be able to afford the luxury of a side trip. Still, if a stray
bolt caught one of the engines, and the fuel leak was as
bad as he expected, they would explode like a fireworks
display.
"One of those bolts would end this trip real quick,"
Mara commented, echoing Tom's own fears.
Then they were through the cloud of lightning,
through the wall of storm, and flying over land that used
to be Great Britain. It didn't look right to Tom, though.
There was something different about it, something
245
slightly twisted. But before he could think more about it,

Mara called out a warning.
"The fuel gauge just hit empty, Tom," she yelled, a
slight hint of panic in her voice. "We're out of fuel!"
The seaplane's engines sputtered, tried to catch, then
died, and the plane started its final descent. "Hang on,"
Tom ordered, "I'm going to try to bring this thing down
on a glide!"
"Can you do that?" Mara asked.
"We won't know until I try," Tom answered, then
turned all of his concentration to the task at hand.
The harrowing drop turned to an almost-controlled
glide toward the Thames River. Tom held his breath,
working the controls so that he kept the nose of the
seaplane up, the wings level. The water was rushing
toward them very quickly. He had slowed their speed
somewhat, but he feared they were still going to hit at
too great a rate of speed. If they came in too hard, the
water would be like a brick wall to the old plane. They
would be smashed into a hundred bits. Then all
speculation ended, and the seaplane crashed into the
river with a mighty splash.
109
Decker, Julie and Kurst stepped off the jungle bridge
into a land that was not filled with hot mist. Instead, they
found themselves in a gloomy, shadowy forest of gnarled
trees and withered plants. It wasn't exactly a dead
forest, but Decker wasn't sure you could call it living
either. In any case, it was very unhealthy looking.
"Is this Aysle?" Julie asked, as she followed Kurst
onto a well-traveled path.
"We have reached the magical reality," Kurst
informed them. "I have only visited this cosm once
246
The Nightmare Dream
before, so it may take me some time to figure out where

we are."
"We don't have a lot of time," Decker snapped,
looking back over his shoulder as he jogged behind
them.
"This is not like my world, Decker, or like yours," the
shapeshifter countered. "Direction is measured
differently on a world which is flat and doesn't spin."
"What are you talking about, Kurst?" Julie laughed.
"Don't you know that the world isn't flat?"
"Your world isn't, nor mine, but Aysle is a flat disk,"
Kurst said. "The laws of physics even operate differently
here."
"That's ridiculous!" Julie exclaimed, pushing past
the shapeshifter. "How can you expect me to believe
that a flat world can exist? It's like something out of the
dark ages."
"Exactly," said Kurst.
"What does that mean ...?" Julie started to ask, but
her words caught in the back of her throat as the forest
ahead cleared. There, rising out of the horizon, was a
bright yellow sun. It was much larger in the sky than the
sun of Earth, which meant it was much closer.
"It travels through the center of this world," Kurst
told her, "bouncing up and down like a flaming ball.
This is Aysle, Julie Boot, not your Earth. This is Tolwyn's
world."
Decker heard thunder somewhere behind them, even
though the sun was shining overhead. "Let's worry
about the differences later," he shouted. "Right now I
think we should get moving. That storm is awful close.
Kurst nodded, again taking his place ahead of Julie.
Then the trio was off, racing down the path as fast as
they could go.
247
110
Thratchen sat staring into the crackling flames that
burned in the huge fireplace, watching as the logs were
consumed by the hungry fire. He went over everything
he could think of, looking for some flaw in his plans. Dr.
Hachi Mara-Two and her companions were on their
way to Aysle, thus occupying Uthorion. The cybernetic
hand he had provided her with after her own was lost
allowed him a small amount of contact with the young
woman from Kadandra, but so far she had not discovered
the surveillance mechanism. Baruk Kaah was caught up
in his own problems against the Americans, and Jean
Malraux had yet to make an appearance in France. Only
Mobius and Kanawa were mysteries to him, but he felt
that he would be able to handle any interference they
might attempt. Even the wild card in the shuffle, Malcolm
Kane, was currently working with one of Thratchen's
necromancers in Singapore. He would not be able to
interfere either.
There was a knock at the door to the large dining hall,
and Thratchen was brought out of his contemplation.
"Enter," he called, half-expecting one of the servants to
be at the door. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to
see Sabathine.
The vampyre sauntered into the chamber with
practiced grace. She wore a dark blue cloak that clung to
her shapely form. As she entered, she threw back the
hood and let her shiny black hair fall free. Her alabaster
skin looked even paler in the fire light, but her eyes
sparkled and her lips were full and red.
"Any word from the Gaunt Man, Thratchen?"
Sabathine asked, stopping beside the techno-demon's
chair.
"Hmm? No, nothing yet," Thratchen said, somewhat
248
The Nightmare Dream
distracted by the vampyre's unnatural beauty. He took

her death-cold hand in his, remembering the last time
they were together. But he was not under her vampyric
spell, although he had felt her try her powers on him on
more than one occasion. Instead, he was using her the
way she was using him, and in many ways that was a
preferable arrangement to any other they might make.
"Sabathine, what do you know of the Nameless One?"
Thratchen asked as he stroked her hand, trying to warm
it even though he knew there was nothing he could do
to banish the cold of death.
The vampyre smiled at Thratchen, showing pearl-
white teeth against the blood-red color of her lips. "That
old fable? What is there to know?"
"You believe it is just a story?"
"A story? Yes, that is what it is. Perhaps there was
some truth to it once, but that was long ago, before even
the Gaunt Man existed."
They two were silent for a time, Thratchen staring
into the flames as he held her hand, Sabathine regarding
the techno-demon with an amused expression. Then
Thratchen, still looking into the fire, spoke.
"I believe that you are wrong, Sabathine," Thratchen
said. "I believe the legend that speaks of the first
maelstrom is true. I believe the Nameless One and
Apeiros were the first children of the mating of Void and
Eternity, and that they lived on to become as gods."
Sabathine scowled. "These stories obsess you,
Thratchen. I can hear the awe and wonder in your voice.
Why do they hold such meaning for you?"
Thratchen looked up into the vampyre's eyes. The
pursuit of knowledge is to me as blood is to you, the
techno-demon admitted. "You drink the life out of
human cattle in order to survive, and the drinking is
249
ecstasy to you. I, on the other hand, am filled with a

curiosity that rages through me like the hunger rages
through you. To satisfy that hunger, I must go to any
lengths to uncover facts and theories with which to feed
it. Like the Void craves Eternity, I crave knowledge and
the power it can bring me."
"To what end, Thratchen?" Sabathine asked. "What
will you do with this knowledge and power if you
actually achieve it?"
Thratchen laughed heartily. "There is no 'if/ lovely
Sabathine, there is only 'when.' The Gaunt Man and the
other High Lords spread the Nameless One's religion of
destruction across the cosmverse, whether they believe
in the god or not. I seek proof not of if the Nameless One
ever existed, but if he still exists today.
"And if he does?" she pressed, an unfamiliar edge to
her voice that might have been the sound of fear.
"Then I shall meet him, and finally receive the answers
that I crave."
Sabathine pulled her hand away, her eyes wide in
surprise. "Be careful what you wish for, Thratchen," she
warned. "There are some gods that are better worshipped
from afar."
But Thratchen had not heard her warning, for he was
again staring intently into the roaring fire. He did not
even notice when the vampyre left the room, slamming
the door behind her.
Ill
Father Christopher Bryce picked himself off the floor
of the seaplane. He had been thrown from his seat on
impact, and he had blacked out. From the amount of
water around him, he assumed that while the plane
survived the crash, it was quickly filling with water.
250
The Nightmare Dream
Bryce got to his feet and surveyed the plane's interior.

He saw the dwarves (all four of them) helping Djil get
out of his safety harness, and Tolwyn was working on
forcing open the side hatch. Tom and Mara emerged
from the cockpit a moment later, moving toward the
hatch as well.
"I guess we made it," Bryce said to no one in particular.
"Not yet," Tom countered. "We still have to get out of
this thing before it sinks."
Mara and Tolwyn managed to force the hatch open,
and water poured in at a terrifying rate. It was like the
entire river was trying to get into the small seaplane.
"Hurry!" Tolwyn ordered, grabbing Tom and tossing
him through the hatch. "Everyone must get off of this
craft!"
Bryce half swam to the hatch, pressing against the
wave of water. He felt small hands pushing him forward,
and silently thanked the dwarves for their assistance.
Then he was beside Tolwyn.
"Can you swim, Christopher?" the paladin asked as
she grabbed the front of his shirt.
"Yes," the priest replied, getting ready to be tossed
into the river.
"I can't," Mara suddenly admitted. "At least not very
well." She was looking out the hatch with a mixture of
fear and dread, and Bryce thought again that while
Mara was an extremely intelligent and gifted child, she
was still just a child.
"I'll help you," Bryce said softly, taking her arm.
"I can fly a plane, fight a war, even travel from one
cosm to another, but I've never learned how to swim,
Mara told him.
"Well, nobody's perfect," Bryce smiled, and Mara
laughed out loud.
251
Then Tolwyn pushed, and the two of them splashed

into the Thames River.
112
Decker, Julie and Kurst traveled for a time in silence,
walking along a deserted road through a deserted,
dying forest. They saw no people, heard no animals
scurry through the undergrowth. It was as if they were
on a world that contained no life beyond the withered
trees and grasses. Decker paused every few minutes to
listen, but he heard no thunder, saw no lightning in the
distance. Perhaps they had lost the hunters.
The group rounded a bend and came upon a small
clearing beside a shallow pond. Next to the pond was a
tiny but beautiful cottage, although the land around it
was cracked and dead. They saw no people, but they
smelled the pungent aroma of something cooking over
a fire, and smoke swirled from the chimney in a thin
ribbon of gray.
"We shall get directions here," Kurst told them.
"Could we ask for some food, too?" Julie asked.
"We'll see," was Kurst's answer.
The trio approached the cottage carefully, taking
their cue from Kurst's graceful loping. He reached the
door first. It was a simple wooden affair set into the
thatched wall of the house. A shuttered window was the
only other thing in the front wall. He knocked, rapping
three times upon the hard wood.
There was no answer.
Kurst rapped again, this time much harder than
before. He stopped, and Decker heard a chair scrape
against the floor. A moment later the door opened, and
a small man with a long beard, wearing thick, red robes,
appeared in the doorway.
"Go away," the dwarf muttered before Decker and
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Valerie Valusek

The Nightmare Dream
the others could say anything. "I have no time to entertain

travelers." That said, the dwarf slammed the cottage
door.
"That was rude," Julie commented. Then she asked,
"Are all the people of Aysle so short?"
"No," Kurst said absently as he examined the door,
"only the dwarves. Most of the folk are like you, except
for the giants. And the elves. And the half folk." He
knocked again.
The door swung open a second time, and the dwarf
let out an angry sigh. "Look, I'm very busy," he said
harshly. "If you do not go away I'll be forced to apply
Linfir's Little Frog spell to the lot of you!" He started to
shut the door, but Kurst imposed himself into the
opening.
"We will not take up much of your time," Kurst said
quickly. Decker could tell that he was running out of
patience. "We just need to know how to get to the Valley
of the Sword."
"Ah, going to join the troops, are you?" the dwarf
asked. "Well, I can always spare a little time for Ardinay's
boys. Enter, enter."
The dwarf moved into the cottage, and Decker, Kurst
and Julie followed. It was a one room affair, divided up
into cooking area, workroom and sleeping chamber.
The massive table in the center held all kinds of jars and
bottles and scrolls, and a large book sat open in front of
a chair that was pushed away from the table.
"He is a mage," Kurst said quietly. "Be careful what
you say."
"You must head rimward," the dwarf mage said,
"but even then the valley is not easy to find. I can give
you a map, though." He started digging through a
wooden chest full of rolled scrolls, talking as he searched.
253
"I'm going to join up with the troops in another day or

so, as soon as I finish preparing the potions that Lady
Ardinay ordered."
"Of course you are," Julie said, sniffing one of the jars.
"What is this stuff?"
"What? Oh, that's an ointment I've been perfecting,"
the mage called. "It should render the wearer invisible.
Or is that the one that causes a folk to explode? Ah, here
it is!" He pulled one of the scrolls free and approached
the table.
Julie moved aside for the dwarf, slipping the jar into
her pocket. The dwarf, meanwhile, spread the scroll out.
There was a crude map of a large land mass. He pointed
at a body of water within the land mass and said, "This
is the Inland Sea." He moved his finger slightly. "And
this is the Valley of the Sword. That's where Ardinay has
gathered the armies of Aysle and set up the bridge to the
new world."
Kurst studied the map for a few moments, intently
tracing the lines with his finger. "And where are we?" he
asked.
"Right here," the mage said, pointing at a small dot
some distance from the valley.
Kurst nodded, satisfied that he had what they needed.
"I thank you wizard," he said, motioning for Decker and
Julie to leave.
"Give my regards to the Lady," the dwarf said as he
showed them to the door. "Tell her that I'll be arriving
shortly." He closed the door, and Decker heard a bolt
slide into place.
"Do you know the way now?" Julie asked Kurst.
"Yes," the shapeshifter said, leading them back into
the woods.
"We didn't get any food," Julie commented.
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The Nightmare Dream
"No," Kurst replied.

