Dreamscape: Saving Alex (17 page)

I watched him leave, feeling a pang of longing
with every step he took. My chest heaved, refusing to hold anything but my
shattered heart.

“Yes,” I whispered, feeling the lingering of his
lips and the burn of regret.

The morning sun attacked me with its blinding
light as dust swirled around me. I rubbed my eyes, wiping away the sleep and
dirt. After our fight, I didn’t dare return to the tavern. I couldn’t. There
was nothing more for me to say. I would have to wait for Arrow to lead me to
the highway, and then we’d go our separate ways.

I’d slept outside, curled up in my cloak under a
fallen sign. The shrieking wind had jolted me awake throughout the night,
providing a much-needed break from my troubled dreams.

The doors to the tavern burst open. The men
barreled past me with surly grimaces and grunts. The few that pretended not to
see me scuffed up dirt or kicked my cloak on their way across the street.

After the sleepless night, I didn’t have the
energy to fight their accusing eyes as they lined up. It didn’t take much
effort to guess what they thought about me. It came through loud and clear. I
had transformed from hero to traitor in one day as if I bore a scarlet “T”
stamped on my chest. If I wasn’t the bad guy here, why did I feel so guilty?

Arrow marched through the dusty street, his hair
falling in front of his dark eyes. He stopped in front of me and dropped my bag
at my feet.

“What’s this?” I asked, cautiously squinting up at
him.

He ignored my question and looked over to the men
gathering across the street. “I would stay over here until we’re ready to go,”
he said. The anger left over from last night simmered beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry,” I said, pursing my lips.

“So am I.”

“Is there anything?” I asked, letting the thought
linger.

He scoffed and brushed his hair back. Dark circles
surrounded his eyes, and deep lines etched his forehead. “No, you’ve done
enough.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I said, shaking my
head.

“Meant or not, Goldy, it’s the way it goes,” he
said, turning away.

I nodded and watched him leave. His shoulders
softened as he walked back, as if the weight of dealing with me had been
lifted. Really, though, it had just been transferred onto my shoulders. I sunk
deeper under my cloak and clutched the bag, teetering on the line between
denial and complete devastation. I hadn’t felt this alone since waking up in
this world.

The warmth on my hands surprised me. Peeking into
the bag, I breathed in a rush of steam from fresh rolls, which warmed my cheeks
and turned my stomach. Everything else was there: a new cloak, money boxes, the
remains of the money I’d taken, and, tucked underneath it all, an oversized
package of vines. The gnawing hole in my stomach doubled in size, and tears
welled up in my eyes.

How could he do this? This generosity confused me.
Everything about this world confused me.

I leaned against the gate, closing my eyes while I
waited. Maybe if I had told Arrow earlier, this could have been avoided. Could
it have, though? He seemed just as determined as I to have things play out on
his terms. I thought back to the manor, the missteps and close calls. Both our
agendas twisted around each other.

I sighed. Replaying the past wouldn’t change
anything. One thing I knew from playing the game was that when you finished a
level, you couldn’t go back. Whatever level Arrow belonged in was finished. It
was time to move on.

The wind picked up, and Arrow and his men formed a
line. My breath caught in my chest. They walked past me without a glance. I
jumped into line, leaving a significant distance between us. Dust swirled up
from the ground, and I covered my face, trying to keep from choking.

We walked for hours away from Flourin, crossing
northwest of the woods Arrow and I had taken to get to Baron Marix’s, through
miles of meadows and marshy grasslands. Their pace challenged me, but I didn’t
dare say anything. They didn’t owe me, and I didn’t want any favors. I didn’t
even want their attention. For the first time since being here, I faded into
the background.

It didn’t feel the same as I remembered.

I tightened the cloak, braving the brunt of the
wind. I was out of breath when we stopped at the crossroads where the mountains
met the wetlands.

“Goldy!” Arrow yelled.

“I’m coming,” I said, cursing the slight quiver in
my voice.

“Well, here we are.” Arrow clenched his jaw.
Sadness haunted his eyes, even though the rest of his face was emotionless.

