Zac and the Dream Stealers (2 page)

When Granny next spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper.

“What do you know about dreams, lad?”

Zac thought for a moment. “Am I dreaming
now
?” he asked.

“That depends on how you look at it,” said Granny. “Let me put it another way. Where do you go when you dream?”

Zac scratched his chin. After some consideration, he said, “I don't go anywhere. I'm asleep when I dream.”

“Aha!” said Granny, punching the air. “Your body is asleep. But what about the rest of you?”

Zac looked down at his robe and pajamas. “There isn't any more of me,” he said.

Granny laughed. “What about your spirit, Zac?” she exclaimed. “What about the bit of you that makes you
you
? It has to go somewhere while your body is resting, doesn't it? Otherwise it'd get bored and shrivel up, like a raisin!”

Zac stared at Granny. She appeared to be serious. He knew his mouth was hanging open, but he couldn't seem to do anything about it.

“Granny,” he began, “are you telling me that when I'm sleeping . . . a bit of me goes off somewhere else? And that's what a dream is?”

Granny produced her pipe from her cardigan and lit it. She took several puffs, and feathery wisps of smoke tickled the air. “Almost.”

“Where?” he said. “Where does it go?”

“To another world, on the other side of sleep — a place called Nocturne,” whispered Granny. “Actually, to a place
within
the land of Nocturne . . . somewhere called the Dream Plains. That's where everyone's spirit goes to play.”

“Granny?”

“Yes, lad?”

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“I've never been so serious about anything,” she said solemnly.

“How do you know about this? About Nocturne?” said Zac.

“I used to live there.”

“You what?”

“I know it's hard to believe, but you'd better start,” said Granny, “because terrible events in Nocturne are about to spill over into your world — the Waking World — and when that happens, there'll be no going back.”

“This is too weird,” said Zac, scratching his head nervously.

Granny tapped the end of her pipe against her teeth. “Look, just let me explain. It all started many years ago, when a group of people left the Waking World and traveled to Nocturne. We don't know how they dis-covered its existence, or how they managed to get there, because it was long before the Gateway was built.” She pointed to the crumbling arch in the center of the room. “When they arrived, they found that the whole of Nocturne was naturally charged with powerful magic — the magic that spills out of the dreams of Wakelings.”

“Whatlings?” said Zac.

“Wakelings — people from the Waking World,” Granny said. “Anyway, this group of travelers — the Nocturne Founders — realized they could harness this magic. But some of them wanted greater magical powers, and they soon realized that they could harness bad dreams more easily than good dreams. So they began to interfere with the dreams of Wakelings.”

“What did they do?” Zac asked, bobbing up and down in his chair.

Granny scrunched up her face as though she'd just got a whiff of fresh dog poo. “They twisted Wakeling dreams into nightmares. It did make their magic stronger. But it was a dark magic fed by the misery of others.”

“That's terrible!” exclaimed Zac.

“These dark magicians call themselves Dream Stealers,” said Granny, “and that's just what they are — they hijack dreams. They've been kept at bay for many years but now they're coming back, and they're growing stronger with every night that passes. Their dark magic is poisoning the dream world — and it's weakening the Knights. If we're going to have any chance of stopping them, we must act quickly. There's no other way. We leave for Nocturne tonight.”

“Wait. Whoa! What?” said Zac. “What do you mean?”

“Weren't you listening?” said Granny. “There's no time to waste!”

“But are you
sure
we aren't safe here in the Waking World?” asked Zac.

“I wish we were,” said Granny, shaking her head. “But that's not how it works. The more Dream Stealers there are, the more Wakelings will be tortured by terrible dreams. Nobody is safe, because everyone must sleep.”

“Is that what's been going on?” breathed Zac. “All the bad dreams I've been having . . . the reports on the news about the same thing happening all over the country . . . it's all because of Dream Stealers?”

Granny nodded. “If they get their way,” she said, “all dreams will turn to darkness. Zac, can you imagine what life would be like, knowing that you
must
sleep, but that whenever you do, you'll be tortured by your worst fears? People will be driven to do terrible things — the Waking World will be thrown into chaos.”

“But what can we do to help?” said Zac. “You're old and I don't have any magic powers.”

“How do you know?” asked Granny with a glint in her eye. “Listen, Zac, until now, the Dream Stealers have been held back by a group of
good
magicians known as the Knights of Nod. I happen to be one of them. Anyway, I'm not leaving you here alone while I go gallivanting off on some adventure!” Granny pointed to the crumbling archway. “Every night for the last few weeks, I've been meeting the Grandmaster of the Knights here. His name is Rumpous Tinn, and he's been keeping me up-to-date. There's a secret reason I've been away from Nocturne for so long, but tonight, he's taking me home.”

“Oh,” said Zac faintly. His head felt as if it were about to burst.

