Dormia (47 page)

"Thanks," said Bilblox. "That bugger was makin' minced meat of my leg."

"You're quite the brigadier general," added Resuza admiringly.

"Oh it was nothing," said Hill with a dismissive wave of his hand. But it was clear to everyone that he was quite pleased. "Just doing my duty."

"Hey look," said Alfonso. "We're here!"

They were rapidly approaching the Tree Palace. High above, dozens of plants of war were now hurtling through the air, and a good number of them seemed to be landing inside the Tree Palace. Hill hurriedly began reloading his Colt .45 revolver. He looked at everyone else. "Be ready," he said. "It looks like we'll have more plants of war to deal with."

"Yeah," said Alfonso. "We'll have to keep our eyes open. There are a lot of nooks where those plants can hide."

The palace itself, which had been so bright and inviting in the warm glow of day, was dark and quite strange in the dead of night. In the background, they all heard the beating in the
distance of the Dragoonya war drums:
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The Founding Tree, which rose up from the palace like an enormous plant from a tiny pot, was also darkened and foreboding against the night sky. Water dripped onto them, probably from the leaf-sweepers up on the tree, using their hoses to spray down the leaves. Soon all of the nine remaining chariots in the convoy pulled up to the front steps of the Tree Palace. Hill hopped out of his chariot and bounded up the steps. "We have no time to lose!" yelled Hill. "My team should follow me. The rest of you, follow the Great Sleeper!"

"Yes sir!" called the Dormian soldiers as they poured out of their chariots. "Long live the Great Sleeper. Long live Somnos!"

Hill paused, glanced over at Alfonso, and said in a hoarse voice, "Good luck, my nephew. I'll see you soon. Fight bravely and Godspeed!"

A
FTER PARTING
ways with his uncle, Alfonso set out for the main chamber of the Founding Tree. According to Colonel Pissaro, the only way to enter the main chamber was through a secret doorway situated in Dr. Nostrite's tree office. "It's hard to describe," explained Colonel Pissaro. "I only hope you're not afraid of heights!"

Colonel Pissaro hurried onward and the rest of the group followed. Upon arriving at the base of the Founding Tree, Pissaro led them up a narrow flight of stairs that ended at a large platform. He whistled loudly and looked up into the canopy of the Founding Tree. Alfonso and everyone else looked up as well and saw a large wooden box descending from the sky. As the box drew closer, Alfonso realized that it was actually an elevator, suspended on a series of ropes that hung from a branch of the Founding Tree. Once the entire group was inside the elevator, Colonel Pissaro whistled once again and the elevator shot up. The elevator had large openings on each side, offering them a spectacular view of Somnos.

They could see a massive battle raging at the northern gate of the city. Thousands of Dragoonya soldiers were assaulting the city. Some were using catapults to launch plants of war into the city, some were climbing their way over the city walls with ladders, and still others were preparing to bash in the gate with a giant battering ram. In response, the Dormian archers were unleashing a torrent of arrows on the attacking army. At this point, it was impossible to say who had the upper hand, but Alfonso knew that if Nartam succeeded in burning down the Founding Tree, the outcome of the battle below would hardly matter.

After a minute or two of climbing up, the elevator came to an abrupt halt. Colonel Pissaro exited the elevator and walked out onto the biggest tree branch that Alfonso had ever seen. It was at least twenty feet across. The top of the branch was also remarkably flat so it was as easy to walk on as a road.

"This way," said Colonel Pissaro as he directed them around the back of the elevator and into a large wooden tree house attached to the trunk of the Founding Tree. The tree house itself was quite large. It appeared to have many spacious rooms and several balconies that looked out onto the city. Colonel Pissaro proceeded directly to the back of the tree house, where they found a small door marked
CHUTE
. Here, they found Dr. Nostrite guarding the way with a dagger in each hand. His face was covered with sweat and his arms were shaking with fright.

"What is the meaning of this!" asked Dr. Nostrite angrily.
His high-pitched Dormian voice sounded even squeakier than normal. "These are my private offices and I did not give you permission to enter. Especially since the criminal leaf-burner is here! Trying to get to the tree's source, eh? Need more powder now that your Dragoonya friends are here?"

Alfonso placed a cautioning hand on Bilblox's shoulder. "Dr. Nostrite," he replied in a soothing tone, "please understand: we need to get into the main chamber right away. These are direct orders from General Loxoc. We are trying to save the tree."