“Thank you,” I whispered, breaking eye contact. If
I stared any more, I didn’t think I’d be able to leave. “What will you do now?
Where will you go?”

“We’ll continue with our plan. With or without
you, it’s time to settle this battle.”

“Is that safe? I mean, you could wait for another
hero.”

He gave me the same look he’d given me when I
slapped him. “It doesn’t work that way. I already told you, you were our only
chance.”

The silence stretched between us. “Arrow, I’m—”

“No,” he said, cutting me off. “It’s all been
said.” He pointed to the intersecting trails. “The trail to the right will take
you around the mountains. The one on the left will take you to the wetlands,
and if you’re looking for the shortcut home, go straight up the cliff.” That
sent his men into a fit of laughter. “Goodbye Goldy. I hope you find your way
home, I really do.”

“Good luck to you too, Arrow.” A tear slid down my
face, blurring the line of men. I turned away, trying to ignore the sadness
drowning me from the inside, and looked up towards the cliff. It was time to
end this game. He may have been joking about the shortcut, but this was a video
game. He might have told me something important without realizing it. And with
a shortcut, I might be able to get to the final level, and home, sooner. I’d
try the cliffs.

The enormity of the cliffs crushed me. Taller than
anything I had seen before, sheer walls rose hundreds of feet, vertical cracks
breaking the smooth surface. Fallen boulders filled the long crevasses. Clouds
collided with the stone, breaking into a river of mist at the top. I swallowed
hard and wiped my palms along my thighs.

Climbing came naturally to me, but this stretched
my limits. I dusted my palms and caressed the walls, searching for the right
hold. I found it. A narrow crevasse surrounded my palm like a glove. The next
one fit just as perfectly. One handhold led to another. Prickles of
anticipation shot through me. I climbed up the first twenty feet easily,
finding holds and ridges perfectly aligned for my height. That’s what I loved
about climbing. I chose my own path. Only I could see where to go next. And
when I reached the top, it was always worth it. The satisfaction I felt
reinforced my resolve, and I did something I shouldn’t have. I looked down.

Never look down. It was the first rule I was
taught, and the most important. Besides the obvious threat of disorientation, I
had a bad habit of second-guessing the path I had chosen. Hindsight was my
enemy. The world spun, and my fingers slipped against the smooth rock. I
couldn’t find any more obvious handholds, and I cursed my impulsiveness. There
was nowhere else to go. I had started in the wrong place.

Tightening my grip, I climbed down, and when I
reached the ground, I folded my arms across my chest and looked up. The
shortcut had to be here. I was sure of it. Trees and vines always marked the shortcuts
between levels, and fifty feet up, a tree jutted out from the sheer walls. If I
climbed there, I knew I’d find my next move.

I dragged my hand along the rough stone, walking
over fallen boulders and scattered bushes until I stood directly underneath the
tree. I pushed against the stone wall, applying different levels of pressure.
Nothing happened. The shortcut wouldn’t be as obvious or simple as an unwinding
vine from the game—or would it? My fingers slid across something smooth tucked
inside a vertical fissure between the rocks.

“Jackpot.” I curled my fingers around the twisted
plant. After a quick test to make sure it would hold my weight, I climbed.

The rope swayed with bursts of wind, and my feet
slipped, losing traction along the gritty wall. Sweat dripped down my face,
rolling over my arms, but I didn’t stop. I climbed until I reached the ledge
where the tree grew and pulled myself over. The vine continued higher up the
cliff, disappearing into the cloud of mist above.

I leaned into the trunk, letting the shade cool
the sweat beading at my temples. Resting my forehead against the rough bark, I
studied the horizon. From above, the details disappeared. Life didn’t get in my
way like it did when I was on solid ground. But climbing this mountain was
different. There was so much to see, and yet I couldn’t focus. I stared out
over Lockhorn, and details that I couldn’t ignore popped into my head.

The bark scratched my arms as I held on to the
tree, struggling against the forceful wind. Small rocks slid out from the
cracks surrounding the tree, echoing off the wall below. I followed the rocks
as they fell until I saw the trail I had started on. It was farther down than I
thought. A lump formed in my throat.

