Dormia (48 page)

Slowly, the procession drew nearer. As the group entered the main chamber, the Dragoonya soldiers came to a halt and stood at attention, waiting for further orders. Nartam rapped his knuckles against the wooden arm of his chair. The knights who were carrying him set his chair down. Shakily, Nartam rose to his feet and looked around. "Draw your swords," he said in a deep, hoarse voice that quivered with fatigue. Instantly, all thirty Dragoonya unsheathed their swords. The sound was enough to raise the hairs on the back of Alfonso's neck.

"Fan out and search the chamber," said Nartam calmly. "Kill any leaf-sweepers or anyone else that you find."

All of the Dragoonya soldiers grunted and nodded in unison.

"Now's the time—we can't wait any longer," whispered Alfonso to Colonel Pissaro. "Have your men fire at them while they're still in a tight group."

The colonel gave a discreet hand gesture. The four of his men who were archers loaded their crossbows, nodded off to sleep, and took aim. "Now!" whispered the colonel.
Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang!
Four arrows shot through the air with perfectly accurate precision and immediately four Dragoonya knights fell to the ground. "Attaaaaaaaaaack!" yelled Colonel Pissaro as he rose to his feet. "Fight for Somnos!"

The ambush had worked! Nartam hadn't foreseen this. They had surprised him! Alfonso's heart raced with hope and excitement. This couldn't have happened if Nartam still possessed the purple ash. Nartam and the Dragoonya were beatable!

Alfonso and the entire group of Dormians let out a wild, raging war cry and then charged directly at the band of Dragoonya. To his surprise, Alfonso felt totally ready for this moment; and, as he sprinted toward the enemy, he effortlessly slipped into the hypnogogic state. The first thing that Alfonso noticed was that a Dragoonya archer was pointing his crossbow directly at Colonel Pissaro. Without the slightest hesitation, Alfonso reached into his pocket, pulled out his blue sphere, and threw it directly at the archer.
Swoosh!
The sphere shot through the air like a cannonball and hit the Dragoonya archer smack in the chest, causing him to fly backwards a good fifteen feet. In the blink of an eye, the blue sphere was back in Alfonso's hand. A second later, Alfonso sensed that a spear was coming through
the air in his direction, so he ducked, rolled, sprang to his feet, and continued his charge. An enormous Dragoonya knight, who had to be almost seven feet tall, spotted Alfonso and attempted to slice him in two with his enormous battle sword. Alfonso jumped, leapt over the sword, and dove back toward the ground. As soon as he landed, Alfonso threw his sphere and—an instant later—the knight crumpled to the ground.

Alfonso looked around. The air was filled with hoarse shouts and the sound of steel clashing against steel. Colonel Pissaro was dueling with two Dragoonya soldiers. Resuza was throwing daggers and leaping around as if springs were attached to her feet. Bilblox was swinging his fists with such incredible intensity that it compensated for the fact that he couldn't see a thing. The Dormian knights were fast asleep and expertly wielding their swords. Only one question loomed in Alfonso's mind: where was Nartam? Then, out of the corner of his eye, Alfonso saw Nartam disappear around a snowbank at the far corner of the main chamber. He had a flickering torch in his hand and Alfonso knew what he was up to—he was going to burn down the Founding Tree!

Alfonso broke into a sprint. As fast as he could, he ran across the deep, snowy floor of the main chamber. At one point, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned his head and saw Resuza. "I'm coming with you!" she gasped. Alfonso nodded and kept sprinting.

By the time the two of them reached Nartam it was too late. He had already used his torch to light a small portion of one of the main chamber's walls. Despite the fact that the wall itself was very moist—and giving off a great deal of steam—it was burning. Small rivers of red flames made their way up the walls
of the main chamber. As this happened, a few specks of bright purple powder began to waft down toward Nartam. He looked up and the powder settled lightly like snow onto his face, in his hair, and on his wide-open eyes. He wept—wept and moaned to himself. "I am saved," he said in between sobs. Purple tears ran down his face. "I am saved, I am saved!
Once again!
I am saved!"