"We didn't even find out his name."
Decker looked back. The sky was still clear, and the
sun was shining (though a perpetual gloom hung over
this land). He saw no sign of dark clouds on the horizon.
But as he turned to follow Kurst and Julie, he thought he
heard the distant rumble of thunder echoing through
the forest.
113
Tolwyn emerged from the river, water matting the
army fatigues she wore to her body. She combed her
chestnut hair with her fingers, pushing it away from her
face to fall straight down her back. The others were all
sprawled near the shore: Christopher Bryce, Mara, Djil,
Tom O'Malley, Pluppa, Gutterby, Grim and Toolpin.
They were all wet, soaked to the bone and dripping
puddles onto the ground where they sat or laid.
"Where are we, Tom O'Malley?" Tolwyn asked. "This
does not feel like Aysle. I still feel the push of your
world, the pressure of it against my own reality."
"You're right, Tolwyn," Mara said as she looked
around. "My sensors indicate that we are still in Core
Earth, even though we passed through a storm front."
Tom stood up, glancing around to get his bearings.
"We seem to be right outside of London, on the banks of
the Thames River," he said. "We're in England, all
right."
"Then where is Aysle?" Tolwyn wondered aloud.
"This must be a hard point of Core Earth reality in the
middle of an alien realm," Mara explained. "Like
Philadelphia was. Surrounding it on all sides was the
Living Land, but the city where we met was still a center
for Earth's axioms."
"What do we do now?" Tolwyn asked, for she still
255
had no idea how being here would get her back to Aysle.
"We have to find a maelstrom bridge," Mara
suggested. "That's how we'll be able to get to your
cosm."
"There's one at Oxford," Toolpin chimed in. "Right
next to Christ Church College. That's the one we came
down."
"Toolpin's right," agreed Pluppa. "That bridge leads
to the Valley of the Sword."
Tolwyn stiffened at the mention of the holy spot.
Though she remembered it, hearing someone else say
the words made her memories more real. "Can you get
us there?" she asked the dwarves.
"Without transportation, it's going to take some time,"
Gutterby informed her. "Too bad the seaplane sank. It
was a handy little craft."
Tolwyn heard a loud whistling sound, and she looked
around for the source. The others heard it too, and they
all tried to find where it was coming from. A vehicle
turned a corner, appearing from around the side of a
large building. The vehicle reminded Tolwyn of Rick
Alder's van, but the van never whistled as it moved, and
billowing steam did not rise from it in great clouds as it
did from this contraption.
It was a wheeled carriage onto which a massive steam
engine had been mounted. No horses pulled this carriage,
instead the churning steam turned the wheels and made
the carriage move. There was no cab with swinging
doors like on the Victorian carriage they rode in Orrorsh.
This carriage was a barred cage full of battered, bruised
and filthy dwarves. Tolwyn saw that dwarves were
perched atop the wheeled cage as well, steering,
operating controls, keeping watch. The dwarves that
were outside the bars were much different from the ones
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The Nightmare Dream
within. They were dressed in fancy armor or fine suits of

clothes, and they carried wheel lock pistols and heavy
axes.
"Vareth clan," Gutterby spat, turning away from the
scene with a look of disgust and hatred.
"Gutterby?" Tolwyn inquired. "You say the name of
your clan as though it was a curse."
"Aye, it is a curse, and it has been for more centuries
than I care to admit," Gutterby grumbled. "And it's not
my clan, not anymore."
"What's wrong?" Father Bryce asked, unsure of what
to make of the happenings around him. "Why are those
dwarves in a cage?"
"That's a Vareth slave cart," Gutterby explained in
shame. "That is what the greatest dwarven clan has
become in Ardinay's brave new Aysle — slavers. The
fat, content surface dwarves deal in slaves. And my
countrymen aren't content to just enslave the lower folk
and the half folk. They send raiding parties into the
Land Between, into the dwarven homeland, in order to
get bodies to fill their pens. It makes me so ... angry!
Tolwyn's eyes narrowed as she watched the
approaching steam carriage. She counted six slavers,
going about their evil business as though they had no
care in the world. The caged dwarves were probably
runaways who attempted to find freedom in t e
confusion of the invasion, only to be hunted down y
the slavers before they could escape completely.
"I share your anger, Gutterby," Tolwyn said coldly.
"Let us do something about it." Tolwyn's hand dropped
to the hilt of her sword, her eyes never leaving the
approaching carriage. It was half a block away. Mara,
the two guards on the back running board. They are
yours. Gutterby, Pluppa, take out the two on top. The
257
drivers are mine. The rest of you will open the cage once
we have stopped the vehicle. But do not damage the
carriage, for that is our transportation when this skirmish
is over."
They moved into position without further discussion,
working like a well-coached team. Tolwyn stepped out
in front of the carriage, waving for it to stop. She could
no longer see the others, but she knew they were near.
"Get out of our way," the dwarf sitting beside the
driver yelled as the carriage slowed. He was dressed in
the finest elven silks, obviously a wealthy merchant or
lord, and he wore a close-cropped, peppery beard. "If
you do not move we will run you down."
Tolwyn smiled. It was a humorless thing, like the grin
of a snake about to consume a cornered mouse. "I think
not, slaver," she called. "Your acts of corruption are
over."
The richly-dressed dwarf laughed, and the driver
picked up the cue and laughed, too. "And what are you,
woman? The knights of honor have been lax, figureheads
to be dusted off for House banquets and parades. So
who are you to speak to us of corruption?"
"I am the return of the true ways of Aysle," tolwyn
proclaimed, appearing to glow with the conviction of
her words. "I am Tolwyn of House Tancred!"
She leaped, drawing her blade as she sprang. The
driver, surprised, was nevertheless quick. He pulled
one of his pistols from its holster and took aim. But
Tolwyn was quick, too. Her sword flashed like steel
lightning as she landed between the two slavers, and the
hand holding the pistol flew from the dwarf's arm in a
spray of red. She slashed again, and the driver's dying
body was knocked from the carriage by the impact of
her sword strike.
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The Nightmare Dream
Tolwyn turned to deal with the richly-dressed dwarf,

barely dodging the dagger he tried to bury into her. She
was off-balance now, unable to swing her sword with
any power. The dwarf pressed his advantage, slicing at
her with his dagger, driving her toward the edge of the
running board.
"You have nowhere to run to now, woman," the
dwarf sneered. "In a moment, my men will appear over
the top of the cage and I will give them the order to cut
you to ribbons. Or, perhaps, I will have them capture
you alive. You would draw a very good price at the
markets in Polja. How would you like to be a giant's
slave?"
Tolwyn returned his smile, and the dwarf blanched.
"How would you like to be used as fuel in this carriage's
engine? I think there is enough of you to get us all the
way to the Valley of the Sword, but I do not know if I
could put up with the smell."
Cat quick, Tolwyn's hand snapped, catching the wrist
of the hand that held the dagger. Then, using the dwarf
as an anchor, she changed her footing and brought the
pommel of her sword down on the bridge of the slaver's
nose. There was a meaty smack, and the richly-dressed
dwarf collapsed like a fallen tree.
Tolwyn climbed from the driver's bench to the top of
the cage, worried about her friends. There was no need.
Gutterby and Pluppa had secured the controls of the
engine. The two guards were lying on the deck in pools
of steaming blood. Mara, too, appeared intact as she
climbed from the back running board to join them,
though the sleeve of her jumpsuit had been cut open,
and blood flowed from the tear.
"Mara?" Tolwyn asked, concern evident in her
question.
"One of the slavers got lucky," Mara shrugged. "It's
259
not deep. Not as deep as the one I gave him." The claws
of her new hand audibly snapped back into finger
sockets. Tolwyn noticed that the fingers of the alien
hand splayed spasmodically, and it took Mara a moment
to bring the spasms under control.
"This vehicle will get us to Oxford in no time,"
Pluppa predicted. "We can leave as soon as the dwarves
are freed from the cage."
Gutterby leaped down to help Bryce and Tom open
the cage door. But when they finally swung the door
wide, the dwarves within the cage stayed huddled
together, refusing to move or even look up at their
liberators.
"What is wrong with you, lads and lassies?" Gutterby
growled. "Don't you know the smell of freedom when
its strong breeze blows past you? Get up and be on your
way!"
"What for?" one of the older dwarves grumbled.
"They'll only come after us again. We're marked as
slaves, and slaves is all we'll ever be."
"Rubbish!" Gutterby yelled, storming into the cage.
He grabbed the dwarf and hauled him to his feet.
"You're only slaves if you think that way. We've opened
the physical cage for you, but we can't open the cage
you've set in your mind. You've got to open that one
yourselves, or you'll never be free."
"What do you know?" another slave demanded. "I
recognize you. You're Gutterby of House Vareth. You've
never known life in the earth, hiding out when the
slavers come to raid, hoping you or your loved ones
aren't caught in the snares. You've never been locked in
a cage, or forced to work until your hands bleed and
your legs give out. What do you know?"
Gutterby's eyes flared with rage at the ungrateful
260
The Nightmare Dream
dwarf, then cooled to understanding and sorrow. He

lowered his head. "We all have our own cages, and some
bars are stronger than iron or steel," he said quietly. "My
cage has been shame — shame at what my people have
become, shame at the fear that has kept me from acting
against the disgraces of House Vareth."
The old dwarf stepped from the cage, walking toward
become, shame at the fear that has kept me from acting
against the disgraces of House Vareth."
The old dwarf stepped from the cage, walking toward
the richly-dressed dwarf who was now up and watching
the exchange. He held his bruised wrist, and dried blood
caked his nose, but he smiled nonetheless. He spat red
at Gutterby's boots.
"I am ashamed of you, Gutterby," the rich slaver said.
"You have been reduced to a criminal, trying to free
slaves from their rightful masters. And the laughable
thing is that they don't want to be saved!"
Gutterby grabbed the front of the slaver's suit, pulling
him close so that their noses were almost touching. "If
freeing slaves is a crime, then let me be guilty,' the old
dwarf declared. "And I am going to let you live, so that
you may take a message back to Duke Dwyvan. Tell him
that his term as leader of House Vareth is coming to an
end. Tell him that Gutterby is going to restore the House
to its former glory. Tell him that when next we meet it
will be on opposite sides of clashing armies, for the days
of slave-trading are over. Tell my cousin all this, every
word!"
"Cousin?" Tolwyn wondered aloud, and Pluppa
nodded that it was true. Gutterby was not only of House
Vareth, he was of the royal family of the surface dwarves.
The old dwarf turned to Tolwyn, determination
creasing his brow. "Let us finish your quest, Lady
261
Tancred, so that I may begin mine."
114
Katrina Tovarish stood beside Captain Nicolai
Ondarev, listening to the cold night. It was close, she
knew. She could sense it, the alien thing. She could see
it in her mind, a foul beast with wings and claws and
leathery skin. But it was more than just a thing of flesh
and blood. It was partly metal, some unholy combination
of skin and steel. And it was intelligent, which made its
actions more than bad.
It was evil.
She stood a moment longer, letting her awareness
center on Ondarev's warm hand that rested gently upon
her arm. He was a good man, this Nicolai Ondarev. She
was very grateful that it was he the government sent to
fetch her from Project Omen and not some unfeeling
Party man. She tentatively touched his hand, then
gripped it more boldly, seeking the strength within it.
"You should have let me bring soldiers," Ondarev
whispered. "We should not be out at this forsaken farm.
This is not that far from where we found the stelae."
"We had to come alone, Nicolai," Katrina explained.
"I can block the two of us from its notice for a time, but
others would surely be noticed. We would never be able
to catch it before it fled."
"What makes you think it will flee?" Ondarev asked.
"What if it wanted you to try this? What if it is waiting
to kill you?"
"That is exactly what it is waiting for," Katrina said.
There was no fear evident in her voice, but it was there
nonetheless, within her, an icy blackness stretched across
her heart. "Wait here," she told him, then started to walk
toward the dark, uninviting house.
262
The Nightmare Dream
"What?" Ondarev gasped. He grabbed her arm,