The dusty trail curved through the landscape. My
gaze followed its meandering path through the green land, marveling at how the
wetlands painted the earth below me. Shades of blue and green bent around each
other in an intricate pattern that I could just barely make out. I followed the
sweeping lines until I found a cluster of moving dots. That had to be Arrow and
his men.

The lump in the bottom of my stomach pulled me
down. I sighed. What was I doing here? In the game, shortcuts were easy, quick
ways to reach the end. Now it just felt like cheating.

I banged my head on the tree. It seemed so stupid.
On the list of the dumbest things I had done since arriving, this would top it.
Given the choice of having an army at my back or fighting on my own, I chose
myself. Why?

That was the million-dollar question. Why hadn’t I
just stayed with Arrow and offered my help? Weren’t our plans pretty much the
same? We both wanted to save the queen. We both needed to get to the castle.
I’d said I couldn’t be responsible for their lives, but that didn’t make sense.
If I thought they weren’t real, then it didn’t matter. And if I did believe,
then why didn’t I want their protection or support? Either way, neither of us
would succeed without saving the queen.

The longer I sat there, the more obvious it
became. I was an idiot. Hindsight, my biggest enemy in climbing, got me again.
I sighed and looked the other way.

The charred remains of trees lined the forest.
Dark patches intermixed with the lighter greens, winding in a design
reminiscent of the paisley wallpaper in our dining room. The memory forced its
way into my mind.

Natalie pressed down on my shoulders to peek
around the corner. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” I smirked and pointed to my mom,
hidden behind her favorite magazine in the living room. She wouldn’t notice us,
and Dad was still at work. “Coast is clear!”

Natalie snickered behind me and gave me a push.
“I want the strawberry one this time.”

“I think I ate all those. What about grape?”

“Sure, whatever.” She shrugged.

It was our third popsicle of the day and our
second box that week. Stealth was necessary.

I tiptoed away from our hiding spot towards the
kitchen. Water dripped from my bathing suit to the floor, turning the narrow
hallway into a slip-n-slide. Then my feet slid out from beneath me, throwing me
into the dining room instead of the kitchen.

It all happened in a second. I flailed, trying
to grab something to slow my fall before I hit the wall. My fingers wrapped
around a polished dining chair, pulling it away from the table. It tipped over,
banging the wall behind me. My second attempt at stopping was no better. The
blue gingham tablecloth slid easily off the table.

The next moments blurred together. Natalie’s
scream, my mom’s horrified expression, and the explosive crash of my great-grandma’s
china around me. Chunks of blue plates and white teacups shattered into puzzle
pieces. Small shards scratched my arms, and a large piece sliced my forehead by
my hairline.

“Alex! Are you all right?” My mom asked, biting
her nails as she brushed specks of china shards from my skin. “Natalie, get an
ice pack from the freezer.”

I leaned forward to cry in her arms, but she
turned away, focusing on the ground.

“Mom?”

She didn’t hear me. Tears slid down her cheek.

“Grandma, your china,” she whimpered, picking
up pieces of a broken platter. “What did you do? Alex, how could you do this?”

“It was an accident,” I said, reaching for her
arm.

“There are no accidents, only mistakes.” She
brushed off the china dust and left me alone. Broken, like the dishes.

I traced the scar.

That accident had defined me for too long. After
that, I became aware of limits. Everything had a limit; everything had a
consequence. I followed their orders, never knowing I had another choice.
Mistakes could either be fixed or left alone to fester. And for my mom and me,
that piece of wallpaper had never been repaired. Like Flourin, it posed a
constant reminder of the past.

I looked back towards the moving dots in the
wetlands. In this world, I didn’t have to make those same choices. I could
still fix this.

While I contemplated my options, movement along
the horizon caught my attention. The charred trees now hid under clouds of
dust. I squinted, trying to see through the haze, and covered my mouth.

“Oh no,” I gasped. A cluster of dark armor crossed
through the forest. I recognized the uniforms from Marix’s manor. These were
either his guards or Berkos’ men. I pulled my gaze from the dark mass to the
other side where Arrow’s men had stopped.