Granny ruffled his hair, making it stick up. “Don't worry,” she said. “I'll look after you. Have I ever let you down?”

Zac shook his head. She never had.

As they sat, both deep in thought, the Gateway began to rumble. Tiny pieces of rubble fell to the floor. The room began to shake. Books tumbled from their shelves. Zac gripped his armchair so tightly his fingers grew numb. All at once there was a strange heat and a smell of hot metal, then a blinding light radiated from the Gateway, spitting two figures clean across the chamber. They landed in a tangled heap.

Zac turned to Granny, but before he could speak, she'd grabbed his arm and hit the floor, dragging him behind one of the armchairs. By the look on her face, something was very wrong.

“What's happening?” he whispered.

“We've got a problem, lad,” she said. “Neither of those men is Rumpous Tinn.”

Rumpous Tinn, Grandmaster of the Knights of Nod, was somewhere altogether different.

He could make out lights twinkling overhead, cutting through the fog in his mind. After a while, he felt strong enough to sit up. His entire body ached.

He was sitting on the stone floor of a small square room. There was a silver door in the corner which was covered in intricate gilding. Torches hung in delicate silver holders, the flickering torchlight reflected in a crystal chandelier. Tinn frowned and pulled his white robe tightly around him. Where
was
he?

The last thing he could remember clearly was being attacked in the Eternal Forest. There had been voices all around him, and he had managed to deflect a number of Dream Stealer hexes. But they had been coming at him from all sides.

He stood and hobbled over to the door. The decoration was quite beautiful with floral patterns and flourishes everywhere. Tinn caught his reflection in the gleaming silver. He looked old and tired. There wasn't a single hair left on his shining head, but he made up for this with a huge white beard that covered his chin from ear to ear. He sighed. The magic battle had sapped his energy much more quickly than he'd expected. The Dream Stealers were indeed growing stronger.

An awful thought struck him, and he began to pat his beard. After a second or two of searching, his fingers touched the thing he was feeling for, and he closed his eyes in relief. So the Dream Stealers hadn't found it. Well, that was something. But then, why hadn't they just killed him? The reason couldn't be good. Tinn decided it would be wise to escape.

He reached for the door handle.

BANG!

Tinn spiraled backward through the air, landing hard on the polished stone. He felt as if his bones were on fire. Panting, he pulled himself up onto an ornate iron chair — the only piece of furniture in the room — and examined his hand. His palm was badly burnt. He grimaced. There were no windows, no other doors. He was a prisoner.

“Well, old man,” he said to himself, “good luck getting out of this one alone.”

“You ain't alone,” said a small voice, seemingly from nowhere.

Tinn leapt up amazingly quickly for a man of his years. His eyes searched the room for any sign of life. There was nothing. Perhaps he'd been hit on the head harder than he'd thought.

“I know what you're thinking,” said the voice, “but you ain't imagining me.”

“Show yourself!” demanded Tinn.

Silence.

“Show yourself, I say!”

“Why should I?” snapped the voice. “Them Dream Stealers, they're chomping at the bit to get their hands on me. They call me a ghost. Or a demon.”

Tinn's eyes widened. “Which are you?” he asked.

“I ain't neither.” But before the voice could elaborate, the sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor. “Sshh. They're coming back . . .”

Tinn felt something brush past him. “Wait!” he yelled. “Who are you?”

There was no answer. The door flew open, and two black-clad figures swept toward him. Silver skull masks covered their faces, and bone-shaped silver armored their forearms and hands, which were crossed over their chests. Dream Stealers: each one a walking skull and crossbones. One raised a hand and brought something heavy down hard across Tinn's face.

Dull pain coursed through the old man's head, and he fell into darkness once more.

Zac peeked around the armchair at the two men as they stumbled to their feet, clearly disoriented after coming through the Gateway.

Granny carefully lifted her spare set of gold spectacles from around her neck and began unscrewing one of the arms.

“What are you doing?” hissed Zac.

“Getting ready,” said Granny. The arm was now completely separated from the spectacles. She held it in her hand and put the remainder of the glasses into one of her cardigan pockets. “Stay here. Keep out of sight. And if anything should happen to me, you climb up the ladder to the surface of the pond and don't stop running until you're safe. Understand?”

“But —”

“Do you understand?”

Zac felt sick. He managed to nod.

Granny gave him a wink, then leapt out from behind the chair and flicked the arm of her spectacles at the two men like a tiny wand. There was a flash of purple, and a huge glowing net spread across the room, wrapping itself around the intruders, who toppled to the floor in a wriggling package.

Granny stood over them, her hand raised. “Who are you?” she demanded.

The astonished face of an old man stared back at her through the net. He had a bushy, ginger-gray mustache, and wore a crushed cowboy hat and a long black coat.

“Identify yourself!” yelled Granny, brandishing the arm of her glasses again.