Rather suddenly, Nartam sensed that he was not alone. He tensed, spun around, and saw Alfonso and Resuza approaching with their weapons drawn. Alfonso held his blue sphere and Resuza had a throwing dagger in each hand. Nartam didn't flinch or show any signs of fear. He looked much healthier and stronger than just seconds before. The powder was miraculous: he had become a much younger man. His face, which had been drawn and gaunt, now looked full. His chest, which had been measly and sunken, now seemed strapping. His spine, which had been slouched, was ramrod straight. And his arms, which had been almost twiglike, had grown wide and muscular. Even his skin had changed. Instead of pockmarked and sagging, it was smooth and firm.

"You fools!" hissed Nartam. "You are late. Again, too late. Just like every other Great Sleeper for all these thousands of years. As you can see, I have already set fire to the Founding Tree. If you had any sense at all, you would run while you still can."

"This fire can still be put out and I'm going to—" began Alfonso.

"You'll do nothing," sneered Nartam as he blinked furiously, allowing the purple ash to dissolve into a moist film over his eyes. "Don't you see, little boy? It's all over. As we speak my
men are taking the city. The only thing left to do is let this tree burn, so if you don't mind..."

"
No,
" said Alfonso, hoping he sounded determined. He took a step closer to Nartam, as if to grab him. "I won't let you."

"You won't let me?" cackled Nartam. "You and this little runaway slave? Ha! You may be the most incompetent Great Sleeper I have ever destroyed. You and your uncle allowed Kiril to follow you halfway around the globe and then you led us right into the heart of Somnos. You have
let
me do everything I wanted to do and more. And when this city burns, which it soon will, it will have little to do with me, or my soldiers, or even your Dormian knights. It will burn because you—in your callowness—have let it burn. Destiny is at work here. It was both inevitable and ill-fated that the Dormians entrusted the fate of their last city to such a foolish boy. Now step aside," he growled. "Your role in all of this is done."

"Resuza," said Alfonso. "Put out the fire and I'll take care of Nartam."

A puzzled and slightly amused look crept across Nartam's face as if he knew some humorous little secret. Alfonso ignored this; instead, he took a deep breath and a split-second later, hurled the blue sphere through the air. Nartam dove to his left and avoided it with ease. Alfonso had thrown the sphere faster than a bullet, and yet for Nartam it was child's play to step aside.

Alfonso threw the sphere again and, once more, Nartam skillfully dove out of the way. This time, however, Nartam hurtled toward Alfonso, did a quick somersault, popped back on to his feet with lightning speed, and smashed Alfonso in the chest. He flew twenty feet in the air, dropped the blue sphere, and
landed in a nearby bank of snow. Alfonso struggled to get up, but before he could even get to his feet, Nartam had darted across the snow and retrieved the sphere. It was as if Nartam knew
exactly
where the sphere was going to land ahead of time. Alfonso looked about helplessly. He was weaponless.

"Don't you get it?" sneered Nartam. "I can foresee your every move before you even think about making it. I have enough ash in my eyes to foresee all of your feeble attempts to fight. It's hopeless."

Alfonso said nothing.

Meanwhile, Resuza was working furiously to put out the fire by throwing chunks of wet snow on the portion of the wall that was now ablaze. It didn't appear to be working; the fire was slowly spreading up. What's more, the specks of ash mixed with steam from the melting snow created a cloud of purple.

"Resuza, get away from there," yelled Alfonso as he sprang back to his feet. "Don't let that stuff get in your eyes or you'll go blind like Bilblox."

"What do you want me to do?" screamed Resuza. "The tree is going to burn!"

"Yes, children," replied Nartam calmly. "Yes it will."

M
EANWHILE, HILL LED
a group of ten Dormian soldiers to the top floor of the Tree Palace, which contained General Loxoc's spacious office. They ran up the palace's main staircase and, upon reaching the top floor, crept along a darkened corridor until they reached their destination, two massive marble doors intricately carved with famous battle scenes from Dormian history. The doors were slightly ajar—and a thin sliver of light shone through.

"That door is supposed to be locked!" whispered one of the soldiers. "The enemy is already here—they've taken the bloom!"

"Draw your swords!" commanded Hill.

They silently drew their weapons. Hill cocked his Colt .45
revolver, took a deep breath, and shoved open the door. They all rushed inside.

Instead of surprising a horde of Dragoonya, they found only one person: he was slender but sported a bushy mane of hair, like a paintbrush. A faded leather satchel hung over his shoulder.