restraining her. "I cannot let you go in there alone. You
cannot see, Katrina!"
She turned to him, pointing herself in the direction of
his voice. "Against this foe, I can see better than your
eyes, Nicolai. Let me do this. But be ready. I will need
your help, and you must be beside me at a moment's
notice."
She felt Ondarev's warring emotions, fear and duty
battling for a grip upon him. And there was something
else there, an emotion she was not as familiar with after
long years in hospitals and testing facilities. Was it ...
love? Then she felt the set of his stance that signalled he
had made a decision.
"Be careful, Katrina," he warned her. "I shall wait for
your call."
Katrina Tovarish did not smile at this victory. She had
half hoped that he would talk her out of this. But she
knew that what they were doing was for something
more than either of them. It was for the entire Soviet
Union, and Ondarev's sense of duty was stronger than
his concern for one young blind woman. She turned and
headed for the house she could not see but knew was
there just the same, heading for a confrontation with the
invader that had attacked her across kilometers with
powers that were greater than her own.
The icy blackness deepened.
115
Andrew Jackson Decker held Julie Boot's hand as
they jogged down the forest path with Kurst. They were
following the directions the dwarf mage had given
them, heading for someplace Kurst called the Valley of
the Sword. It felt like they had been running for hours
263
when the shapeshifter finally allowed them to stop and

rest.
Decker was amazed by Kurst's stamina. Even after all
the running, he seemed barely winded. He was stopping
for them, Decker knew, and part of him was angry that
he could not keep up the pace. He used the time to check
his weapons. He had an M-16 strapped across his back,
three grenades hooked to his belt, a nine millimeter
automatic pistol bolstered to his hip, and a knife sheathed
to his boot. He also had some spare ammo, a compass
and a canteen, but that was the extent of his remaining
supplies. The rest had been left with the packs back in
Takta Ker.
"Where are we going, Kurst?" Decker asked.
The shapeshifter looked up at him, studying him
before answering. "We are going to the Valley of the
Sword."
"Why?"
"To meet Tolwyn and the others."
"How do you know that that's where they're going to
be?" Julie asked, finishing the question that was on
Decker's lips.
Kurst looked from one to the another. "You still do
not trust me." It was not a question.
"I need to know how you came to this conclusion,
Kurst," Decker replied. "If we didn't trust you, we
wouldn't have come this far."
The shapeshifter nodded, but Decker wasn't sure
what the gesture meant. Then Kurst said, "Tolwyn seeks
a High Lord named Uthorion, the necromancer who
attacked her world the day she died."
"Yes," Decker said. "So?"
Kurst met Decker's eyes. "Uthorion took over this
reality in the battle that saw Tolwyn's death," Kurst
264
The Nightmare Dream
explained. “But to do so, he needed to take a form that

was attuned to the magical axioms. He placed his spirit
into Tolwyn's lord. The Lady Ardinay that Tolwyn
comes to save is actually Angar Uthorion, one-time
lieutenant of the Gaunt Man."
"Does Tolwyn know?" Decker asked.
Kurst shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I... never
got around to telling her."
"That's terrific!" Decker shouted. "And this Ardinay
who is actually Uthorion is located in the Valley of the
Sword?"
"That's where her castle is," Kurst said. "Uthorion
will stay there until he decides to go to Earth."
"If she doesn't know that her lord is really her worst
enemy, then your friend is walking into a trap," Julie
commented. "And to make matters worse, we're leading
this Wild Hunt thing right toward them."
Kurst stood, signalling that the rest stop was over.
"There is no other choice," he declared. "If Tolwyn is to
have any chance at all, then the six of us must be
together. I believe that is the meaning of the aborigine's
knots."
"I'm even more confused than before," Julie admitted,
but Kurst was no longer listening. He was heading off
down the path, and all Decker and Julie could do was
follow him to see where it all would end.
116
Thratchen was in the chambers far beneath Illmound
Keep. He ignored the raging maelstrom and the ruins of
the possibility sorting machine that filled much of the
room. Instead, he stood before the machine that was
connected to the infernal device located some miles
away in the Indian Ocean. The Gaunt Man had devised
265
a three-part process for becoming the Torg. The first

involved a world rich in possibility energy. Thratchen
was on that world, but with the Gaunt Man's Darkness
Device hidden somewhere out of the techno-demon's
reach, the possibilities were beyond his access. The
second, the shattered sorting machine that was to
eliminate all possibility of failure, was also unavailable
to him. Only the infernal machine remained, full of the
stolen physical energy that had stilled the world's spin.
This end of the machine consisted of a panel full of
measuring gauges and a small booth. Within the booth
were two metal bars to hold on to, and two metal straps
to stand in. When the buttons upon the bars were
depressed, the physical energy of the planet would flow
through the completed circuit and into whoever stood
within the booth. Without the other two pieces of the
plan, however, the physical energy was useless to him.
Or was it?
Thratchen turned to look upon the maelstrom formed
by the meeting of the Heart of Coyote and the inner
power of the Gaunt Man. It was so much like the
maelstrom of legend, a combination of Eternity and the
Void but on a much smaller scale. Unlike the legendary
maelstrom, however, the Gaunt Man would never walk
out of this one the way Apeiros and the Nameless One
had.
"I know another way to become the Torg," Thratchen
yelled into the raging wind that swirled around the hole
in space. "I do not need your Darkness Device!"
He turned back to the machine panel, adjusting the
controls to the levels he had calculated with his built-in
computer. It was slow work, but Thratchen had time.
He had all the time in the world, and it was stored
within the infernal machine.
266
The Nightmare Dream
117
Christopher Bryce was amazed by the horseless
carriage they were riding. It seemed so beyond the
world he imagined Tolwyn was from, yet it was also
totally like the dwarves. The steam engine was noisy,
and it vibrated through the rest of the carriage with
jarring yet somehow comforting energy. Pluppa and the
remaining dwarves of her company crewed the vehicle,
leaving Bryce and the others to sit back and watch for
trouble. But there hadn't been any since they
commandeered the carriage and freed the slaves. He
hoped there wouldn't be any until they reached U thorion.
"This is just like that car we took to find Tom,"
Toolpin yelled above the roar of the engine. "Do you
remember that, Tom?"
The pilot smiled, patting the young dwarf on the
head.
"I remember how Praktix steered the wheel while
Braxon worked the peddles," Toolpin remarked fondly,
remembering his dead friends. "I miss them. Triad,
too."
Bryce could think of no words to say as Toolpin
returned to monitoring the engine. The priest instead
turned to watch the passing countryside. They were
well beyond London, and now he could feel thepressure
that Tolwyn had talked about: It was like being under
water, with only a bubble of air — or, in this case, his
own reality—to protect him from the alien environment.
Parts of the landscape were totally familiar, for he had
been to England before. But other parts were different.
It was like two different photographs had been
superimposed over each other. In some places the
modern world showed through, in others a world more
akin to the Middle Ages. And then there were the places
267
where the two worlds mixed, and in some strange way

those places hurt Bryce's eyes to look at. There was a
recognizable office building, but parts of its roof were
now thatch, and parts of its walls were straw or wood
instead of brick. Once, when he looked very closely, he
saw that the brick was actually becoming straw, with
fine strands growing out of what remained of the baked
clay.
Then they were in Oxford, and rising into the twilight
sky was a bridge of worked stone. It was a massive
construct that stretched as high as he could see, held up
by no visible means of support. He looked at it, and he
imagined that the stone itself was rippling with subtle
movement as if it were alive.
"Remember to keep moving," Pluppa warned as she
steered the carriage toward the bridgehead.
"And don't look directly at the stones," Grim added.
"Are we going to walk?" Bryce asked.
"How else do you expect to cross the bridge, Father
Bryce?" Pluppa returned.
"Why not keep driving?"
Tolwyn suddenly burst out laughing. "Why not,
indeed!" she exclaimed. "There is no reason not to
return to Aysle in style!"
Pluppa shrugged, then swung the carriage around
and pointed it at the bridge.
"Are we sure this is safe?" Bryce asked Toolpin
quietly so that the others couldn't hear.
"Perfectly," Toolpin assured him, "unless something
goes wrong."
"You're a comforting soul, Toolpin," Bryce replied
dryly. Toolpin beamed at the compliment.
268
The Nightmare Dream
Allen Nunis

The Nightmare Dream
118
Katrina Tovarish stepped carefully across the
threshold of the house and immediately found herself in
another world. The cold she had felt outside became an
icy shawl within the house, wrapping around her
shoulders like some skeleton's honey fingers. It was like
death within the confining structure, and she was
suddenly grateful that she could not see.
She touched the wall with her hand and guided
herself forward, trying to concentrate on everything but
the feel of the wallpaper
(it felt like skin)
as she made her way further into the place. Once this
had been a home, she thought. In the background she
could still sense the lingering memories of family and
love. But those good images were buried beneath the
cold alienness of the current occupant. She stretched out
her senses. Yes, there was only one, but there had been
more recently.
Katrina followed the wall until she reached a doorway.
She paused before pressing on, trying to determine
where the thing she sought
(or did it seek her?)
was hiding. But she could not pick it out from among
the other alien things within the house. Her senses were
not that refined yet. She would have to work on that if
she survived this night.
Like a high diver standing on the brink of oblivion,
Katrina plunged into the room. The cold was stronger
here, and she knew her teeth were chattering. It was
more than just cold, though. This was where the aliens
slept and worked. This was where they used their
powers to strike at her across the distances between here
and Moscow. There was evil here, and she suddenly
wished she had not come. Why didn't Nicolai talk her
269
out of this? Why did he let her come alone?

She started to turn, to leave the way she had entered,
when she heard the click of a metal claw scraping across
the wood floor. She froze, listening, trying to determine
how far away the noise had been. Did she have enough
time to run, to escape, before the thing was upon her?
She decided to chance it.
Katrina Tovarish ran.
But the alien was faster.
She heard the flapping of great wings, felt the stirring
of the air. She had only taken three steps when she felt
the clawed hands grab her, force her down. Fetid breath
assaulted her, and she tried to fight her way free. But the
thing was strong. It held her tightly. Then, to make the
horror worse, the thing spoke.
"You are blind, yet you see more than most on this
puny world," the thing said. It spoke her language, but
its accent was strange, and the words fell from its tongue
with difficulty.
Gathering her courage, Katrina asked, "What are
you?"
The thing laughed. "I am of Tharkold, the cosm that
will take your land. You are the one that stopped us
earlier. You are the one I led here."
Led here? Then Nicolai had been right. The attack at
the center had been to lure her into this trap. And she
had fallen for the deception so easily, so confident that
her own abilities would serve her. The mistake was
going to cost her and her country a great deal.
"Why are you doing this?" Katrina asked, stalling for
time. She hoped an idea would come to her, but her
mind refused to think as fear threatened to overwhelm
her.
"Enough questions, girl," the Tharkold snarled,
270
The Nightmare Dream
running one sharp claw slowly across her cheek. The

alien did not cut her — yet. "It is time for you to sleep."
The alien lifted her from the floor, holding her so that
she could not move. He forced her to move, and an
image came to her mind. She saw a shell of some sort,
like a clam shell. It was filled with machinery and slime,
and it was directly in front of them. The Tharkold was
going to seal her in a shell! She struggled, but to no avail.
"Why do you fight me, girl?" the Tharkold asked.
"You will sleep safely within the pod until my master
arrives. I am sure he wants to meet the girl that caused
him so great a setback." The alien laughed.
Then the pod was before them, and Katrina could
smell the slime. "I do not want to go in there," she said.
"I am not giving you a choice," the Tharkold
responded.
The fear was great now, and Katrina could feel herself
slipping away. No! her mind screamed. Do not put me
in the slime! Do not close me in the pod! No!
And then her mind shattered into a thousand shards
of glass.
119
Decker heard the distant thunder the same moment
he saw the towering castle rise out of the mist-filled
valley. The castle was a many-spired construct that
must have been magnificent at one time. Now it looked
dark and foreboding, a tomb with battlements and
ramparts. He turned back. On the horizon he saw another
tower, as dark as the one in the valley, but made of more
insubstantial material. It was the tower of black,
lightning-filled clouds that had followed them from
Takta Ker.
"What now, Kurst?" Decker asked as he pointed out
271
the approaching storm.