"The Great Sleeper is correct," added Colonel Pissaro.

"I don't care who issued your orders," growled Dr. Nostrite. "I don't trust this Great Sleeper—I never have—and I refuse to let any of you enter."

"Now be reasonable...," began Colonel Pissaro. But before he could utter another word, Bilblox stepped forward toward Nostrite's voice, raised his fist into the air, and swiftly hit the doctor over the head. Instantly, Dr. Nostrite collapsed to the ground.

"I'm sorry," said Bilblox. "But it had to be done."

"Don't be sorry, old boy," said Colonel Pissaro. "That man is an insufferable fool and it was about time someone knocked some sense into him."

"Come on," said Alfonso with a slight smile. "Let's have a look at what this chute is all about." He walked over to the round door and opened it. On the other side was a small room the size of a closet with a perfectly round hole in the floor. Just to the side of the hole stood an official-looking sign marked in English and Dormian heiroglyphs. Alfonso read it aloud for everyone's benefit:

WARNING: This chute leads directly to the main chamber of the Founding Tree. Only authorized personnel are allowed to use it. Those who ride the chute should be prepared for a very, very, very quick ride. Pregnant women, young children, senior citizens, those afraid of heights, and anyone who has just eaten a large meal should avoid using this device. Keep your legs together and your arms tucked in tightly at your sides as you descend. Above all, no flammable objects are allowed beyond this point!

"Oh boy," said Colonel Pissaro with a heavy sigh. "I have a cousin who rode this thing once. He is a big fat fellow who works in the grand vizier's office. He got to ride this thing on some official occasion and has never been the same since. Nowadays, he is so scared of heights he won't even go near a flight of stairs. He says that this chute was the ruin of him."

"Hogwash," replied Resuza. She boldly stepped forward, and before anyone could object, jumped feet-first into the darkened hole. "Yoweeeeee!" she yelled as she plummeted down. Her voice tapered off into nothing. Alfonso, Bilblox, Colonel Pissaro, and the twelve Dormian knights said nothing for a good long moment.

"Well," said Bilblox awkwardly. "It is good manners to let the lady go first—even if she is a traitor."

"I guess I'll go next," said Alfonso. "See you guys at the bottom."

Alfonso took a deep breath, tucked his hands into his pockets, and then hopped feet-first into the darkened hole. He felt his stomach shooting up into his throat and his eyes rolling back into his head. He couldn't see or hear anything. Wind pounded against his face. It felt as if he were spiraling down like an airplane about to crash. Slowly, he realized that he was riding a spiral slide that kept curving steeply down, like a giant corkscrew. Around and around and around he went. After what seemed like several minutes of near free-falling, the chute spit Alfonso out into a large pile of soft, cold powder. Groggily, Alfonso opened his eyes and saw that he was lying in a bank of snow.

"Whoa," he said with a sickly groan. "That was intense."

"I loved it!" said Resuza, who was standing several feet away. "I would do that all day if I could. How do
you
feel? You look rather ill."

"Don't rub it in," said Alfonso weakly. "Where are we?"

"I suppose we are in the main chamber," said Resuza. "Isn't this place amazing?"

Alfonso looked around. They were in an enormous cavern that appeared big enough to fit a football stadium. Heavy fog hugged the ground and it felt as if they were inside a cloud. The cavern floor was blanketed with perfectly white snow and in several places the snow had accumulated into banks that were twenty feet high. The walls of the main chamber, by contrast, appeared to be made of a soft, sticky, green covering. This green covering must have been quite hot to the touch because it was giving off a great deal of steam. It was an odd environment in the main chamber—both hot and cold at once—and the feel of it reminded Alfonso of late spring in Minnesota when he could cross-country ski in his shorts.

Alfonso noticed several large holes in the wall that opened into giant tunnels. The room reminded him of a giant subway station with tunnels arriving from all parts of the city. But these tunnels, Alfonso realized, were actually the roots of the Founding Tree. It all began to make sense. Chunks of ice from the High Urals around Somnos floated along the root system into the main chamber. Once the chunks of ice arrived here, the warm walls of the main chamber melted them into water, and the Founding Tree quenched its thirst.