“Evegenia, it's me! Cornelius!”

“Cornelius?” said Granny. “Cornelius who?”

“Huggins!” answered the man, squirming madly. “Cornelius Huggins, remember?”

Granny lowered her hand slightly. “Where is Rumpous Tinn?” she said.

“He's been taken, Eve,” replied the old man. “We were attacked by Dream Stealers in the Eternal Forest. Tinn distracted them long enough for us to escape. We came straight here.”

“I can't feel my legs!” whimpered the other person in the net.

Granny moved closer, staring at the old man's face. Her eyes suddenly lit up. “Cornelius!” she exclaimed. “It really is you!”

“I told you!” said the man. “Let me out, before my old bones seize up!”

Granny flicked the arm of her glasses once more, and the net disappeared.

The old man in the cowboy hat sprang up and stood before her, his arms wide. “Eve Wonder!” he said. “By the stars, it's good to see you!”

“You, too, Cornelius,” said Granny. “Sorry about that. Can't be too careful. I didn't recognize you under that mustache. It's been so long.”

“Fifty years!” bellowed Cornelius. “Tinn only told us you were alive a few months ago. The shock almost killed me!”

The second man stood up beside him. He was much younger than Cornelius, and wore a long blue velvet jacket covered with stars, and thick glasses that magnified his eyes hugely. He reminded Zac of an owl.

“This is Julius,” said Cornelius.

“How do you do,” said Granny, sticking out a hand. “I'm Evegenia Wonder. My friends call me Eve. And this is Zac. Now, what's happened? You say the Dream Stealers have Tinn?”

“They came out of nowhere,” said Julius. “I don't know how they knew we'd be in the forest, but they surrounded us. If it hadn't been for Tinn, we'd have been taken, too.”

“We must get him back,” said Granny. “Without Tinn, we don't have a chance against a new wave of Dream Stealers.”

“Agreed,” said Cornelius.

“Then let's get going,” said Granny.

Zac eyed the miniature wand. “Honestly, Granny, when I think of all the times I've been in fights at school because someone called you a witch,” he muttered. “I could have saved myself a few beatings if I'd known they were right.” He touched the purple bruise around his eye.

“Well, you know now,” said Granny with a chuckle. “Anyway, I'm a magician, not a witch. Here, let me fix that. Magic can heal little cuts and bruises quite easily.”

She flicked her wand and Zac felt a strange sensation, like warm honey, on his face. A moment later, the feeling was gone. Zac picked up a silver paperweight from among the scattered books on the desk. He peered at his warped reflection. The bruise had all but disappeared.

“Wow, thanks!” he said.

“I'm sorry I didn't fix that sooner, lad,” said Granny, “but I couldn't very well go mending every little injury you ever had with magic, could I? Someone would've noticed.”

Zac rubbed his cheek, and looked at the crumbling arch. “Are we
really
going through there?” he said.

“Yes,” said Granny. “That's the Gateway between the Waking World and Nocturne. But before we go through, there's something you must know. Something important.”

“What is it?”

“The Gateway is a dream arch. In a way, you'll be dreaming when we go through it. It's quite dangerous.”

Zac raised his eyebrows. “Dangerous?”

“Yes,” said Granny. “It'll show you a vision, something that'll try to tempt you into staying. Don't fall for it. If you get trapped in the Gateway, you'll be left floating somewhere between asleep and awake forever.”

“You really know how to put someone's mind at rest, don't you?” said Zac.

“This is no joke,” she snapped. “You mustn't stop. Understand?”

Zac stared into the old woman's eyes. She looked scared. “I promise,” he said.

She hugged him so tightly he thought his ribs would pop, and then released him, turning to the Gateway. She took her little wand, tapped the stone three times, and the arch was filled with golden light.

Julius approached it first, but faltered as he reached the boundary. Cornelius coolly walked up behind him and gave him a shove in the back, and he flapped through the Gateway and out of sight. Then Cornelius turned and waved his hat at Zac before calmly strolling through.

“Your turn, Zac,” said Granny. “Come on.”

Zac edged forward. The closer he came to the Gateway, the more electrically charged the air seemed to be. He felt the arch drawing him in, as if it were a powerful magnet and he a shaving of iron.

By the time he stood next to Granny at the Gateway's edge it was a physical effort to resist its pull. But the golden light was warm and calming, and as it embraced him he felt safe; he felt happy.

Granny put her hand on his shoulder. “Don't fight it,” she said. “Just let go. And remember, lad, keep walking. No matter what you encounter, it won't be real. I'll see you on the other side.”

Zac looked at Granny, wondering whether this would be the last time he'd see her wrinkled face. He turned back to the Gateway, shielding his eyes.

“You can do it, lad, I know you can!”

He took a deep breath. And then, with Granny's words of encouragement still ringing in his ears, he walked bravely forward.