"Now we run/' the shapeshifter answered. "We have
to reach the castle, and time is running very short."
"What's the point?" Julie screamed. Decker heard
more than a hint of hysteria in her voice. "No matter
how far we run, the Wild Hunt will catch us. Do you
remember the reports? It slaughtered Covent's platoon.
What chance do the three of us have?"
"We are alive, Julie," Kurst stressed. "We have every
chance in the cosmverse while that statement remains
true. Now come on, do not give up on me yet."
They ran into the Valley of the Sword.
120
Claudine Guerault mingled into the crowd that had
gathered in front of the church in Avignon, France. This
was the site of the "miracle" that changed her country,
and now the crowds were gathering again to witness
something that promised to be grand.
She looked upon the arch of light which had fallen
from the sky into the church's courtyard. It was still
there, calling for her to believe. But miracle or not, she
did not like the effect it had on her country. Suddenly
France was no longer an enlightened nation on the verge
of the twenty-first century. It had reverted to the Dark
Ages, no matter how bright the bridge of light appeared
to be.
A priest stood on the church steps, emerging from
beyond the ornate doors. He raised his hands high into
the air, and the crowd fell silent. He waited a moment,
letting the silence grow thick, then he spoke.
"My children!" the priest called, blessing the crowd
with the sign of the cross. "We have seen a great many
things these past few months. This bridge of light was
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but the first of the miracles bestowed upon us, the

chosen people! We have thrown off the tyranny of
technology and returned to the simpler ways. The
temptations of Satan are behind us, and before us is a
brave new world!"
The crowd cheered, and Guerault found it difficult
not to be swept up in the excitement. She reached into
her pocket, fingering the miniature tape recorder that
rested there. If the crowd knew what she carried they
would probably tear her apart, but just touching the
chunk of the world she remembered helped her fight off
the contagious emotions running through the crowd.
"My children," the priest continued, "let us pray! For
one is coming who has been to the throne of God our
Father, and he shall bring us the new laws of the covenant
to spread throughout the world! That is our mission
before God! That is the world's salvation!"
"Who is coming?" a man yelled, and the crowd took
up the chant.
"Who is coming? Who is coming? Who is coming?"
the crowd asked over and over.
Guerault put her hands to her ears, trying to block out
the obnoxious sound. But she could only muffle it as the
words crashed together.
" Whoiscomingwhoiscomingwhoiscoming? "
The priest raised his hands again, and the chant
stopped as quickly as it had begin. He looked through
the crowd, seeming to make eye contact with every
individual. He lowered his hands.
"The one who comes was called up to God," the priest
shouted. "And now he is being returned to lead us into
the new world!"
"Who is coming? Who is coming? Who is coming?
the crowd chanted again.
273
"The new pope of Avignon!" the priest answered.

"Jean Malraux I! And the bridge of light is his symbol for
the coming age of enlightenment!"
The crowd went wild, praying, chanting, bowing in
obedience toward the light bridge. Guerault wanted to
scream and run away, but she knew she had to see this
new miracle first hand. So she steeled herself and waited
for the coming of the world's supposed saviour.
121
Djilangulyip looked at the panorama from the
maelstrom bridge in wonder. The bridge actually passed
through the dimensions of Earth on its way to the sky, as
anyone sensitive to such things could plainly see. Djil
was such a man, for he regularly walked two worlds —
the awake world and the Dream Time. He specifically
looked for one particular dimension, searching the
warping space as the steam carriage bounced along the
curving arch of stone.
"There it is!" Djil proclaimed, pointing at the shifting
horizon that hurt the others to look at.
"What?" Mara asked, squinting as she tried to follow
the aborigine's finger.
"England's Dream Time," Djil whispered reverently.
"This is where I get off." The aborigine stood on the
running board, ready to leap from the moving carriage.
"Djil, what are you doing?" Mara asked, grabbing his
arm tightly with her right hand.
"What I have been brought to do, Mara," Djil
explained. "Come with me, for this is where you must
also do what you have come to do."
"I don't understand you," Mara admitted, looking
over to Father Bryce who was now watching their
exchange.
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The Nightmare Dream
"But do you trust me?" Djil asked.

"Yes/' Mara said.
"Then come with me/' the shaman said as he reached
out his hand.
Mara took it, and together they leaped from the
carriage to the maelstrom bridge.
122
Bryce was stunned by what he had seen. Mara and
Djil had jumped off the steam carriage! What were they
thinking of? He got to his feet, moving toward Toolpin
and Gutterby who were at the engine's controls.
"Stop this thing!" Bryce demanded. "Mara and Djil
have fallen overboard."
"They didn't fall," Toolpin assured him.
"But they aren't here anymore! We've got to go back
for them!" the priest shouted frantically.
"We all have a role to play, priest," Gutterby explained.
"Let them get on with the one fate has dealt them. You
should get ready for your own."
Bryce was about to argue when he felt Tolwyn's
familiar touch upon his arm. He turned, and she shook
her head softly. "They are up to something, Christopher,"
Tolwyn said. "Perhaps what they do will help us in the
end."
"Do you believe that, Tolwyn?" Bryce asked. "Don't
you think we'll need Mara's skills when we face
Uthorion?"
"We will need Mara, and Djil, too," Tolwyn admitted.
"I hope they are there when the final battle is waged.
Now sit down and rest. This trip is far from over, and the
hardest part is about to begin."
275
123
Angar Uthorion knew that time was short. He had to
start his journey down the maelstrom bridge soon if he
had any hope of sealing his reality to Earth. But he was
still afraid, and a part of him knew that the maelstrom
bridge was the key to that fear. He had no idea why.
Jean Malraux rose from the couch he had been
reclining upon, setting his goblet of wine on the floor.
He stretched, working out the kinks in his muscles. Then
he placed his miter upon his head.
"It is time for me to go, Angar," Malraux said. "The
flock expects me, and I must make an entrance most
grand."
"Wait a moment longer, Jean Malraux," the High
Lord of Aysle urged. "Just a moment longer."
The elven mage entered the tower room at that
moment. Delyndun looked very weary, but he kept his
head held high as he approached his master.
"The Darkness Device has been relocated to your
chambers in Aysle realm, Lord Uthorion," Delyndun
reported. "The place called Oxford has been taken as
you requested, and it is prepared for your arrival."
"Good," Uthorion answered absently. Was that
thunder he heard in the distance? He stepped to the
window to see.
"Lord Uthorion," Delyndun pressed, "you must leave
now. There can be no more delays. Already the giants
are becoming restless, and the lesser folk require firm
leadership. Ardinay must appear to bolster her troops."
Uthorion turned to regard the elf. Unlike the rest of
his kind, Delyndun had pledged himself to Uthorion's
service. He had served well over the centuries. Someday
he would be rewarded with a cosm pf his own to control,
Uthorion promised. The High Lord turned to Malraux.
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The Nightmare Dream
"Come with me, Jean Malraux," Uthorion said. "You

can take my bridge to Earth as easily as your own. Then,
when we have crossed over to that cosm, you can call for
a dimthread to take you to your own bridge of light."
The antipope considered the request, turning all of
the possibilities over in his mind. "I have my own realm
to conquer, Angar," Malraux said carefully, trying not
to sound pitying.
"I need your help, Jean Malraux," Angar begged,
hating himself for it. "Together, two High Lords can
easily destroy Tolwyn and her companions."
The antipope regarded Ardinay who was Uthorion,
looking for some hidden game that the High Lord might
be playing. Evidently he found none, for he smiled and
said, "Lead the way, Uthorion. Lead the way."
124
Decker, Julie and Kurst reached the castle by late
afternoon. The sun was already well on its way toward
the horizon, and dusk would soon be upon them. They
were on the side of the great wall that surrounded the
castle grounds, far from the main gate. Decker saw a
huge stone arch falling from the sky to land in the
courtyard. It was massive, and as impressive as the
jungle bridge in its own way.
"Is that a maelstrom bridge?" Decker asked.
"Yes," Kurst replied. "Each High Lord fashions the
bridges to suit their own reality and individual taste. It
sometimes seems like a game to me, that they are trying
to outdo each other."
"They sound like children," Julie said.
Kurst nodded. "But they are very powerful children."
Decker heard thunder rolling toward them from
behind. As he turned to look, the thunder became the
277
gallop of an army of horses. He swung the M-l 6 from his

shoulder and backed against the courtyard wall. Kurst
and Julie did the same. The sound of the pounding
hooves washed against them as the black cloud rolled
past, staying to the road that led to the courtyard gate.
In the cloud, Decker saw huge horses and armor-clad
riders sweep by. Black ravens like pieces of cloud itself
flew with the hunters, and gigantic wolf hounds ran
beside them, blood-red tongues lolling from teeth-filled
maws.
Lightning shattered the darkness of the storm cloud
at uneven intervals, but each jagged bolt illuminated the
riders and their animals. In fact, when the lightning
flashed they seemed transparent. They took on the
shapes of skeletal things and twisted shadows, foul
beasts that wore the illusion of flesh and blood.
When the cloud finally passed, Decker breathed a
sigh of relief. They had missed them! The fabled hunt
that had chased them across two worlds had ridden by
without so much as a glance to either side. Perhaps this
mission had a chance of success after all.
"Kurst, how do we ...?" Decker started to ask when
he heard the low growling. It was an angry, rumbling
sound, and it was very, very close.
"Ace," Julie warned, speaking as calmly as she could,
"it's right behind you. Don't make any sudden moves,
and for God's sake don't try to run."
Decker slowly turned his head. Behind him was a
gargantuan wolf hound, perhaps the size of a lion, but
more massive. Its red, lightning-filled eyes had no pupils,
and foam matted its jaws, spilling from its open mouth.
Its black coat of fur was wet and slick, and claws jutted
from its huge paws. It made no move to attack, but its
eyes never left Decker's. It stared with intelligence and
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The Nightmare Dream
undisguised hatred.
"Easy, boy," Decker addressed the monster as though
he was talking to a household pet, and he felt ridiculous
doing it. "Nice puppy."
"I would not attempt to pet it if I were you," Kurst
said. Decker wondered if the shapeshifter was trying to
be funny, then dismissed the notion.
They heard the hoof beats of the huge black stallion
a second before it turned the corner. It cantered to a stop,
directed by its rider with practiced grace. The rider was
a giant of a man, dressed in furs and wearing a horned
helmet. He smiled, drawing a sword from the scabbard
strapped to the horse's flank.
"I was wondering where you had gotten to, Heimdal,"
the hunter laughed. "It seems you have found our
quarry. I shall receive a feast in my honor for this kill!"
"It will be a funeral feast then, my friend," Decker
replied, sweeping the M-16 around as he squeezed off
successive bursts.
Decker saw the rounds strike the hunter, but he did
not fall. He also saw, with extreme clarity, that the wolf
hound was springing for him. He knew he had to keep
his gun on the hunter, but if he didn't take out the dog
it would feast on his exposed throat. It all seemed to
happen in slow motion. The hunter, hit with as many as
ten slugs, was still moving, lifting his sword high into
the air. The wolf hound, its teeth bared, was flying
toward the congressman, its red eyes crackling with
excited lightning. Something pushed past Decker,
catching the wolf hound in mid air before it could finish
its attack. It was Kurst, in his own demonic wolf form,
and the two fur-covered demons fell upon each other in
a frantic dance of war. Decker, still watching the hunter,
emptied the magazine of the M-16 into the fur-clad
279
giant. The force of the automatic rifle knocked the

hunter from his saddle, and the horse reared.
Slow motion continued, and Decker felt as though
trapped in an underwater scene. He saw Kurst flip on
top of the great beast he was fighting, raising a blood-
covered claw into the air. The claw came down, and
more blood splattered. Kurst continued to tear at the
creature for long seconds, then it was over.
"We must leave here at once," Kurst said as he shifted
back into man form. "The others will smell the blood
and converge on this spot."
"Look!" Julie shouted, pointing into the trees at the
clearing's edge.
Decker snapped another magazine into his rifle as he
looked. There were eyes watching them. Hungry eyes.
They seemed suspended in the murky shadows
extending through the forest, bodiless things. Then the
shadows separated from the trees, sliding toward them.
Black shapes, humanoid but not human, slipped across
the clearing and swarmed over the fallen hunter and his
hound.
"This way, Decker," Kurst urged. "Hurry."
"What are they doing to them?" Decker asked, his
question framed in revulsion and curiosity.
"The Hunt takes care of its own," was all that Kurst
would say. He pulled Decker along the wall.
But Decker still watched as glowing balls were pulled
from the hunter and hound, two spheres of light that
pulsated as though alive. He heard the shadows giggle,
withdrawing into the trees with their prizes.
125
Twilight was drawing near as the steam carriage
rolled to a stop at the bottom of the stone bridge. Tolwyn
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The Nightmare Dream
gasped as she recognized the valley they had reached.