As if all this wasn't strange enough, Alfonso suddenly realized that it was snowing. He was in the main chamber of a massive tree, presumably hundreds of feet underground, and yet there was no doubt that soft and full snowflakes were peacefully floating to the ground.

"How..."

"Is it snowing?" Resuza finished his thought. "I am not positive, but I believe it comes from the same place as this fog. This cavern has its own weather system! I thought it would be some dreary, dark place, but this is even stranger and more amazing. Where is the light coming from?"

Alfonso looked up and soon noticed that the ceiling of the main chamber was lined with thousands of small glass lanterns, each of which was filled with fireflies. This made perfect sense, thought Alfonso, because the fireflies gave off light without creating any fire hazards. Resuza was right. This place
was
amazing!

Suddenly, Alfonso heard a loud rattling noise coming from directly above him. It sounded as if a large portion of the ceiling was about to cave in.

"Get moving!" said Resuza. "Someone else is coming down the chute!"

Alfonso sprang to his feet and got out of the way. A moment later, Bilblox shot out of a small black hole in the ceiling and dropped down into a nearby snowbank. Bilblox hit the ground with a tremendous thud and there he lay—utterly motionless. Alfonso was afraid that his big, blind friend was seriously injured. But then Bilblox raised his head and smiled like a big kid. "Fantastic!" groaned Bilblox. "That was the most fun I've had in weeks!"

Resuza hurried over to where Bilblox was lying and extended her hand. "Let me help you," she said.

"I don't need any help from a traitor," snarled Bilblox.

"Come on," said Alfonso. "We all deserve a second chance. You should know that better than anyone. Why don't you give her a break?"

"Why do ya trust her?" asked Bilblox.

"Same reason I trust you," replied Alfonso. "Sometimes you just have hunches about people."

"No one ever gave me a break," muttered Bilblox. "But what does that matter?"

***

Over the course of the next fifteen minutes, Colonel Pissaro and all twelve of his Dormian knights followed this same trajectory—shooting out of the small hole in the ceiling and landing in the snowbanks. As this was happening, Alfonso and Resuza explored the fog-filled main chamber. To their enormous relief, they quickly discovered that there were no signs of Nartam or his men anywhere. Apparently, the Dormians had succeeded in beating the Dragoonya in the race to the main chamber. Now all they had to do was wait and ready themselves for the enemy to arrive.

Colonel Pissaro posted one of his Dormian knights just inside each of the ten different roots that led into the main chamber. The rest of the group hid in between two snowbanks and waited. Ten minutes passed and nothing happened. Then, a few minutes later, one of the Dormian knights gave a low whistle. Alfonso and the others all looked up and directed their attention toward the tunnel from which the whistle had come.

Soon they heard a distant crunching—the way ice sounds when it is being stepped on.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Something was definitely moving through that tunnel toward the main chamber. They saw one faint speck of light, then a few more. Soon they saw approximately thirty specks of light bobbing and weaving gently through the fog as if carried by a faint breeze. The Dormian knights who had been stationed in each of the ten different roots quietly rejoined the rest of the group hidden behind the tall snowbanks. The fog seemed to get thicker, and all of them shivered in the chilly conditions. All they saw were hazy pinpricks of light that became more ominous the closer they came. Alfonso gulped and for a second wished that he was blind like Bilblox—the scene would haunt him for years to come.

The procession of lights drew nearer, and it soon became clear that these lights were torches—torches being held by Dragoonya soldiers. The Dragoonya were dressed in full battle gear. They wore pointy steel-tipped boots, chain mail armor
covered with feathers, and battle helmets with protruding metal beaks. Four of these soldiers were carrying an old man on a large chair. He wore heavy gray robes. His face was haggard and shriveled and his long bony hands quivered uncontrollably. Nartam! He appeared to have aged thirty years since they had seen him in his disguise as Dr. Van Bambleweep. Clearly, from the looks of him, Nartam had run out of Dormian ash, and now the last signs of life were oozing out of him.

Alfonso felt his heart pounding in his chest like a wrecking ball. It all came down to this moment. He and his men were outnumbered roughly three-to-one. They had estimated that Nartam was traveling with just a dozen men. That had been a miscalculation; there were at least three dozen. But there was no turning back now. The fate of Somnos rested in their hands. The only advantage that they had now was the element of surprise. "Steady," Pissaro whispered to the group. "We'll wait until they go right past us and then we'll ambush them from behind."