on.’
As Ryan turned to proceed a shadow swept silently across the moon. It passed by in an instant, but behind him Damocles gave a deep, burbling growl.
‘Keep on this path for another hundred yards, then turn right and head into the jungle. You will see a large upright stone marking the way. I will catch up with you shortly.’
‘Why? What’s the mat…’ started Ryan, but then he noticed what had caught Damocles attention. A creature with huge black wings was swooping down the stream towards them at an incredible pace. It would be on them in seconds. As Damocles tensed his huge upper torso for the impact, Ryan turned and ran.
The moonlight led him down the stream from rock to rock without incident. Behind him came the sounds of an almighty scuffle, but he dared not chance a look, for fear of tripping and being overcome by the winged creature. Soon he saw the standing stone Damocles had mentioned and he rushed headlong into a dark passage that yawned to his right, leading into the dense jungle.
The trail was narrow and overgrown, making progress difficult. This was exacerbated by the darkness that once again surrounded him. Branches and vines lashed his face and he had to lift his feet high to avoid tripping on the many roots that criss-crossed the ground. Despite the downward gradient, the going was precarious and tiring, not to mention disorientating, and he was glad when the darkness ahead of him grew several shades lighter, indicating that he was close to reaching another opening in the canopy. There came the sound of rushing water too, much louder and more dramatic than before, and as he burst free of the foliage he was met this time with a river stretching across his path. It flowed swiftly to his left before disappearing over a steep precipice.
Whether or not he had taken a wrong turn, Ryan did not know, but his way was blocked and the path was lost. Slowly he edged towards the cliff and looked down. Far below, the water met the land again on the ever-steepening slopes of the crater, before finally disappearing in a tumbling torrent into the central lake. Quite how Damocles expected him to navigate through such unforgiving terrain was a mystery.
‘Ryan Butler.’
It was a different voice; smoother and not as deep as that of Damocles. There was something familiar about it, and yet Ryan had a dreadful feeling that it belonged to the winged creature he’d been fleeing from. Slowly he turned to face the stranger.
‘How do you kn…’ he started, but upon seeing the man’s face his jaw fell open, hanging limp and useless.
It was the same man he had met in his dreams on the previous two nights. This time he was only wearing a pair of black trousers. No shoes, no shirt; nothing else.
‘You!’ gasped Ryan, taking a step back towards the cliff edge. The man took a step forwards.
‘Ryan listen,’ he said earnestly. ‘You have reached a place beyond your understanding and you are in danger.’
‘How do you know my name?’ shouted Ryan, his body tensed and ready, he hoped, for any eventuality.
‘I know a lot about you Ryan. I have been watching over you for a while now and keeping you safe, but more than that I cannot say at this time.’
‘Keeping me safe?’ cried Ryan incredulously. ‘You did a great job against those faceless people. And what about when I was hanging out the side of that train?’
‘As I recall you rejected my aid on the train, and as for the faceless mob; it was either you or me, and I seem to remember you being the one who got away. Now, I need you to trust me.’
‘Why?’ asked Ryan defiantly. ‘What’s wrong with this place? I was doing just fine before you got here.’
‘Were you?’ asked the man, taking another step forward. From the size of his upper torso he would have no problem overpowering Ryan.
‘Yes I was,’ replied the boy. ‘Damocles was leading me to meet a guy called Rasputin. What’s wrong with that?’
The man gave him a dark look, and from behind his shoulders spread two enormous, black-feathered wings. Ryan realised suddenly that the man wasn’t actually wearing trousers, but that his legs were covered in feathers too.
‘You have no idea where you are or who you are dealing with,’ the man said, growing impatient. ‘I’m sure that beast failed to tell you who Rasputin is and what he does.’
‘Well, neither have you actually, and I’ll take my own chances from now on.’
Ryan was standing on the brink of the cliff with the rushing water pouring over the edge beside him. He took a brief glance over his shoulder. It was a long way down.
‘Ryan don’t,’ said the man.
‘Screw you,’ he replied. And he jumped.