The fading light of day reflected brilliant colors off the
surface of the Inland Sea, bathing the great Castle Ardinay
in a rainbow of light. But the fields of crys flowers were
gone, and the forest beyond looked dark and foreboding.
Where was the light and joy she remembered? Where
was the magic?
Father Bryce, Tom, and the dwarves jumped down
from the carriage, gathering around Tolwyn. The village
still stood outside the walls of the castle. That would be
the place to start her final search, Tolwyn decided.
"Leave the carriage," Tolwyn commanded. We will
walk from here."
The village itself was deserted. No smoke rose from
chimneys, no children played in the streets. Even the
square, usually filled at this time of day, was empty.
"Where is everyone, Pluppa?" Tolwyn asked.
"Lady Ardinay sent them down the bridge, Pluppa
explained. "No one should be here."
But there was something here, Tolwyn could feel it. It
was watching her. Not the others, just her. She did not
like the sensation. She noticed the overgrown building
in the square then, catching a glimpse of gray stone
almost completely hidden by the thick shrubbery. She
started forward.
"Tolwyn, wait. Where are you going?" Bryce asked,
running to catch up with her.
"A building stands here that was not here when last
I stood within this square," the paladin said. I want to
find out what it is. The rest of you wait here." Tolwyn
turned away from Bryce, striding forward resolutely.
The building was a crypt of some sort, but what was
a crypt doing in the village square? She used her sword
to clear away some of the more stubborn vines, finally
281
reaching the door to the crypt. There were no names

inscribed upon the door, only the striking symbol of
Dunad — the ornate sword hilt with the broken blade.
She pushed open the door, barely noticing as Father
Bryce moved behind her.
Tolwyn entered the crypt, stepping through the aged
portal. Christopher Bryce was behind her, holding a
lantern, lending his presence at this awkward juncture.
Six stone coffins were within the small chamber. She
stepped carefully, trying to disturb as little of the tomb
as possible.
"This was not here," she whispered to herself. "I do
not remember this place."
"It seems very old, though," Bryce said, holding the
lantern forward so that they could see. "Maybe you've
forgotten it."
The paladin ignored his remark and stood over one of
the coffins. She brushed away the dust that coated the
stone lid, gently running her fingers over the carved
words. Bryce moved beside her.
"Is that Ayslish?" he asked. "What does it say?"
Tolwyn felt tears well in her eyes, and she was
suddenly grateful that the dark interior hid her features.
"Seris of House Liandar," she said, keeping her voice
even. "We jousted together. She ate pears in my orchard
and we compared our taste in boys."
"You knew this person?" Bryce gasped.
Tolwyn walked between the five coffins, reading the
inscription on each. "Hogar, dear Kwev, Abonon,
Candal." She stopped at the sixth and last coffin, resting
her hands upon its dusty lid. "I knew them all," she
choked. "These are the Knight Protectors who fought at
beside me the day I died."
"And that?" Bryce asked, his voice filled with
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The Nightmare Dream
sympathy.
"Tolwyn of House Tancred/' she read. "Here is where
I rest." In anger, Tolwyn gripped the stone lid and
shoved with all her might.
"Tolwyn, no!" Bryce shouted, but it was too late. The
stone lid crashed to the floor, cracking into three pieces.
"Christopher Bryce, tell me what this means," Tolwyn
demanded, looking into the coffin.
Bryce shined the lantern into the coffin and let out a
startled cry.
"Why is my coffin empty?" Tolwyn shouted. She
turned to the lid marked Seris and gave it a mighty
shove. Then Hogar, then Kwev. Soon all the lids had
shattered on the floor and Tolwyn stood in the middle of
the wreckage.
She turned to Bryce with tear-filled eyes. "Why are
they empty, Christopher Bryce?"
126
Uthorion approached the maelstrom bridge,
registering the presence of a dwarven steam carriage
but not thinking much about it. He had other things on
his mind. There was something in the air this evening,
and whatever it was made the High Lord's flesh crawl.
He wished he did not have to leave the castle. He felt safe
within its thick stone walls. Out here he felt exposed.
"Night is coming, Uthorion," Jean Malraux said,
walking casually beside the High Lord of Ay sie. What
time of day do you think it is on Earth?"
"The planet has stopped spinning, my lord,
Delyndun informed the two. "It had been slowing down
since the invasion started, but a few days ago it finally
stopped completely."
"The Gaunt Man's doing," Uthorion decided, turning
283
Ardinay's lips into a sneer.

"What time of day did the world stop during?"
Malraux pressed the elf mage.
"Over both of your realms it is twilight, neither full
day nor total night," Delyndun explained.
Uthorion smiled. "I like that," he laughed. "Perhaps
I'll have to thank the Gaunt Man after all."
A giant black stag galloped to a stop before the
maelstrom bridge, and its rider leaped down to bow
before Uthorion. "My lord," the Horn Master said, "I
return with news which you may not like."
"What is it, Wotan?" Uthorion asked, suddenly
pleased to see his most powerful ally back in the cosm.
"I have hunted stormers from Earth across Takta Ker
to Aysle," Wotan explained. "They knew how to travel
the maelstrom bridges."
Uthorion looked around, again noticing the steam
carriage. There was something not right about the vehicle,
but he couldn't quite decide what that something was.
Otherwise, he saw no dangers. He was nothing, however,
if he wasn't cautious.
"Send your hunters throughout the valley, but
position your best warriors within the castle itself,"
Uthorion ordered. "Castle Ardinay is yours to defend
until I return, Wotan. That is my wish."
"Yes, my lord," the Horn Master said.
Then Uthorion took the dagger he had received from
the Viking warlord from out of his belt. He held it
momentarily in Ardinay's soft fingers, turning the
jeweled pommel over and over. He addressed his court
wizard.
"Take this, Delyndun," Uthorion ordered. "It has
been prepared. You know what to do with it if anything
should ... go awry."
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Valerie Valusek

The Nightmare Dream
The elf took the dagger reverently, holding it to his

chest like it was a precious gem. "I will not fail you, Lord
Uthorion," Delyndun promised.
"No," the High Lord smiled, letting the natural dazzle
of Ardinay's features shine out, "I don't believe you
will."
"Come, Angar," Malraux urged. "Time grows short."
In one of the watch towers, a bell tolled. It was the first
of six gongs proclaiming the start of the Entity's Hour.
That was Uthorion's hour, and suddenly the High Lord
did not feel quite as nervous as before. He placed a
slippered foot upon the maelstrom bridge, and began
the journey toward Aysle on Earth.
127
Christopher Bryce held Tolwyn within the dark
confines of the crypt, letting her cry upon his shoulder.
He cried along with her, soaking his beard with salty
tears. He had no answer for her when she asked why the
tombs were empty. Had someone stolen the bodies of
Tolwyn and her companions? Or were they never
actually entombed within the stone coffins that filled the
small chamber? He just didn't know.
"Tolwyn!" shouted Tom O'Malley from outside the
crypt. "Father Bryce! Come quickly!"
"It's time to go, Tolwyn," Bryce said, wiping tears
away from the warrior's eyes.
"You must think me foolish, Christopher Bryce,
Tolwyn stammered. "The mighty Tolwyn, knight of
honor, weeping like a babe."
Bryce smiled gently. "Not at all, Tolwyn," he assured
her. "It just shows me that you're human."
"Tolwyn! We need you!" Tom called again. There
was fear and urgency in his voice.
285
Tolwyn was on her feet, her sword in hand, charging

out of the crypt into the increasing dusk. Bryce was right
behind her, almost smashing into her when she stopped
short. He peered around her, trying to see what was the
matter. First he saw Tom and the dwarves, standing
with their weapons drawn in the village square. Then he
noticed the armored knight.
He was dressed in full plate mail of excellent make,
but the metal was tarnished with age, its natural luster
all but gone. The visor of his helmet was closed, and he
held a deadly-looking sword. The knight regarded
Tolwyn curiously and stepped forward, still remaining
beyond the reach of Tom or the dwarves.
"You have returned," the knight said. Bryce thought
he recognized the voice, but he couldn't be sure because
of the helmet's muffling effect.
"I have," Tolwyn returned. "I want my armor and
sword."
"Tolwyn? What are you talking about?" Bryce asked.
"You do not understand, do you, Christopher? I
know what happened to the bodies of the Knight
Protectors. They have been turned into abominations,
works of necromancy that defile the memories of my
companions," Tolwyn said, anger rising in her tone.
"You want your sword?" the knight sneered. "Come
take it, if you dare!"
Then the armored knight threw open the helmet's
visor and Bryce gasped. The face inside the helmet was
Tolwyn's face! But it was a Tolwyn twisted by dark
magic and corruption, a Tolwyn who looked more dead
than alive.
"What are you?" Tolwyn asked.
"I am you, warrior of honor," the knight with Tolwyn's
face proclaimed. "I am Tolwyn of House Tancred, leader
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The Nightmare Dream
of Ardinay's Knight Protectors!"

"You are not me!" Tolwyn exclaimed, leaping to meet
the other Tolwyn's charge.
Tolwyn felt the power in the sword as it clashed with
the Victorian blade she wielded. There was enchantment
within the weapon. It was her sword, the mighty
Battlestar! Now all she had to do was get it away from
the abomination that held it. Somewhere beyond the
village, a bell rang.
"The Entity's Hour," Grim said, shuddering.
"Spectral knights, Bryce," Gutterby called. I knew
they might be around, but I never connected them with
the old Knight Protectors. That one wearing Tolwyn's
armor is undead. Your holy symbol should be able to
slow it down."
Bryce pulled his cross from under his shirt and held
it before him. He watched the two Tolwyns battle, two
sides of the same coin locked in mortal combat. One was
full of honor, the other dark and corrupt. He waited wit
the others for an opening to exploit, quite aware that t e
spectral knight's sword was battering through every
defense Tolwyn placed in its way.
128
Dr. Hachi Mara-Two prepared herself for battle. She
had removed her jumpsuit, preferring the striped leotar
she wore beneath it for the coming conflict. She strappe
a belt pouch around her waist, placing all of her most
important items within the two separate pockets, er
tools, spare chips, and the data plate/jaz pack assemb y
she had constructed. Also, in the tradition of the warriors
of her world, she applied black makeup to her face so
that it covered her eyes like a mask.
"I am ready, Djil," she told the shaman, but he ignored
287
her.
Djilangulyip was dancing an intricate pattern across
the maelstrom bridge. With each step, Mara thought she
could see the swirling colors beyond the bridge draw
closer. It was like he was pulling the dimensions together,
knotting them the way he knotted rope.
Somewhere up bridge a bell tolled, and Djil looked
up from his dance. "They are coming," he said. "Time is
short." Then he continued his dance, carefully
exaggerating each step to ensure that he was not
forgetting anything.
Mara checked her laser pistol. It was low on energy,
maybe good for a few sustained blasts. Then the power
cells would be dead. She examined her hands. These
were weapons, too, even the left one. It spasmed, forcing
itself into a fist. It took Mara long seconds to unfurl the
hand's fingers.
A second toll, and she forgot about the hand. There
were two figures approaching from the Aysle side of the
bridge. "This is it," she said aloud. She wondered if the
others were going to make it in time for the final moves
of this deadly game.
129
Thratchen stood in the small booth, holding the metal
bars that would soon send power coursing through his
body. He had set the ornate mirror where he could see
it, for the mirror was the gateway to even greater power.
All Thratchen had to do was provide the energy necessary
to open the portal to such a faraway place. He double-
checked the calculation he had made, mentally going
over all of the numbers to make sure that no more than
a fraction of the physical energy of this planet would
flow into him. He needed only enough to open the
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The Nightmare Dream
gateway. Anything more would be wasteful, and could

turn out to be dangerous.
He gazed into the silvery surface of the ornate mirror
and spoke its name. "Wicked," Thratchen commanded,
"show me that which I seek. Reveal to me—the Nameless
One!" Thratchen concentrated on his command, sending
his considerable will into the arcane mirror. Then, when
the chant was running through his head, calling for the
mirror to show him the Nameless One, Thratchen
triggered the buttons on the metal bars.
The infernal machine had been recalibrated by the
techno-demon to let no more than a dribble of the
Earth's stolen energy course through him, but it felt like
the fires of hell burning through his veins. It was agony!
It was ecstasy! It was unrivaled power! Oh, how it hurt!
Oh, how Thratchen cherished its boiling taste!
He was on fire, a star flaring beneath the Gaunt Man's
keep. He could barely see through the glow of his own
form, but he nonetheless felt the mirror's surface ripple
as it searched for the one he sought.
"More power!" Thratchen screamed, tapping the
buttons a second time. Now it was as though his flesh
was boiling, leaving his interior exposed as it bubbled
away. If he looked upon another being, that being
would cease to exist beneath the strength of his gaze.
The mirror's surface was like a storm-wracked ocean,
churning as it stretched beyond the cosms to find the
legendary god.
"More power!" roared the techno-demon, tapping
the buttons a third time. Now his bones burst into flame,
or so it seemed, and there was nothing left of Thratchen
but a burning thirst for even more power. The mirror s
surface whirled like the vortex itself, spinning farther
and farther through the empty dimensions in search of
289
The Place where things began.