"Clink! What are you doing here?" yelled one of the soldiers. "And why have you unlocked General Loxoc's safe?"

"You know this guy?" asked Hill.

"Everyone does," replied the solider. "He's the city's most famous pickpocket."

Clink spun around nervously. He was standing in a far corner of the general's office, next to a massive walk-in safe whose door reached from floor to ceiling. The safe was open. The Dormian bloom sat inside, healthy and untouched. Clink, however, was holding an ornate, jewel-encrusted sundial.

"Clink?" said Hill. "That name sounds familiar ... You're the one that helped Bilblox break out of prison."

"He's stealing the Dolorius sundial!" said the soldier. "The Great Sleeper Marcus Dolorius used it to make his famous maps of the Urals. It's nearly two thousand years old."

Clink immediately returned the sundial to its resting place within the safe. "Not so," he protested. "I heard the commotion by the gates and came here to safeguard everything." He smiled weakly.

"Your city is in mortal danger, and all you can think of is stealing," muttered the soldier. He advanced toward Clink. "You'll pay for this,
thief.
"

At that moment, Hill heard a scurrying noise coming from the hallway. It sounded familiar. A sudden memory appeared in
Hill's mind: upon entering the greenhouse back in World's End, Minnesota, they had heard the same noise.

"Close the door!" Hill yelled. "We've got company—Dragoonya plants of war are here!"

Four soldiers immediately closed the massive marble doors and locked them shut.

"That won't hold them," said Clink. "It took me ten seconds to pick that lock from the outside. It's a lot flimsier than it looks."

"Brace yourselves," shouted Hill. "Clink, do something about that door!"

"Easy enough," replied Clink. He shut the safe, vaulted over Loxoc's long desk, and approached the marble doors. The scurrying noise outside was growing louder. Clearly, more plants of war had arrived. Clink put his eye to the keyhole and peered through. Just at that moment, a delicate brown root made its way into the keyhole from the other side of the door. One of the Dragoonya plants of war was using its roots to pick the lock.

"One of the plants is already at the lock!" Clink shouted. He immediately whipped out a thinly tapered metal rod from his satchel and inserted it into the lock mechanism. He twisted it back and forth so that more than half of the rod was pushed inside the lock. He then bent the rod toward the floor. It snapped in half, leaving the rest jammed inside the lock mechanism.

"They won't get in now—the lock is completely jammed," said Clink with a smile. "Unless they can break down this door, we'll be fine."

For the next ten minutes, Clink, Hill, and the ten Dormian soldiers listened to the Dragoonya plants of war in the hallway
trying to find a way inside. Roots slithered underneath the door but found nothing to help them. The plants took turns hurtling their hard shells against the marble doors, but the doors didn't even shake.

Hill smiled at Clink. "Good job!" he exclaimed. "I think we've managed to outwit those beasts."

"Yeah," replied Clink. "It's a good thing I came along to help sa—"

Crash!

The room filled with the sound of breaking glass. They whirled around and saw plants of war entering the room through two shattered windows.

"We must guard the safe!" roared Hill. He looked at Clink. "Please tell me you locked it!"

Clink appeared terrified, but nodded.

They dashed to the safe and formed a protective semicircle around it. In front were two rows of Dormian soldiers, who fell asleep at once. Behind them, and closest to the safe, were Hill and Clink. Hill immediately began firing his Colt .45 with pinpoint accuracy. Clink withdrew a glittering, razor-sharp dagger from his satchel, unsheathed it, and cut away plant of war roots that were creeping toward them. They all defended their ground with incredible ferocity and bravery. Dozens of Dragoonya plants were immediately destroyed. However, they poured through the windows, as thick as locusts.

Hill soon ran out of bullets. He threw aside his revolver and picked up the sword of a Dormian soldier who had just been killed. Despite the skill of the Dormians, the Dragoonya plants of war never stopped coming. Their hard shells littered the floor and began to pile up around the small band of defenders.

One by one, the Dormian soldiers fell, overcome by the sheer number facing them. The battle raged for more than an hour and by the end, only Hill, Clink, and one Dormian soldier were left. Their swords were broken but they used the snapped-off handles as daggers and kept fighting. All the furniture was destroyed. The candles lighting up the room had been extinguished. Darkness filled the room.