For the second time that evening, Ryan felt the wonderfully-liberating feeling of freefall. Beside him the waters of the river fell in a massive shimmering curtain, within which a thousand dreams played out. Below him they smashed into the slope, carving through a thick swathe of jungle in a tumbling mess of white foam. Ryan wondered what would happen when he hit the water. He was now certain that it wasn’t deep enough to prevent him from ploughing into the bottom. Perhaps a combination of the fish and bird abilities he had gained in his previous dream would save him? He tried to clear his mind and imagine himself soaring out across the land towards the mighty tower at its centre.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something plunging down to meet him. As his tumbling body rotated to face it, he knew that the man had followed him. He felt stupid; the man had wings for God’s sake. Of course he could follow him.
Banking round in a great arc, the man glided towards him at great speed. Ryan wasn’t able to turn fast enough and was helpless as a pair of strong arms seized him, sweeping him away from the pouring waters and up into the dark sky.
‘Let me go!’ Ryan shouted as he watched the land below him diminish.
‘I wouldn’t recommend that,’ said his captor. ‘This is for your own good Ryan. This is not the sort of place to be spending idle time. I’m taking you somewhere safe.’
‘I was safe before you got here,’ protested Ryan again, struggling to turn his head and look him in the face.
‘Keep still,’ scolded the man. ‘You’ve picked a tricky enough avatar for me to carry as it is.’
‘Avatar?’ repeated Ryan. ‘What the hell are you on about?’
The man laughed. It seemed inappropriate at such a juncture and did nothing to improve Ryan’s humour.
‘Haven’t you seen yourself?’ asked the man incredulously. ‘Take a good look at your hands.’
Ryan did so. Where skin and flesh normally resided, there was metal. His fingers, his hands and even his arms were made of the hard, shiny material, which glinted in the moonlight. He peered at the flat surface of his forearm and found an angular, robotic face staring back at him. Its features were vaguely his own and mirrored the bemused expression he was wearing.
‘What is this? What’s going on?’ he asked, still staring at his arms.
‘It’s how you appear in this world. It’s like an idealised representation of you; a reflection of your personality and how you see yourself.’
‘A robot?’ frowned Ryan. ‘I suppose that’s pretty cool. But why…?’
‘Hey, I’ll explain more when I can. Right now we’ve got company.’
Ryan craned his metallic neck and saw two dark shapes closing in on them rapidly.
‘What are they?’
‘Trouble,’ replied the man. ‘I can’t out-pace them with you. We’re going to have to go lower and try to lose them in the canopy. This could get a bit sketchy. Hang on.’
They had almost climbed level with the flat land surrounding the crater, but they were still some distance away from it. With a rush of air they dived, swooping towards the dense jungle at great speed. At the last possible minute the winged man levelled out, causing Ryan’s dangling feet to brush the topmost branches of the trees. Unseen to him, their pursuers followed.
The man flew even lower. They were now beneath the canopy, threading their way through a deep gully of green. Suddenly the waters of a dark rive
r appeared beneath them and they dived even further. It was like the best – and worst – rollercoaster Ryan had ever been on. Twisting and banking at every unseen turn, his mind struggled to register the rushing scenery that whipped past them at an impossible rate.
‘You’re insane,’ he shouted. ‘Shouldn’t you slow down?’
‘I think not,’ said the man with a grimace. ‘They’re gaining on us.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘There’s a sea encircling this land from which all the rivers and streams flow. That’s where we need to be.’
‘Is it far?’
‘Once the land levels out we’ll be pretty much there.’
They continued to skim the stream; weaving along its twisted path at an incredible pace. Ryan sensed that they were climbing less now, though he had no landmark to gauge their progress against. Behind them the black creatures closed in, their ghastly bat-like forms taking shape.
‘We’re not going to make it!’ the man cried, even as the waters of a boundless sea appeared up ahead. ‘I’m going to have to drop you on the beach. Head for the water and don’t look back!’
‘Why? What’s going to happen?’
‘I don’t know. Please Ryan, just trust me.’
‘But I don’t even know who you are,’ said the boy, as they reached the edge of the forest and the grey sands of the beach stretched out below.
‘My name’s Tristram!’ shouted the man, and he let go.
Ryan hit the ground at great speed and rolled several times before coming to a