"More ..." Thratchen started to call, when an alarm
went off in his head. It flashed a message across the LED
screen within his right eye. Reluctantly, and with extreme
difficulty, Thratchen pried his hands from the bars and
cut the connection to the infernal machine. His body was
whole, unharmed, but the residual effects still burned
through him, exhilarating him. He paused to look into
the mirror, but its surface was once again still, reflecting
his own face back at him.
He clicked open the panel in his arm and pressed in
a code. Data flew across a small screen, downloading
information from the cybernetic hand he had given to
young Dr. Hachi Mara-Two.
"What are you up to, Mara?" Thratchen asked aloud,
examining the confusing data. He turned once again to
the mirror. "Wicked," he intoned. "Show me Dr. Hachi
Mara-Two!"
130
Somewhere in another Place, the Darkness awoke. It
had been sleeping for a long time, waiting for its children
to call for it. Was this the call? Was this finally the time
of reckoning?
The Darkness stretched, obliterating long-dead
worlds as it continued the waking process. Memories
returned to it, and with those memories came the hatred.
How dare the Other flee! How dare the Other take the
All with it! More memories, and it remembered what the
Other had called him. Yes, him. Not it.
He was the Nameless One.
The title had been a joke to the Other, an amusement.
But the Nameless One had amusements of his own. He
destroyed the creations of the Other
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The Nightmare Dream
and he would have destroyed her, too, if she hadn't

left the Place. Even the Nameless One had to leave the
Place, for the Nothing became hungry. The Nothing was
somewhere behind him, searching the Place and all the
other Places for him. But that would end when the
Nameless One found the Other
(Apeiros)
and the All. Then the hunger would finally be satisfied.
The Nameless One stretched again, forcing himself to
fully awaken. He had to seek out the call, follow it to its
source.
And then the Nameless One had to feed.
131
With each parry, T olwyn felt the metal of the Victorian
sword weaken. Battlestar, her true sword, was just too
powerful to defend against with ordinary steel.
Moreover, every move she made was easily countered
by the spectral knight, as though it was anticipating
each feint and thrust. Tolwyn lashed out with another
flurry of attacks, but the spectral knight turned each
attack with a twist of the enchanted blade.
"You cannot win, Tolwyn who is no more," the
spectral knight hissed as a sixth bell tolled from the
castle tower. It was the Entity's Hour, the hour of the
undead and other things from beyond the natural world.
"You should have stayed dead," the spectral knight
declared, swinging Battlestar at the sidestepping Tolwyn.
Anger flared in Tolwyn's breast, and she delivered
another series of blows at the abomination before her.
Again it deftly parried each strike, then lashed out with
a strike of its own. Pain exploded in Tolwyn's left arm as
Battlestar's point pierced her flesh just above the elbow.
She clenched her teeth against a scream and backed
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away, trying to think of a maneuver the knight would

not expect.
"I know how you fight, Tolwyn," the knight jeered.
"It is how I fight. You cannot defeat me. I shall finish the
job the Carredon started long ago."
The spectral knight prepared to launch another attack
when Father Bryce stepped between the two combatants.
Tolwyn saw that he was holding his holy symbol before
him, directing its power at the undead warrior.
"Stay back, monster!" Bryce shouted. "I will banish
you to the depths of hell!"
The spectral knight retreated at the force of Bryce's
words, but it did not seem cowed as the banshees and
lesser evils of Orrorsh had in the presence of his holy
symbol. Either the knight did not fully recognize the
power of Bryce's faith, or it was simply more powerful
than he.
"You are strong, priest," the knight admitted, "but
you do not yet know the extent of the forces you wield."
"Father Bryce!" Tolwyn called the warning as soon as
she saw what the knight was doing, but it was too late to
help the priest. The undead warrior pulled a dagger
from its belt, holding it by the tip as it prepared to throw.
"No!" screamed Tolwyn, but she was too far to stop
the skeletal from pulling back. She saw the metal edge of
the dagger glint in the final rays of the setting sun. "No!"
she screamed again, but her voice was drowned out by
a loud, resounding series of bursts.
It took an instant for Tolwyn to recognize the sound
of automatic weapons fire — an Farther weapon. She
saw Decker holding the weapon, saw the spectral knight
pitch forward from the impact of the rounds. Battlestar
flew from the abomination's hand as it tried to keep its
footing, and it released the dagger as well.
Tolwyn leaped past Bryce, catching the enchanted
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sword before it hit the ground. Its power sang a welcome

to its rightful master as she gripped the hilt, rolled, and
landed in front of the reeling knight.
"You are not me," Tolwyn proclaimed. Then she
drove Battlestar into the spectral knight's breast.
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Decker, Kurst and Julie ran to join the others, but
there was no time for greeting old friends or meeting
new ones. Decker got right to the point, addressing
Tolwyn as she removed her armor from the spectral
knight.
"Uthorion isn't in the castle," Decker explained
quickly. "We watched as he and a priest of some sort
started down the maelstrom bridge."
"Tolwyn, I have to tell you that Uthorion wears the
body of Pella Ardinay," Kurst added, bowing his head.
"I should have told you earlier ..."
"I know," Tolwyn said, stopping his confession as the
dwarves helped her strap on the armor. "There is no
more to say right now."
"Tolwyn, Mara and Djil are on the bridge," Bryce
reminded her.
"I know that, too, Christopher," she said, placing the
helmet over her head.
"Is it my imagination, or is the shine returning to that
armor?" Tom O'Malley asked.
"It knows its true owner," Tolwyn agreed. "For the
first time since I battled the Carredon five hundred years
ago, I feel truly alive."
She stood before them, in the armor of her House,
with the sword of her father. She was Tolwyn of House
Tancred again, completely and utterly. A small corner of
her heart grieved for the woman Wendy Miller, a woman
293
who was no more. But mourning would have to come

later. There was still so much left to do.
“We should go, Tolwyn," Bryce suggested. "Mara
and Djil will need our help."
Tolwyn nodded, and the companions headed toward
the maelstrom bridge.
133
Katrina Tovarish was alone in a world of darkness.
She remembered the Tharkold and the pod it wanted to
place her in. Then her mind exploded — at least that's
what it felt like — splintering into a thousand shards of
sharpness that ... what? She tried to remember what
happened next. The shards of her mind slashed at the
Tharkold's mind like sharp glass, tearing it as easily as
a knife cut through meat. The Tharkold was no more.
After that the darkness descended and she blacked out.
But now her mind was whole again, and the darkness
remained.
Not that she wasn't used to darkness. She was blind,
after all. But the darkness she knew was never so deep
before, so complete. She had been able to "see" things
with her mind—images, other people's thoughts, things
that were to come. Now there was nothing. Just the
darkness.
In addition, her normal senses seemed cut off as well.
She did not feel anything touching her, not the floor she
assumed she laid upon, not the gentle brush of wind, not
even the scratching of clothing against her skin. There
were no smells, no sounds, no tastes. There was nothing
but the darkness.
She did not feel the presence of Nicolai Ondarev. She
did not even hear the ever-present sound of the Earth,
the song of life that comforted her. And even the
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The Nightmare Dream
frightened voice was gone, the voice that she had long
ago told Nicolai belonged to the one she was really
helping. The pain-filled voice that was the Earth, and
was also something more. But it was gone now.
She was alone ...
... in the darkness ...
... total darkness.
Katrina Tovarish screamed.
134
The mirror's surface rippled like the surface of a
pond, and when the ripples subsided, Thratchen was
looking at the image of Dr. Hachi Mara-Two. She was
dressed for battle, painted with the Kadandran mask of
war that became popular during what they called the
Sim War. Thratchen was intimately familiar with her
garb, for he battled against those who wore it throughout
the war. Why was she wearing it now, he wondered.
He examined her surroundings, forcing the mirror to
expand the image so that he could see more of the place
around her. She was with the aborigine shaman, who
was involved in a ritual that screamed of Earth magic.
The two were standing on a maelstrom bridge formed of
stone and mortar. It was the bridge to Aysle.
Thratchen felt another presence deep within the
mirror, but he ignored it as he studied the shaman s
ritual. Djilangulyip was weaving a spell to connect one
of the intermediate dimensions of Earth to the maelstrom
bridge! For what purpose?
Intrigued, Thratchen watched as Djil completed the
ritual dance and the bridge expanded to fill the horizon.
It was now part of another of Earth's dimensions, the
path down to Aysle realm hidden from view. But the
path was still there. Thratchen could sense it. He absently
295
flexed his fingers, and he saw with some amusement

that Mara did the same ■— with the fingers of her left
hand.
He expanded the image even more, and he found
what he expected was the reason for the battle paint and
the ritual. He saw two High Lords approaching, not
realizing that they were walking into a trap.
"Do you really think you can stand against two High
Lords, Mara?" Thratchen asked, realizing that she could
not answer him. "Of course you do," he said in wonder.
"You believe that you can do anything! You believe that
you can stop Uthorion and Malraux, just as you
neutralized the Gaunt Man."
The presence far back in the mirror was stronger now,
but still Thratchen ignored it. He had to see how Mara's
ploy would end.
His curiosity demanded it.
135
Kurst, Decker and Julie were at the back of the group,
following as Tolwyn and Bryce led them toward the
maelstrom bridge. Kurst thought that the valley was
darker than the hour demanded, filled with shadows
almost as deep as full night instead of the gray shadows
of twilight. They walked further, and Kurst barely noticed
as Tolwyn set foot upon the stone bridge. His senses
were occupied by other things. There was something
wrong, but he could not yet identify what that something
was.
Bryce and the dwarves were next onto the bridge.
Then Tom O'Malley. Kurst motioned for Decker and
Julie to go as he stood at the bridgehead.
"Come on, Kurst," Decker called. "It's time to go."
"There is something wrong here, Decker," Kurst
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The Nightmare Dream
said. "Something is not right."

Decker looked around, but Kurst could tell that if he
felt anything at all, it was just a vague premonition.
"What do you sense, Kurst?" Decker asked at last.
"I sense ... watchers," Kurst said carefully,
deliberately choosing his words. "I sense ... hungry
eyes watching us."
That was when the shadows moved. They slipped
from the castle wall, from behind trees, from the very
ground itself, becoming the warriors of the Wild Hunt
as they flowed toward the bridge. One shadow sprang
up behind Kurst, forming into an armored warrior
wielding a two-handed sword. Before the shapeshifter
could react, the shadow warrior plunged the sword into
Kurst's side. The shapeshifter screamed, flowing from
human to werewolf to werebear as the sword passed
through his shifting flesh and emerged from the other
side.
"Kurst!" Decker screamed. He charged the warrior,
leveling his rifle but refusing to shoot while Kurst
remained between them.
The huntsman pulled his sword free, and Kurst slid
to the ground. His body continued to shift from one
form to another, sometimes combining two forms before
one or another was complete. The huntsman turned to
face Decker's charge, but the congressman stopped
running well beyond the range of the sword. Decker
aimed the rifle and squeezed the trigger, and the
huntsman went down in a cloud of bullets and blood.
"When they become solid, they can be hurt," Decker
whispered. "They can be killed."
More shadows were approaching, becoming
huntsmen and wolves as they got closer. Decker did not
hesitate. He tossed a grenade into one group of huntsmen,
297
then charged forward into the others. He was firing

bursts from his M-16, using the last magazine as
efficiently as possible.
Kurst watched through a haze of pain. The huntsman's
weapon hurt him! Never had he felt such physical pain.
It rivaled the worst that the Gaunt Man had done to his
spirit over the years. He was able to stop his runaway
shifting with considerable effort, stabilizing it in his
werewolf form. He started to rise. He had to reach
Decker, fight beside his friend until there was no life left
to fight with. That was his destiny, to die beside a friend.
But he heard someone running toward him from behind,
and he spun to meet whoever it was.
"Ace!" Julie called frantically as she tried to run past
Kurst. But the werewolf grabbed hold of her, stopping
her.
"Let me go, Kurst! Let me go!" Julie raged, banging
him with balled fists.
Kurst held her tightly, letting her vent her rage upon
him as he turned to see how Decker was doing. The
congressman was standing in a clearing, two dark forms
lying still at his feet. More shadows were closing on him,
and he only had a moment to rest. Decker met Kurst's
gaze.
"Get her out of here, Kurst," Decker called. "Don't
make this sacrifice be in vain."
The two friends looked at each other for long moments,
communicating on a level that neither thought possible.
Kurst felt his heart go out to the Farther, and he longed
to aid him in the final fight. But he also respected
Decker's wishes, even though the decision he was about
to make would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Then the Wild Hunt was upon Andrew Jackson
Decker. There were only moments left before Decker
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The Nightmare Dream
fell. Kurst knew that. He had no other choice. "I am

sorry, my friend," Kurst whispered.
Then Kurst lifted Julie, who was still struggling with
him, and stepped onto the bridge.
136
Decker watched as Kurst did as he asked. It was hard
for the hunter to walk away from this fight, but if he
didn't then all three of them would die. Maybe Tolwyn
and the others as well. Decker thought about what Kurst
had said, how all six of them were needed.
"Sorry, my friends," Decker whispered. "You 11 have
to finish this one without me."
He emptied the M-l 6's magazine into the approaching
shadows, but they still crawled closer. He tossed his last
grenade, then pulled his pistol from its holster. It was
the last real weapon he had.
"You have fought well," a huge man atop a black stag
said, riding out of the shadows by the castle. "You will
make a fine addition to the Hunt."
Decker knew instinctively that this was the leader.
What had Paragon called him? The Horn Master? If
Decker could take him out, then the others might have
the time they needed to finish this business. He stepped
into the stag's path.
"T m Andrew Jackson Decker," the congressman said,
pointing his pistol at the Horn Master. "And this is for
my world."
Decker fired four shots before the stag's pounding
hooves brought him down.
137
Mara stood in the Dream Time, letting its shifting
panorama reel about her. She focused upon the bridge
299
before her, concentrating on the few shaped stones that

remained to form a path back to Aysle. The rest of the
bridge, walls and all, drifted into the exaggerated
landscape of the Dream Time.
Djil had finished his dance, and now he was singing
a dream song. She tried to follow the words, but did not
know enough of the aborigine's language to understand
what he was singing. She looked toward the horizon,
tracing the stone path with her eyes. Distance was
almost meaningless here, for she could see unbelievably
far. That was how she saw the two figures.
They were walking straight toward her, not straying
from the stone path. The first was a tall woman in a white
gown. She reminded Mara of Tolwyn, only older, more
refined. But there was a darkness to the woman as well,
a swagger that was definitely male. The second figure
was a man in priestly garments and a tall hat. He carried
a staff topped with an ornate cross, and was obviously
dressed for a high mass or other important function. He,
too, had a darkness about him, and Mara shivered
though the air was not cold.
"Djil?" Mara asked, trying to get the shaman's
attention. He did not respond. He just continued to sing.
He was painted with a white chalk she noticed, although
she had not seen him pause to apply it. The white
showed clearly against his dark skin, making him appear
ghostly, more like a part of this spirit realm than of the
natural world. "Djil, help me," she pleaded, but he
continued to sing his song of dreams.
Beyond the approaching figures, Mara noticed that
more people had stepped upon the bridge. There were
seven more shapes walking the stone path, but they
were still too far away for Mara to see clearly. For a
moment, she had a feeling that someone was watching
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The Nightmare Dream
her from far away, but she knew that was impossible.
She shook off the feeling of paranoia and reached for her
laser pistol.
"No, Mara," Djil said, coming out of his song.
"I think that's Uthorion walking toward us, Djil,"
Mara returned. "I'm not going to face another High
Lord unarmed. Triple damn, I wish I still had the Heart
of Coyote!" She grasped the pistol's handle.
"Mara, the priest, do you see him?" Djil asked.
"Yes," she responded.
"He is the one you built the jaz pack for. He is the one
that desperately needs to see your world."
"Why?"
Djil did not answer her. He resumed his dream song.
"I hate it when you get all mysterious on me, Djil,"
she grumbled. "But you haven't led me wrong yet."
Mara relaxed her grip on the pistol, letting it slide back
into the holster strapped to her side. She opened one of
her belt pouches, then reached into it with her right
hand.
She pulled out the date plate/jaz pack assembly.
"I hope you know what I'm doing, Djil," Mara
whispered, stepping forward to meet the approaching
travelers.
138
"Do you see that, Angar?" Jean Malraux asked. "Do
you see that young woman arid the savage?"
"I see them," Uthorion said, his voice again filled
with nervousness. Things were not going the way they
usually did, and that made the High Lord of Aysle very
unsettled.
The young woman stepped toward them. She was
scantily dressed, with a wild mane of silver hair. Dark
301
paint covered parts of her face, and her body seemed to

be partially mad$ of metal. She stopped before Malraux,
locking him with a fierce gaze.
“You look to be in terrible need of redemption, girl,"
Malraux smiled. "Perhaps I can lead you back to
salvation. Shall we pray?"
"I don't think so," the girl responded. Then metal
blades snapped from sockets in her left hand.
“Uthorion, beware!" Malraux warned, turning to
protect the High Lord of Aysle. But the girl wasn't after
Uthorion, and Malraux exposed his back to her by his
action.
Claws flashed, slicing through the antipope's fine
raiment. Then she struck him with her other hand,
slapping it against the bare flesh of his back. Malraux felt
the pinpricks of a dozen tiny needles and the cold of
metal touching his exposed flesh. He reacted as swiftly
as she, striking with a hard, back-handed blow. She
crumbled to the stone path.
"How dare she assault my person!" Malraux raged.
He stepped toward her, raising his cross-topped staff
like a spear above her still form.
"No!" screamed another voice, and Malraux turned
to see a man charging toward him from the Aysle side of
the bridge. The man held a weapon of some sort, lifting
it to use against the Vicar of Avignon.
"Blasphemy!" Malraux said in stunned surprise,
pointing his staff at the heathen sinner.
"Tom, stay back!" another man yelled, and Malraux
saw that there was a small army approaching them. It
was led by Tolwyn of House Tancred. He invoked a
simple prayer, and fire leaped from the cross. It wrapped
around the man called Tom, engulfing him in all-
consuming fire.
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The Nightmare Dream
Malraux turned back to Uthorion. "Your prophecy

has finally arrived," he said. "I leave you to settle
matters however you see fit, for I have my own realm to
conquer."
A spiral of light fell from the swirling sky, landing
beside the antipope. He stepped into its glow, and
immediately it retreated, taking him away from the
strange scene that he had no desire to see to its conclusion.
139
Tolwyn watched in horror as unholy fire consumed
Tom O'Malley. His killer stepped into a beam of light
before the paladin could react, disappearing as the light
retreated into the sky. But the one she was after was still
before her.
"Uthorion!" Tolwyn shouted. "I have come for you!"
It wasn't Uthorion standing there, however. It was
the Lady of the Light, and even though Tolwyn knew
that the evil Uthorion possessed her form, she hesitated
from attacking the leader she long-ago pledged her
sword to.
"You have come to die, Tolwyn," Uthorion said
through Ardinay's lips, in Ardinay's voice. "You and
your companions shall fall before me!"
Tolwyn drew Battlestar from its scabbard, letting the
enchantment flow from its ornate hilt into her sword
arm. She started forward when she heard Djilangulyip
call her.
"We are so much alike, Tolwyn," Djil sang. "We are
both custodians of our land. The aborigines must use art
to connect the land to the Dream Time. You must do the
same, paladin. Put away your sword, set aside the
warrior. Become an artist instead!"
"What does that savage mean, Tolwyn?" Uthorion
303
demanded. "Tell me!"

The paladin slid Battlestar back into its scabbard. An
artist, Djil said. How was she to become an artist? She
took the crys flower she had carried throughout her
quest out of the folds that held it. It was still fresh, still
alive. Its blue and red swirls vibrated with excitement as
she looked upon it. Then she knew what she had to do.
"Let me tell you a story, Uthorion," Tolwyn began.
"Yay! A story!" yelled the dwarves behind her.
And then the Dream Time was plunged into a deep,
eternal darkness.
140
Thratchen watched the unfolding scene through the
mirror in the Gaunt Man's keep. He saw Malraux flee.
He saw Tolwyn sheathe her sword. Then, when it looked
like the final conflict was going to begin, he felt a
powerful presence ripple through the mirror.
"What in ...?" Thratchen said, startled. It was as
though something was pushing up through the depths
of the mirror, reaching for the surface. Reaching for
freedom.
Tentatively, he stretched out his own senses, searching
for some hint as to the identity of the presence. He found
it quicker than he expected as the presence grabbed hold
of him. Like a drowning swimmer, it pulled itself along
the line of Thratchen's consciousness, higher and higher
through the mirror.
Toward freedom.
"The Nameless One," Thratchen gasped, struggling
to maintain his own hold on reality.
And then the darkness engulfed him, spreading to fill
304 Annis (Order #13994246)

Michael
The Nightmare Dream
the spaces of Dream Time that the mirror also looked

upon.
141
Dark. So dark. Cold. I am so cold. I am ...Bryce. Christopher
Bryce. Father Christopher Bryce. And I am so utterly,
completely alone.
Bryce slowly came awake, but no light greeted his
opened eyes. He was floating in darkness so total that he
almost believed he had ceased to exist.
Why is it so dark?
He tried to move, but his legs did not respond. Or, if
they did, he was not aware of it. He was only aware of
the darkness.
"Hello!" he yelled, but it sounded muffled in the
expanse of nothing around him. "Is anyone there?"
No answer. He was alone. All alone.
"I don't want to be alone like this!" he cried. In the
darkness, no one could see him weep. But he knew, and
it shamed him.
Why is it so cold?
Time passed. It must have. Bryce continued to float in
the dark, struggling to suppress the fear that played
across his nerves and threw terrible images into his
mind.
What happened to the others? Where had the dark come
from?
Bryce waited, trying not to think, not to imagine. He
was so lonely! Was this the way Earth felt, he wondered,
floating all alone in a sea of darkness? No, he decided,
for even space had stars to look upon. This had nothing.
"I don't want to be alone," Bryce said aloud.
A moment later, he heard something. It was low at
first, and very far away. But he strained, and the sound
305
became louder, clearer. It was another voice, reaching

toward him through the darkness. It was a haunting
voice, screaming with fear.
“\ do not want to be alone!" the voice cried over and
. over. He heard it with his ears, but it also echoed within
his mind, resonating with strong emotions. "I do not
want to be alone!"
... in the darkness ...
... total darkness.
"You are not alone!" Bryce called back. "I'm here!"
Nothing, no response. But Bryce still felt the presence
close to him, tentatively touching his thoughts. "Who
are you?" he asked.
"Katrina," the sound and thought conveyed. "Katrina
Tovarish."
Bryce saw a pinpoint of light far away in the darkness.
It was a glowing point of blue and red, swirling alone in
the vast blackness. "Katrina?" he asked.
"It is so dark," the young woman said, speaking not
necessarily to Bryce but to the darkness itself. "And now
I know what the voice that is not a voice feared so
much."
The Nameless One.
The thought was so powerful, shooting from the
point of light into Bryce's mind. What was the light, that
it could know fear? That it could communicate?
Apeiros.
The second thought was still strong, but it did not
batter Bryce's mind as it made itself known. The light
was warm, like a tiny sun, and the priest welcomed the
spot of heat in this place of utter cold. He listened to the
thoughts it conveyed, and recognized it as something he
had experienced before. Bryce reached into his pocket
and grasped the shard of stone that was once part of the
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The Nightmare Dream
Heart of Coyote. He pulled it from his pocket, regarding

it solemnly. The shard was full of light, shining in his
hand like a miniature sun. In the vast nothing, the
swirling blue and red looked like endless potential, full
of possibility. Like the far-away light.
He held the shard tightly, letting its light shine before
him. "I don't want to be alone," he said.
"I don't want to be alone," Katrina repeated.
Then the light exploded into a rainbow of color,
connecting to the far-away light, and another presence
touched Bryce's heart.
The presence came from beyond the shard, beyond
the darkness. Beyond all reality the priest knew. It came
from very far away, but it also came from within his own
heart. It was the presence of faith.
I am not alone. You are not alone. We are not alone.
The voice-thoughts flowed through him like a warm
burst of air. It was the shard's voice, the far-away light s
voice. And more, it was a voice from beyond even the
swirling blue-red star that identified itself as Apeiros.
For the first time in all the years that he had been
questioning, Bryce finally received an answer. It filled
him with joy and warmth and light, and not even this
utter darkness could hurt him.
"I am not alone!" he called happily.
And everyone heard him.
142
The blue and red light extended in all directions
through the darkness, thin ropes of energy searching for
others. It found them, connecting them one to another in
a knot of light. Tolwyn. Djilangulyip. Mara. Kurst. They
heard Bryce's voice shouting through the blackness,
somehow strengthened by other voices they could barely
307
hear, and the loneliness, the hopelessness, was banished.

"I am not alone!" Bryce called, and the realization
echoed deep within each of them. And then it spread.
To Julie Boot. To Pluppa, Grim, Gutterby, and Toolpin.
To all the people of Aysle, who heard the voice and saw
the image of Dunad appear before them in the darkness.
To a young woman named Katrina, and a man named
Nicolai.
And then it spread to Uthorion, who was torn asunder
by the light.
143
Thratchen experienced something different within
the darkness. He knew that the darkness was but the
tentative reach of the Nameless One, feeling out this
place before entering it. He saw Bryce's shard of eternity,
and realized that through the combination of both
nothing and everything they could all be destroyed. But
Apeiros made her presence felt. She took the connection
of all of the people who heard Bryce's words and used
the powerful possibilities of such a combined group ...
... to replicate the cosmverse that the Nameless One
had found a million times ...
... to stretch his reach across an infinite number of
cosmverses, across an infinite number of Earths ...
... until the darkness finally became thin, snapping
apart as it stretched and stretched, losing its hold,
severing its connection ...
... and the light returned to the new infiniverse.
144
... and the Earth, all of the Earths, began to spin.
308
Epilogue:
The Near
Now
Later today, early tomorrow,

sometime next week ...

145
Father Bryce stood beside Mara on the maelstrom
bridge. The Dream Time connection was gone, and only
the stone bridge remained. Bryce looked at Mara, who
was holding a small remote control type box.
"What's that?" he asked.
"The remote for my data plate/jaz pack. I pressed it
while I was alone in the dark," she said.
"What did it do?"
"I don't know."
They were silent for a time, standing together between
two worlds. Bryce felt good. He hoped she did, too.
"What did we do here today, Mara?" Bryce asked.
"We created something new, I think. I have to figure
it all out. But later," she said. "Much later."
She took his hand with her right hand
(never with the left)
and together they started down the bridge toward
Aysle realm.
Toward Earth.
146
Jean Malraux had been lost in total darkness. He felt
the touch of the Nameless One, and thought for sure that
he was finally going to pay for the changes he had made
in his religion. He did not consider his actions sins
exactly, but he felt that one day there might be a
reckoning. He was certain, as the blackness engulfed
him, that this was that day.
He didn't know how much time had passed before he
felt the pinpricks on his back flare with sensation. It
wasn't pain, not really. It was more like a tiny charge of
energy being released, and he felt it flow into his body.
That was when the darkness was replaced with the
310
The Nightmare Dream
vision.
Light bathed Malraux, flooding him, illuminating his
soul. In the light he saw the vision of a paradise, a place
where the sins of the flesh had been contained by
machines! There were people like the young woman on
the bridge, made of flesh and machine, and they seemed
strong and at peace.
"What are you showing me?" Malraux asked. "What
does this mean?"
More images flashed before him, and he saw the
people connect with machines in ways that he would
have once called blasphemy. His darkness device floated
before him, the celestial cross of Avignon, caught in the
middle of the high-tech dream. The dream images flowed
into the cross, illuminating its obsidian face. As the
antipope watched, he saw snaking veins of circuitry
spread throughout the obsidian cross. The darkness
device was accepting this dream!
"What does this mean?" Malraux asked again.
The cross sang to him. It was the familiar song that he
had heard throughout the centuries, only now it had a
new twist. The circuitry veins emerged from the cross,
reaching toward Malraux with purpose and
determination. Before he could react, the wires attached
to his flesh and penetrated his skin.
"We are not alone," Malraux said as the wires worked
their way into his body, melding with his hand and face.
The technology was so powerful! Malraux cherished the
sensations it filled him with.
He looked down and he saw the bridge of light
beneath him, leading from this dream realm toward
Earth. Below that, he could see Earth's Avignon. Already
the images of technology were rushing down the bridge
to change the reality of Magna Verita on Earth. Sparkling
311
lines of circuitry erupted along the bridge as the new

reality took hold.
"The age of the Cyberpapacy is here," Malraux said,
repeating the words his darkness device sang to him. "I
am this world's saviour — I am the Cyberpope."
He stepped onto the bridge to meet his flock.
147
Ellen Conners stood before the microphones, printed
speech in her hand. She tapped the microphones once,
then spoke.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I have the
conclusions of the Delphi Council's investigation into
the assassination of President Jonathan Wells," Conners
began. "The assassin has been identified as Congressman
Andrew Jackson Decker."
A hush fell over the assembled crowd. Conners leaned
forward to continue when a voice called out of the
audience.
"Excuse me, Madame Director, but I have evidence
that refutes your findings!"
"Who said that?" she demanded. "Identify yourself."
"Certainly," Senator Robert Cage said as he stepped
forward. Beside him were Major Charles Covent, Colonel
McCall, and the two teens, Coyote and Rat.
Conners face dropped as they made their way to the
podium to speak.
148
Mobius watched the spot where the vortex had once
churned, willing it to start spinning again. It refused.
What's more, the planet was turning, once again spinning
its ordinary cycle of day and night.
He stood on the deck of his boat, watching the sea. He
312
The Nightmare Dream
had failed again. He would not become the Torg today.

But his realm was in place. He had time.
He had all the time in the world.
"Take us back to the Nile," he ordered, and Dr.
Mobius entered his cabin, slamming the door behind
him.
149
Tolwyn stepped from the maelstrom bridge and bent
to examine the field of crys flowers. It worked! She had
remembered the land as Ardinay had commanded,
releasing her memories in the Dream Time through her
story, and they were reflected into a new land. She
smiled, looking up to see Lady Ardinay step from the
bridge, the dwarves beside her, Kurst, Julie and Djil
behind them. In Tolwyn's memories, Lady Ardinay was
Lady Ardinay, so Uthorion was forced out as the Lady
of the Light returned to her body.
The Lady of the Light looked upon the assembled
forces of Aysle that had awaited her. She smiled. "The
war is over, my people," Ardinay who was Ardinay
again called. "Put away your weapons for another day.
Now the healing must begin."
Ardinay embraced Tolwyn, and the paladin felt like
a girl again. She hugged the Lady of the Houses back,
returning the love she felt for the great woman.
"Yay!" the dwarves shouted in unison. "Hai,Tolwyn!
Hai, Aysle!"
150
Somewhere in the portion of Aysle realm that was
once Scandinavia, Uthorion opened Thorfinn Bjanni's
eyes and gazed upon the elven wizard, Delyndun. Then
he closed the Viking's eyes. He needed to rest, for
313
sundering souls weakened him so.

And he had so much still to do.
151
Beneath Illmound Keep, Thratchen stared into the
swirling maelstrom that held the Gaunt Man. He watched
as the High Lord continued through his cycle of rebirth
and destruction.
"The Nameless One is more than a legend, Gaunt
Man," Thratchen said softly. "Much more. I have learned
that this day. But I also learned that the other child of the
maelstrom exists as well. There is much to contemplate."
He turned and left the chamber.
He did not see the Gaunt Man's hand stretch out from
the maelstrom, flex, then get pulled back in by the raging
forces of destruction.
Here ends
The Nightmare Dream,
Book Three of
The Possibility Wars™.
314
Novels
Don't miss any of
the other volumes in
The Possibility Wars™!
\ /

Book One
of The
Possibility Wars

Book Two
of The
Possibility Wars

Now live the realities ...
KULKBOOK
If you've enjoyed reading The

Possibility Wars, you can now
live them in this exciting new
roleplaying game from
WEST
u J&Imies
RD 3 Box 2345
Honesdale, PA 18431

... explore the realms ...
Sourcebooks

\
... discover the possibilities.
Adventures

Look for all these
products at your
favorite book or
hobby store ...or
write to
WEST
uvVISmes
RD 3 Box 2345
Honesdale, PA 18431

” s
The Infiniverse is
Waiting...
The story of the Possibility Wars continues as heroes and High
Lords.clash to determine the reality of Earth. Infiniverse lets
you take a part in that story.
What is Infiniverse?
Infiniverse is a 16-page monthly newsletter that intro-
duces you to new characters, creatures, miracles, spells
and adventures within the realms of Torg. Infiniverse is
a forum for players and readers to ask questions about
the Possibility Wars and get answers straight from the
game designers and authors who hold all the secrets.
You Can Win the Possibility Wars
By compiling results from Torg roleplayers all around
the world West End Games can compute how well Earth
is defending itself against the High Lords. YOU get to
influence the direction of the Possibility Wars by telling
us what happens in YOUR campaign. In return, you'll
receive a response form with new dangers and benefits
based on your campaign's successes and failures.
How Can I Get It?
The cost of Infiniverse is only $25 for 12 issues (outside
of the U.S., $30). Simply send a check or money order
along with your name and address to West End Games,
Dept. 20603, RD 3 Box 2345, Honesdale, PA 18431. We'll
start your subscription right away and every time you
play the Torg roleplaying game, you have the option of
sending your results to us via a West End response form
(included in Infiniverse). Even if you don't participate in
the interactive game, Infiniverse is still the best source of
new information about the ever-changing universe of
Torg: The Possibility Wars.
: /

Earth is caught in a waking nightmare ... a
nightmare of different realities and invading
horrors from other worlds.
One such horror is the Wild Hunt. This pack of vicious
spirits serves the High Lords of the cosmverse, eliminating
all who stand in the way of their masters' goal — to steal
the awesome energy of Earth's possibilities.
THE POSSIBILITY WARS

But Earth has defenders. The storm knights have the
power to thwart the High Lords' plans. The werewolf
Kurst, once a trusted hunter for the Gaunt Man, fights to
push back the invaders. The aborigine shaman Djil, who left
behind his home in the Outback, battles to preserve what
remains of Earth's reality. With their companions Tolwyn,
Decker, Father Bryce and Mara, the storm knights must face
the final nightmare — if they are to save their dream!
The Nightmare Dream continues the saga of Torg: The
Possibility Wars that began in Storm Knights and The Dark
Realm. This spectacular epic of adventure, magic, and high-
technology is set on a reality-torn Earth — an Earth warped
into someplace else.
ISBN 0-07431-303-1
8874 2

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BILITY WARS

Created by Greg Gerden and Bill Slavicsek

Michael Annis (Order #13994246)

Tolwyn entered the crypt, stepping through the aged

Michael Annis (Order #13994246)

They have come from other cosms,

Michael Annis (Order #13994246)

The Nightmare Dream

Cover Art by Daniel Horne

Michael Annis (Order #13994246)

BBnIsmÄ” Ca"'°8 C"d N“mb"’ 9°-70246

West End Games

Michael Annis (Order #13994246)

And to those people behind the

Michael Annis (Order #13994246)

Damn all stormers to the depths

Michael Annis (Order #13994246)

Thratchen sat upon the Gaunt Man's throne of bones,

"But where is he?" General Wellington asked

High Lords are crushed beneath the Gaunt Man's heel,

through the door. It closed in her wake.

because he did not try. Thratchen's one-time master,

magical reality - but had somehow returned to life to

Instead, he betrayed the High Lord and joined the

with his built-in cyber equipment, it would still be

took her back in the blink of an eye. But Mara screamed.

was the infinite pain of the Gaunt Man, forever dying,

Dreams are shadows of the real

Beware what you dream, for the

Michael Annis (Order #13994246)

Her name was Mara, and her pain was almost

subsequent invasion of the Sims. If she had never

friends and companions against the Sims, suddenly

man who will be with me simply because of love. No,

off with a fierce look. He had seen that look before. It

dismissing McCall without pause.

out of her seat, "I'm not finished speaking to you yet."

pushed it away. Then he turned from the still-ranting

opening day baseball game. Unfortunate because that

map spread across it.

Michael Annis (Order #13994246)

cross into the bounded area, bringing the Living Land

"No, High Lord. Paragon was not found."

when they eventually reached the place she called Aysle?

They walked in silence, conserving their strength and

the creature, and it was toward them that the creature

The effect was disconcerting, and the monsters were

"What are we going to do, Coyote?" Rat asked at last.

smiled at him, and the boy felt no humor or friendliness

Michael Annis (Order #13994246)

toward him as it finished its grisly work on the animal.

of these scenarios happen before. What makes you think

Twentynine Palms with Decker's comatose body after

there are more important things to be done."

Toolpin and the insect creature, but little else beyond

"You can give me the source of power you carry. Do not

him. It continued forward at a steady pace, all of its dead

Michael Annis (Order #13994246) 43